Divine Evil

this one waited, with the heart pounding and flesh sweating fervor of the damned.
    Even when the screams died, their echoing shuddered the stillness. There was one who rocked back and forth, back and forth in an obscene parody of the sex act, hot tears leaking, body quivering. For it was good, so good to witness the Master's work.
    The one who watched sniffed greedily at the air, a wolf scenting blood. Soon, the clearing would be empty again,but the blood would remain. For now the woods smelled wild, full of death and smoke and spent sex. And the shadows hid the form hunched in the brush. Whatever gods might have guarded that small clearing had been banished by death and damnation.
    “Clare. Baby, come on.” Cam pulled her against him and stroked her hair. She was trembling violently. Disoriented, he fumbled with the sheet as he tried to wrap it around her.
    “I'm okay.” She drew in long, steadying breaths. “I'm okay. It was just a dream.”
    “That's supposed to be my line.” He turned her face into the moonlight and studied it. It was pale as water. “Must have been a pretty bad one.”
    “Yeah.” She ran both unsteady hands through her hair.
    “Want to tell me about it?”
    How could she? How could she tell anyone? “No. No, it's okay, really.”
    “You look like you could use a brandy.” He touched his lips to her brow. “Wish I had some.”
    “I'd rather have a hug.” She settled into his arms. “What time is it?”
    “About two.”
    “I'm sorry I woke you.”
    “Don't worry about it. I've had my share of nightmares.” He settled back against the pillows, cradling her in the crook of his arms. “Want some water?”
    “No.”
    “Warm milk?”
    “Hot sex?”
    She laughed a little and looked up at him. “Maybe in a minute. I liked waking up and finding you here.” Shesighed and snuggled against his shoulder. The nightmare was no more than a smear on her mind now. Cam was a reality.
    “It's a pretty night,” she murmured.
    Like Clare, he watched the moonlight through the window. “Great night for camping. Maybe next full moon, you and I could pitch a tent.”
    “A tent?”
    “Sure. We could go down to the river and camp overnight, make love under the stars.”
    “We could just pull the mattress out on your deck.”
    “Where's your sense of adventure?”
    “It's firmly attached to things like indoor plumbing.” She slid onto him. “And box springs.” Nipped his bottom lip. “Percale sheets.”
    “Ever made love in a sleeping bag?”
    “Nope.”
    “Allow me to simulate.” He rolled her over and tucked the sheets tight around them. “This way, I hardly have to move to—oh, shit.”
    Echoing the sentiment, Clare scowled at the ringing phone. She gasped when Cam shifted.
    Sorry
    “No, no, anytime.”
    “Rafferty,” he said into the phone. Then,
“What?”
    “They're killing her,” Ernie repeated in a desperate whisper.
    “Who?” Hitting the light, Cam struggled out of the sheet.
    “She's screaming. She just keeps screaming and screaming.”
    “Take it easy. Tell me who this is.”
    He swore as the phone disconnected. Banging down the receiver, he rose.
    “What is it?”
    “Damned if I know. Probably a crank.” But he'd recognized true terror in the voice. “Claimed somebody was getting killed, but he wouldn't say who or where.”
    “What are you going to do?”
    Cam was already reaching for his pants. “There's not much I can do. I'm going to drive into town, look around.”
    “I'll go with you.”
    He started to refuse, then stopped himself. What if the call had been a trick to get him out of the house. To get Clare alone. Paranoid, Rafferty, he thought. But it was better to take no chances.
    “Okay. But it's probably a waste of time.”
    He wasted a full hour of it before heading back home. The town had been silent as a tomb.
    “Sorry to drag you out.”
    “I don't mind. Actually, it's a nice night for a drive.” She turned to him. “I wish you weren't so worried.”
    “I feel like I'm not in control.” It was a feeling he remembered too well from his Jack Daniel's days and one he didn't care for. “Something's going on, and I need to …” His words trailed away when he spotted a car pulled off the road into the trees. “Stay in the car,” he murmured. “Doors locked, windows up.”
    “But I—”
    “You slide over in the driver's seat. If it looks like trouble, I want you to peel out. Go for Bud or Mick.”
    “What are you going to do?”