xXx
CRYSTAL CITY. WASHINGTON, DC.
Skinner stared at the Russian priest, temporarily at a loss for words. When he found his voice, he knew he sounded shocked and disbelieving but he couldn't help it.
"Mulder!? Dimitri...Fox Mulder is in Milwaukee, Wisconsin right now. Even if I was inclined to accept everything you've said without a single shred of reservation..."
"Sergei...I'm talking about evil incarnate...not...not some human criminal. Mulder's location is of no consequence."
"Well, what in blazes would make Mulder a target for..."
They were interrupted by Skinner's phone ringing. The AD felt his jaw clench. 'Who the hell could that be at this hour,' he wondered.
"Excuse me," he said, rising from his seat on the couch. He walked across the room to the sideboard where his cordless phone was located. His name came out as a low growl of displeasure as he held the receiver to his ear.
"Skinner."
"I'm sorry to wake you, sir."
His surprise at hearing this particular caller's voice was evident in Skinner's answer.
"Agent Mulder!?"
"Yes, sir...I know it's late...or rather early."
Skinner caught sight of Dimitri in his peripheral vision. The priest was preparing to rise.
"Mulder...can you hold on?" he asked
"Yes, certainly," the agent replied.
Skinner pushed the mute button on the receiver and turned toward Dimitri.
"Sergei...I need to know what he says."
Skinner wrinkled his brow.
"I realize you're concerned...but this is official FBI business, Dimitri. There are some limits on what I can tell you."
"Please...anything you think might be significant..."
Skinner flexed his jaw muscles and studied Dimitri's face. The expression of desperation he saw there made him worried for his friend's sanity again. But it also persuaded him that he could at least tell the priest something, if for no other reason than to ease his mind.
"All right. Look...I'm going to take this upstairs but I'll tell you as much as I can after the call."
The priest sagged back into the chair but gave Skinner a nod.
"Thank you."
Skinner tilted his chin and then walked toward the stairs. As he mounted them he pressed the mute button on the phone and spoke into it.
"My apologies," he mumbled.
"If I've called at an inconvenient time..."
It didn't take much of an imagination to read the implication. He thinks he interrupted me with a woman, Skinner thought. He ground his teeth together to shake off the sudden image of Carina Sayles that appeared in his mind.
"No...It’s not inconvenient. What's going on?"
Skinner reached his bedroom, entered and pulled the door closed.
Mulder cleared his throat on the other end of the line. When he spoke his voice sounded as laconic as it usually did when he was delivering a report. But Skinner sensed there was something beneath the flat delivery. Disappointment? He sounded tired...exhausted as a matter-of-fact.
"They pulled Barbara Sutcliffe out of the Milwaukee River this morning," Mulder said. "She's dead."
"Christ," Skinner replied. "Was it suicide?"
"Apparently. The coroner's preliminary examination seems to indicate that's the case."
There it was in his voice, Skinner thought...definitely disappointment...along with some skepticism.
"You sound like you doubt the coroner's findings?" Skinner said.
He could hear Mulder shift his arm at the other end of the line. He hesitated a second before he answered Skinner's question.
"I did. I talked to Agent Scully just before I called you and..."
Skinner was taken aback at the quick stab of jealousy that coursed through him. Jealousy over the idea that Mulder had called Scully--first and at all. He shook his head. Shit...what the fuck was wrong with him? Never mind...don't answer that, he thought. It'll only lead down a distracting path you've already spent too much time wandering down tonight. Get your mind back on business, Skinner.
"And you'd like me to assign Scully to come out and examine the body?"
"We discussed it, sir. But...I think after talking to Scully I'm going to err on the side of letting the locals handle the situation. The Milwaukee coroner's office, the Milwaukee police and Agents Lyon and Fowler can conclude things here."
Mulder tried to make his reply mechanical and by the book, but didn't quite succeed. Under his concise words was a tone of defeat. Skinner found himself rubbing at his temples with his free hand. Shit...something must have happened out there, he thought. Mulder sounds like someone kicked him in the balls.
"So, uh..." Skinner faltered, trying to decide whether he should fish for an explanation or just tell Mulder he'd done a good job and it was time to come back to DC. He decided to fish. "Agents Lyon and Fowler were cooperative?"
"We had...different investigative styles but things worked out," Mulder replied.
Skinner let out a slow breath. Bullshit...that translates as 'they fought like pit bulls', he thought.
"Mulder...if there was a problem..."
"Did I say that, sir?"
"No, but..."
Mulder sighed.
"You know I frequently have problems with the locals..."
"Did *I* say that happened in this instance, Mulder?"
"Maybe not in this instance...but with my track record..."
"Agent Mulder...that's hardly fair..."
Mulder's next words came in a whisper.
"Jesus...is there anyone who thinks I'm fair tonight?"
Skinner felt his face grow warm again. Now he wondered what had transpired between Mulder and Scully as well as Mulder and the local agents. Could Scully have said something about his admission to her? Did they argue about what he'd said to Scully in his office as well as something to do with this case?
"What?" Skinner hissed into the phone.
"Nothing. Sorry, sir. Lyon and I did have some disagreements but it wasn't anything that hindered the case."
Skinner cleared his throat.
"Mulder...if an agent of the Milwaukee field office didn't give you the cooperation you needed I hope you won't hesitate to put that in your report. It's not something I want swept under the rug, understand?"
"Yes, sir. I'll make a full report.
Skinner nodded.
"All right. Good."
There was an awkward silence and then Mulder spoke.
"Is there anything else you'd like me to do out here, sir?"
"It sounds as though the case is closed and you can come back to DC."
