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Post by osnafrank on Dec 6, 2022 10:02:53 GMT
The Ka-tet Playground's 2022 Christmas Present Story By
JB darkharbinger
edwardjohn
Tanith
diobolic Dio
the wolf
and
Cap docpain2
Coordinator/Editrix : Wolf
Presented By
 OsnafrankPublishing
LTD.
 (Cover Art etc. By : Wolf'IO Mad Genius Productions)
Chapter 1By : Cap docpain2
 Jeffrey Beaumont was on his way home on a rainy Monday evening when he realized he had totally
forgotten about Christmas. He thought to himself,
‘Well that’s not until next Monday, so I have time. And gift cards always fit.’
On his way he decided to stop in at the local bar to grab a drink, and maybe get a round of pool in. As he entered the parking lot of the My Alibi Bar & Grill, he immediately spotted an old beat-up jalopy. Jeffrey thought to himself
‘How do people drive these old wrecks? Disgusting.’
Going into the bar he quickly saw an old man and a frail looking woman and he assumed they were the owners of the beat-up car. The old man saw Jeffrey looking in his direction and offered a friendly smile and nod, Jeffrey returned neither and walked to a booth where he saw some friends sitting.
He greeted his friends and immediately started talking about how “low class” the town, and especially the bar, were becoming. Jeffrey ordered drinks for the table and forgot about the old man.
About two hours, eight drinks and two games of 8-ball later Jeffrey decided it was time to go home. As he walked out, he noticed the rain had stopped, but there was a strong chill in the air and frost was starting to form on the car windows. As he pulled out, he felt his car hit something. He stopped and got out. It was the old beat-up car he had seen earlier. Jeffrey thought to himself,
‘F**k it, nobody saw me.’
It was at this time that the old man and woman decided to leave the bar. The old man yelled,“Hey that’s my car.”
Jeffrey knowing, he was busted, approached the man;“Yeah, sorry about that. It was old, no biggie, right?”
The old man replied,“No biggie?Maybe to you it’s not, but this is my only car,I can’t afford to get that fixed”.
Jeffrey relented,“Look I’ll give you two hundred right now and that’s it.”
With that, Jeffrey pulled two $100.00 bills out of his wallet and drove away.
The next day Jeffrey took his car in for service and to get an estimate for the damage. Over $1,000.00 for one trip to the bar. Jeffrey thought to himself,
'I got away cheap with the old man, screw ‘em.'
He left his car and used a loaner from the dealership. Thinking now was a good time to get some Christmas shopping done, he headed to the mall.
As he walked towards the mall entrance, he saw the usual Salvation Army Santa with his bell and red bucket. Jeffrey walked by thinking to himself ‘Not today fatty,’ and kept going. As he approached the door the bell ringing stopped and he could have sworn he heard Santa say,
“F**k you Jeffrey, we see you.”
He suddenly stopped and looked at Santa’s reflection in the glass door, there was nothing there, no Santa, no bell, and no red bucket.
‘Woah, slow down mister,’ Jeffrey thought to himself.
He sat on a bench by the food court to think about what he saw; did he see anything? he wondered. Jeffrey decided that he was still hung over and in serious need of lunch. After about 20 minutes of sitting and eating mall pizza and a coke he felt better.
Shopping was very fruitful. Jeffrey left the mall with two new shirts, a new pair of jeans and a watch. All of which fit him well. Again, he thought ‘gift cards fit everyone.’ As he left the mall, he took note that there was still no bell ringing Santa at the entrance, which he took as a good sign.
Later that afternoon he spoke with his fiancé, who was away for business. They talked about their days, but he omitted his encounter with the Santa from hell.
Jeffrey spent the rest of the day puttering around the house, putting up some decorations and taking the tree out of the attic and setting it up in the usual spot. After that he showered and headed out for dinner with Sandy, an old flame who suddenly reappeared in town last month. They had seen each other five times since her return. Jeffrey figured‘why not, we’re not doing anything.’
When he arrived at the restaurant, he saw Sandy already seated with a glass of wine in front of her. They greeted with a friendly hug and quick kiss, and he sat. As the waiter approached him for his drink order, Jeffrey suddenly became dizzy and disoriented.
“May I take your order, you cheating scumbag” the waiter said.
Jeffrey snapped out of it, looked at the waiter, and asked,“What did you say?”
The waiter responded,“May I take your drink order sir?If you need more time I can come back."“No” he responded,“I’ll just have a sparkling water with a lime, thanks.”
“Jeffrey” Sandy said,“You’re sweating up a storm, are you ok?”“I’m just stressed” he said,“I had a minor accident yesterday,work is slowing downand the holidays are always a bad time.”“I get it.” She said.
As the evening drew on, the conversation became more intimate, but Jeffrey had this nagging feeling that something was wrong. He thought it was the appearance and even a chance of infidelity. Was he a “cheater” he wondered. If not, why did he imagine the waiter saying that to him. Around 9:00pm as they left the restaurant and Jeffrey walked Sandy to her car he asked
“Interested in coming by my place? I just put the tree up.”
Sandy giggled and said,“You know I’d love to,but I’m pretty sure you have somebody elseyou should be showing your tree to.”
Thirty minutes later Jeffrey arrived home alone and more tired than usual. On his door he saw a sticky note saying there was an attempt to deliver a package that needed him to sign for.
'Hmmm,'Jeffrey thought,'I’m not expecting anything,and if my parents sent me somethingthey usually give me a heads up.'
Just before bed, his phone rang from 000-000-0000, Jeffrey answered expecting a recording about his extended warranty or maybe an urgent call from the IRS needing his credit card number. Instead, he heard a raspy voice that he recognized immediately as the old man from the bar.
“Mr. Beaumont.” The voice asked.“Yes, this is Jeffrey Beaumont,and this is the old man from the bar the other night.”He continued.“Look, I don’t know what your story is,you took the cash, so it’s a done deal.”
The old man interrupted;“I sent you a package Mr. Beaumont,one I suggest you accept as soon as possible.”
“Is that a threat?” Jeffrey asked.
The old man laughed and replied,“Oh no, tis the season you know son.I think it will be in your best interest to see what’s in the box.If you don’t mind my asking Mr. Beaumont,how have you been feeling lately?”
“None of your damned business”Jeffrey replied and hung-up.‘So, the old man is trying to serve me papers to sue me.Well, screw him all to hell’,Jeffrey thought to himself.
Wednesday morning found Jeffrey back at work. Seated at his desk, he started to feel the same woozy feeling he had last night at the restaurant, the sudden urge to vomit overcame him as he dashed to the bathroom. As he reached the throne of the porcelain god, the feeling subsided. When he finally decided to stand back up, he walked to the sink and noticed that he looked very tired and must’ve somehow forgotten to shave.‘Come on Jeffy boy'he thought to himself.‘You gotta snap out of it fast.’
As he walked out of the bathroom the temp at the reception desk asked him if his visitor had left the office.
“What visitor?” he asked.
“The older gentleman with the cane,he came in to see you about 20 minutes ago,I walked him to your office.”
Jeffrey still mildly confused responded,“Oh, him, yes I walked him out the back way.”As this was going on, his phone sent a text alert;“PACKAGE DELIVERY PENDING TODAY.”
