Andrew Vachss - Choice of Evil

When I got upstairs, I saw Pansy had Max’s singing bowl on the floor. She was just nosing it around with her snout, not biting it or anything. But she must have worked hard to get it down from the shelf where I’d put it.

“You like the sound, girl? Is that what you’re trying to do?” I asked her.

Pansy just looked at me.

I sat on the floor next to her, worked the wooden whisk until the bowl began to sing.

And then I went into it.

When I came back, I had the weapon. A bomb. A bomb built in hell. I knew it was there. I knew I could bring it with me. But I didn’t know if I could detonate it.

And then there was nothing left.

I wasn’t worried about walking out of there alive. Without me, the killer couldn’t be.

“She knows what we’re doing,” Strega whispered at me from her silky bed.

“So what?”

“It’s part of her. . . discipline. She has to know.”

“All right,” I said softly, knowing I was near the edge, dancing with a witch.

“Now she has to have more.”

“What?”

“She has to watch. I’m going to bring her in here. And make her watch us.”

“No.”

“Yes. You know how I hold her? How I keep her here?”

“No.”

“I love her,” Strega said. “And she loves me. I let her. . . here,” she whispered, guiding my hand to between her legs, a moist soft trap.

“Because you—?”

“Because she ,” the witch said. “Understand? We’re the same. . . some ways. The same. She wouldn’t let a man. . . either. But me. . .”

“I already know she’s gay.”

“She’s not,” Strega said, dropping her face, nipping at my cock. “Me either.”

“Look, I don’t care what you—”

“She has to watch,” Strega hissed at me, nipping harder. “And, if you want, we could all. . .”

“No.”

“I wouldn’t let her hurt you, my darling. I’ll be right here.”

“I don’t want her near me—not like that.”

“Oh, yes you do, baby. My baby. But you’re afraid. You never have to be afraid when I’m here. When I’m alive. Even when I’m not, I’ll always be with you.”

“Strega,” I asked her, sitting up, tugging at her hair to pull her face away from my cock, “did you ever meet the Gatekeeper?”

“She has to watch,” the witch said. Like the Gatekeeper herself; always a price.

“Just. . . watch, right?”

“If that’s all you—”

“Just watch ,” I told her, surrendering. Hating a piece of myself but staying within the circle surrounding my life. Everything costs. Everybody pays. . . and I’d paid so much to learn even that .

“Hmmmm. . .”

“And then you’ll tell me?” I asked, telling myself it would be over soon. And then I’d know. Not why Strega did things, but what she knew. What I needed.

“Yessss. . .” she whispered.

Strega disappeared. I lay there, my back against some propped-up pillows, smoking and waiting. Knowing it wasn’t about giving in to Strega, or doing what she wanted. No, whatever it was, she was doing it for me. But she was a witch, and she couldn’t work without her charms.

Nadine walked in. Nude. I couldn’t see her face in the shadowy light Strega seemed to bring with her as she followed the bigger girl into the room. Strega stood next to Nadine, her right hand somewhere behind the other woman.

I watched them watch me.

Strega crawled onto the bed between my legs. Then she stopped, well short of reaching me. “No closer, understand?” she said.

I couldn’t figure out what she was talking about. Strega was a witch, not a tease. And I was. . . limp, anyway. Frightened. Strega always frightens me. This was worse. There was lightning in the room. No thunder, just the soundless pressure of electricity ready to crackle into life. Or take it.

Strega got up, went back to where she had been standing. Then Nadine crawled onto the bed. I was frozen. If she. . .

Nadine stopped, right where Strega had. And stayed there, arching her back as Strega knelt on the floor behind her and took her. Nadine’s eyes gleamed, but they weren’t seeing me. She made a throaty sound. Strega hissed into her. I couldn’t not look at them.

Nadine let go, exploding inside. Even her overdeveloped arms wouldn’t hold her as her shoulders dropped and her face hit the bed, only inches from me. Strega slithered across Nadine’s back until her mouth was on me.

“It works now, doesn’t it, baby?”

I didn’t want it to, but it did.

Nadine never moved, staying face-down on the red silk sheets. Strega gulped hard—but she didn’t swallow the way she always did. She yanked hard on Nadine’s hair and when the bigger girl’s face came up, Strega kissed her. Deep and long.

“You’re in her now too,” Strega said when she was done. “I washed your blood. It’s mine. I can give it to whoever I please.”

I couldn’t move. My spine was frozen. But I’d paid the tolls.

Trixie approached my table, telling me it was time without saying a word. I got up and followed her to the back room.

“Incoming,” Xyla said, over her shoulder.

I watched the screen.

>>Meet. Now.<<

where?

>>ground rules: (1) no “friends”; (2) no weapons<<

understand

>>pay phone. corner 23rd and 1st. go there now. one hour. no more. await call. follow instructions.<<

bringing woman, remember?

I had Xyla type, stalling for time as I thumbed my cellular into life.

“Hmmmm,” Strega answered.

“Get ready to ride,” I told her. “Right now. Corner of Twenty-third and First.”

“We’re ready.”

“Now!” I told her, hitting the “End” switch just as his response popped up on the screen.

>>yes. *you* remember. same rules for her.<<

ok

>>leave *now* one hour, no more.<<

The huge digital clock above Xyla’s computer read 02:12. Sure, no traffic at that hour. I’d be able to get where he said on time, no matter where in the city I was. He couldn’t know the woman wasn’t with me already. I told Xyla to type:

leaving now

“He’s gone,” she said, fingers tapping impotently.

In another minute, so was I.

I knew he had the technology to monitor cellular traffic, but he couldn’t hear me speak face to face. “Pay phone. Twenty-third and First,” I told Clarence as I opened the door to the Plymouth.

“With you, mahn,” the islander said, strolling over to his own car. They’d all be there, most of them before me.

I couldn’t afford to be stopped, so I kept well within the limits all the way over. Still, I was there with a good twenty-five minutes to spare. I opened the transmission tunnel and pulled out the ice-cold untraceable pistol. Not for him—in case somebody was using the pay phone.

But it was deserted. I put the gun back.

A flame-colored Porsche Boxster roared up across the street from the pay phone. Strega, flying her flag.

I walked over to her, not feeling his eyes, but believing in them. No way he wouldn’t have the whole terrain covered. I couldn’t see any of my crew, and hoped he couldn’t either. I bent down just as her window lowered.

“He’s going to call me on that phone,” I told her, nodding in its direction without turning my head.

“Kiss me,” she commanded.

Her tongue was fire in my mouth.

“Give me your hands.”

She licked the backs of them across the knuckles.

“Mine is stronger,” she said. “I’ll send her over in a minute.”

“Then go,” I told her.

“I’ll never go,” she witch-promised me. “And if you do, I’ll bring you back.”