"Yes, sir. I just need to wait for Agent Lyon to send me the coroner's report. He said he'd have it sent round later. I can book a flight for tomorrow evening and have my report on your desk first thing Monday."
"That sounds fine," Skinner replied.
"Great."
But it was anything but great, Skinner thought. He couldn't get over again how tired and defeated Mulder sounded. Hell...maybe if he'd remember to congratulate his agent once in a while it might help in a situation like this, he thought. It might keep Mulder from thinking he's the world's door mat at least.
"Mulder...I want to commend you for taking this assignment on short notice and following through on it. I know it was...distasteful. I also know the ending was abrupt and not as satisfying as having a warm body to incarcerate...nonetheless, I'm pleased with your performance."
Skinner could hear Mulder breathing on the other end of the line. When he spoke again, his voice was just a bit more upbeat.
"Thank you, sir. I...I do appreciate that."
"No problem," Skinner said.
There was another awkward silence and then Mulder spoke again.
"Then I'll let you get back to...whatever you were doing, sir."
The innuendo was in Mulder's voice again. That and...Was that disappointment in his voice again too? Before Skinner could mentally follow up on why the prospect of him having a woman at his apartment would disappoint Mulder, Skinner heard Dimitri sneeze loudly downstairs and his friend's worries came to mind again. He surprised himself with his next question. From the tone of Mulder's answer, it surprised him as well.
"Mulder...did anything...unusual happen out there?" Skinner asked.
"Unusual? What do you mean?"
Skinner winced a little. If there was nothing to Dimitri's fears Skinner figured Mulder would never let him live this down. It wasn't often that Skinner showed an active interest in whether a case was an X-File. Now he was about to show more than a little interest.
"Yes, you know...no X-Files angle at all?" he asked. Instead of the expected amusement or wry reply he expected, there was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. "Mulder?"
"Sorry...uh...I guess I was a little unprepared for the question."
"Because I don't ask that kind of thing often."
"You won't hear me disagree, sir. Why are you asking now?"
Skinner hesitated for a moment. Shit, yeah...why am I asking? What do I tell him?
"I'm asking now because...well, I've been remiss in showing interest in that aspect of your work. I'm trying to make up for it, I guess. So...was there anything of a paranormal nature about the case?"
There was another few seconds of silence on the other end of the line.
"No, sir. Nothing paranormal. But thanks for the interest."
"You sound disappointed."
"Believe me, sir. In this case I'm glad there wasn't an X-File."
Skinner was getting the idea from Mulder's tone that the local agents had given him hell about the X-Files and it was troubling him. He pushed his glasses up and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Hell...he was getting tired of hearing that 'Agent Spooky' bullshit...he could imagine Mulder was sick of it. Skinner pitched his voice in a more gentle tone when he answered.
"Mulder...before you left I told you if there was anything you wanted to discuss I'd be willing to listen. I want to reiterate that here. If the locals gave you a hard time I want to know about it. I...I meant what I said about valuing your contributions, about valuing your work...even on the X-Files. I don't think it's fair when your colleagues ride you on your work in an unreasonable fashion."
"As opposed to when you ride me in a reasonable fashion?"
Skinner felt his whole body flush at Mulder's particular choice of words. There was an awkward silence. He could hear Mulder breathing on the other end of the line again.
"I'm the boss, Mulder...it's my job," Skinner finally managed to reply. "It's not some local field agent's job."
Mulder sighed.
"I'm sorry. For what it's worth, sir...I consider you pretty impartial."
"As opposed to Lyon and Fowler who were anything but?"
Mulder chuckled and Skinner felt a modicum or relief; at least he amused the agent.
"Yeah. Listen...I do appreciate what you're saying, really, sir. And for what it's worth, Scully told me I should uh...cut you some slack."
Skinner chuckled this time.
"I'll have to thank her later," he said.
"And look, sir...Fowler was ok. It was Lyon who acted like a prick. I'll put it all in my report, like I said...no problem."
Skinner nodded.
"Good. So, we're clear here?"
"Five by five, sir."
"All right. Good work."
"Thank you again, sir."
Skinner cleared his throat.
"Get some rest, Mulder. You sound exhausted."
"Scully already read me the riot act on that."
"She can urge...I can order," Skinner replied, his lips lifting in a slight smile.
Mulder chuckled again.
"Duly noted, sir."
Skinner hesitated a moment and then he delivered one last piece of advice, a nod to Dimitri Yvashko's concerns but something he knew Mulder would be doing anyway.
"Safe trip, Mulder...and watch your back."
"Yes, sir...and thanks again. Good night."
"Good night."
xXx
TOWNSHIP OF CONCORD. WISCONSIN.
The music blared and she danced. She danced round and round the studio. Round and round, her mouth caked with dried blood...her hands lifting the wine goblet to her parched lips. She sang along with Rob Zombie as he growled out song lyrics through six-foot speakers.
Defunct the strings
Of cemetary things
With one flat foot
On devil's wing
Crawl on me
Sink into me
Die for me
Living dead girl.
She laughed, and spilled wine down her naked breasts. The drops reflected the glow of many candles. It mixed with the sweat that trickled in her cleavage...the sweat from the heat of the furnace that glowed in a corner of the room. Snake-like, her tongue flicked out to lap the wine off her wrist. Some blood had spattered and dried there as well. Now it was sticky with the wine. She sucked on her wrist...savoring the flavor.
"Ah...Barbara," she said. "You still taste sweet."
She upended the goblet, drained it, and hurled it into the wall. The crash of shattering glass echoed the shrieking of her hysterical laughter.
"Ragazza guasto vivente," she exclaimed. "Living dead girl, quanto adatto...how appropriate...for both of us."
