Chapter 9

Frank came out of a deep sleep to the sound of chimes. He lay as if drugged, unable to move a muscle for a moment. He felt as if he had been through a giant set of wringers. He didn't want to move, but his bladder was too full. He flopped his arm up and blearily focused on his watch ... almost one p.m. His mouth tasted like dirty flannel—and those door chimes didn't stop. He struggled to sit up. He braced with his arms and saw Holly in bed next to him. She lay curled into a fetal ball, naked, breathing shallowly.

He cringed as memory of the past night came. Where was Donna? He almost fell out of the bed. His leg hurt him. He limped across the room, naked, feeling smeared and sticky, and got into a robe. He limped to the front door and opened it. He flinched at the glare of sunshine from the walk and edge of the porch. Two men in suits stood before him. Briefcase.

Frank said, "Oh, Christ, I don't want any!" He started to slam the door.

"Police business, Mr. Kaiser."

"What? What are you talking about?" He tried to look closely at the men.

The nearest stood over six feet, skinny—his gray suit hung loose—and his head was a thirtyish, bush-haired hatchet blade. It was he who had spoken—a surprising, self-assured tenor.

The other was heavier, beefy, with cop intangibly written on his stolid face and brown suit. The briefcase hung out of place from his strong right hand.

"I'm Lieutenant Stan Rose, and this is Detective Sergeant James Dennison. We'd like to talk to you for a few minutes."

Frank couldn't suppress a yawn. He rubbed his stubbly face. "What about?"

"Well, we'd like to discuss it inside, if we may."

"Look, you dragged me out of a bottomless well. I'm not awake yet. I need a shower and a shave ... Come back in an hour, hmmm?"

"It's about a young woman—a blonde, teenage girl—we think your daughter."

A sick feeling thickened in Frank's gut. "You mean Donna? What about her?"

"It would be best if we could talk inside, Mr. Kaiser."

"Yeah ... okay. Come on in." Frank wanted to rush to Donna's room to see if she was there. Had she—or it—slipped out last night after the ... the ritual and following orgy? He led the detectives to the sunken living room. "Sit down." Frank was disoriented. The demon, the reality of Hell, Satanachia, Astaroth ... it had been so convincing. Yet now, in the brightness of day, in the intrusive presence of two policemen ... Frank asked, "Is she in trouble? I haven't checked her room—"

Rose said, "Maybe it would be a good idea to see if she's here. We'd like to ask her a few questions. Primarily her, as a matter of fact."

"Why?" Frank became more awake. He rubbed his grainy eyes and face.

"May we talk with her? The reason will be clear then."

Frank pulled his robe tighter to his body, cinched the sash again, and nodded. "I'll see if she's in her room."

Lieutenant Rose stood. "Mind if I go with you?" It was more than a request.

"You think I'll spirit her out a window?" He gestured for the man to come along.

Detective Dennison stayed in the living room. He handed Rose the briefcase.

They went down the hall. Frank knocked on Donna's door. "Donna?" He hoped she'd answer. God—if the detectives searched the house—if they saw that stuff in the party room. He couldn't remember if he'd put Tribble's body into the garbage, or not, last night.

Donna opened her door. She was dressed in blue jeans and a loose blue blouse. Only its top button was undone. She held a brush in one hand. Her long blonde hair was a bit frizzy. Her eyes were ... normal. "Yes, Daddy?"

Frank took a deep breath. She seemed to be wearing a bra, too. She looked so innocent, normal, average.

He said, "This is Lieutenant Rose, from the police. He wants to talk to you."

Her eyes widened. "Me?"

Rose smiled. "Yes, for a few minutes. The living room would be better."

They trooped back. Donna appeared apprehensive.

Frank said, "Lieutenant, should I call my lawyer? What is this about?"

Rose sat close to Donna. He put the attaché case on a nearby coffee table. He opened it to reveal a tape recorder. "We'd like your permission to record the conversation from this point." He indicated Sergeant Dennison. "Jim will be taking shorthand at the same time."

Frank got mad. "What is this all about? Permission refused until I know what we're into here!"

Rose flipped the attaché case lock with his thumb a few times before looking at Donna. "It's about the murder of Dainis Webster yesterday afternoon."

Donna paled. Frank blurted incredulously, "Webster?"

Detective Dennison scribbled on his open steno pad. Lieutenant Rose answered, "Yes. You know him, or know of him. Your name and address are in his address file." Rose watched Frank. "Protection to record? It's for your protection as well as ours."

