5

Any agreement of mutual niceties between Floyd and Sam went out of the window as quickly as it had arrived. Sam went into full blown whining mode and Floyd showed Spencer exactly how painful it is to be kneed in the groin. Though this gave Sam a small amount of satisfaction the problem hadn't gone away. Sam sat in the corner and watched Spencer crying and he liked it. He liked to see Spencer in pain and crying out like a baby. It was far past time that Floyd put Spencer back in the place he deserved to be. He'd ruined everything and will continue to ruin things because Spencer just has to stick his nose and get things stirred up. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair. Spencer had been given so many chances (in Sam's view) and this was the end of it.

But that moaning from Spencer carried on. He was taking in big gulps of breath and had his hands rammed down between his legs and his chin pressed down onto his chest in a pathetic attempt to stop Floyd from hitting him and still he had to ask questions!

'What – what – what…' Well it wasn't much of a question really but it was enough to infuriate Floyd.

'Shut the fucking fuck up!'

So they were obviously open to negotiations here. Sam wanted to get out before the explosion which he could feel building up. He didn't want to be here when Floyd decided that Spencer was a liability.

'What did you… do – what – where is the… what…'

Again a stuttered, stammered attempt to ask something… but Spencer didn't get further as he had to try to talk between bouts of puking and wailing of pain. Pathetic… even Sam could take more than Spencer could and Sam reasoned that he was smaller than Spencer and not as heavy as Spencer and not so much experience… maybe… at least not from Floyd, but Sam thought he could take a smacking better than Spencer could and it wasn't Spencer really, out of the two of them, who had the real balls anyway. It couldn't have hurt that much.

'For my life! You fucking moan on and on. Why don't you shut up like Floyd tells you to and maybe…' Sam learnt why he was meant to remain silent at this time and got a fresh nose bleed.

'Where is the book?' At last Spencer managed to say what he'd been trying.

A ragged angry breath was pulled in by Floyd. A small keening noise burst out of Sam and Spencer just ground his teeth and awaited the next assault.

'The book? What fucking book? What the hell are you talking about?' Floyd hunkered down on the floor next to Spencer but it wasn't a particularly friendly gesture. Spencer didn't doubt that Floyd was about to start with the pinching and burning… the cheroot was stuffed into the corner of Floyd's mouth and he was dragging the smoke down and exhaling through his nose like his life depended on it.

'The book you took from the Specksons.' Spencer said in a low whisper.

'How do you know about that?' Floyd flicked his ash onto the side of Spencer's face.

'You told us.' Spencer muttered.

'Oh… I told you. Good answer. The best answer you could have given. I destroyed it and it was no easy matter believe me. It's why I had to have Bobby Kirk on my side. He could get to places I couldn't.'

Spencer rolled over on to his back, pulling one hand from the warm security of between his legs and wiped away the ash on his face. 'What sort of place?' Spencer couldn't think of anywhere Floyd couldn't just walk into if he wanted.

'The Church of The Immaculata.' Floyd told Spencer with a shudder. 'I might be able to go in there now, but this was ten odd years ago. Things were different. I had more constraints on my abilities. One of them was the stupid holy ground rule. So yeah, I got Bobby Kirk to break into the church and get holy water. It's one of the reasons he had difficulty giving alibis to things. I knew where he'd been. I told him to keep his mouth shut. He did a good job of that at least. Once the book had been soaked in the water I could burn it. It set off a heat like you'd not believe. I sent it back to hell where it belongs.' Floyd smiled at the memory. 'So yeah… the book was gone, but they had something else they could use and damn if they weren't stupid enough to give it a go. That's what killed them… what killed Amelia Speckson, her kids and her husband.'

'Except it wasn't Amelia, it was a man.'

'No, it was Amelia.'

Spencer had had enough. One moment Floyd was saying that the woman was a man and now saying that it wasn't. 'You said that Amelia was a man!' He pushed up onto his elbows and snatched the cheroot out of Floyd's mouth. 'And I don't like having ash flicked on me. You'd not do it to a coffee table, so don't do it to me.'

Floyd wasn't sure if he was amused by Spencer's fresh burst of anger or if it annoyed him as much as he seemed to be annoying Spencer. He let Spencer have the cheroot, but lit up a fresh one. 'You need to listen to me carefully because, Hon, you seem to be getting very confused.' Floyd stood, walked over to Sam and prodded him with the toe of his boot. 'Get the food out and laid on the table. We shall sit and eat as a family and I will tell you why the mystery of Amelia was such a mystery. Unless neither of you are interested. I'm not going to eat dinner off the floor again. Picnics in the park is one thing, but you don't know what's been trampled into this carpet. Move!' An extra little prod which was only slightly less than a kick got Sam moving and doing what he was told.