Her arms thrown wide, her head tilted back, she spun in a circle, her long hair swirling about her shoulders. The music whined, crashed and thundered around her. Rob Zombie's power chords shifted into the strains of 'The Beginning of the End' and she was almost in tears over the ecstasy of it all. L'estremita'...the end... and the beginning of her Master's reign on Earth. So close, so close the pleasure was almost pain. And oh...that was sweet too.
She spun again and again, and then dashed for the stairs that lead to the studio loft. Skipping over steps as she climbed, she quickly reached the room above. Her hands grabbed the balcony railing. She jerked her body back and forth, causing the railing to shake and groan in protest. Her cry of exultation soared down into the flickering lights below.
"I am ready, my master! I am ready!"
She barely heard the tiny mouse-like squeal of protest that issued from deep within her mind. The last shriek of the woman who was no longer needed...and whose voice was squelched. Who died--her soul no longer really there at all.
She threw herself backward, landing recumbent on the King-size bed behind her. Her hands slicked down her body, smearing the sweat, wine and blood over her breasts. She massaged her nipples and chuckled throatily.
"Yes, almost time."
She reached for the stereo's remote control and muted Rob Zombie. Her gummy fingers picked up the cordless phone on the nightstand and dialed a number.
When the party on the other end of the line picked up, his voice was thick with sleep.
"Hmmm...lo?"
"Mama sta attendendo, il mio sacrificio prezioso," she whispered, breathless.
"Wha'?" the man asked.
"Mama's waiting...don't be late."
xXx
CRYSTAL CITY. WASHINGTON, DC.
Skinner hit the 'off' button on the cordless phone and bent his chin to his chest. He took several breaths to direct his mind away from the few short moments he felt closer to Mulder and Scully at the end of his conversation with Mulder. He had to stop thinking about them in such unprofessional terms. It was simply too dangerous given his slip-up with Scully. He already had one agent with whom he needed to clear the air. He didn't need another.
His distracted thoughts were interrupted when he heard sounds of Dimitri moving around downstairs. He sighed...time to go down and face the music there too, he thought. Skinner left the bedroom, phone in hand.
Dimitri turned from the windows when he heard Skinner's footsteps on the stairwell. He walked to the couch, placing his hands on the back of it.
"Is he all right?" the priest asked.
"Yes, he's fine," Skinner replied. "He's wrapping the case up and returning to DC tomorrow."
Skinner crossed to the couch and sat down. Dimitri shifted and went back to the chair he'd been sitting in. He ran a hand through his thick brown hair and sat down.
"Sergei...this is a matter of faith for me. I have to believe...do you understand that?"
Skinner thought once again how much Dimitri reminded him of Mulder.
"I can understand religious faith, Dimitri. I admire you for taking vows and living your convictions," Skinner said. 'God knows I could do a better job of living up to mine,' he thought.
"Can you try to believe me?"
Skinner sighed and rubbed at his eyes again.
"Ok, you said Mulder's in danger...what kind of danger are we talking about here?"
"It's possible Mulder may become a sacrifice," the priest replied.
"Possible, but you're not sure?"
Dimitri looked down and sighed.
"No...But I get a sense he's in danger. Perhaps...perhaps the Mother is attempting to locate him."
"From DC?"
"She will go where her sacrifice goes."
"Well, if she's as powerful as you say, wouldn't it follow that she might just wait here for him to return? That she'd know somehow that he was returning from this case and wait for him here?"
Dimitri studied Skinner's face and then slowly nodded his head.
"I suppose that's possible."
"Then Mulder will be back tomorrow. If you'd like I can arrange for you to meet him somewhere and you can tell him your concerns then."
"Sergei...you must warn him to be careful."
Skinner leaned back and scrubbed his hand over his mouth.
"What specifically should I warn him about?"
"The Mother may try to tempt him...it's her favorite tactic. As it said in the file, she has the ability to possess a woman and use that woman's body against anyone she wishes to lure into her clutches."
Skinner yawned. He couldn't help it. He seriously needed some sleep at this point. His voice was slightly muffled from the yawn.
"I told Mulder to watch his back. He's a wary individual due to his work. I'm sure he'll be vigilant."
Dimitri leaned back in his chair, his fatigue showing clearly in his face.
"I'm sorry...it's late and I know this is difficult for you, Sergei. I know you're trying to understand and I appreciate it."
"Dimitri, I..."
The priest put up a hand and rose from the chair.
"It's all right. You've done more than I could have hoped, my old friend. I should go now."
The priest stumbled a little in his fatigue and Skinner reached forward to steady him. His arm felt warm, the muscles lean and taut under his black suit coat sleeve.
"Dimitri...it *is* late...stay here if you'd like...you're tired too," Skinner murmured.
The priest straightened and captured Skinner's eyes. 'His eyes look just like they did when he was eighteen', Skinner suddenly thought...they're still piercing with intelligence...and beautiful. He felt himself grow hot with embarrassment at the memory. The priest smiled gently at him.
"I think...I think it would be better if I went back to my hotel. I'll talk to you in the morning and you can tell me about that meeting with Agent Mulder."
Skinner removed his hand and stepped back.
"Where are you staying?" he asked.
"At the Dulles Airport Hilton."
"I'll call you there in the morning then."
The priest moved to gather up his files and briefcase.
"Let me help you," Skinner mumbled.
In a moment, Dimitri was packed up and the two men again stood awkwardly staring at each other.
"Thank you again for seeing me, Sergei. I know it was an imposition..."
"Stop saying that, Dimitri," Skinner replied. "You're my friend. I'll help you in any way I can."