At that point, a rush came over him and he fell to his knees. The temp ran to him and slowly she helped him stand.
“Look” he said,“I’m really not feeling well,if anyone needs me tell them I went home sick.”
As Jeffrey was driving home, he saw two Santa’s on corners collecting donations, he tried to avoid eye contact with them both, but both times he looked and saw them “scowling” at him. He could swear that one of them gave him the finger.
As he pulled up to his home he saw a police car, and another car that looked like Sandy’s. 'What the hell,' he thought.
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Post by wolf on Dec 19, 2022 16:33:18 GMT
Chapter 2By : wolf
Jeffrey's front door was open.
Out of the loaner Cadillac, he went to the steps trepidaciously. He had no idea what to expect, but this could not be good. Reaching the doorway, a uniformed officer suddenly stepped out, halting him. Jeff stopped for him, anxiously looking over his shoulder. Sandy was standing in his living room, with another man. Motionless on the floor a few feet away, Bianca Gelida. His fiancee.
"What's happened?
Jeff asked him, helplessly. Sandy he asked with a distraught stare. She replied silently with funeral eyes. The officer answered calmly,
"Sir, please stay outside.Someone will speak with you soon,patience is appreciated."
He walked him to one of the lawn chairs on the spacious porch, sitting him down. Jeff allowed it, knowing that cooperating was in his best interest. Bianca was gone, that was plain to see. Mixed emotions flooded into him. He loved Bianca, they had been together for a long time. But WHY was he feeling relief with the grief, and why was he so damn glad to see his old flame and friend Sandy, Alexandra Fleming, standing there?
Forensics and the coroner soon arrived. That band of authorities got to work, and Sandy with the other man, Detective Creighton, joined Jeff on the porch.
That Wednesday morning.
Sandy had gotten a call not long after waking. The caller was an irate Bianca. She met someone during her business trip, and they had informed her that Sandy had 'been seen' spending time with JEFFREY. She became furious, berating and accusing, and Bianca demanded that they meet at his place and hung up.
When Sandy arrived she had also found the front door open. Bianca was dead on the floor. The expected package lay close to her. Bianca had blood trickling from her nose. She wasn't breathing and deathly pale. Her eyes were open and the sclera of the right was completely blood red, the iris and pupil had become one, dead black like a shark's.
Sandy touched nothing and called 911. The first cop on scene, with fire and ambulance in tow, called base and Creighton came next. It was unclear if there was 'foul play' or not. The detective got rid of the fire department and sent the EMT's to any early lunch. They were going to be there awhile, and he didn't want Beaumont freaking out at a total circus, when they managed to get him there. Not exactly standard procedure, but he made it work.
On the porch and after.
Creighton took a seat next to Beaumont, after seating Ms. Fleming opposite him. They both filled him in on what had transpired. He asked what brought Jeff home so early, and was satisfied with his reply. The businessman appropriately looked like sh!t.
Jeffrey identified Bianca when the returned ambulance crew carried her out, on the coroner's and forensics' say so. He wanted to get it overwith quickly. It ended up, no 'obvious' foul play to declare. The coroner was sure she'd had a brain aneurism. However the department would be in contact, after the autopsy.
Everyone left but the old friends, it was midafternoon by then.
Sandy made coffee.
"Jeff...you shouldn't be here alone tonight."she told him in the kitchen."I've got some things to do,but I'll come back for the nightand sleep on the couch.Unless you tell me otherwise."
Coffee had helped, and cleared his earlier sick feel, and confusion. He felt better, though still stunned and so sad. He nodded,
"Yes.Please come back,and stay.Thank you."
His eyes looked haunted, and she somehow felt an odd 'tiredness' in his brief, gentle touch to her hand planted on the tabletop.
Sandy left and he was alone in the kitchen.
Jeff thought over the eerie events of Monday and Tuesday, and how every encounter was accompanied by the dizzy-woozy, swimming feeling. Almost like something was being sucked out of him...or seeping into him. Maybe both. And things were beginning to feel connected.
The old man, and his call later. The, "there-not there, 'f**k you, we see you' Santa" at the mall, the accusing waiter that evening. "The bird flippin' pair of Santa's" he saw on that morning's trip home. All of the Santa's inspired a strange, unexpected feeling and thought in him,
'Satan's little helpers.'
Of course there was also the sudden, heartbreaking loss of his poor Bianca. And what she had running through her mind about him before she died. He then recalled his morning meeting with 'The Cane Man', Luc Diaboli.....That cane. It's crystal handle, gleamed in his memory's eye.
Diaboli was a French-Italian exporter. He had gotten Jeff's name from someone, and was told that Beaumont had reliable and honest contacts in the smaller, more 'private' end of the shipping industry. Diaboli wasn't looking for anything as large as what had made Ari Onassis his fortune.
Jeff stared at his coffee, replaying parts of the conversation in his mind....
"Mr. Beaumont, I am a FAIR businessman.I have integrity, and I take good care of allthe people who work for, and with me.If you work with me, you will attain just wagesand my help whenever needed.Though remember this,I am not a man to be trifled with.
No one wants to cross me.In fact I am currently dealing with a manwho has treated someone of mine carelessly.He...'took something' from him.In more ways than one.And he more or less threw an insultingpittance to him in compensation.That offender has one chance to amend his errors."
Jeff replied,
"I understand Mr. Diaboli.Properly noted.If you have any business with me,I assure you,you'll find that I will also be fair and honest."
Diaboli's smile was disarmingly charming,
"I see." he replied.
The Cane Man's last words before getting up to leave were,
"Remember Mr. Beaumont,Quid pro quo.Do something for me or mine,I do something for you.Take something from me or mine,I take something from you."
And as they were walking out of the office he stopped and turned to look at Jeff. Smiling he had added,
"Oh yes!...and do open your package soon, Merry Christmas."
Jeff didn't think much of that statement at the time. He figured Diaboli had probably seen the post-it notification on his desk, and 'assumed'...considering the time of the season.
Jeff got up and went into the living room. The package was still on the floor.
He thought he heard barely there strange little clicking noises, and whispery, falling sand hissing being emitted from it. But he couldn't be sure. Sandy said that Bianca must have brought it in. Staring at it, he noticed a tear in it's brown paper.
"She started to open it."he said aloud.
The package was beginning to disturb him. He picked it up and saw there was glossy black wrap under the brown paper. Jeffrey was hesitant, becoming fearful even. He gingerly peeled the brown wrap off, revealing a Christmas gift, wrapped in the black glossy paper and bright red ribbon.A black card hung from the ribbon. Written on it in red :"Open Me."
It felt weirdly heavy in his hands. A vague sort of warmth seemed to move around it. A spot on one side was warm, then the sensation moved around and over to another side, leaving a cold spot where warmth had been.
Jeff didn't open the present.
He thought he may never open it, and will just get rid of it. He was hesitant and fearful about doing that too. He was torn.
"Should it stay or should it go, Joe?"he quietly queried out loud to the air,with a sad tone and dire look in his eye.
In the silence, the Clash's Strummer had no answer. Jeff was going to have to make that decision on his own.