Frank glanced at Donna. She was biting her lower lip, looking scared, but not too scared. He said, "Not yet. I feel at a disadvantage here. Give me a minute to get some clothes on." He went to Donna and squeezed her hand. "Don't say a word until I get back."

"I won't." She looked up and—Was there an evil, amused glint in her eyes, a message?

Frank was confused again. Then he realized the demon was in her, acting! He turned away and limped to the master bedroom. To his relief, neither of the detectives followed him. He wanted to wake Holly and tell her to stay in bed and keep quiet.

Lieutenant Rose said, "Before you go—whose green Vega is that in your driveway?"

"That's ... my girl friend's." He saw the next question coming and added, "Holly Barnes. She's asleep right now in my bed. I hope it won't be necessary to awaken her."

Rose hesitated. He studied Frank. "No. I don't think it'll be necessary at the moment. Go ahead and get dressed."

Holly was still sleeping. Frank threw off his robe and slipped into underwear, tan slacks, a brown sports shirt, brown socks and brown, crepe-soled slip-ons. Then he went to the big bed, shook her awake and whispered his instructions. He whispered fiercely, made sure she understood, and then took a minute in the bathroom to empty his overfull bladder and run an electric shaver over his chin, neck, and upper lip. He let his sideburns go untrimmed. He splashed hot water on his face, toweled, combed his hair.

Through all this, he tried not to think about what Rose had said. Webster—Why did they think Donna had anything to do with it?

Frank returned to the living room. "All right, Lieutenant, I'll let Donna decide if we need a lawyer."

Donna said in a small voice, "No, I don't mind. I just don't know anything."

Rose nodded. He switched on the tape recorder and positioned the microphone between Donna and himself. He took a printed card from his shirt pocket and read her rights to her. When he had finished, he asked, "Miss Kaiser, do you understand what I just said? Do you agree to answer questions without a lawyer present to act in your behalf?"

"Yes."

"And you, Mr. Kaiser, as her parent, do you agree?"

"Yes."

"Fine." Rose made a face and rubbed behind his ear. "Miss Kaiser, a very pretty blonde girl in a yellow dress was seen to leave Dainis Webster's house yesterday afternoon ... around two. She called a cab at two-oh-nine and was picked up at Fifteenth and Jessup by cab number three-five-oh. Driver was Manual Silvers. He drove her to this address, your home, and arrived here at two-forty-two. He noticed that the girl's dress was spattered with blood—or at least dark brown spots and smears. Also, her hands were stained—as if by blood."

Rose paused. He regarded Donna closely, with shrewd, experienced detective's eyes. So, too, did Detective Sergeant Dennison. Frank stared at her. She had taken money from his wallet. She had had the opportunity ... Murdered Webster?

Donna seemed to shrink into herself under their gazes. She huddled and began to shake. She buried her face in her hands. She sobbed. "It was me ... it was me ... I went there ... " She looked up, wide blue eyes wet with tears, horrified. "But I didn't k-kill him! He—he was already d-dead!"

Rose nodded. "All right, let's go into this from the beginning. Why did you go there in the first place, Miss Kaiser?"

"I went there ... I'm interested in the occult and superstitions and witchcraft ... things like that." Donna looked around for a handkerchief. Rose gave her his.

Rose asked, "You knew he was an authority in those subjects?"

"Yes. He was at a party here ... night before last, and—"

"The night before he was killed." Rose shifted his gaze to Frank. "Does Miss Barnes know Webster?"

"No. She'd never met him before the party. I don't think she said six words to him even then."

Rose nodded. "Umm." He looked to Donna. "Now, you knew Webster was a specialist in the occult and related subjects. Did you spend a lot of time with him at this party?"

Donna looked to Frank for support. She seemed young and vulnerable. He sat beside her and put his arm around her reassuringly. Frank said, "I invited Webster to add a bit of color and variety to the party. A friend told me about him. I'd never met him before he showed up."

"What is the name of this friend?"

"John Bernstein. He's a professor at Long Beach State."

Rose nodded and made a note on a pad. He looked up and squinted fiercely at Donna. "The cab fare is almost twenty dollars, one way, to Webster's house in Long Beach. Why were you willing to spend that kind of money? What was so urgent, Miss Kaiser?"

"Daddy gives me all the money I need. I just paid what the meter said. I don't think about money."

"Forty dollars for cab fare in one day—that's quite an allowance for a fifteen-year-old girl."

Frank said angrily, "I make a lot of money, Lieutenant. I only have myself and Donna to spend it on."

