Susan stopped at the crest of a hill. The five large rocks formed a natural semi-circle in the valley. She had seen other rocks like these around the farm her parents had bought. But these had a bright greenish glow that made her eyes water.

“They do glow, wow,” Brad said. He pocketed his GPS. “I told you we would find them.”

He sat his backpack down, then pulled out a video camera.

“It’s spooky. A full moon would have been better,” she said.

“Oh no, you don’t come out here on the full moon,” Brad said. “That’s when you see the Beast.”

Ever since she had moved to this town, she had heard about this circle of rocks. She had wanted to see them, because she couldn’t believe that rocks could glow. When Brad had asked her to come on this walk she said yes. She would see the rocks and spend time with Brad too.

She started down the steep hill.

Brad pulled her back. “Are you crazy? No one goes down there.”

“Why? My dad told me that those types of rocks had been dropped by the glaciers when they covered this part of the country.”

“Did he explain the glow?” Brad asked.

“Foxfire.”

“Foxfire?”

“It’s a fungus,” Susan said. “Usually in rotten logs.”

Brad chuckled. “Those are rocks. Does it grow on rocks?”

Susan shrugged. “I don’t know. But there has to be an explanation.”

Brad pointed to the rock that had a flat top. “You see that one? That is where they killed the sacrifices to the Beast.”

He took Susan’s hand. “Years ago, these cultists lived out here. And they would kidnap anyone that trespassed on their land. But there were rumors about a gold mine. So people were always looking. Of course they would catch them and take them to the rocks.”

“What type of cultists?” Susan asked.

Brad put the camera up to his eye. He scanned the valley below them. “Weird stuff. Not Satanic. Because a priest came out here to bless the area and couldn’t find any trace of Beelzebub.”

He pulled the camera away from his eye and checked the disc. Then looked through the view finder again. “Weird.”

“You didn’t break the camera, did you?” Susan asked.

Brad shook his head. He adjusted the light on top of the camera. “No, I started to pick up some interference or something. I keep seeing white flashes across the screen.”

Susan stood closer to Brad. “So there were some crazies out here, that still doesn’t explain why we can’t go down there.”

“Because of the Beast,” Brad said. “Its like Bigfoot, but it will only come with blood is spilled on the rocks.”

Susan smiled. “Then we don’t spill any blood. I only want to see if that is foxfire.”

Brad looked around. The wind had started to blow in the upper tree limbs. “Alright, but if the Beast comes you run.”

Brad tucked the camera into his backpack as they made their way down to the large rocks. Susan’s feet slipped on the wet grass and she grabbed onto a small sapling for support.

She used the small trees to assist her down the side. When she reached the bottom, her feet crunched on the small gravel that covered the valley. The glacier had to have dug this out, and left all the rocks behind, she thought.

Brad swore. She heard his foot slip, then she saw him slip down the rest of the way. He landed at the bottom and picked himself up.

“Ouch,” he said. He winced. “I scraped my hands up.”

“Do you want to go back?” Susan asked.

He shook his head.

Susan walked up to the large rocks. She could almost see over the top of the flat one. “They must have stood on ladders to use this rock as an altar.”

Brad shrugged. “Maybe they were really tall.”

Gravel slid down the steep hill. Brad turned around and raised the camera. He ran forward a few feet.

“Did you see it?” he asked.

Susan looked, all she could see was the steep hill and the rocks. “Quit fooling around.”

Brad pulled the camera down. “I saw something or someone.”

He came back to Susan and put his arm around her. “Lets make this quick.”

“Are you scared?” she asked.

Brad glanced over to the hill, but didn’t say anything.

Susan shook her head. She walked around the flat rock, running her hand over the mossy surface. More gravel fell.

“We probably knocked some loose,” Susan said, not looking behind her. “Help me up.”

Brad looked at her then at the rock. “You want to go up there?”

“So I can get a better look.”

Brad hesitated. He put the camera down and cupped his hands. Susan stepped on his hands. Brad winced. She pushed off him and onto the flat rock. Susan stood up. She looked around. The top of the rocks were dark.

“They’re not glowing now,” she said.

The gravel crunched as if something was dragged. She looked over the edge of the rock. She could not see Brad. She walked over to the other side. Still no sign of Brad. She put her hands on her hips. “Real funny.”

A hand grasped her shoulder. Susan jumped. “Brad!”

She turned around. A dark shape floated in front of her. She almost stepped back, then remembered where she was.

“Brad?”

“No one but us,” the shape said. “You called me.”

Susan shook her head. “No, I didn’t.”

“You paid with blood.”

Susan looked down at her shoe. She lifted her foot. On the bottom of her sneaker was Brad’s blood.

“What did you do with Brad?” Susan asked.

The Beast laughed. “Nothing. I took you.”

________________________

©2010 Mari Miniatt

Mari Miniatt lives in Syracuse with her husband, two boys, and two cats. When she is not working retail, she is making things up. Her first novel Fledgling is available now. Her second novel Killer will be out in October, 2010. More information at http://mariminiatt.com

Jayne woke to sharp pain gnawing at her skull. Unconsciousness started to fade as she peered through coin-slot eyes into the dimly lit darkness that surrounded her. She tried to decipher the shadows that spilled down the walls, cast by unknown objects and candles that had been scattered about.