The priest smiled and inclined his head, but Skinner knew he hadn't been as accepting as Dimitri had hoped. He felt a pang of guilt over letting his friend down. But...it was all so hard to believe...he was tired...and other than some professional problems, Mulder was fine out in Wisconsin and due back tomorrow. What else could he do without more concrete proof with something so...out there?
"Good night, Sergei," Dimitri said.
Skinner walked him to the door and opened it.
"Good night...I'll see you tomorrow," Skinner mumbled.
Without another word the priest left. Skinner watched Dimitri for a moment as he quietly walked down the hallway to the bank of elevators at the end. He turned and raised his hand in farewell and Skinner did the same, shutting his apartment door as the priest entered the elevator.
"Damn it," he swore, throwing the locks on the door. "I couldn't have handled that any worse."
The clock on Skinner's sideboard chimed the hour. 'Christ, it's four o'clock,' he thought. There wasn't much time for sleep. And he wasn't sure he could sleep anyway now. Not after the bizarre events of the last few hours.
Skinner squared his shoulders and walked back over to the couch. Plopping down he reached for the TV remote on the coffee table. In a moment CNN was on his TV screen. He settled back to watch the news. As images of the overseas financial reports flickered across the screen he made a mental note to call Mulder in the morning and arrange a meeting between the agent and Dimitri. He stretched and slumped down a little, scratching his balls as he extended his legs. Skinner sighed as he rested his feet on the coffee table.
In a few more minutes his eyes grew heavy, and then his head began to nod. Finally, exhaustion claimed Skinner. His head tipped back against the couch cushions and his TV remote control fell from his hand and bounced on the area rug before coming to rest next to the coffee table leg.
xXx
THE WYNDHAM HOTEL. MILWAUKEE, WISCONSIN
Mulder woke up needing coffee badly. He hadn't slept that well and even though the clock on the nightstand said almost nine thirty, he still felt like he needed a hit of caffeine to get moving. Luckily for him, the Wyndham Hotel had one of those small coffeemakers in each room so the agent was able to satisfy his craving immediately. While the coffee brewed Mulder took a piss. His headache was gone...that was a relief at least, he thought as he tucked himself back into his boxer briefs. When the coffee was finished, he poured the hot black liquid into one of the complimentary cups that was on the tray next to the coffeemaker.
He took the cup over to the window, sipping the coffee as he stared down at the Milwaukee River. There was a scrap of yellow police tape still attached to the bridge railing where they pulled Barbara Sutcliffe's body from the water. With no breeze the tape hung limp, a forlorn marker of Barbara's passing. Mulder touched the window glass and he could already feel the heat of the day through it. He drew his hand back and ran it through his sleep-tousled hair. He could see his dim reflection in the glass...like a spectral presence against the sun-brightened buildings across the river.
He felt like that reflection. Indistinct...trapped between one world and another… trapped between letting his disillusionment in his work and his lingering fear of Barbara Sutcliffe abandon this case as a possible X-File and kicking himself in the ass for losing his faith and not following his hunches. Last night he thought maybe Scully was right and he was wrong. He'd almost convinced himself that his suspicions about Barbara Sutcliffe’s possession and her death were way off base. Now he wasn't sure he should have agreed with Scully. What had happened to his drive to discover the truth? Had it really come to this...this second-guessing indecision?
He sighed and moved away from the window taking a longer drink of coffee. He had to admit that talking to both Scully and Skinner last night had been comforting. He felt better for having their support. Skinner had actually seemed to care and once again he was surprised how much that meant to him. Scully's offer for sushi had more than pleased him; he was hoping they could dispel some of the tension between them. He didn't like being so at odds with her.
But Skinner’s question about paranormal aspects to the case had sent his mind back on the track of his theory. He'd spent a sleepless night and still felt restless and indecisive. 'Damn...what a time for Skinner to decide he hadn't paid enough attention to the spooky part of Spooky Mulder.'
Mulder’s thoughts were interrupted by his cell phone. He quickly strode to the nightstand where he'd left it, set the coffee cup down and put the cell phone to his ear.
"Mulder."
"Morning, DC. This is Max Fowler."
What happened last night at the riverside came back to Mulder and his brow furrowed. 'Why am I not surprised Lyon didn't call,' he thought. 'Christ...what a dick.' But the least he could do was be civil to Fowler...the guy had tried to be cooperative, even friendly in his own way.
"Morning...what's up?"
"I just wanted to let you know I'm sending the coroner's autopsy report over by messenger in about a half hour. But, I'm also e-mailing it to you at your Bureau addy as I speak."
"Ah...thanks."
"Yeah, I always find it helps if you have the text already available to cut and paste into your report if you want to quote it. At least that's the way I operate."
Mulder walked over to where he'd left his laptop set-up on the small table in the hotel room. It was still on and plugged into the phone jack available for Internet access so he sat down and dialed in as he spoke to Fowler again.
"Yeah, that works for me, I appreciate it. I'm connecting now."
"Oh, ok...it should be on its way. I'll wait to make sure you got it."
Mulder logged on and accessed his FBI e-mail box..
"Not here yet."
"Yeah, the system is a slow as molasses this morning," Fowler said. "So, you going to complete your report before you go back?"
Mulder sat down in front of the laptop.
"That's my intent."
"Me too. I want to get the paperwork done this morning myself if I can; because my wife and I got a night out planned. I'd like to get home early for a change."
Mulder raised an eyebrow.
"You're doing the paperwork alone? How did you rate that?"
Fowler sighed a little.
"Remind me never to bet on a coin toss. I have the worst fucking luck."
Mulder chuckled a little.