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Post by wolf on Dec 20, 2022 15:42:05 GMT
Chapter 3By : diobolic
Jeff was laying on his sofa with Sportscenter pundits chattering about on the TV over some college football game but it was merely background noise to the myriad of thoughts that were swimming throughout his head.
'Old man… the Santa’s… Bianca… Diaboli… cane… waiter… jalopy… Sandy… cop… the gift… DEAD.’
'What the hell is going on?' he thought,'There has to be some connection…all these events can’t be mere circumstance.But why and why me?This can’t be over some stupid fender bender.And I paid for my misstep.Fair is fair, and although I have my warts, I’m a good man down under.'
But what Jeff failed to grasp was fairness regarding something is a state that must be achieved from both parties, not just one. As Victor Hugo once wrote “Being good is easy, what is difficult is being just.”
His eyes were drawn to the unopened gift.
The longer he looked at it a pain started developing behind his eyes. Rubbing his temples he closed his eyes and shortly drifted off to sleep.
About 7:30 PM Beaumont was awakened from his slumber by the sound of the doorbell. Groggily he arose and walked to the door, staggering and looking like a man who was on a bender. With the chain still latched to the door he opened it to it’s limited extent and saw Detective Creighton standing there with concern in his eyes.
“Open up, you worthless excuse for a human being.”were the words that he heard coming from the cop’s mouth.
“Huh!?” exclaimed Jeff,who in that moment seemed to notice a blink in reality, and refocused his eyes.
“Mr. Beaumont, Detective Creighton… May I come in?”
“Uh, sure,” was Jeff’s response, and he added“what did you say just before?”
I said,“May I come in to talk with you."
Beaumont unlatched the door and Creighton strolled past him into the living room and sat down on a chair with a thud of what seemed to resemble a man tired from exhaustion, and was finally getting a moment's rest. He looked around the room with tepidity and commented,
“That’s some interesting Christmas wrap on that gift.Both ominous and cheery at the same time.”
“Yeah, I guess” Jeff replied,“With all that transpired today I haven’t had any time to think about it.”Lies seemed to be coming to him naturally.
The detective started off,“You know I said I would be talking to you after the autopsyof your fiancée, Ms. Bianca Gelida, right?”
“Right.” Was Jeff's response.
“I got a call from the Medical Examiner late this afternoon.He said from initial appearances her death appeared to be of natural causes,but he insisted I come by and see something interesting for myself.”
“Something interesting?”
"Yes. When I arrived at the morgue the doc opened the drawer your fiancée was in,and slid out the table she was lying on and a white sheet covering her body.I hope I’m not being too graphic for you?”
“It’s okay… go on.”
“Doc said in the initial examinationhe noticed something he’d never come across in all his 20 years on the job.And it was something that weirdly conflicted with the report from the Coroner at the scene.He drew back the white shroud covering Ms Gelida’s head and rolled back her eyelids.I have to tell you the sight I witnessed sent chills down my spine.Where there should be an iris and pupil there was nothing…only the whites of her eyes lay under those lids.Doc said it was medically impossible for that to happen,especially someone who seemed to be a picture of health days before.He said it was like something had been erasedthat which allowed a person to see ....almost like someone or somethinghad stolen the entrance to her soul.”“Oh, my God” was the only thing Beaumont was able to utter,and his hand clasped over his mouth.“She was absolutely fine the last time I saw her.”“Ehhhh… Doc is a bit touched and melodramatic in my mind,but who wouldn’t be after all those years dealing with the recently departed, right?But I can’t wrap my head around this,and there has to be something more than just natural causes.I know she had been on a business trip,and you hadn’t seen her in a couple of days,but I have some questions.Did you know she was back and coming over to see you?”
“No” replied Jeff,"But I did get a call yesterday from her,and that she had something important to talk to me about.For the life of me I couldn’t guess what it would be.Maybe wedding plans… I don’t know, she seemed fine.”
He thought he needed to keep all the lies he was about to embark on straight and believable so as not to bring any focus of foul play upon him, the possible cause being infidelity. That would certainly illicit suspicions of foul play. Jeff's conscience was guiltier than he had thought. The scenes from that old TV show with Sergeant Shultz proclaiming “I see nothing! I know nothing!” was the best way to play this out until he had time to try and resolve what the hell was going on. Just then there was another ring at the door interrupted their conversation.“Excuse me for a moment” he said as he went and opened the door.There stood Sandy with a bowl of what appeared to be a casserole and it smelled delicious.
“I’ve brought you something to eat, creep,and I hope you choke on it, bastard!” was what Jeff heard.
Taken aback, again that slight blink in reality occurred and Jeff heard Sandy say,
“I figured you probably didn’t get anything to eat,so I cooked you something to keep your strength up.”“Great!” was Jeff’s response.But he really meant it as,“Oh, crap, now there will be suspicion immediately on the cop’s mind.”
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Post by wolf on Dec 21, 2022 14:34:44 GMT
Chapter 4By : Tanith Taking the dish from Sandy, Jeff murmured the usual stock responses… “thank you”, “very kind”, and so forth. In his heart these words rang as false as the plastic needles on his Christmas tree, but he was determined to keep his façade up while this cop was here. Then he glanced into the dish, and horror tore through him.
The delectable aroma rising from the dish had not changed, but the foil covering it had shifted and Jeff’s eyes were met with a charnel house nightmare. A human face, its eyelids torn away and its lips wrinkled back in a rictus of either pain or madness, stared up at him. Arranged around the face were more horrors…congealed blood, partially mangled organs, and amputated fingers that pointed at him. But worst of all were the eyes in that face, which stared straight at him with a sentience from hell.
“Keep your strengttthhhhh up, Jeffffff…” this apparition grated. It brayed laughter up at him, spattering his face with a substance he dared not guess at. Jeff shut his eyes, straining to control his rising gorge and the scream building behind his locked teeth. He felt the room shift as he teetered on the edge of consciousness. Only the discipline that had propelled him to success in his field kept him tethered to the here and now. Whatever insanity had started to haunt him, he must keep control. He must.
Taking a deep breath, Jeff cautiously opened his eyes. Sandy was staring at him with alarm, Creighton with narrow suspicion. In his hands, the casserole dish gleamed up at him, filled to the brim with slices of eggplant, bell peppers, fresh mushrooms and onions, all swimming in melted cheese and what seemed to be fresh tomato sauce. Dimly he became aware that the hot dish was burning his hands and set it quickly down on the coffee table. The movement jogged the mystery package at the other end of the table quite close to the edge, but none of them noticed that or the momentary rise in the sibilant noises it made.
“I should go if you’re busy…” began Sandy. However, Creighton waved her and Jeff toward the sofa.
“Please stay, Miss Fleming…if we could all sit down, some new questions about this case have arisen, and you may be able to help.”
As if there weren’t enough questions, thought Jeff as he sank onto the sofa. He glanced inquiringly at Sandy, but there was no help in her inscrutable expression.
Creighton had settled on the end of the sofa closest to the “Christmas present”. He frowned down at the black paper, but thankfully the bright tag that implored Jeff to “Open Me” was turned away from the detective’s field of vision. Suddenly Creighton fixed Jeff with an intense stare.
