J. Gonzalez - They

How had Frank wound up back in Fountain Valley? Did Gladys and the other Children of the Night dump him on some random street corner after doing whatever it was they did with him? For what purpose? Why not just kill him and make the body disappear? The more Vince thought about it, the more confused he got. Words and images swam in his conscious. The Red Opener. Hanbi. Father of Satan. Ancient and forbidden books of black magic written by Assyrian priests. How could such a legend continue for untold thousands of years, known only by a select few?

Something came out… ripped me open… it ate me …

Don’t believe a word she says… she did it… she orchestrated it…

The more Vince thought about it, the more the questions piled on. Mike Peterson’s wife, Carol, crying on TV. Gladys Black being furious with Frank, letting him be savaged by whatever thing they’d let loose on him before. Newport Road came up and Vince swung into the left-hand lane, making his turn at the light and continuing north.

Something Frank said bugged him. They’ve been, like, onto you now, grooming you for the past ten years. Can you believe it ?

Ten years?

Vince’s brow furrowed as he thought about the past ten years. In 1989 he’d still been a student, heading to the top of his graduating class in the MBA Program at UCI. He was dating a beautiful woman named Diana Roberts, whom he’d met at a party over the Christmas holidays in 1988, and next to his relationship with Laura, that liaison was the hottest affair he’d ever had. He remembered the relationship being fiery, hot with passion. There’d been something about Diana that had awoken such a lustful side of him that he couldn’t resist her. Normally, Vince had been attracted to conservative girls—preppy cheerleaders, studious types. Diana had been the exact opposite. She’d been a wild, heavy metal rocker chick with teased out hair, lithe features, legs to her neck, and a body that wouldn’t quit. Unlike most of the party girls Vince had known, Diana had actually possessed a brain. They’d have these long conversations about everything from politics to music, to literature and films, to economics and current events. She was well educated yet had a wild side that had won Vince over. He’d been a little sad to see the relationship end.

He kept his eye peeled to the cliffs to his right. It was still light enough to make out the houses perched along the edge of the canyon. The houses that lined the cliff looked to be a good quarter of a mile away, and Vince swung into his right lane so he could cruise it.

He wondered what ever happened to Diana Roberts. About a month or so into their relationship, she’d suddenly stopped calling him or taking his phone calls. When Vince dropped by her apartment in Hunting-ton Beach to see if she was okay (he’d thought she’d been sick or something), he was shocked to find that she’d cleared out. Her apartment was vacant and she’d left no forwarding address.

A year later he was working at Corporate Financial, in a job that had seemingly landed at his feet. Brian Denison, one of the middle managers that interviewed him for the position, had become a good friend and in the three years that passed Vince had risen up the ladder quickly. By 1994 he was a Regional Division Manager in charge of all accounts. He was also dating Laura Palmer, who he’d met at a business function. Two years later he and Laura were married, and Vince thought life couldn’t get any better.

Only it had. There was another promotion, this one as V.P. in charge of International Accounts. Brian was grooming him for a Presidency position; Vince knew that, and his handling of overseas stocks and bonds was becoming impeccable. One of the firm’s clients, Azif Offshore Investments, was rapidly growing into one of the most lucrative firms that the company held and it had been Brian’s baby, which he’d passed on to Vince. “I’m gonna let you do your magic on this one, pal,” Brian had told him that day just a year ago when he’d been handed the account. “These guys are gonna bust out. They’re projected at grossing three hundred billion dollars in 1999. By 2000, they’re gonna be bigger than Microsoft.”

Vince had been riding high, on top of the world, and then it had all come crashing down when Laura lost control of her vehicle and flew off the 5, crashing into a stand of trees.

Eight months after he’d buried her he still grieved. And he tried to get on with his life. Tracy Harris had proven to be a godsend. Brian Denison had been a saint. He’d given Vince all the time he’d needed, had helped him out on his accounts. Vince didn’t know how he’d managed to get through it, but somehow he did.

He saw the gleam of light reflecting off the plate glass window of a home nestled on a jutting crag just as another thought spiked his brain. Tracy Harris… something about her was suddenly becoming déjà vu. He knew he’d never met her before that social mixer at the American Banking Association Convention this past winter, but all of a sudden she popped into his head with the uncanny feeling that they had met before. It was something about her speech, the way she spoke and carried herself that was creating those familiar feelings. Vince tried to focus on it as he made a right hand turn down Park Street, which would lead him up the hill to the neighborhood where Brian lived.

Vince made another right down Fir Street. Tracy Harris wouldn’t get out of his mind, either. The taste of her lips, the comforting warmth of her body pressed against his, it was all coming back to him now, like an old friend, someone he hadn’t seen in years, someone he’d forgotten but his subconscious hadn’t.

As he drew closer to the neighborhood, he felt a weight settle in his stomach. His fingers gripped the steering wheel and he dry swallowed. This was ridiculous. He would have known if he’d slept with Tracy Harris before. He’d only been with ten other women in his life, and Tracy Harris sure hadn’t been one of them. Christ, he could name all his past lovers by name. Susie, Brandy, Lori, Tonya, Susan, Vicki, Diana, Cathy—

The names and faces rushed by and none matched, but oh there was one that was familiar. This realization settled in him as he pulled up in front of Brian’s home, a very large red brick sprawling place, and turned off the ignition. The driveway was full of vehicles. The house was at the end of a cul-de-sac; other cars were parked along the curbs of the neighboring homes, as if somebody were hosting a party. A strange sense of calmness flooded over him; he no longer felt afraid or nervous. He looked at Brian’s home, still trying to place where he might have possibly met up with Tracy Harris before, knowing he would make the connection soon. Then he got out of the car, closed the driver’s side door, and began walking up the driveway toward the house.

As he walked up the driveway, Diana Roberts came to his mind. There was something uncanny about Diana, something about her eyes… those green eyes of hers that had been so alluring, so entrancing. That and the way she had walked, the way she’d kissed him, the way she’d made love to him… it was all coming back now. And the more he thought about Diana Roberts, the more he thought about Tracy Harris and how opposite they were to each other. True, both of them were built similarly, but there the resemblances ended. Tracy was cultured, refined, classy. Diana Roberts was—

He mounted the concrete steps to the porch that led up to the large double oak doors and knocked.

And when the door was opened, a tall elderly man dressed in an immaculate black suit looked out at him and nodded. “Master Vincent,” the man said, his voice crisp and commanding. “We’ve been expecting you. Please, come in.” The man stepped aside, allowing Vince full view of the entry hall.