The detectives looked sour. Rose sighed. "Still, it was a special trip. What did you want to talk to Webster about, Miss Kaiser?"

"I—I wanted to find out more about the kinds of clothes witches wore in the Middle Ages, and warlocks, too. And if he could teach me a realistic-sounding spell I could chant at a costume party I was thinking of having here next month."

"Umm." Rose rubbed behind his ear again. He and Detective Dennison exchanged glances. Rose said, "Why don't you tell us how you got in Webster's house and how you found him?"

"Oh ... it was horrible ... when I finally found him up in that room." She pressed her face against Frank's shoulder. "He was all—He was dead, and all ripped open ... and ... his ... insides were all ... " Donna broke down again and sobbed. She clutched at Frank. He patted her. "Easy, honey ... "

Frank wondered why he didn't tell Rose and Dennison the truth about his "daughter." He could show them the party room. He couldn't! He had done things with her he couldn't admit. He was no longer the innocent victim. He'd sound a fool if he tried to excuse what he had done by saying she had an overpowering will, that she was possessed, that she could levitate objects. Donna or the thing in her was able to act normal anytime she or it pleased. She would lie, blame him, convince anyone he was the monster, the depraved libertine who had forced her, raped her ... Frank was trapped ... by fear, and by lust and by a growing desire to know—-for sure—if the Old Ones really existed. He had to cover for Donna, and lie for her.

Rose waited a moment before asking any more questions. Finally, when Donna seemed to have regained some composure, he asked, "How did you get into the house? Why were you looking for him upstairs?"

"The door was open a little ... a few inches ... and I knocked a long time and pressed the door chime button ... but nobody came. I put my head inside and called ..." Donna took a few seconds to blow her nose and swallow. She continued brokenly, "I thought maybe he'd gone out for a few minutes or was in the basement and couldn't hear me. I didn't want to just leave right away after I'd come so far ... So, I just went inside. I sat in the room ... on the right, sort of an office or study or something. There was a desk and books ... but it smelled awful, and I saw some things had been burned in the fireplace."

Rose pressed, "Why did you go upstairs?"

Donna chewed her lower lip. She started to cry again. "I shouldn't have! I should have just left! But ... I got curious and ... and I wondered why he'd left the door ajar and everything. So I started to explore. All those occult paintings and decorations and things ... I was curious what the rest of the house was like."

"And you found his body in the upstairs hall?"

"No—it was in the bedroom. It was awful!"

"How did you get blood on your hands and dress, Miss Kaiser?"

Donna moaned, quavering with horror, "I fell in it! I got so dizzy and sick—I fell on him!" She wailed and started to run away. Frank held her. He comforted her.

Rose switched off the tape recorder for a moment. He conferred with Dennison for a moment in a low voice. They checked some papers from a folder in the attaché case. Neither Frank nor the sobbing girl could hear what they said. Rose switched on the recorder again. "A few more questions, Miss Kaiser. Just a few. We have to know why you didn't call the police then, or report it to someone, even the cabby."

"I don't know. I just wanted to get out—I didn't want to even think about it or remember it. It was horrible!"

Rose asked Frank, "Mr. Kaiser, did she tell you?"

"No." Frank was pale. He was cradling a murderess in his arms. Or a murderer?

Donna said unevenly, "I knew I should have called the police. But I was already home ... and I was afraid of getting mixed up ... and I didn't want to get Daddy involved ... I'm sorry."

"Where is your yellow dress, Miss Kaiser?"

"In my room ... in the bottom drawer of ... "

Rose signaled Dennison. The sergeant left to find the dress.

Frank watched him go and wondered if he should object. Didn't they have to have a search warrant? But Donna had told the exact place. She was in full command. He had found a pulse in her thumb as he held her hand during most of the interview, and her heartbeat hadn't varied from normal. A steady seventy-five beats per minute. Frank was unsteady himself. He asked Rose, "Webster was mutilated?"

"Disemboweled. It wasn't pretty. It was deliberate, and there were parts of him missing."

Frank stared at Rose. He steeled himself not to look down at Donna. He said, "I don't think I want to hear any more."

"I wouldn't tell you anymore."

Dennison returned to the living room with Donna's soiled yellow dress in a plastic evidence bag.

Lieutenant Rose asked, "May we take the dress for tests, Mr. Kaiser?"

"I don't see why not. But Donna's already admitted it's Webster's blood."

"We like to be sure."

Frank said, "Go ahead."

Rose nodded to himself. His hand went to the tape recorder, then fell away. "Mr. Kaiser, just for the record, where were you at two yesterday afternoon?"