“You’d do us all a favor if you’d just open the box and end this, dummy.”Jeff blinked, his mind struggling to process what his ears insisted they’d just heard.
“What?”
“I said I called in a favor to open the locks on her vault over on East Tunney,” said Creighton, eyeing him more suspiciously than ever. “You were aware of that, right? Like a safe deposit box, but run by a private company rather than a bank. People use them to store things that they’d rather not have their bank—or their family—know about.”
“East Tunney Boulevard is in a really bad part of town,” said Sandy, glancing uneasily at Jeff. “Why would Bianca use one of those sleazy joints to store something?”
Creighton said nothing but leaned forward, elbows on knees, fingers against lips, looking steadily at him. Beside him the pitch of the sounds inside the “present” changed, as if whatever was moving around in there had changed direction. It was the only movement in the room.
He’s waiting for me to crack, thought Jeff. This bastard thinks he has something on me, but he’s terribly mistaken. I won’t crack that easily.“I didn’t know about this vault,” Jeff said quietly. He’d endured a lot of weirdness since this nightmare began, but Creighton’s attitude stoked his own fury at having the tidy rhythm of his life disrupted so. That, in turn, enabled him to slip into the cold, precise mindset that had propelled him to success—over the wreckage of his rivals, more often than not.
“No, Mr. Creighton, I didn’t know about Bianca’s vault. And I don’t know who would have had incentive to kill her, or why. I don’t know why I’m answering your goddamn questions when I should be calling her family and making funeral preparations. I don’t know why the hell this had to happen now, when I’m about to close the biggest deal of my career, and it’s f******g Christmas.”Jeff’s voice had been getting lower and lower as his anger grew. Other men might scream and yell, the danger sign with Jeff Beaumont was exactly that absence of volume that signaled growing rage. His employees had learned to fear it more than any profanity-laced temper tantrum. Sandy was staring him with widening eyes while at the end of the coffee table the “present” had fallen silent.
Creighton, however, was not so easily derailed. He’d seen everything or at least believed he had. “Mr. Beaumont, let me enlighten you. Your fiancé, who has been found dead by the very woman she accused of having an affair with you. The circumstances of her death are unclear, if not questionable. The state of her body seems to have been lifted right out of The X-Files. She’s apparently been keeping secrets from you. Possibly illegal secrets. Who did she know in Italy?”Caught off guard yet again, Jeff blinked. “Huh?”
“Aw, come on!” Creighton’s own anger was on the rise. “Bianca Gelida had plane tickets to Italy stashed in that vault, along with a passport and seventy grand in travelers’ checks! Hell, people don’t even use those anymore! Apparently this wasn’t part of your honeymoon plans?”
“No,”, whispered Jeff. His angry momentum was gone, and the pain between his eyes was growing. So was the silence in the room.“So let’s review,” Creighton said grimly. “Your fiancé was making plans to leave the country, with someone other than you, with a hell of a lot of money. You didn’t know about this. Now she turns up dead in your home, exhibiting symptoms I’m told are impossible. You have no idea how that came to pass. The only person proving to be helpful in this investigation so far is the woman accused of having an affair with you, she even turned up with a covered dish. In the meantime, you know nothing about any of this, you don’t even know who your Secret Santa is—” Creighton flapped a dismissive hand at the gift box, which sat silent as a stone monolith. It was teetering on the edge of the table, but Creighton was caught up in his own frustration and took no notice.“Your car shows signs of recent damage, as if you were in a hurry and got into a fender-bender. A woman is dead, her family is getting the worst news possible, and you’re in some kind of fog. And you’re getting angry at ME?”
Creighton shouted that last word, and lunged forward. The mystery gift teetered once, twice, then slowly fell off the table. While the top stayed on, the sibilant noises from earlier returned at a volume that could no longer be ignored.
“MEEEEEEEE…”
Jeff, Creighton, and Sandy stared at one another in confusion. But before they could react, the police radio on the detective’s belt bellowed into life. Jeff couldn’t make out everything being said, but it sounded as though the officers sent to investigate Bianca’s mystery locker suddenly needed help.
“—located on East Tunney Boulevard, we need backup!”
There was a static-filled response, then “Just DO it, man!” Creighton, swearing, sprang to his feet and turned to Jeff.
“I advise both of you to stay put for now until I contact you. Do what you gotta do, but do not leave town. There will be more questions.”
There will be more questions. Those words echoed in Jeff’s aching head as the detective sprinted for his car. On the floor, the sound coming from the mystery package sounded all too much like laughter.
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Post by wolf on Dec 22, 2022 15:19:54 GMT
Chapter 5By : edwardjohn Turning her attention from the detective to the mysterious, formerly cackling package, Sandy sighed. This can’t be happening, she told herself. This is like something out of a Stephen King novel. And I hate Stephen King. She continued staring at the package for a while![]() , wondering if it would laugh again, but it didn’t. She then turned to Jeff, the man she had at one point thought she was going to spend her life with.
"Jeff …"
Jeff, staring off into space, suddenly returned to reality:
"Huh?"
"I’m going to ask you a question … and I expect an honest answer … got that?"
Jeff turned to the strange package briefly before returning his attention back to Sandy."Alright … sure."
"What the hell is going on?"
"What’s going on?"Jeffery laughed, quite unexpectedly."Be damned if I know!"He laughed again.
Soon that laugh turned into a cackle; he was cackling like the package had been moments ago. He was laughing so much after a while that he decided he had to take a seat on the couch.
Sandy didn’t say anything as Jeffery laughed like he was at a Bill Burr show. She simply stared on, immensely concerned. When his laughter had concluded, then she decided it was time to speak again.
"I believe you, Jeffery."
"What?"Jeffery said, suddenly serious again."I believe that you have no idea what you’re doing."
"You used to say that a lot when we were dating …"It was Sandy’s turn to laugh; the laugh surprised her with everything that was going on.
"Ain’t that the truth …"She then sat next to Jeffery on the couch."Jeffery, why don’t you tell me everything that’s happened.Maybe we can come up with an answer together like we did in college?How about that?"
Jeffery was reminded then why he had loved her so much for a time."Alright …"
So, Jeffery told her everything. From the strange guy and his wife at the diner until now.
"Huh,"said Sandy when Jeff had concluded his tale."That’s uh … quite the story …"
"I’m not really doing it justice …"
"Oh no, I believe you … its …"
"Its … out there?"
"Yeah, you could say that."
"Well, what do you think we should do about it?"
Sandy turned to the mysterious package.
"No way!"Jeffery said, suddenly leaping from the couch.
"If you won’t,"said Sandy defiantly,"then I will.""The hell you will!"
It was Sandy’s turn to leap from the couch."Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah!"
"How else are we meant to figure all of this out if we don’t find out what that damned package is about!?"
Jeffery was about to respond before a voice came from the living room’s hallway door.
"Beaumont …"
Standing there was Bianca’s brother: Walter Gelida. He seemed to have murder on his mind if his expression was anything to go by.
"Walter …" Jeffery muttered.
"Cops told me … I expected you to phone … but you never did."