"Sounds like it," Mulder replied as he spotted the e-mail subject line 'Milwaukee Coroner's Report' appear in his mailbox. "So, where's Lyon?"
Fowler hesitated for a second and then spoke. He didn't cover up his annoyance very well.
"Chasing skirt, I think," he said.
Mulder hesitated, his finger poised to click open Fowler's e-mail.
Laura Massey.
The name felt like it had been there all along just waiting to grab his attention again for some reason. Mulder wrinkled his brow. What was so important about Laura Massey other than the idea that she had poor taste in men?
"You think he's with Laura Massey?"
Fowler cleared his throat.
"I got that idea when we had a discussion this morning. Or I should say argument. He blew me off," the other agent replied.
"Sorry," Mulder mumbled.
"Yeah, well...shit happens. I suggested he shouldn't let his dick get in the way of his work, so maybe I'm not as diplomatic as I think I am."
Mulder pursed his lips.
"Seeing her is a little questionable, with her being related to Borden," he said carefully. "She could have had a closer connection with..."
Fowler interrupted.
"She's related to the art professor?"
"Yes, she's John Borden's niece. Didn't Lyon tell you that?"
"Shit, no. He just told me she was an artist and taught at MIAD."
Mulder wondered why Lyon didn’t mention the relationship between Massey and Borden to his partner. He kept coming up with the same reason...Lyon didn't consider Laura Massey important enough to the case and used that rationalization as an excuse for screwing her. But he was still guilty or nervous to make him so circumspect.
"Maybe he figured she wasn't involved enough in the case to make seeing her a conflict of interest."
"Yeah, maybe. But still...he should keep it zipped when he's got to take care of business," Fowler sighed. "Listen...I gotta apologize about all this, Mulder. I mean..."
Mulder shook his head.
"Don't worry about it...like you said, shit happens," he said. Something about Laura Massey was still nagging at him but he pushed it to the back of his mind as he opened the e-mail Fowler sent him. "I've got your e-mail here."
"Oh...good," Fowler replied. "Does it look ok?"
Mulder scanned the report.
"I see they found the knife?"
"Yeah, one of the Milwaukee cops found it stuck between the edge of the walkway and the barrier to the river. Lucky find."
"Right...and only Barbara's fingerprints were on it."
"Exactly. So...uh...I guess that really means case closed."
Mulder bit his lip. He still wasn't sure it was case closed at all.
"Yeah, I guess it does," he said.
His words belied his feeling that there was an X-File in here somewhere. There was an awkward silence on the other end of the line for a moment. Then Fowler spoke again.
"Well listen...it was great working with you, Mulder, really."
For a second Mulder wasn't listening as he debated again just what to do about that feeling. When Fowler coughed a little on the other end of the phone, Mulder blinked.
"Thanks, Fowler," he hastened to reply. "It was good working with you too. For what it's worth you made me feel welcome in Milwaukee. I appreciate that and the cooperation."
"Sure thing," the other agent said. "Anytime. Have a safe trip back. Hope it's cooler out your way."
Mulder chuckled a little.
"It's gotta be cooler than here. And thanks."
"No problem. Oh and one last thing...if you've got any questions regarding the report..."
Mulder's mind saw an opening and took the plunge. Almost before he realized it, he interrupted Fowler.
"I do have one question...uh...not about the report. For some reason I don't have Laura Massey's address or phone number. I guess I forgot to add it to the list of people we interviewed about her past history. Can you give those to me?"
"Oh sure, just a sec," Fowler replied. Mulder heard papers rustling on the other end of the phone. He dragged over the pen and yellow legal pad he used the night before to take notes from the Internet on. Fowler came back on the line. "Here you go...she lives at the same location as her studio. Shit...she lives out in the middle of nowhere. S5807 Church Road, Concord Wisconsin."
"Ok, hang on." Mulder quickly jotted down the address. "Got it. Phone number?"
Fowler gave him the number, and they exchanged a few more pleasantries before Mulder hung up the cell phone and placed it down on the table. He sat and stared at the legal pad with Laura's name, address and phone number on it. Laura Massey was the one person that no one had talked to extensively about Barbara Sutcliffe. He couldn't get it out of his head that if prompted she'd reveal something that would point toward the truth.
Scully and Skinner were going to be pissed but there was no way around it. He had to get to the bottom of his suspicions. Maybe this was a last ditch effort to recapture his lost faith in himself and his work. Maybe it was just a way for him to conquer his fears and prove that Barbara Sutcliffe wasn't some kind of supernatural threat. Or maybe he could just find out why such a life of early promise ended up in the Milwaukee River.
Mulder picked up his cell phone and dialed Laura Massey's number. The phone rang several times and then finally someone picked up.
"Church Road Metal Designs."
"Ms. Laura Massey?"
"Yes, this is Laura Massey."
"Ms. Massey, this is Agent Fox Mulder...we spoke at MIAD?"
"Yes...Agent Mulder. I remember. I'm sorry about Barbara."
"It *is* unfortunate. Did it make the morning papers? I haven't seen them yet."
Mulder had been more than content to leave all the publicity to Fowler and Lyon; he wasn't interested in sharing the limelight. He hadn't even thought about whether last night’s events made the local paper.
"No...Ross Lyon told me on the phone this morning. It's such a shame...she wasn't like that when I knew her."
It sounded like Lyon wasn't there, Mulder thought. Good...he wasn't looking for a confrontation. He straightened and prepared to get at the answers.
"Well that kind of brings me to why I called. I need to ask you a couple of final questions about Barbara Sutcliffe for my report..."
"Oh...well go ahead. I'll help in any way I can."
"Actually it involves identifying some old photos I have here. Would you be available for a short meeting?"