Jayne was someplace unfamiliar and cold. The last thing she could remember was her suicide mission and crashing head-on into a tree before fading into glittering blackness. Tiny bursts of regret, fear and confusion consumed her, and she wanted to leap to her aching feet and run away to a place more familiar; a place without regret.

But Jayne could not move.

She was bound to a bed in the middle of the strange room. Janyne could feel the soft flesh of her wrists shift between hard leather cuffs. Her full figure lay stretched and helpless as she strained her neck to gaze down the landscape of her body, over the little mountains formed by her C-cup breasts and down her round, heaving stomach. Her ankles had been crossed and bound with the same leather cuff that bound her wrists. One meaty thigh crossed over the other, heavy and still and hiding her pink delta like a secret. Only a furrow of amber bush was exposed.

Suddenly, Jayne heard footsteps stir outside of a door that was hidden on the other side of the room. The door creaked as it slid open, and the sound of footsteps became louder as they drew closer to the bed. Although she was awake and trembling, Jayne clenched shut her eyes. She listened to the deep steady breath of a man and her nostrils became filled with the aromas of cinnamon and musk.

Jayne  knew there was no escape, so she opened her eyes to face reality. But the man beside her was not the ghoul she had envisioned. He did not look like the monster that had transpired in her head.

“My name is Deacon Steed.”

Deacon was striking, his flesh pallid and smooth. His steel gray eyes were so deep that they pierced through Jayne’s lingering stare and made her hazel eyes look ordinary. Deacon’s face was obscurely beautiful and he looked as if he had been carved from stone, every feature was carefully considered and pronounced.

“You wrapped your car around a tree not far from here last night. I heard a crash, and when I went to see what happened, I saw you trapped in the wreckage.”

“You shouldn’t have saved me,” Jayne said, averting her eyes away from his.

“Maybe I wanted to die.”

Deacon took Jayne’s face in his hands. His demeanor, which up until now had been emotionless and cold, turned wicked and intense.

“Your past life is dead to you, consider it over. Now you belong to me.”

Jayne became filled with an uncontrollable sense of desire. No one had ever wanted to possess her.  She felt the void within her being start to close as she mulled over Deacon’s words: “Now you belong to me.”

Jayne suddenly felt complete.

Casting gunmetal eyes upon her, Deacon flashed a devious grin. Jayne watched as two sparkling white fangs reared their pointed existence in a row of otherwise normal teeth. Chills rushed off Deacon’s body, surging Jayne’s sex like an electric pulse.

Deacon released her sore, stretched limbs and drew in her stale, sweet scent as he fondled her heavy breasts. He sucked on her hard nipples, one after the other. Jayne threw back her head in a fit of pleasure, recklessly spilling her hair all over. Her eyes were wild – his were hungry.

Deacon sucked a hard kiss from Jayne’s lips then slashed at the delicate flesh until a trickle of blood rolled down her chin. Jayne felt his tongue lop up every bit of her salty fluid as it seeped from the fresh wounds.

Blood spilled down Jayne’s chin and on to her heaving breasts. Deacon squeezed a handful of her soft buttocks as he drank. She surrendered herself completely, wishing she too had fangs to taste the forbidden insides of her lover. Never had she been in the throngs of desire like this. Suddenly, she felt Deacon’s fingers slip into her soaking-wet sex, then slide out and into her orifice again. Then he slid his moist fingers into her mouth, letting her taste her own bitter juices. Deacon filled Jayne with his burning erection.

Deacon went in for more, silent beside the sounds of pleasure. Jayne felt the sting of his pointy daggers tear into her neck. The pain disintegrated into the incandescence of their lust, and Jayne felt strangely at ease. The two were bonded by the balance of fulfillment and need – of carnal give and take. Jayne started to fade into a bleary facsimile of herself, and the candle-lit darkness grew blacker. The last thing Jayne felt before unconsciousness claimed her was the withdrawal of Deacon’s invading teeth.

Jayne woke to find herself once again bound by her wrists and ankles. This time, streams of light filtered into the room through places that went unnoticed in the dark. As the morning light cast a glow over Deacon’s sleeping body, Jayne realized it had no affect on him. And she still felt mortal.
Her neck throbbed and she could feel clotted blood crust around the small wounds. Her lips swelled, the tender flesh felt violated and raw. The scene looked different in the light and everything felt real.

Beyond Deacon’s dead-still body,  Jayne saw something glimmering on the floor next to the bed. On a pile of crumpled clothes sat a row of prosthetic fangs that were covered in dried blood. Peeking out of the pocket of Deacon’s pants was a dagger – the blade was clean and waiting to be dirtied with blood. As Deacon slept beside her, satisfied and full, the truth became clear in the harsh morning light: Jayne’s fate had been sealed since the night she crashed – the night she decided to die – and she would never escape him.

________________________________

©2010 Krist N. Webb