Den of Iniquity

Ramón and Lachlan had been friends for a long time. The look on Lachlan’s face as they stood across the street from the new place was foreboding. “What’s wrong, Lachie? You look paler than usual.”

“Don’t go in there. I mean it, Ramón. There’s something about the place...”

“Relax, Lachie. I checked the place out. It’s just a brothel. No one will care if a few of the girls go missing.”

“It’s not that. I’m more worried about us going missing.”

“When is the last time you got laid?” Ramón asked. Lachie frowned. “C’mon. Take a look. Let me prove that it’s safe. You don’t have to go in right away.” Ramón dragged Lachlan across the street and pushed him up the fire escape. When they reached the third floor, Ramón pushed ajar one of the windows.

Lachlan pressed his face up against the glass and watched the couple in the room having sex. Their grunts and moans leaked out through the opening that Ramón had made. Lachie thought about throwing open the sash and lunging into the room. A sudden wave of dread stopped him. He turned to Ramón, “you can go in there if you want. I’m leaving.” He leapt down to the alley and ran across the street. Ramón followed, laughing.

Edgar strode out of the darkness. “You crazy, man? Ramón finds this cherry bordello ripe for the picking and you don’t want any of it?” He shook his head and spoke to Ramón, “Where’d you find this loco vamp? Edgar was the one who clued Ramón in to the place.

“Don’t mind Edgar. It’s a free country. If you don’t want to go in for a bite to eat, that’s fine. I’ll catch you later.” Ramón slapped Lachlan on the back. “Maybe bring you some takeout,” he winked.

Lachlan watched as Ramón and Edgar crossed over to the bordello. Maybe Ramón was right. Maybe he was just being crazy as Edgar had claimed. He decided to have another look at the place, but this time from higher up, closer to the roof. He peeked into the third-floor window to see the couple still at it. They were in the same position as before, their grunts and moans maintaining the same rhythm as before. He found another room with the shades open on the fifth floor. Inside the room, another couple who looked remarkably like the third-floor couple were busy sucking each other off.

Lachlan decided to check out one more room and climbed up to the eighth floor. He raised the sash on the unlocked window to listen in on what sounded like another couple engaged in some seriously wet sex. Lachie parted the drapes to peek inside and recognized Ramón’s tattooed wrist as it fell to the floor. The creature inside was busy tearing out Ramón’s internal organs and had a mouthful of liver when it spotted Lachie peering in through the window.

It lunged toward him as he quickly withdrew his arms and head. As he backed up against the railing of the fire escape the creature slammed into an invisible barrier. It ripped down the drapes in anger before going back to its feast. Lachlan watched as Edgar entered the room and listened to him as he spoke to the beast. “You’ll have to share, love. The other pigeon wouldn’t bite.”

“Outside,” the monster croaked pointing to the open window.

A Bag of Old Bones

The old man coughed before raising his hand to call his son over to his deathbed. “It won’t be long now, Des. I have one last request.” He coughed again, reaching out with his frail hand for a glass of water to wet his lips. Desmond dutifully offered his father the straw. The old man had wasted away over the past few weeks. His skin was taut against his bones. His voice was low and hoarse when he spoke. “Promise me one thing, son. Promise me that no matter what happens, you won’t open that old safe up in the attic.”

“I promise, dad. I won’t touch the old safe.” Out of respect, and a modicum of fear of the old man’s wrath, Desmond agreed. He had done his best to keep the old man comfortable, to spend time with him, and to see to it that he didn’t make any changes to his will. None of his siblings paid the old man any attention. They were too busy with their own lives. Desmond had nothing better to do. He had recently lost the only job that he had when the local steel mill shut down. And all of the old man’s nurses found him insufferable, leaving Desmond the task of caretaker. He watched as the old man fell asleep and left soon after.

Desmond hadn’t really thought much about the safe until his father brought it up. When he was a child, he found it in the attic and had spent hours trying to open it. But he had only been playing at cracking the safe. “Maybe it’s time that I take a serious crack at it,” he muttered to himself as he walked down the hallway to his bedroom. He grabbed a flashlight and went up to the attic to examine the old safe. It took him a few minutes to locate the pull chain for the single light bulb in the end of the attic that held the safe. It was a strange safe, tall and thin, and rusty brown in color. The door had two combination dials equally spaced vertically and a rod connecting the two levers that disengaged the latches. He pulled out his phone and took a picture of the two dials and the white-paint lettering on the door of the safe.