Mulder sat back and hoped Laura Massey wouldn't tell him to go ask her uncle. She'd be within her rights to do that and he wasn't sure how he'd work around it.
"I'm busy today. I have a commission deadline I'm working on and Ross and I were planning on getting together later..."
"It'll only take a few minutes, I'm sure."
Mulder heard Laura's footsteps on the other end of the line. A shuffling of papers, then she replied.
"If you wouldn't mind coming here I might be able to swing it at say...one o'clock. I should have some time before I meet Ross."
Mulder bit his lip. He was hoping to meet her somewhere more public, but if this was his only shot...
"All right, that would be fine."
"You must have the address if you have my phone number...but I'd better give you directions...this really is out in the country."
"Great. Thanks," Mulder said. He tore a clean page from underneath the top sheet on his yellow pad and re-wrote the address and phone number on it.
As he wrote the directions to Laura Massey's house, he told himself that although he intended to go talk to her, it might lead to nothing significant. He told himself there was no reason to make Scully think he was a total jerk. After he ended the call he got up and went to the hotel phone on the nightstand next to the bed. He picked up the receiver and dialed the front desk.
"Yes...could you give me the number for the United Airlines desk at Mitchell Field? Thank you."
It was a compromise. He'd book his flight back to DC for early evening, drive out to Concord and talk to Laura. If nothing panned out he’d head straight to Mitchell. If Laura gave him a lead, he'd call Scully and ask her to come out to Milwaukee. She'd work it with Skinner somehow; with the way the AD was acting last night he'd probably agree without a debate.
By the time Mulder hung up the hotel phone the game was afoot. He felt a sense of purpose as he headed into the bathroom to shower before the messenger arrived with the hard copy of the coroner's report.
xXx
TOWNSHIP OF CONCORD. WISCONSIN.
Ross Lyon watched as Laura Massey walked naked up the loft steps, cordless phone in hand.
"Who was it, baby?" he asked, stretching a little on the bed.
"My client. He's anxious to see...my work." She smiled.
"Oh yeah...you gotta show me this piece you're working on."
"You're really interested in it?"
'No,' Lyon thought...'but if it'll get you to shut up and suck my cock, I'll pretend.'
"Sure...I'm interested in everything about you."
Laura grinned and placed the cordless phone back in its cradle on the nightstand. She climbed up onto the bed. Lyon shifted slightly as she moved in next to him.
"Well...pleasure first, business later, don't you think? Now...where was I?" she said.
Lyon placed his hands behind his head and spread his legs.
"Right here, baby," he said, gesturing with his chin toward his erection where it jutted up between them.
"Ah yes...Mama wouldn't want that to go neglected, now would she?" Laura answered as she took Lyon's hard-on in hand.
"Ohhhh, Mama," he gasped as she swallowed him in right down to his nuts. "Oh yeah...do it, bring me off, baby," he grunted.
Laura was only too happy to oblige and in only a few minutes Lyon's back was arching as he cried out, his semen spurting down Laura's throat and trickling down her chin. Afterwards they lay together and Laura toyed with his dick as it grew flaccid.
"Hey, it's a little tender," he mumbled as she stroked it.
She smiled at him.
"Come," she said, extending her hand.
"I just did, baby," he chuckled. "You were great." Never hurts to give 'em some positive feedback he thought as Laura laughed and shook her head.
"I mean come and see," she said, reaching for his hand.
"Your work? Now?"
"It's complete...I want to christen it with you. Or don't you think you have it in you to get it up again that fast," she teased.
Never a man to turn down a challenge to his manhood, Lyon grinned.
"Show me and I'll show you how fast I can get it up again," he replied.
Laura laughed again and Lyon took her hand. They left the bed and naked, climbed down the loft stairs. Laura led him through the studio, past her worktables, her block and tackle for lifting bronze castings, past the furnace for smelting metal and the kilns to bake the pottery she sometimes made.
"Where is this thing?" he asked. There wasn't any sculpture evident in the larger space of the old church that had been converted into her studio.
"Here, lover," she said, yanking on his hand slightly.
Lyon followed her to a door at the back of the studio. She threw it open on a smaller room inside. It was dark in the room, but Laura flipped a wall switch as they walked in. The light illuminated a spot on the wall opposite the long table in the middle of the room. Hanging on hooks on the wall was a metal sculpture. Lyon wrinkled his brow. What the hell is that, he wondered. He let go of Laura's hand.
"What is it?" he asked looking at her in the semi-darkness.
"My work...go see," she said.
He smiled at her and she smiled back. Lyon took a few steps and then circled the table to get a closer look. The 'work' was obviously a bronze. He could see it glinting in the spotlight.
"It looks like...it looks like it's sculpted fur," he mused, bending closer to examine the intricate casting. 'The thing looks like a big furry horse collar or something,' he thought. 'And what are these...they look like fucking Freddy Kreuger gloves.' "Nine inch nails, huh?" he chuckled.
"It is fur...and they are nails...or more properly...claws," Laura said and Lyon thought her voice sounded like something with fur and claws...like a great big cat purring seductively. He felt his cock twitch and grinned. Oh yeah...he was ready to go again...no problem.
"Yeah? Interesting..." He jumped slightly when he felt Laura wrap her arms around him. He hadn't heard her cross the room. The thought spun away as she trailed her nails down his chest and groin. Her right hand reached down and wrapped around his cock.
"Uh," he grunted as she started to stroke it and lick his ear.
"It's a lion's mane and claws...do you like them?" she whispered.
"Oh yeah...I can see that now...and that's the tail hanging in back. Clever," he replied, his voice strained as she moved her hand up and down his swelling flesh.