"Jesus, Walt, I’m so sorry … I … I’ve been so … immensely busy. Everything … everything’s gone to hell …"
"Yeah, well … sorry ain’t going to bring my sister back, is it?"It was evident that he had been drinking; he stunk like a distillery."I waited for the cop to leave …"Sandy and Jeffery took several, hesitant steps backwards as Walter approached."I thought it would be good if we had a conversation …"He turned to Sandy, suddenly, and laughed."I knew you’d be here … It was the talk of the town … Jeffery’s cheating on Bianca … you got any idea how embarrassing that was for Bianca?Did you even care?"
"Walter, I …""No, you didn’t care, Jeffery … you don’t care about anyone but yourself … But Bianca? Man, she was different … so much different from you … I don’t know why she liked you, I really didn’t … But I trusted her … I thought: if someone as nice as her could like you … then there had to be something there … How wrong I was …"
He suddenly reached into the back of his trousers and pulled out a small revolver. Jeffery and Sandy didn’t say anything; they were in shock.
"Why was she going to Italy, Jeffery? The cops … they talked about Italy … why was she going there?"
"Walter,’"said Jeffery,
"I think you should seriously re-think all this …"
"I agree,"said a man with an Italian accent that suddenly came from the hall, walking in with immense confidence.
Jeffery immediately recognised this man as being Diaboli, the man that had acted so weird in his office several days ago, except now instead of being garbed in a smart suit, he was wearing the robes of a holy man. He still had his cane, though.
Walter suddenly aimed his revolver at Diaboli."Who the hell are you?"
"Isn’t it obvious?I’m a man of God, of course."Walter turned to Jeffery for a moment, searching for answers, but he was also greatly confused."Alright then, holy man,"said Walt, returning his attention to him."So, you’re Italian?"
"Yes, very much so.""And you’re here …"
"Another obvious fact."
"Italy … you must know something … why else would you be here? You knew my sister, didn’t you?"
"Yes, I did."
Walter now turned his gun to the holy man."You better start talking then, padre …"
"Son,"said the Italian,"I’d think very carefully about what you’re going to do; better men than you have threatened me, and it didn’t end well for them …"
"Tell me … what happened … to my sister …?"
"She’s gone, Walty!"A voice coming from the package suddenly exclaimed before laughing hysterically.Walter turned in the package’s direction then; that gave the holy man the opportunity he was after: he brought his cane around and slammed it into the head of the man with the gun; he went tumbling to the ground, totally out of action.
The Italian went over to and picked up the gun that had gone flying.
"Guns … ugh …"
He said before putting it in one of his pockets.
"Anyway," he said, turning to Sandy and Jeffery, who were still in shock,
"let me introduce myself for the lady, I am …""Diaboli,"said Jeffery.
"Yes. Diaboli."The Italian said with a laugh."You,"said Jeffery, suddenly mad as hell,"you threatened me! Then everything went to hell! Now … now you’re dressed as a freaking exorcist!"
"That’s because I am an exorcist, dear boy.""Oh, go to hell! You said you were a businessman!""I am a businessman," said Diaboli.
"I’m in the business of saving souls from evil. That’s my business. And as for hell, I’ve been there, boy, and inspired fear …"
Remembering what the holy man had said, Sandy said:"You knew Bianca?"
"I did. She was assisting me in tracking …"He turned to the package."That infernal thing …"
He brought a bible out from one of his other pockets and gestured it in the direction of the package. The package let out a horrid roar in response.
"Stay where you are … thing of evil … I’ll deal with you in a bit …"He returned his attention to Jeffery.
"I trust that, other than your fiancee's very terrible passing, that things have been going very wrong for you, Mr Beaumont?""You can say that again."
"Yes, that’s quite common with objects such as these."
"Then why did you tell me to open back at my office!?"
"These objects … they … they can disguise themselves from me … very briefly … a very special demon that one is … But you’re right, I should have realised. I didn’t realise until … well, later. And I’m very sorry about Bianca. She was supposed to go to Italy to help me make sure that this object made its way to the vaults of the Vatican … but unfortunately there was a break-in at your place of work before all this business occurred …"
"There wasn’t any break-in! I’d have been informed!"Jeffery exclaimed.
"These are no normal thieves, Beaumont, there are many terrible demons that are searching for that …"
"Is this actually real?"Sandy muttered."I’m afraid so …" Diaboli said."Now," he said returning his attention to the package."You might want to vacate the premises … I’ve got a demon to deal with …"
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Post by wolf on Dec 23, 2022 15:30:52 GMT
Chapter 6By : JB darkharbinger
Diaboli started towards the trembling package when Walter surged to his feet.
“How did you know my sister?”
He asked, staggering towards the holy man.
“What game are you playing?”
“I play no games,” Diaboli answered.
“You should lie down and pretend this was just a dream.”
The old man stood his ground as Walter came at him and managed to hold him off with amazing physical strength, but all too late did everyone realize Bianca’s brother had come with another weapon. A knife flashed and was suddenly buried in the old man's chest. With one last burst of power Diaboli banged Walter’s head violently against the wall and then they both collapsed to the floor. Jeff and Sandy rushed to Diaboli’s side and tried to help him, but Walter’s stab was mortal.
“After all this time, to be laid waste…by a drunken fool…”
“Stay calm and breathe easy,”
Sandy said.
“I’m calling 911 now.”
The wounded man ignored her.
“I am sorry…”
He said to Jeff.
“I would have taken it on myself... but that was not to be…you must open the package…”
“But why?”
“I’m sorry boy…”
Diaboli collapsed next to Walter. Jeff stood over them, wondering how all of this had come to pass so quickly. It felt like he was being punished for something, but he couldn’t quite figure out what.
“Don’t call anyone,”
he said to Sandy.
“What?
Why?”
“He’s dead,”
Jeff remarked.
“And I don’t want to be interrupted.”
Sandy stood staring at him, her finger trembling on the last 1 to be dialed.
“Jeff you aren’t making sense…none of this makes sense…”
“I know,”
Jeff said, staring at the package.
“But I think I know how to make it start.”
“How? Are you going to open it?”
“No,” Jeff said.
“I’ll burn it first!”
He ran to one of the kitchen drawers and found an old lighter Bianca had used back when she smoked. Just seeing it brought on a wave of emotions. She had deserved much better…he hadn’t wanted to be a cheating P**ck of a man, but he was weak…and now she was beyond his ability to apologize.
"Don’t feel too baaaaaad"
the voice from the package mocked.
"She always thought you were a lousy f*** anyway…"
Jeff turned back towards the package, determined to destroy it once and for all. He was going to burn it right where it was, even if it meant he burnt his house down with it. He rushed to the table and grabbed the black card that said OPEN ME. With no hesitation he flicked fire from the lighter and aimed it at the label. Watching it twist and crinkle gave him an odd satisfaction.
A choking noise caught his attention. Sandy was desperately clawing at her throat as if a pair of invisible hands were throttling her. Jeff dropped the lighter and ran to her but there was nothing he could do to help her breathe.
"This is what happens when you f*** with me"
the voice in the package said.
