Chapter 15
She was sobbing, obviously in great pain, when Frank stepped down into the lounge. She heard him and cried, "Daddy?" Her voice was anguished from inside the hood. Frank winced at the sight of her raw, purple arms and wrists where the handcuffs and cord bit deep. Her feet, too, were swollen and purple.
"Yes, baby." He knelt beside her. He covered her bare breast with part of her torn playsuit.
"I can't stand it anymore. I can't! Please untie me!"
"I will in a few minutes, baby. It'll only be a few minutes more. I have to do something, then it'll be all over, one way or another."
"What? What are you going to do?"
Frank swallowed. His throat was tight. His guts were watery. Did he have to tell her? He looked to Carew. The professor nodded.
"Honey, I have to ... There's only one way to kill the demon. I have to kill it to save everything. To save myself and the professor and the country and the ... the world ... " His voice broke.
"I hurt so much! I hurt! I don't care anymore. Please—do it. I don't care what it is. It can't hurt anymore." She sobbed and moaned. Her voice was weak, watery, jagged with pain and tears.
Frank closed his eyes and put his hands around her soft, slender throat. He gasped, "I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry, I'm sorry ... "
She jerked and he felt her pulse immediately begin to pound. The demon spoke. "Before you try that, Frank, I'll tell you I won't let go until your precious 'Donna' is gone beyond recovery. If you want a vegetable for a daughter, go ahead."
"I'd rather she was dead than alive somewhere in her brain while you go on to—"
"Evicting me from this body won't save your world, O noble father." Donnathia laughed. "I took Vonda's advice and planted my fourth incubus where it will do more good for Satan than in a mere politician. This civilization is ruled by big money, not big swords as in the ancient past. My latest incubus is nesting in the fat old body of the president of the banks. I made him fuck me at the party, after you left." She laughed again. "That 'child' will help carry on the Plan. And when it is mature, it can plant an incubus of its own in an appropriate young woman of good social position, and she in turn can marry an appropriate up-and-coming politician. Maybe even Jack Dixon after all."
"You're lying!" Frank squeezed Donnathia's neck. His thumbs began to sink into her throat. "You haven't—"
The demon wheezed, cackling with amusement, "I've planted four incubi, Daddy! We never tell mortal allies everything! I have 'children' in Jimmy Massinsky ... Jonathon Dean ... Grant Ten-Eyk ... and in YOU!" Her chest heaved to draw a hissing breath and to expel it in a horrible travesty of laughter.
"YOU'RE LYING!" All his rage and hate and fear flowed into his big hands. He vaguely heard Carew praying, chanting. The demon was lying, had to be lying ...
Frank suddenly realized he had to see her eyes. He had to know when the demon had left her. There was no chance of saving Donna otherwise. He kept one hand tight on her neck, constricting her breathing. With the other he plucked at the knotted drawstring.
Abruptly, Carew was beside him, pulling his hand away. "What are you doing? No! It'll have you! No! I warned you, you can't uncover the eyes!"
"I have to see when to stop. I have to!" He pushed Carew away.
"NO! YOU POOR FOOL—" Carew's face was twisted with desperation. He lunged for the suitcase he had brought aboard. He pulled out a .22 calibre nine-shot target pistol.
Frank surged to his feet and tore the gun from the smaller, weaker man's hands. He knew what he had to do. A plan of his own, every contingency thought through, was in his mind. Pure. Clear. Absolute. He shot the man in the stomach. The sound was flat and sharp.
Carew doubled over and fell, groaning. "My God ... " He turned amazed eyes up to Frank. "You—"
Frank shot him between the eyes. The bullet hole was small and round and deep for an instant, then it overflowed with blood. Carew lay twitching. His fingers scrabbled in the carpeting for long seconds before becoming still.
Frank was panting. He knelt. He took a pen knife from his pocket and cut the drawstring of the hood over Donnathia's head. His hands shook. Donnathia was gasping, recovering from the strangling squeeze of his strong hands.
Frank prayed, "Dear God, let me win. Let me do your will in this. Let me have my daughter. Please God ..." He pulled the hood away.
"NOW!" She crowed. Blue hell burned in her eye sockets.
Frank reeled on his knees. He was impaled by her searing gaze. He whimpered.
"You are a fool. Fools die! Untie me! Cut me free!"
Frank's mind was ablaze, dazzled, floating ... He was dizzy. But a core survived the onslaught and resisted. If there are demons there is Evil. If there is Evil, there is Good. If there is Good, there is a God. If there is a God I will serve Him!
"OBEY ME! YOU WILL OBEY ME IN ALL THINGS!"
But the knife dropped from his hand.
"OBEY ME! OBEY ME!" she screamed. Her fiend's eyes glared.
I will serve Him!
Frank's hands closed around her neck again. He squeezed. He was still captured by her fire eyes, but he tightened his grip. He wept and gasped and trembled—but he pressed his thumbs brutally deep into her throat.
A great blow crashed against the yacht's hull. The deck shook. The cruiser heeled over ten degrees. Another great impact! Another! The lounge resounded to the heavy, terrifying thuds.
I will serve God!
Donnathia's blue eyes bulged. Her face darkened and mottled. But the hate and Evil were still glaring out at Frank. Then the hammer blows against the boat stopped.
Suddenly he felt a terrible pain in his chest—an agonizing pressure around his heart. A fist closing. And he knew it was the demon! And he knew it was a last, desperate attempt to survive. It might kill him, but the boat would be spotted in a day or two, and she would be found, apparently a victim of a homicidal father ... She would have a story ready.
The pain in his chest was unendurable! I will not yield! He hunched and glared down into the glazing, dimming blue eyes. She began to convulse. The body voided urine and feces. The pain slackened. Frank shouted in his mind, Leave! Leave her! His fingers were iron claws embedded in her throat. He shook the limp body. He bellowed aloud, "LEAVE HER! LEAVE HER!" He sobbed and held on and on. Then ... he experienced a coldness. An unseen essence rushed from the body of his daughter. For an instant it enveloped him in a cloud of blackness of mind ... and was gone.
He painfully straightened his fingers and took his hands from the corpse's bruised neck. He knew there was no hope. But with an anguished cry, he slammed his fist down on her chest. Again! And he fastened his mouth on hers and forced air into the still lungs. There was no response. He gave up after half an hour.
He turned off the yacht's lights and sat in the fantail staring at the night sky until dawn. His head felt funny. Then he weighted both bodies and lowered them into the sea. He cleaned the lounge. Then he started the diesel's and headed back to the Marina.
His service to God wasn't complete. He had three incubi to kill, and then ... He frowned. His head hurt. Wasn't it four to kill? Hadn't Donnathia said ...? Headache! Three. Yes, three.