"Thank you," Laura breathed into his ear. "Now...want to christen it properly?"
"Oh yeah," Lyon smiled, turning his head to capture Laura's mouth. They kissed passionately for a few moments and then she released his mouth and erection.
He looked around. As his eyes grew more accustomed to the dim light he noticed the room's walls. They were covered in graffiti of some kind. He squinted, trying to make it out, but a clinking sound distracted him. He glanced at Laura. She'd been touching the bronze but came and took his hand.
"I want you in me, baby," she said, smiling at him.
"Fuckin' A...come on," he said, pulling her toward the door. She yanked him back and shoved him against the table. "You want it here, on the table?"
"Yes," Laura replied, still smiling.
"Hey, that's fine with me," Lyon laughed, placing both hands on the tabletop. He took a short hop to hoist himself up. Laura came up after him and placed her hand on his chest indicating she wanted him to lay flat.
"I'd like it on top," she said, her voice low and sultry.
"Hell, yeah," Lyon grunted, positioning himself so Laura Massey could straddle his thighs. His erection pointed up between them and she took the base tight in her right hand. "This good?" he asked.
"Yes, close your eyes, lie still...as death..."
"What?" he asked, chuckling.
"Sia ancora il mio leone piccolo," she said.
"What the fuck are you saying?" Lyon asked, laughing this time.
Laura Massey didn't answer and as Ross Lyon stared into her eyes, something shifted in their light blue depths. Lyon wrinkled his forehead and felt something he didn't expect to feel right now...fear. His erection started to wilt and he spoke.
"Laura?"
"Not anymore," the thing that had been Laura Massey said, her grin stretching from ear to ear.
Ross Lyon had just enough time to consider how his will hadn't been his own for quite a few days...how he hadn't really been himself...and how much it hadn't seemed to matter until now...just enough time to realize what had been done to him...before Laura's left hand arced up and then came smashing down between his legs...driving one of the nine inch bronze lion talons straight through his right testicle. And then Ross Lyon had just enough time to scream.
xXx
TOWNSHIP OF CONCORD. WISCONSIN.
Laura Massey's directions had been easy to follow and it hadn't taken Mulder long to reach the intersection of highway B and Hillside Drive in Concord. The air conditioning in his airport rental car helped make the drive pleasant despite another day of record-breaking temperatures. He'd enjoyed the scenery, the dairy and beef cattle in the fields, farmers on their tractors--classic images of rural America flashing past his windows as he drove.
Mulder hung a right turn onto Hillside Drive, glancing briefly at the directions again. He was looking for Church Road Tree Farm first...a large business that was on the left side of the road. Once he saw the tree farm the directions said the next right hand turn was onto Church Road. Laura Massey's home and studio, a converted church, was on the corner on the left.
A grove of deciduous trees and then pine trees passed on Mulder's left, a sign advertising 'cut your own Christmas tree' caught his eye...and then he spotted the church up ahead on the corner of Church Road and Hillside Drive. It only took him a moment to drive in, park the rental and cut the ignition.
As soon as he got out of the car he started to sweat. He shook his head in a mixture of bemusement and annoyance over his luck at coming to Wisconsin during a heat wave and then jogged to the large double front doors of the church. From the general gothic design of the structure and the stained glass scenes in the windows, Mulder theorized it had once been a Catholic church. He could hear music playing inside...something loud with a rock beat. The agent knocked on the front door and stood back, waiting for someone to answer. When no one did after a few seconds, he pounded on the door. The music inside stopped and he heard footsteps approaching behind the door. Mulder stepped back again as the door swung open.
"Ah, Agent Mulder. I thought I heard someone," Laura Massey said, smiling. "Sorry...I tend to play my music loud when I'm working."
Mulder was taken again at the woman's beauty. Even dressed in an upturned welder's mask and leather welding apron, she was breathtaking. Her long black hair and electric light blue eyes made her striking. She was also almost as tall as Mulder and athletically built...the better to work with metal, Mulder thought as he smiled at her.
"Sorry to impose on you like this," he said.
"No, it's quite all right, come in out of this heat. Although I can't promise it's that much cooler in here...I had the smelting furnace on earlier."
Mulder entered what must have been the narthex of the original church. It was darker inside and a little cooler. The walls were cut stone and he figured that contributed to the drop in temperature. Sweat congealed between his shoulder blades as he noted the bronze bas-reliefs on the walls, and the sculptures on stands that were placed tastefully around the area. No realism and nothing figurative, Mulder noticed.
All Laura's work appeared to be of a surrealistic or avant garde variety. A large engraved sign with the words 'Church Road Metal Designs' hung over the entrance to the sanctuary area of the church. Laura observed him taking it all in.
"Nice work," he commented.
"Thank you. This is where I usually meet and greet clients," Laura replied, shutting the church doors. My offices are off here too," she replied, gesturing toward a door to the right. Mulder took a step in that direction as Laura pushed open the double doors of the sanctuary.
"Come on in and have a glass of iced tea while I look at the photos you brought," she said, walking through the doors. She held them open and turned to Mulder.
"Oh...sure. Thank you," Mulder said. He turned away from Laura's office door.
As he followed Laura though the entrance to the sanctuary, she removed her welder's helmet and apron, tossing both aside onto an old but comfortable looking couch. Mulder couldn't help looking at her jean-clad legs and ass as she walked ahead of him. Damn...her legs go practically up to her neck, he thought. But his attention was diverted by the sound of the door shutting behind them, and then the room they were in.