Jeff ran back to the package and grabbed the burning card with his bare hands, snuffing out the fire. He barely noticed the pain or the smell of burnt skin as he heard Sandy give a cry that suggested air had returned to her lungs. Enough was enough, he told himself, he was going to open the package and be done with it. His fingers trembled as he tore open the black paper to reveal a plan box underneath. Whatever was inside was heavy, but when he opened it, he saw the package was empty.
“What the hell?” Jeff demanded.
All this chaos and in the end the package was empty.
“I couldn’t have summed up better myself,”
a voice said behind him.
Jeff and Sandy tuned to see a tall man standing idly by the door. He looked like Santa Claus if jolly Ol' Saint Nick dressed like a German businessman. There was no round little belly that shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly, instead there was the whiff of brimstone and a demonic gleam in his red eyes.
“Who-who are you?”
Sandy asked.
“Names,”
the demon Santa sighed.
“I get so tired of being asked who I am.
Just think of me as the gift that keeps on giving.”
Sandy reeled backwards, her eyes wide with fear.
“Don’t worry about it, little gal, I’m not here for you.”
The demon Santa laughed, then turned towards Jeff.
“You’ve been a naughty boy.
All your life you’ve been so naughty.”
“How do you know?”
“I am everywhere and nowhere,”
the demon Santa said.
“Sometimes I am in the halls of big business,
sometimes I’m in the ghetto.
Sometimes I’m in parking lots.”
The owner of the car, the sender of the gift in other words. And some much, much worse.
“What is this all about, what the f*** do you want?” Jeff asked.
“It’s simple.
Angels get to bring the little match girl to heaven,”
the demon Santa told him.
“My job is about the same, only we go in opposite directions.”
Sandy gasped.
“You-you’re here to take me to hell?”
Jeff asked.
“Well, you were due in Hell at some point,”
the demon Santa answered.
“But with the sweet magic of Yule we can fast forward it a bit.
With your help, of course.
You bought this curse on yourself and then spread it around.
Curses are venereal diseases in that manner.”
“All because I hit a car?”
“All because you damaged a man’s only means of transportation and then tried to swindle your way out,”
the demon Santa corrected.
“All sins are a sin, there isn’t one worse than others.”
Panic gripped Jeff in the moment. Without a thought of where he was going or what he’d do when he got there, he took off running from the room, only to end up right back in the room as if he’d never left. This only fed his fear, causing him to run faster, but still getting him no further. The room he was in became a blurry endless background, like the endless background loop on a Flintstones cartoon.
Finally, Jeff stopped, unable to run any further.
“Are you finished?”
The demon Santa asked.
“I…suppose I am.”
“Good,” the demon Santa said.
“This has taken longer than it should have.
I do have other places to be, you know.
It’s a good thing I didn’t send the package COD.”
The demon Santa reached for Jeff, presumably to kill him and take his soul, but before he could make contact Sandy shoved him out of the way. The demon Santa’s icy fingers touched her for a moment, and she collapsed.
“Well sh!t,”
the demon Santa sighed.
Jeff recovered from the shove and flew to Sandy’s side. Her body was shaking, and her eyes were rolling up into her head.
“Sandy?
Answer me, what’s going on?”
She was beyond answering him at this point. But there was still someone that could comment on the situation.
“Someone loved you enough to die for you,”
the demon Santa laughed.
“If I were a betting man,
I would not have put a penny on those odds.”
Jeff wasn’t listening to him or to anything else. All he could see was Sandy slipping away from him one precious second at a time.
“Well so much for that then,”
the demon Santa commented.
“I guess I’ll have to wait for you during the normal occurrence of time.
Or next year, depending.”
Jeff looked up at him, his eyes a mix of fear and anger.
“What?”
“Someone took your place,”
the demon Santa answered.
“So, you get to keep on keeping on.
A bit trite I admit,
but after all, Hell, after all, is in the details.”
And with that the demon Santa was gone.
The house ticked away silently as he held Sandy in his arms. Hundreds of half-forgotten prayers raced through his mind as Jeff begged anyone who might be listening to bring her back. Seconds became minutes as he cradled her, each moment an infinity of Hell.
And then suddenly, without warning, she started breathing. She opened her eyes, one a bright red and the other one clear, but hazy. She looked up at Jeff as if it had been year since she’d seen him last.
“Oh my God,”
he cried.
“Are-are you alive?”
“I must be,”
she gasped.
“I hurt all over.”
Jeff stroked her hair and kissed her forehead.
“How? How are you here?”
“I don’t know,”
she said slowly.
“I just…I don’t know.
The spirts did it all…in one night.”
Jeff knew that there would be trouble latter on, two fresh bodies to explain in his house, but in the moment he didn’t care. Sandy was still alive.
It was a Christmas miracle. Outside it began to snow.
The End
Stay tuned for the
"Multifaceted Diamond of an EPIClogue"
coming tomorrow readers.
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Post by wolf on Dec 24, 2022 16:22:18 GMT
Epilogue(s)
Introductory Note from the Editrix :
Once upon another story or two awhile back, the great author Frank Herbert
(in tandem with the edwardjohn quoting him ) said,
"There is no real ending. It's just the place where you stop the story."
Stories never really end, and their endings can vary in all of the worlds, universes and times.
Just ask the likes of the Gunslinger, galant Deschain and the Walking Dude,
or the Doctors Strange and Who.
Here below is what 4 of YOUR Authors have to say about what may,
or may not, have come next, tet-mates.
I suppose it all just depends on which beam
you stroll or stride down at the time....
Part IBy : Cap docpain2 Diaboli slowly started to arise from his ‘sleep.’ He looked around, seeing Jeffrey and Sandy and said
“Wow, that’s round three for me.I can feel that the demon has escaped, but where?”
Jeffrey responded,“He left, no idea.”
“Damn you”,Diaboli responded“they just don’t ‘leave.’”
And with that he was gone, but before that he warned Jeffrey and Sandy to not speak of this at all. That in a 'few' hours a truck will be over to help 'clean up'.
Diaboli now back in his car noticed the snow and thought ‘maybe it is, ok?’ to himself.
About halfway back to his hotel he received a call. This call came up on his phone as ‘Spam Likely,’ but he answered it anyway.
What sounded like the voice of an old man said,“Once again padre, I’m free, but you are in my chains.”
With a laugh father Diaboli responded,“I knew it was you.The parlor tricks always give you away.”
“We’ll see priest, no Vatican shelf for me.With that father Diaboli had an idea,“You’re not even a real demon,you’re just an errand boy for Asmodeus.”
CLICK,the father was hung up on.
Father Diaboli then began to spin a plan. I thought that if he could goad the junior demon into a confrontation, he may be able to capture him. The father knew these encounters were not SOP, and very much frowned upon by the church. It’s one thing to capture an entity by surprise or during an exorcism, but starting a playground fight with the bully will not be viewed favorably.
Back in his room, father Diaboli logged to the Vatican’s library, looking for if nothing else, this demons name. In the pray trade they’ve found that it is always best of you can place a name to the source of the evil you are fighting. Diaboli was concerned that neither Jeffrey or Sandy would truly be safe until this demon is tucked away for a few centuries. Also the father knew that there were bigger plans for Jeffrey in the future.
