Read Online HIS OTHER SON by MAYNARD SIMS - Free Book Online

glanced either side of her at the other two robed figures
and then she looked down at her arm, where Anders’ hand lay motionless.
    As she looked intently at
her arm Anders felt a warmth fan out over his fingers. The place where he had
hold of her arm was getting warmer. So warm it soon became hot. Very quickly it
was too hot to hold and he had to let go. He drew his hand up against his
chest, cradling it.
    “You held on a little too
long,” the woman said. “That will need some attention.”
    Anders looked down at his
hand and saw each finger was red raw, as if it had been held against a source
of heat, like an electric fire. His hand was throbbing, small blisters already
starting to form.
    “Do you think he still wants
us to leave?”
    The women laughed amongst
themselves.
    “I think we should shut the
door.”
    Anders stood between them
and the open door behind him. None of the women moved, but he heard the door
slam shut. He glanced round and watched as it rocked on its hinges, as if
someone had slammed it really hard.
    “Look, I don’t want any
trouble. I have a job to do.”
      None of the women were smiling now. They moved
away from one another so that they seemed to fill the entire bathroom. Even
though Anders was still stood in front of them, the impression he had was that
they were surrounding him.
    “Mrs. Stock will wonder
where we are.”
    “We had better not keep her
waiting.”
    “We have time for some fun though,
don’t we?”
    Anders didn’t like the sound
of that. He edged back towards the door, and fumbled for the handle with his
undamaged hand. He wrenched the handle down, but it wouldn’t budge.
    “It’s locked,” the blonde
one said.
    “We don’t like to be disturbed
when we enjoy ourselves.”
    The dark skinned one began
to stroke Anders chest. Immediately he felt his heart constrict, a tightening
behind his ribs, a pain like a knife plunged in and twisted.
    “It wasn’t drugs,” the older
one said. “No cocaine, nothing so mundane.” She took a small glass vial from
inside her robes and held it up to the light. It sparkled in the brilliant
white light of the bathroom. Inside the vial, a grey dust seemed to be dancing,
spinning off the glass as if in exultation.
      Anders watched, fascinated, as she took out
the glass stopper, tipped the vial against her lips, and swallowed the
contents. After a few seconds she opened her mouth, stuck out her tongue and
showed Anders the grey dust bubbling and writhing in her mouth.
    “Souls are usually best
taken with a good wine, but Brother Simon doesn’t like us to drink on duty.”
    The blonde woman was behind
him now, and Anders was barely aware of her pressing her hands into his back.
The pain in his chest was almost unbearable, but as soon as the agony started
in his back he cried out.
    As soon as the scream began,
the older woman pressed her lips hard against his mouth. He felt her lips
squirming against his, like slugs on oil-slicked glass. Her tongue insinuated
itself, and he felt a sensation like thousands of grains of sand rolling around
inside his mouth. The dust she had swallowed was being regurgitated, and he was
being forced to eat it.
    The hands stroking his chest
were more insistent now, stroking more firmly, the fingers dipping into the
flesh, the nails probing beneath the skin, raking his ribs.
    His back was racked with a
pain so intense he was forced to his knees with the pressure of it. He was
aware of hands moving around inside him, his spine being manipulated from
behind, the vertebrae being twisted and broken.
    The lips were pulled away
from his but the woman closed his mouth with her hand, and the fingers of the
hand clamped shut, so he had to swallow the dust in his mouth. He felt it
scratch his throat, burning his oesophagus, entering his lungs.
    Before he knew what was
happening he was flopping on the floor, coughing up blood. He couldn’t feel his
legs, or his arms. His heart was racing so fast it was out of