Desmond went back downstairs to the home office that he had set up and searched for information on the safe. After reading that the company was out of business and had been for nearly one hundred years, he searched for information on safe-cracking. He slipped back into his father’s bedroom and borrowed the stethoscope that hung near the old man’s bed. After several hours of turning the dials and getting nowhere, Desmond pounded on the safe in frustration. Beneath the removable dial was a keyhole. He popped off the other dial to discover another keyhole. He spent the next morning searching through the old man’s old office looking for anything that might be an old safe key. The closest that he came was finding a safe deposit box key to a local bank.

Desmond gathered together his signed power of attorney papers and the safe deposit box key and went downtown to the bank to see if the old man had put the lockbox keys there. Inside the safe deposit box, he found a copy of the old man’s will and a set of strange keys wrapped inside a parchment. Written on the parchment were a set of runes. He took the will, the parchment, and the keys and left the rest of the documents inside the box.

After a stop at the pharmacy, Desmond returned home in time to administer his father’s medication and bring the old man a cup of broth. As usual, Desmond read the newspaper to the old man while he sipped at the broth. He was quite happy that his father had managed to still hang on for another day. Desmond was in no hurry for the old man to die. The thought of being alone in the old mansion sent a shiver down his spine.

As Desmond read the recent obituaries, his father let out a small spit take. “Ha! So, the old shyster has kicked the bucket, has he?” The old man was referring to his lawyer who died suddenly in a car accident. “Good thing I changed the will when I did,” he said with a wink before going back to sipping his broth.

Desmond snapped the paper before continuing the list of names of the deceased. Desmond wasn’t sure if his father was serious about changing the will or if he was joking just to get a rise out of Des. After finishing the list of the deceased, Desmond turned his attention to the stock market pages. “Looks like your utility stocks have gone up again. The phone company stock recorded a split to keep the price down to where people can afford to invest. And your shares in the bank are currently paying dividends.”

“Good, good. That’d be more money for you to spend when I finally kick off.”

“I’m in no hurry for you to kick off. And I could spend your money now on things, but I’d rather not.”

“That’s because you’re a good son,” the old man grinned. “Now fetch me my specks. I’d like to take one more look at you, in case it’s my last.” Desmond handed the old man his glasses and sat on the edge of the bed while the old man looked him over. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Des. You’ve been such a blessing.” Desmond sat with his father until the old man fell asleep, then headed back to his office to attempt to decipher the parchment found with the keys in the safe deposit box. The internet wasn’t cooperating. There was no translator that allowed him to plug in the runes and come back with English words. He had to decode the runes one at a time.

When Desmond had finished, he tried to read the transliteration, but the document amounted to a lot of gibberish about “bodyes” and “lockes”. There were references to “cairns” and “hillocks” as well. Desmond shoved the parchment and the rough translation into a desk drawer and turned his attention to the keys. He thought it odd that there were four keys for two locks. The four brass keys were different in shape and size except for the ornate casting at the bow. The round shaft of each key had several square protrusions extending from it at various angles and heights. A standard skeleton key would not open the locks that these keys fit into.

Desmond pocketed the keys and grabbed his flashlight on the way to the attic. After trying each key into a lock until it turned, he pulled down on the connecting bar and then pulled out to open the door. It didn’t move. He felt around the front of the cabinet looking for hidden locks, then moved to the lock side of the door. Finding nothing there, he examined the hinge side and found two key slots. He fit the keys into the slots and turned them, then went back to the cabinet front, lowered the bar, and pulled again. This time the door came open.

A few minutes later the old man died, setting off a remote alarm at a monitoring station that summoned an ambulance to the house. The police also responded to the call and performed a search of the house looking for the old man’s heir. After a thorough search of the basement and first floor, the police slowly worked their way up to the attic. The police officer stared at the open safe and radioed for help. “We’ve got another dead body up here.” He poked at the gauze wrapping the skeletal remains. “No rush. It’s just a bag of old bones. Though for the life of me, I can’t imagine why anyone would lock it in a safe.” Then he made the mistake of turning his back on it. By the time the other officers arrived, the revenant had pulled the officer into the safe with it where he met the same fate that Desmond had earlier.

The Inn of the Sorrows

Morgwn hustled about the inn setting out the lanterns against the eventide. The sun was waning even this early past the noon hour. The innkeeper kept a careful watch over the young lass as she easily dodged the hands of the small contingent of soldiers passing through the woodlands. Most of them wanted little more than a fondle and a kiss from her, having long heard tales of woodland nymphs and the dangers of consorting with them.