The next morning Father Diaboli met one of his oldest friends and longest surviving colleagues for breakfast. Anthony Martin was seated in a booth overlooking a bustling road, crowded with rush hours commuters.
“Luc, it’s good to see you my friend,”Anthony said.
“You too Tony, do you have anything for me”?
Tony opened his briefcase,“Not yet, but we do have a few news reports with odd occurrences that may be the target.”
“Target?”Diaboli laughed.“Ok, the target then, what do we have?”
Anthony went on and began reading (quietly) several reports detailing unusual deaths and strange happenings.
“One thing for sure Luc, whatever you're on to, this is the epicenter.Is your team in-place”? asked Anthony.
Diaboli looked at him with a look he’s seen before.“Ah, no team, just me…and maybe a clever private eye I know who doesn’t mind working for free.”With that Anthony chuckled,“Hey, I’m not even catholic.”Father Diaboli laughed and looked at him with his placid eyes."Well then for your mother’s sake, help me out."
After breakfast, Tony and Luc made plans to meet at the My Alibi Bar & Grill that night around 7:00pm. Luc explained that may be a good starting point since it was where Jeffrey first stirred the demon up.
Tony decided to start doing some more in-depth research on his own. He had gotten the parking lot video from Jeffries accident. Actually it was the cities street cam which was pointing towards the parking lot in hopes of catching a local crew of car thieves.
Once he scrolled back to the right day, it was easy to catch the license plate number on the old Plymouth fury. He then logged in to the state’s DMV it run the tag.
About an hour later Tony was pulling up to the home of one Samuel Fuller, age 72. Immediately Tony saw the car in the driveway. As he approached the home, he looked, and the car looked close to brand new. Tony thought to himself, maybe this guy went to Earl Scheid, if they still existed that is.
At that point, Tony decided to head back to his office, having a weird feeling that he just couldn't define.
At the same time, father Diaboli was in his hotel room when there was a knock at the door. The father was surprised to see that it was a package. He looked down the hall and whoever delivered it was gone. He was thinking to himself,
‘Not very original, but it seems I got someone or somethings attention.’
“Tony, cancel the dinner plans, I just received a package”the father said into his friends voicemail.“Meet me here as soon as you can and bring your gear”.
With that Diaboli hung up and started to examine the outside of the package, plain brown paper on the outside, under which was so black he couldn’t believe his eyes. Handling the package brought on a queasy nauseous feeling which was not unfamiliar to the priest.
“You’re not in there”he said out loud.
“No but you’re in here”a voice from behind him stated.
Luc turned to see Tony standing there, but it wasn’t Tony at the same time.
“You?”Diaboli said with surprise!
“Yes me, it’s always been me and always will.You know all those big bad demons you have locked up are doing your work priest!We’re the ones who really go after evil, you just get the table scraps.”
Diaboli replied,“So now what?"
“Sit with me father, hear my sins and I’ll tell you yours.It’s Christmas and I know what I want."
Two days later father Diaboli(cal) arrived at the Vatican. He was last seen entering the lower vault in the main basement and has not been seen since.
Merry Christmas!
Part IIBy : JB darkharbinger
Explanations and salutations. As the hours and days went by, Jeff got used to both. Explanations of the two bodies in his house, exaltations because Sandy was alive. A part of him wanted to question how she managed to come back after taking the demons’ death touch, but his mother had always said not to look a gift horse in the mouth. And this was no mere gift horse; this was a gift unicorn.
The police had a seemingly endless list of questions, not so much about Walter but about Diaboli. Walter was known to have a drinking problem, he was known to talk with his fists, and he hadn’t brought the knife to Jeff’s house to cut cake with. His sister Bianca had died, and he blamed Beaumont, only he stabbed the wrong man. But Diaboli was a different matter. He, too, had a connection to Bianca, but the connection was tenuous at best. Why was he there? That wasn’t so easy to explain.
Diaboli was wanted for questioning all over the world. There wasn’t one government agency that didn’t want to get a few hours with him alone, and now that he was dead, they were nearly at blows over who got his body and any personal papers he had. Jeff did his best to wade through all of this while keeping Sandy away from the questions and odd looks. Her one eye had yet to return to its original color, and the bright crimson had caused many a cop and official to stare at her strangely.The issue finally cooled down, giving Jeff a chance to relax and appreciate that he was still alive. He and Sandy decided to leave and spend the rest of the holiday somewhere private, somewhere nosey neighbors and questioning police couldn't shadow their every step. He had to let the authorities know where he was going, but the distance and snow should keep some of them away.The cabin was fully stocked, and within a few hours, they had it as cozy and warm as they could want it. Jeff sat down on the couch and idly flipped through what stations they could pick up way out here in the sticks while Sandy busied herself in the other room. He couldn’t tell what she was cooking, but it smelled wonderful. They would rest and recharge here for a while, and when they went back to their lives, maybe the worst would be over.
Sandy made stroganoff from canned meat and hamburger helper, and it was the best meal Jeff had in his entire life. After dinner, they ended up in bed. Several satisfying hours later, they lay exhausted in each other’s arms.
“Are we allowed to be happy?”Jeff asked.
“What?”Sandy asked, surprised.
“What do you mean?”“I just…I don’t know…”
“Just try and say it out loud.”
Jeff thought about it.“So much death lately…and poor Bianca.I feel guilty that here we are, and she is gone.She didn’t deserve any of this.”Sandy smiled at him.“No, she didn’t.But I think she’d be okay with this.”“With her brother dead and us making love?And Diaboli, whatever they had going?”
“She is in a better place,”Sandy answered, snuggling against him.“It’s a tired world, Jeff.We have to make the best of what we have.”That was a good answer. Why was he questioning things? All the guilt in the world wouldn’t undo what had happened and could not tarnish what he had. Things could have turned out so much worse. And yet there was a small part of him that said he’d gotten off lite…
“I have to confess something,”Sandy remarked.
“What could that be?”Jeff grinned.
“That it is tiresome,”Sandy said, shaking her head.“What is?”
“Being this upbeat and bubbly.How did she do it?”“What?”The strange redness in Sandy’s eye glowed, looking, perhaps, how Tolkien saw the Eye of Sauron in his dreams.
“I don’t know how your little whore did it,”
Sandy answered.
Only it wasn’t Sandy’s voice coming out of her mouth, it was Bianca’s.
“B-Bianca?”
“The one and only.”“But how?”“Does that matter?Aren’t you happy to have me back?You don’t sound like it.”The voice of Bianca inquired.
“This is the best of both worlds for you, Sandy, and I in one body.”“Where is Sandy then?”He asked, starting to get out of bed.
Bianca/Sandy grabbed him by the arm with surprising strength.“Who knows? Here, there, everywhere.Not my department.”
“Oh God…”
“No,”Bianca/Sandy laughed.“Not him.You are getting this gift from someone else,a consolation prize for being a good sport.You got played the whole time, my love, and didn’t even know it.”
Outside, the snow continued to fall, covering the world like white wrapping paper on a cherished gift.