They had a selection of potato chips, something to dip them into, bottles of cherry soda, some processed cheese wrapped in plastic, a few bread sticks and some slightly squashed cakes. It wasn't the banquet Floyd had wanted, but the three of them managed to sit there at the table and not try to ram the food down each other's throat. At least not at first.

'Owen and Amelia Trotter were twins.'

'Identical?' Sam asked.

Floyd sighed. 'Amelia had a cunny and Owen a dick, so no… not identical. Idiot. They were very alike, but brothers and sisters often are alike… they are by genetics, but these two were strikingly alike. Amelia married Speckson. That's nothing unusual or wrong or illegal, but Owen was also very close to Speckson, but not in a sexual way. Owen and Speckson were both straight. They both… well.'

'Don't be shy.' Sam spat bits of chips over the table.

'The kids weren't Speckson's they were Owen's.'

'Owen was married?' Spencer wiped some soggy bits off the pack of chips he was holding.

'No. Owen wasn't. Owen was very devoted to his sister.'

'Eww… That's both illegal and immoral. I'm surprised the kids didn't have horrible birth defects. Iolanda used to call inbreds… pig-faced-cousin-brothers or sisters… depending. Not that you could always tell… but eeww…. That's nasty and Speckson didn't mind?'

'That's not what he meant.' Spencer took a drink of cherry soda and wished he'd not. It was almost as vile as the instant coffee the room provided.

'That's precisely what I meant. Thank you Sam for following the story. Anyway, Owen was not only very into his sister but was very into the slightly macabre and dark… he had a deep interest in the after life.'

'Uh hu… so he was going to use his off spring as a trade?'

'Sacrifice. But the oldest was still too young. You have to have the inevitable virgin – gender not specific, but he or she has to be over a certain age. Remember that we are talking the dark arts here Spencer, don't look so repulsed. It's not like you've not enjoyed a finger or two since you were a child.'

That was it. That was finally the last straw. Spencer stood up and had there been food worth throwing then it would have been thrown at Floyd, but the satisfaction of throwing processed cheese and packs of chips was not all that great. 'You never give up do you?' Spencer shouted at Floyd. 'You can't just tell us what's going on and not try to degrade us at the same time. What happened with me and my father…'

'…never happened. So sit the fuck down and stop making a bloody fool of yourself.'

Spencer remained standing and the cherry soda was becoming an object which might well be thrown soon if this damned nonsense didn't stop. 'I know what happened to me! Don't you dare try to tell me I imagined that! It's what has made me what I am. It's made me the person I am. Don't you take that from me and say it never happened. I know it happened. I was too scared to come out of my bedroom in case…'

Floyd reached for Spencer's arm and tugged on his sleeve… 'Sit. I didn't say it never happened I said it never happened to you and your father. Sit the fuck down and listen will you.'

'You…' Spencer started.

'…Me… Now sit or this story ends right now.'

'My father…'

'…Never touched you. Do you think I'd allow that to happen? Do you really think I'd let him live if I thought he was touching what I was meant to be protecting? Give me a break Spencer. Sit down.'

'I know…'

'No you don't. You think you know. But you don't. It wasn't your father.'

Spencer stood shaking his head with a puzzled look on his face. 'I remember it happening.'

'Your memory is faulty. Sit the fuck down or so help me I'll enforce my request.'

He sat but he was far from happy. 'My mother…'

'…Allowed it to happen.' Floyd told Spencer. 'Now that is another story though and we are not interested in who molested you as a child or who stood by and let it happen. We are interested in the Speckson family, so stop interrupting and trying to drag the attention back to yourself.'

'It's… I was…'

'Shut up and eat your dinner.' Sam snapped. 'I for one am not interested in your misery. I have enough of my own. Carry on Floyd.'

