The Devil's Right Hand - J. D. Rhoades [59]
“He didn’t give me much choice,” Keller said.
She laughed. “He’s not shy about letting you know what he wants,” she said. “Just like...” she trailed off.
“Like his father?” Keller said.
She bit her lower lip, then shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about him,” she said.
“Okay.”
Something in his tone made her look at him. She put a hand on his chest. “Jack,” she said. “I’m not trying to shut you out. Really. It’s just that--hell, I don’t know.” She paused for a long moment. “Talking about him makes me feel bad,” she said, “and I want to feel good right now, okay? I haven’t felt this good in a long time.”
“Thanks,” Keller said.
She laughed and kissed him again, harder. “You’re welcome,” she said. “Besides, I want to find out more about you.”
Keller willed himself not to tense up. “What do you want to know?”
“Oh, hell, I don’t know,” she said lightly. “Where’re you from? What’re your folks like? Stuff like that.”
Keller took a deep breath. “I’m from Charleston. My grandmother raised me. Next question.” He cursed himself inwardly for the anger he couldn’t keep out of his voice.
She was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she said. “If it’s something that makes you feel bad, it’s not fair to ask you to talk about it. I guess.”
Keller shook his head. “No,” he said, “don’t be sorry. You didn’t know. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”
“No,” she agreed. “But it’s okay.” she moved closer to him and began rubbing his neck. Keller closed his eyes, letting her strong fingers relax the tension in him. Finally, he opened his eyes.
“I never met my father,” he said. “Mom said he was a sailor from the naval base. She said he was killed in Vietnam. I don’t know if that was true. Truth was--kind of a flexible thing with my Mom.”
“She left you?” Marie whispered. Keller nodded, unable to speak further. She pulled him close and kissed him deeply. His hand came up to caress her hair and she moaned softly.
“You can’t stay the night,” she whispered as they broke the kiss, “it wouldn’t be right for Ben to see you--well, you know.” She kissed him again. “But you can stay awhile longer.”
“What about--” he gestured towards the boy’s bedroom.
“Already asleep,” she said. “And when he’s down, you could stampede a herd of buffalo through his room and he wouldn’t wake up. But we’ll lock the door,” she said, “just in case.” She stood up and took his hand, leading him to the bedroom.
They began more gently this time, the need for quiet holding them to soft caresses and whispers at first. But as they moved together, they gained urgency until she stuffed the corner of a pillow into her mouth and bit down hard to stifle her cries. He buried his face in her shoulder to muffle his own sounds of pleasure as he joined her in climax. Afterwards, they lay entwined as their breathing returned to normal. After a few moments, she raised her head and kissed him on the ear. He rolled over on his back and drew her to him. In moments they were both asleep.
He awoke a few hours later. Marie was in his arms, her head cradled against his chest. He watched her sleep for a few moments, marveling out how good it felt to simply hold her. She stirred slightly, then opened her eyes and looked at him.
Her eyes had no iris or pupil, just dark red embers that quickly brightened to bright yellow, then white-hot flames. Her skin began charring and peeling away from the bone beneath, revealing a core of raging fire where her face had been. The blackened remnants of a skull grinned sardonically up at him, framed by cooked gobbets of flesh still clinging to the bone. Keller screamed and shoved the apparition away from him. She fell to the floor, then, impossibly, stood up, reaching out to him with fingers burned down to the bone. Her mouth opened and a long hissing shriek came out like steam escaping from a locomotive. A reeking cloud of smoke blew into his face, the stinking breath of a crematorium. He screamed again and struck out blindly at her.
He was screaming, she was screaming, but it was Ben’s cries that pulled him from the pit of the dream. Keller