The plane from Philly was simple. She mind-grabbed a woman at the terminal, told her that it was her own excellent idea to go home and skip the flight. Bad vibe, premonition, whatever. The woman shoved off for home and left the ticket on the seat next to her. She was already past the security points so it was no problem to step onto the plane with her ticket in hand. She kept a scarf well muffled around her face and her eyes down. There’d just been time at the asylum to dig something out -- street clothes, something she hadn’t worn in a year or more. She’d thrown it over the costume but kept the cloak. It brought so much with it.
Omaha was dark and freezing when the plane landed. She’d grabbed a driver coming out of the rental agency in a luxury sedan, gripped his mind and had him drive her to Seward County. Milford was a blip on the map, but with a little effort she found it. She thanked her ride absently, drained him and left his husk by the side of the road. The hot blood fed the flames that had ebbed and banked during the flight. Under the hazy composure, like embers under ashes, it was all waiting for her. The falling snow was a white, whirling tunnel in the sky, and it crunched underfoot like dog food as she dragged the body out of the car and past the bright circles of the headlights.
Hot lights overhead. A dark hall. That dazzling circle in the center of everything, with movement all around. The breathing of the crowd. The swirling lights. The sound of music. And then the laughter. Dog food crunching underfoot, the hard grip on her wrist, the howling and barking and snarling laughter. Cowardly dumbass bitch.
The town was small -- a cluster of churches and whatever it took to support them. She eyed the steeples warily and skirted the main streets. Knocking on a few doors got her the directions she needed. She kept herself covered in the scarf and cloak, not that she cared much about being seen. It was only a few miles to 834 Oak Bridge Road. She stalked up the front walk, feet crunching in the snow as she shredded the street clothing from her and drew her cloak close over her costume.
Her heart leaped when the door opened. Glee. Sheer unholy glee. She could feel Daxrathas rumbling in pleasure, stirring expectation that stiffened her body and throbbed hungrily in her gut. She didn’t care. This was good. This was right. Rachel Wiebe was young, pretty but not stunning, red-haired and bright-eyed with a smug little diamond ring on her finger. Her cheeks were flushed and she was smiling, although she looked a little puzzled to find a pale Jacky O. standing on her doorstep. There was no hesitation in Orchid’s heart. Not now. This was it. It was time. You dumbass, cowardly bitch. All right. Let’s see how dumb this bitch is. Inside, Daxrathas purred and coiled upwards, surprised and delighted, egging on his once reluctant protégé.
“Ms. Wiebe? I’m so glad to see you. May I come in? I’m here on behalf of a friend of yours, Tommy Champion.”
Rachel was flustered. It had been bad enough when Tommy showed up at work. The whole town was still buzzing with it. She wished that they would leave her alone, and Tommy too. He needed peace to regain his balance; he needed to be out of the spotlight. But this woman was subtle, and seemed to know Tommy. Besides, she was so polite. She looked pale -- perhaps sick -- but she stood politely on the step until Rachel found her voice and murmured a confused “Do come in.”
The woman stepped carefully over the threshold and then hit her like a freight train. There was no time to scream before she found herself pinned to the floor in the living room, staring up at the Harvest Wheat ceiling they’d painted together last weekend. The woman was on her like a hellcat and there was something in her eyes that held her there, something as powerful as the freezing steel grip of her hands.
Rachel lay on her back, staring wide-eyed and trembling at her attacker as Ken jumped her. She swatted him aside with a careless backhand that flung him into the wall, where he hit hard enough to imprint his body in the plasterboard. Finally the scream came, but the woman cut it off sharply with an icy hand on her throat. She crouched there, poised over her prey, eyes glancing sidelong at Kenny who was stirring on the floor. Rachel prayed that he would stay quiet, that he would lay down motionless and not draw attention to himself.
Orchid glared down at her with slitted eyes, deep pools with a world of hatred burning in them. Daxrathas gave a joyful surge. Come on, then, she thought. You want it. Let’s take it. She felt a burst of Power at her taunting, felt His presence thrum through her and fill her with energy and strength. Oh, he wanted this all right. He wanted it bad. And she was ready for it.
Holding her nails close to the girl’s throat as she pulled her head back by the hair, she smiled at the man, showing all of her sharp white teeth. The scent of the girl’s warm skin was intoxicating, and it was all she could do to restrain herself. Soon. Soon enough, Daxrathas. This one’s just for us. I promise. She locked down the rage in iron bands, held it for the moment of release.