Floyd picked up his bottle of cherry soda and drank back a few gulps and then placed it on the table, screwing the lid back on. He had a feeling that his piss would be pink neon… 'Sam… Sam, I know you're trying to help, but you're not. So shut up. You don't know what's going on and you have no idea about what has gone on. Sit in silence and maybe question, but don't assume that you know better. Don't ever think that.' Floyd then looked at Spencer who was sitting as though he had a spring under his backside and was ready to leap up at the first mention of something he couldn't get his head around. 'May I continue?' He asked. There were no answers to that so he did. 'Where was I? Right… the eldest boy was fifteen… too young to be used. I knew this and I told Bobby this. I don't know who they intended to use because by taking the book they moved things forwards and tried to rush. They knew someone was on to them. Amelia had been living in the basement for the past year. They'd been living off her blood. Using her as a channel. She was crippled and wasting away. I saw her that day I was in the house. The day Owen called the cops and they found the broken glass. She was chained up. Horrible. The stink of shit and piss and dirt… disgusting. They were going to use Amelia as their sacrifice. At least that's what I think they were going to do. Though she was obviously not a virgin as she'd birthed the boys. A mix of the four boys and the mother handed over by the twin and the husband, well that's quite an offer don't you think?'

'Quite.' Spencer muttered. 'Why didn't you inform the cops that Amelia was in the basement and Owen was pretending to be her?'

'Long story short… I wanted to see what would happen.'

'You know what they were going to do…'

'I suspected. I didn't know. Remember that I destroyed the book. They couldn't summon using that. So I was still curious to see what was going to happen. Now what I want to know, because I know for sure that something un-natural happened that night, I want to pull that thing back again and find out what it was.'

Sam's hand shot up and Floyd nodded towards him to speak. 'You said that the boys were home schooled. So how was Bobby Kirk outside the school taking photos?'

Floyd smiled at Sam and nodded. 'Good… It was summer school. Speckson and Owen wanted the boys out of the way for a short while each day. Though why none of them said anything about the odd things at home I never found out. I tried talking to Ryan, the youngest, but he wouldn't open up and speak. I want to know what killed their chickens. I want to know what scared the horses. I do want to know these things. I want to know if what was unleashed is still free and I want you, Spencer to understand that though things happen and though we think that we remember it as it is it sometimes gets twisted and we lose the picture we could originally see.'

'Why did they sell eggs and was that Amelia or Owen and why didn't anyone realise that Owen was pretending to be a chick?'

Floyd grinned at Sam. The boy had been listening whereas Spencer seemed to have shifted his attention to his own woes and had wrapped his arms around his chest and was rocking back and forth slowly in his chair. 'As far as I know, from what little information I could get, Amelia was removed from the scene after the birth of Ryan. Owen had been playing the part for seven years. It was widely reported by locals who I spoke to that Amelia Speckson was inclined to wear too much makeup, that her socialisation had plummeted after the birth of the youngest and they all thought she had some sort of post natal depression – but no one seemed sure. The boys were never schooled locally. They only went to summer school for a few weeks during that final summer. Owen did a very good job of pretending to be his sister and likely – well at least in my opinion that was only possible because of the closeness they had due to being twins. The egg selling thing was just something which they'd done since they took over the place. It wasn't common knowledge that Amelia had a brother. Who would suspect that they'd changed places? No one.'

Spencer stood at this point. 'I need to sleep and let my mind collate all of this information. It makes no sense.'

'Makes sense to me.' Sam said. 'Owen got Speckson interested in the dark arts. They produced the children needed and then put Amelia out of the way when she was no longer needed. A lot of dark magics involve blood and what better place to get it than from a chicken. The problem is that it can mess up the final results if you rely too heavily on it. The oldest boy was virginal but not old enough… that made the magics go even more awry… not to mention the missing book. Now if they checked out the remains they must have found Speckson's the four kids and Amelia. They didn't find Owen, so where did Owen go? That's interesting too. I'd like to know. How much did Bobby Kirk know?'

Spencer sat down again with a small sigh. 'Forensics would have known who the remains were of unless they assumed, but that's doubtful… there were six bodies and seven people involved, so one got away. Which one though? And did DNA testing take place? Did they find out that Speckson wasn't the genetic father of the boys?'

Floyd though, stood and pushed his chair back out of the way. He's talked enough for one day and he thought that Spencer was right. Let the information sink in and then discuss it more later.

'And you have no idea what they called?' Spencer was still rocking in his seat.

'Babes, I know what they meant to call and I don't think it worked. Come here.' Floyd had moved to the bed and patted the place next to where he was sitting. 'I'll give you a nice calming massage.'

'I'm too stressed.' Spencer snapped with irritation. 'There is too much going on in my head to be able to play games now. I need to go for a walk and think it all over.'