The Inn of the Sorrows lay dead center of the woodlands along the road between the village and the fortified castle upon the highland. Those foolish enough to enter the woods before nightfall always found their way to the inn. Soon after the soldiers went to the stable to bed their horses down for the evening, a coach pulled up to the inn. Three wealthy travelers entered the Inn requesting a repast. As the soldiers filed back in, the new arrivals asked for quieter accommodation for their meal. The innkeeper kept a small area near the kitchen for such rude guests.

Darius sat quietly through the meal while his parents nit-picked over the quality of the various courses. He was well aware that the soldiers were likely better fed. He could smell the stew that the wench carried out to the men. She was slight of build, agile on her feet, and well-endowed. He could feel the pinch of his codpiece from watching her pass by.

After securing the horses and carriage in the stables, the coachmen came in for the night. Morgwn gathered up the food left unfinished in the serving bowls and brought it to the coachmen. The plates and spoons had already been set out on the long tables. Morgwn sat with the coachmen to help finish off the food, laughing with them as they told their tales of the young Darius and his misadventures. “’E’s a right handful. Does what ‘e wants. Good thing ‘e’s not my boy, I’d give him a good cuff.”

After they had finished their supper, the coachmen asked the innkeeper for rooms for the night. He led them upstairs while Morgwn cleared off the tables. She placed the dirty plates and spoons into an empty half-barrel set about for such purposes and carried the used dinnerware into the kitchen. Having finished the last of the wine, Darius staggered through the kitchen door. “Wench, you forgot my wine glass.”

“I assure you sir; I would have seen to it soon enough.” She glanced at him. “Well, bring it here.”

“Why don’t you come and get it? You’re the servant. I’m the master.”

She threw the dishrag into the wash barrel and shook off her hands. “Well, since you put it that way.” Morgwn rescued the wine glass from the officious lad and returned to her chore.

Darius followed her back to the washstand and wrapped his arms around her pressing his bloated codpiece against her ass. “You smell nice, like...”

“Like a pine forest?”

“Exactly. Like a pine forest after a fresh rainfall.”

Morgwn pushed his chin off her shoulder, only to have him dig his nose into the back of her neck. He brought a hand up to brush her hair away from her neck. His kisses were enough of a distraction, but when he grabbed her breasts and started to squeeze them, she threw the dishrag into the water and turned to face him.

Darius grabbed her cheeks and forced his tongue down her throat. He untied her bodice and pulled her dress off her shoulders exposing her breasts. She pushed him away and he staggered backwards. “How dare you, wench?!” He strode up to her and backhanded her across her cheek. He grabbed her throat and unbuttoned his codpiece.

Morgwn followed her head as he swung it toward the kitchen table, barely maintaining her balance as he forced her backwards against the edge of it. She placed her hands on the tabletop and slid herself onto it with her legs still dangling. She was through giving him chances to change his mind.

Darius forced another kiss on Morgwn, but this time she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed back. His hands pawed her breasts until they had formed stiff glistening peaks. He lifted her skirt to expose her loins and place his throbbing cock against her hole. With a swift thrust he entered her.

Morgwn leaned back as he pulled her knees up to his shoulders and thrust again, shoving his cock deeper. She wrapped her long fingers over the edge of the table to brace herself against his crude and graceless jabs. She had made a promise not to take advantage of any of the men who came to the inn. But there was nothing in her promise barring this crude brute taking advantage of her.

Morgwn wrapped her legs around Darius’s waist and pulled his head down to her chest forcing his mouth onto a weeping nipple. His slow clumsy pace quickened soon rivaling the pace of his racing heart. After his final thrust, he collapsed, panting and still rigid inside her. She fed him again from a weeping breast. “There now,” she spoke softly into his ear, “you feel ready to go again, don’t you?” He nodded yes.

“Take me outside,” Morgwn wrapped her arms around his neck as she spoke. Darius pried them off the table and stumbled to the garden door. She opened the shutter’s latch and they fell onto the ground outside. The orchard fruit had just started to ripen and its scent filled the air. The sounds of night serenaded them as Darius took up a slow and steady thrust. Morgwn rolled them over and threw off her frock. She rode him with wild abandon coming down hard against his hips. Every time he thought to object, she shoved a nipple into his mouth and he drank more of her sweet nectar.

Darius did not notice that Morgwn had given him over to others for the night. He did not hear the shutters close as she went back inside to finish her washing up. She was not there to see him slowly covered with vines from the ground. But she promised herself that she would visit with him again. He would be easy enough to find. She needed only to look for the log with a stiff branch rising in the air.