Part IIIBy : Wolf
Jeff helped Sandy to her feet and onto the couch. She and he both shivered, Demon Santa had left the damn front door open when he disappeared, and cold winds were blowing snow into the living room. He went to go close it and suddenly realized that Diaboli and Walter were gone. The copious amounts of spilled blood were also nowhere in sight. Jeff felt a huge relief, knowing THAT burden had been taken off him and Sandy.
'Demon Santa must have taken them with him.'he thought.
But he got another strange feeling and thought as he stared curiously at the spot of floor where they had been (just as he had about the Satan's little helpers Santas).
'What the hell did he want with those bodies?'
As he closed the front door, one thought led to another, and he was then reminded of something from the theology studies of his youth. The 9th verse from the Letter of St. Jude in the New Testament. Back then he had wondered the exact same thing about the devil wanting Moses' body. Luc Diaboli stepped up the ladder of the Christina Athina, the small but luxurious yacht captained by Stavros Christopoulus, the old jalopy driving man.
Diaboli had dead Walter following right behind him. As they boarded, the wife of Stavros met them. She held a black velvet smoking jacket with red trim, draped over one arm.
"Nia! Lovely as ever, I see. Thank you, my dear."said Diaboli before giving her cheek a quick kiss.
And it was true, she was lovely. She and Stavros were still aged but stronger, far less frail, than they appeared to be when Jeffrey Beaumont had first encountered them. She brushed snow from his shoulders as he removed his Roman collar and unbuttoned his bloodied long black cassock. He gladly traded her the cassock for his more comfortable, warm smoking jacket. The constraining cassock had rapidly started to feel like a hair shirt. It was wet and sticky with blood, and it offered little protection and comfort against the frigid night air. When he turned to sit the bewildered, silent Walter down on a deck bench, he heard someone step out of the cabin behind him.
Turning back around he said,"Ah... bonsoir and buona serata, Mein Freund.You beat me here, Michelangelo."
He smiled that disarmingly charming smile at his counterpart.
Demon Santa looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a chidingly stern look,"Guten Abend, Lucifer.Don't push it with the friend crap, Mein Ansprechpartner."
"Oh come now Michael!Isn't it fun when we get to work together,and sometimes trade places to accomplish certain things?"Then smiling with a nod Michael asked him,"Wine? We have Reisling and Pinot Grigio.What would you prefer?"
"You know me. BOTH."laughed Lucifer.Nia soon reappeared with wine and 4 glasses, Stavros was with her.
"How many gift boxes do we have left, mio capitano?"Luc asked him jovially.
Stavros replied,"Only 9.All in Europe too,we are done with the Americas."
Nia filled all their glasses while saying to Michael cheerfully,"You 2 will be finished well before Christmas Eve."
Michael raised his glass happily,"Prost! On to the Mediterranean, Mein Kapitän."
Lucifer then raised his,
"Saluti!A quick stop at the mouth of the Styx when we get there."
Then tipping his glass in Walter's direction he stated,
"The Most Just has deemed that there be a stayin one of the 'in betweens' for our good Walter here."
(Translations and Bibliography in spoiler)
German:
Ansprechpartner (contact/reference person)
or a person with equivalent rank in another department or country.
Guten Abend - Good evening
(Special thanks to Commander osnafrank for help with my vocabulary words.)
From the Roman Rite Bible,
Verse 9 of the Letter of St. Jude :
Yet the archangel Michael, when he argued with the devil in a dispute over the body of Moses, did not venture to pronounce a reviling judgment* upon him but said, “May the Lord rebuke you!”
* [9] "Yet the archangel Michael…judgment..." : a reference to an incident in the apocryphal Assumption of Moses. Dt 34:6 had said of Moses, literally in Greek, “they buried him” or “he (God) buried him” (taken to mean “he was buried”). The later account tells how Michael, who was sent to bury him, was challenged by the devil’s interest in the body. The author (St. Jude),draws out the point that if an archangel refrained from reviling even the devil, how wrong it is for mere human beings to revile glorious beings, the angels.
Part IVBy : Tanith
Creighton frowned at the man before his desk.“It smelled like what?”
“Sulphur, sir. The way the air smells after a lightning strike, if you’ve ever encountered that.”
“We’ve had no thunderstorms in the area this evening,”said Creighton.“What sort of accelerant could it have been?A very potent one, to go by the condition of that shopping center.”
It wasn’t a shopping center any more…only a smoking shell. Creighton had seen footage of buildings in war zones that matched the shattered look of the East Tunney strip mall that had housed Bianca’s mysterious vault. The officer in charge of the scene either could not or would not tell Creighton what had warned him to clear the scene, but it was a blessing he had been warned. Otherwise the body count on this endless night would be much higher.
The young patrolman shifted in his chair, looking anywhere but at Creighton. The tiny, cluttered office seemed even more claustrophobic than ever.
“Forensics is still trying to determine what was used, sir.”
Creighton folded his hands on his desk blotter and sighed, squelching the impatient wisecrack that rose in his mind. “I see.Now, have we been able to contact the owner of…son, are you all right?”The junior cop (SMITH was the name on his badge) had gone rigid in his chair, and his eyes lost all focus. He began to breathe quickly and harshly, like someone who has just run a marathon. Then, before Creighton’s disbelieving eyes, his head began to whip back and forth so rapidly his face became a blur.
Creighton leaped to his feet, but before he could summon help the fit seemed to pass. Smith leaned back in his chair, eyes shut, breathing more slowly and deeply. Disconcertingly, his hands suddenly seemed much larger than they should have been, but before Creighton could look more closely the young cop’s eyes opened…and they were utterly black, with no (iris) or whites visible. They were as alien as the eyes of an insect, but Creighton could still feel an ancient and amused scrutiny as they focused upon him.
“Do you know what the archaic name for sulphur is, Detective?”This bizarre question came from Smith’s mouth, but the voice that asked it was not his. This new voice was old and powerful, and there was a hint of a lilting accent that Creighton, in his confusion, could not place.
“Sulphur,”continued the voice,“is also known as brimstone. It is the ultimate accelerant and if you are wise, Detective, you will write this off as an accident. The result of a volatile material that was carelessly stored. You won’t want to hunt for deeper answers when the hunter can so very easily become the hunted. No one was hurt, after all…and besides, it’s Christmas!”
Creighton blinked. What had he been about to say again? Oh, yes, he remembered.“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter much. Nobody got hurt, and it’s Christmas.”
Smith continued to gaze at him with his weird black eyes.
“So easy,”murmured the voice.“You just make it so easy…”
“I’m sorry?”The youthful officer got to his feet, chuckling.
“I said you should take it easy, Detective.It is very late, and I am needed elsewhere.”As he shook the bemused Creighton’s hand with his own oversized one, the accent faded from his voice as the blackness faded from his eyes. He was out the door before Creighton could even form a response. Suddenly thinking was very difficult for him, and he ached for sleep. Not knowing that new questions would await him at Beaumont’s place in the morning, he decided to go home and get forty winks. In his eagerness to leave he failed to notice the pen Smith had left on his desk blotter…it was a very archaic-looking fountain pen, solid black with a red ring near the nib. Having been pushed beyond his limits by the night’s doings, Creighton quite failed to see it. It was very late, after all.
Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays
and an especially Happy New Year 2023!
From Frank and all of the Authors
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