Frank grinned. "At the works. Kaiser Kilns."

Rose switched off the tape recorder. "Well, thank you. Especially you, Miss Kaiser. I know it's been a traumatic experience and I'm sorry we had to put you through it. I hope you understand we had to follow up the lead and ask these questions."

Donna nodded, sniffling. She held out his damp handkerchief. "Thank you."

Rose inclined his head and pocketed it.

Two minutes later Frank closed the front door as the two detectives went down the walk to their car. He watched until they drove away. From behind him he heard Donna's deep, evil chuckle. He turned and she pressed against him. She put her arms around his neck and pulled his head down. "You performed beautifully, Frank. I'm proud of my daddy. I'm going to reward you."

She kissed him sensually, erotically. He couldn't help returning the kiss and holding her tightly in his arms. He had to break for air. His lungs were starved. And he had to ask the question. He gasped into her ear, "Did you kill Webster?"

"Of course. I sent him over. His soul brought me powers. I had to kill his knowledge and destroy that book. We can give limited spells to trusted humans. We cannot let those ancient rituals and exorcisms and powerful chants become widespread. We will not be controlled by you mortals!"

Frank wanted to pull away. She had killed Webster. Disemboweled him!

She laughed. "Still under the influence of Christian morality, aren't you? Still bothered by conflicting loyalties?" She wrenched his head around and transfixed him with her bright, powerful blue eyes. She had masked and "filtered" her extraordinary, hypnotic gaze while the detectives were present.

"Frank, you are in this to the death. You are mine! As much as Holly, you are my slave." She smiled. As she held him with her eyes she unzipped his pants. Her fingers deftly slipped into his briefs and claimed him. She manipulated gently, insidiously. He hardened. "Now we're going to your bedroom," she said, "and we're going to use Holly again, and I'm going to use you. But before that you're going to take off these prim clothes I had to put on in a hurry when those stupid detectives arrived."

She "towed" him to the bedroom. He felt humiliated and loathed himself. But her skillful grip milked him subtly, as she pulled him along, promising delights, recalling memories. Frank despised himself ... and knew he was into the affair to the death. It was penetrating. He had lied to the police ... was now harboring and conspiring with a murderer. God knew what other charges could be leveled against him in addition to the sex crimes he had already committed—with his daughter.

In the bedroom Holly was awake, sitting up, when they entered. She asked, "Why were they here?"

Donna said, "Undress me, Daddy." As Frank obeyed with trembling hands, Donna told Holly of the scene with the detectives. "Fools. They can't believe a sweet, innocent blonde teen-ager could do the monstrous, vile things that were done to Webster. They'll look for an insane killer, a man with a history of sex perversion and psychopathic violence."

Frank unhooked Donna's tight bra. She shrugged it off. It fell to the carpet. He knelt and eased her peach panties down. He couldn't resist kissing the smooth, rounded, white cheeks of her buttocks as he pulled the panties down her thighs.

Abruptly, she bent over. "You an ass man, too, Daddy? Want to lick her hole? Then, do if!" She pulled apart the cheeks. He stared at the small, puckered, brownish-pink sphincter. He closed his eyes and licked into the deep, fleshy crevice. After a moment she said, "Enough." She stepped out of the panties puddled at her feet and climbed onto the big bed. She took Holly into her arms and kissed her lasciviously.

Frank didn't have to be told to strip. His erection didn't diminish as he watched Holly respond. Donna was feasting on her large red nipples. When Frank's weight disturbed the mattress, Donna took her mouth from Holly's left breast and said, "On your back, Daddy. I'm going to feed you five or six courses of hot, juicy cunt."

A weird excitement shivered Frank. He lay on his back. Donna straddled his chest. Her weight came down and he was faced with the tanned gorge of her open thighs and the pink, moist slit of her vulva. "I love your tongue, Frank. This body loves it. The pleasure nerves are well developed. And you love to give it to your daughter, don't you?"

He couldn't answer. He put his hands on her silky cheeks and pulled her up to his waiting mouth. He kissed the wet, warm, vertical lips, and ran his tongue between. He felt her tense when he strummed her clitoris. He reveled in the act. He gave all of himself to it. Why not? Why not? He was in so deep now it didn't matter.

Donna said, "Now, Holly, suck him off. Slowly. Don't let him come until I tell you."