“Now, little love birds. There’s just one thing I want you to remember through Rachel’s short life and long death.” She purred over the syllables, letting them sink in.
The man struggled to his feet and charged her, bellowing; she swatted him aside effortlessly, never moving from her position over Rachel. As she knocked him nearly unconscious, she gripped him mentally and held him back, adding a deep subconscious suggestion that he pay close attention and accept that what she said was true.
“I’m here tonight for one reason. That reason is Tommy Champion.” She smiled sweetly. Every word fanned her anger, brought back her injustices, heated her vengeance to boiling. Whoever said that revenge is a dish best taken cold never tried it coursing hot. “I’m bad.” She let her nails prick deeper into the girl’s throat as she spoke. Rachel struggled, but a sudden deep gouge brought a keen of pain and then absolute stillness. “I do bad things. It’s in my nature. But normally I do bad things in Philadelphia. I don’t have much call to come out to Nebraska to find pretty little things like this to torment.” She felt the words flowing, felt how good it all was. This was Power. Every helpless rabbit-wriggle the girl gave pushed the delicious sensation harder. Daxrathas glowed with approval.
“There’s only one reason I’m in Nebraska, lovebirds. It’s because someone didn’t do his job. I did my job. I’m a bad guy. I was bad. I even went looking for a good guy to tussle with. But the good guy ran away. He didn’t do his job.”
Orchid gazed into the girl’s eyes, still smiling down at her, letting her savor her betrayal. “The job of people like Tommy is keep people like me away from people like you. Unfortunately, Tommy thinks his job is to get a fat Nike contract and leave the bad guys to someone else. That’s really a shame.” Her eyes narrowed and got harder as she remembered. “You see, he didn’t just let go of the job.” She leaned forward, eyes blazing with the Power behind them. “He didn’t just run. He decided to try to play little games with me. He thought he could hurt me and run away.”
Orchid let her nails slide slowly deeper into the soft white skin of the girl’s throat, let her shriek as her little mantoy struggled pointlessly against the mental control. “Unfortunately, not everyone can run as far as Tommy can.” She glanced up at the man. “Just keep that in mind, loverboy. Tommy hung you two out to dry so that he could keep his own hands clean.”
She leaned forward, licked slowly up the girl’s neck, tasting the blood that oozed where her nails had dug in. Her prey trembled in her grip, and her blood sang. It was good. It was good. She purred, still looking the man hard in the eyes. “Just remember that. I’m here because Tommy Champion thought you made a better target than he did.”
Enough. She had said all that need be said, and the rage and Hunger were raging forth. With a roar of heady Power, she abandoned words and plunged to the feast. The blood coursed over her tongue, smoking hot, and she gave a low, gutteral moan of pleasure.
I have battened on the Blood of the Innocent, and found it Good.
And Good it was. It sang straight to her veins, vital and throbbing, blood like none she had tasted yet, blood that fanned the flames to a fury. Crouched and feeding, she felt it deep within her -- felt the Decision. Blood of the Innocent. Oh yes. This was it if ever it was on the earth. Her mind’s eye saw it like two bright doorways in the darkness of space.
Renounce. The word sprang to her mind, not from Daxrathas, not from anywhere, full in her mind.
Renounce. An instant later a hot wave of pure pleasure bolted through her, the heat of the blood boiling up through her body, tingling on her lips, throbbing through her in waves.
Renounce -- once more, but so faint that she barely felt it. Instead there rose up out of her an unholy joy that burst from her lips in hellish laughter. She shrieked with it, then reached down and ripped the girl from neck to loins. Her screams of agony rang out like church bells as Orchid lifted her writhing over her head and let the blood from the ragged wounds fall on her upturned face.
I have bathed in the Blood of the Innocent, and I have found it Good. Her mind reeling with the Power, she threw back her head, laughing as she tossed the whimpering creature to the floor. She staggered drunkenly and wiped her mouth with her arm, smearing the slick blood over her skin. Eyes blazing with vicious glee, she moved to stand over her victim.
Helpless and terribly wounded, the girl looked up at her with a soft whimper of pain and fear, and saw eyes in which no mercy tempered the hideous pleasure. Behind, the man cowered in the corner, screaming hoarsely on the edge of sanity.
Orchid smiled widely, reached out her hand, and put out the light.