'Babes… lay on your front. You don't even have to take your shirt off…'

'Then I'll not bother staying to watch.' Sam moaned. 'There's a bar down town I thought I'd check out. If that's OK?'

Floyd waved Sam away. He was concentrating on Spencer now. He had to have the man on side or things would go wrong before they'd even moved in to the house which Floyd very much suspected still housed the monster which killed the Speckson family… including Amelia, not including Owen. He had to get Spencer back on track and stop him from thinking about what his father may or may not have done. The more Spencer asked the deeper the hole Floyd was digging for himself.

o-o-o

Sam was dressed to kill. Or maybe to be killed. He didn't disguise the fact that he was not looking at the girls. He didn't hide the way that he hung around out side the bar looking for someone to spend the evening with. He looked like a common slut and behaved like one. At first he was ignored or just looked over once then either laughed at or pushed to the back of the minds of the people. He couldn't go inside. He was obviously too young. And though this place seemed to be attracting mostly well groomed men and the occasional flirty female, no one was as obviously out as Sam was. Sam finally got to talk to someone by going over to a small crowd and asking if anyone had a light. Then someone took pity on the weirdo and got him a drink of orange juice.

'You shouldn't be hanging around here.' Sam was told. 'It's not the place for kids.'

Sam let out a small laugh and told them that he might look young but he bet he'd had more experience than any of them. This just made them think that the lad was a whore and they drifted away from him again. Sam pursued them. 'I'm new to the area.' He told them.

'I'd think we would have noticed you before if you were a local.' One of the bearded leather clad men told him. 'Look lad, not meaning to sound mean or anything, but shouldn't you be at home with your folks doing your homework?'

'Funny.' Sam smirked. 'I'm not as young as I look.'

'Sorry kid.' Sam was told by someone else, 'but maybe you're not fourteen, but you're certainly not twenty-one. I don't want to be arrested for hanging with an underage whore. Go away.'

It was a fair enough remark, but Sam didn't give up just yet. 'I'm not underage for any damned thing. I've been…'

'Go away.'

'You can't make me go away!' Sam snapped at them. 'This is a public area and if I want to be here then I'll be here. I don't think there's much you can do about that.'

There was something they could do about it. Five of them dragged Sam around the corner and smacked him hard enough to make him howl and wriggle… still though, maybe… like a whore wanting more… 'Oh yes… hurt me big boy… pound me till I bleed.'

So they did, but not in the manner Sam had hoped. And as Sam walked away wiping blood from his nose yet again they called at him to go home to mummy and daddy. They told him not to come back. They said he and his sort weren't welcome. They gave their community a bad name. They told him to sod off and never show his face there again.

Sam was inclined to go to the cops, but he did look underage and he had been hanging around a gay bar and he had wanted more than a slapping, so what could he say? Well he tried anyway. He wasn't going to. He was going to go and report them to Floyd… set his own personal dog onto the bastards but a cop car pulled up and a man in uniform got out and approached Sam. They wanted to know who he was and what he was doing out this late. They wanted to know why he was dressed like he was and why he looked like he'd been in a fight. They could see the scars on his arms and they could see the twitchy way Sam responded to their questions and they decided to search him. Sam decided to tell them to go to hell. They thought Sam needed to be cuffed and put in the car. Sam thought he should hit, scratch, bite and kick. Sam was cuffed and put into the back of the car and delivered to the local precinct where they took his name and address and promised to call his parents as soon as they could.

He spent the night in a cell with a drunk and a druggy. Sam wasn't happy. Sam really wasn't happy and the more unhappy he got the more vocal he got and the less inclined the cops became to calling the motel and letting Floyd know where he was.

'You can't do this! I've done nothing!'

But he was told that he resisted a search. He resisted arrest. He attacked a police officer. He was in trouble.

o-o-o

Floyd didn't miss Sam. He gently cajoled Spencer into a good mood. He slowly touched and massaged him and felt Spencer relax under his expert hands. He licked the back of Spencer's neck and felt that familiar wriggle… From that point on all thoughts of anything but what he could get and how much he could get was gone from his mind. Spencer on his front, on his back… on his knees… Floyd on his knees, on his back… on the damned ceiling at one point… he was sure of it. Across the table, over the chairs… in the shower… every available surface and both Spencer and Floyd spent not one second thinking of Sam who as Spencer let out a wail of wonder and pressed his hands against the tiles in the small shower, was sitting in a cell with his hands between his legs demanding a toilet other than the one some fat bloke had just had a shit in.