Frank felt Holly moving on the bed, and then felt the soft, warm, wet enclosing by her mouth. He quivered and groaned into Donna's sweet, gaping vulva when Holly's tongue went to work. Donna hunched forward and rocked her yielding mound against his face. His nose was buried against her. His open mouth was fastened to her pink opening, his head was wedged between her tensing, hardening thighs. His tongue played rhythmic games. She climaxed, panting, jolting his head with reflexive pelvic thrusts. She grunted, "Don't let him go off yet!" She could sense from his body's tension, from the enthusiasm of his tongue, that he was close.

Holly stopped the long, slow takings of her mouth and throat. She held him in her hand and waited a moment before beginning again. She blindly obeyed Donna. She was nearly mindless. Last night had almost wiped out her identity. She was now simply a slave.

Donna took deep breaths. "I'll keep you with me for a thousand years, Frank. Just for this ... " She reached down with both hands and pressed his face tighter against her core. "Again!"

Fifteen minutes later Frank's jaws were aching, exhausted. His tongue felt raw at the base, painful, where it curled out of his throat, from constant straining to reach far into her between sustained periods of stabbing at her swollen clitoris.

Donna was almost collapsed over him, panting in the aftermath of a seventh wracking orgasm. She toppled off him. She watched Holly fit her mouth with exquisite gentleness and care over Frank's throbbing, jerking organ. She chuckled, "Been up to the edge a dozen times, haven't you, Daddy? Want your sweet little Donna to finish you?"

Frank made a yes sound. He had thought he had been so thoroughly drained the night before that he couldn't manage another ejaculation for days, yet now he knew it was there, poised to spew from his loins again. He grabbed a pillow and doubled it under his head as Donna shifted into position. Holly moved aside.

Donna noticed what he had done. "Why, Daddy! How you've changed. Now you want to watch your little girl suck you off. Aren't you going to try to stop me? Not even one 'Please, Donna, for God's sake, don't'?" She laughed with obscene delight. "You're making good progress. You both are."

Donna patted Holly on the head. "Do you want relief, too, dear?"

Holly nodded mutely.

Donna looked around the room. Her notice was caught by the knobbed posts at each corner of the king-size bed frame. The posts were about ten inches high, carved in a series of six small connected walnut spheres the size of golf balls. Donna pointed to one of the posts. "Fuck that until you come."

Holly, for the first time in all the times she had been in the room, and in the bed, saw the knobbed posts for what they could be used for. She groaned. She obeyed. Frank watched, sunk in lust and depravity, as Donna bent her head and licked the silky purple head of his big penis. Then she placed her succulent, warm lips on it and with infinite skill, took it deeply into her mouth. Behind her, to the right, Holly crouched, her slender body taut, and lowered herself onto the knobs. Frank watched that, too. He was breathing loudly, erratically. His belly sucked in. "Ohhh, Satan! Oh, shit! I LOVE IT!"

Donna had taken him till her throat stroked his glands, and she was kissing his pubic hairs with lips clinging to the thick root of him.

Holly was gasping, shuddering as the fifth and sixth wooden spheres of the post disappeared inside her. Her eyes locked with Frank's for a moment. Then she lifted and sank, lifted and sank, slowly at first, then faster as her secretions oiled the polished walnut.

Frank yielded. "Suck, Donna, suck! Suck me ... suck me ... suck meeeeee!"

She chuckled somehow with her mouth and throat full of him. Her head rose and fell swiftly. Her lovely blonde hair brushed his belly with tickling grazes, and her full breasts jostled and nudged his thighs, her soft, gentle hands cupped his scrotum in warmth.

Frank went rigid, head trembling, eyes fixed, seeing Donna's greedy lips sweeping down ... seeing Holly working more and more enthusiastically over the post.

A strangled shout erupted from his throat as his guts clenched and his loins exploded with the ultimate pleasure. He shook and thrashed, out of control—not wanting control!—as his body and mind seethed in that wonderful agony. When the pleasure turned keen and painful he cursed God for making men this way. The pleasure should last. He begged Donna to stop sucking. He watched, dull-eyed, no longer interested, as Holly gasped and moaned into a perverted climax.

She was plunging up and down on the knobbed post. Juices ran down the lower knobs. The small wooden globes made sucking sounds as they emerged. Her clitoris was surely dragged down into direct contact with them as they were crammed into her vagina. She drooled as she worked, head down, body flexing, hands clawing the bedding. A series of wracking spasms shook her. She whimpered. She slowed and carefully disengaged from the wet post. She collapsed on the bed.

Donna said approvingly, "Very good, my slaves. Rest for a while. Bathe, dress. This evening we recruit my coven."