The converted sanctuary was enormous. Mulder looked up into skylights that had been built into the ceiling. Those and the stained glass windows flooded the area with natural lighting, which was augmented by powerful natural electrical lights, currently shut off. Ceiling fans stirred the air and a central air system purred unobtrusively in the background. Contrary to Laura's previous apology, it was pleasantly cool in the large, stone walled space.
It was obvious Laura both lived and worked in the studio. The sanctuary had been converted into an open concept all-purpose living and working space. There were all the accouterments of the sculptor and metal workers trade, including the aforementioned smelting furnace built into its own extra wing off to the side, and something Mulder recognized as a kiln. But there was also a kitchen area, an area that was made into a cozy living room, with bookshelves, the couch and several overstuffed chairs. There was an entertainment system along the living room area wall with two of the largest speakers Mulder had ever seen in a private residence. He guessed she did like to crank up the music, but given the rural location, the thick stone walls and lack of close neighbors except for the tree farm, that wouldn't matter.
When he was far enough into the room and turned around, he could just glimpse her bed in the loft above. Somewhere there had to be a bathroom too, he expected.
"Please sit down," Laura said, indicating one of the overstuffed chairs in the living room area. "I have diet coke and Evian if you'd like either instead of iced tea."
"No, iced tea is fine," Mulder replied, taking a seat in one of the overstuffed chairs.
He watched the artist gracefully walk to the fridge, retrieve a pitcher of iced tea and carry it back over to a large, low, round coffee table that sat in front of the chairs and couch. She bent at the waist and placed the pitcher in front of him. Mulder couldn't help but look down the front of her sleeveless, scoop necked T-shirt. She was braless. She had freckles on the tops of her creamy, pale breasts.
Mulder blinked and glanced away as he felt a tightening in his groin. But his arousal wasn't for Laura Massey. The moment he saw the freckles and pale, fine skin he'd thought of Scully. He felt his face grow hot.
"Would you like some ice?" Laura asked.
"What?" Mulder replied, startled.
"Ice. Would you like some ice in your glass?"
Mulder refocused on Laura Massey. She was smiling at him.
"Oh, yes...thank you," he managed to get out.
She left his side again and he quickly wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead. He glanced down and frowned. 'Oh great. Damn it...just what I need...a hard-on.' Mulder crossed his legs as Laura approached again, two ice filled glasses in hand.
"Here you go," Laura said, extending a glass toward him.
When Mulder took the glass, their fingers brushed. He looked up and Laura captured his eyes. There was a sudden sharp pain behind the bridge of his eyebrows...and then it was gone as suddenly as it came. His erection wasn't however...it made itself known by dampening his boxer briefs.
"Thanks," he mumbled accepting the glass.
"My pleasure," Laura said, smiling. Her fingers lingered on his for a second longer and then she left his side.
The sculptor poured tea for both of them and then crossed to the overstuffed chair on the other side of the coffee table and gracefully sat down. She kicked off her sneakers and pulled her long legs up. Mulder watched her full, red lips for a moment as she took a sip of iced tea. Then he tore his eyes away and cleared his throat.
"You have a great set-up here. It's an attractive building too," he said.
He didn't want to make small talk; he wanted to cut right to the chase. But he was having trouble keeping his mind off Scully...and his thoughts were making him as horny as hell. He was trying desperately to focus his mind on the matter at hand and away from his insistent cock.
"Yes, it's convenient to both live and work in the same place. Of course it does have its drawbacks...you can spend all your time working because it's easy to do...and I find I do like to...play occasionally.
"It was a Catholic church, wasn't it?"
"Yes, but the congregation was consolidated with one in Sullivan and the church was de-sanctified and put up for sale. I bought it and helped renovate it."
"Sweat equity," Mulder commented, taking a long swig of his iced tea. He glanced around again and it occurred to him that there wasn't a sign of what Laura had been working on when his arrival interrupted her.
Laura chuckled and drew his attention back to her.
"Oh yes...a lot of sweat went into this place," she said, nodding. "Blood, sweat and tears you could say."
"Renovating can be a challenge."
"I found that out. Ripping out the pews and altar was quite the job. We left the tabernacle and created a separate room back there and the wing over there for the smelting. We found out we had to rewire all the electric. I'm just lucky I had a lot of help from good contractors and a superb architect."
Mulder felt drops of perspiration trickling down his back. They were both silent for a few seconds and then Laura put her glass down.
"So...you had some photos?"
Mulder straightened up.
"Yes...sorry...I didn't mean to take up this much of your time..."
"Don't worry about it...I'm enjoying your company," she replied, giving him a gracious smile.
"Nonetheless..." he said, fishing in his inner suit coat pocket. "I should be out of your way soon if you can take a look at these. They're slides actually, not photos."
Mulder had gone through the slides that John Borden loaned him for the investigation and pulled out three from the Italian trip. He'd had them in his hotel room last night while he did his Internet research. He intended to send them back to the local FBI office before he left, but with his change of plans decided to use them now.
Two slides were of Barbara, Borden and the other students posed in front of the Varelli Ballet Academy. The third was a close-up of Barbara Sutcliffe looking at a bronze of a satyr. The Varelli connection was the one thing that kept bothering Mulder. The Academy was where Barbara had fainted...the one anomaly in an otherwise routine trip...hell...in a mundane life.
He'd located enough on the satanist Varelli to know he should follow up on the subject...it was too much of a coincidence that the ballet school was named after him. And he wanted to see Laura's reaction to the slides. He was hoping, despite her prior assertions that she hadn't known Barbara well, that something about the slides would jog a deeper memory and bring it out.
"Oh...well...I do have a small light box," she replied. "Over here," she added getting up.
Mulder rose and followed her to a workbench that ran along the wall next to the living room area.
Laura switched on the light box and Mulder placed the slides carefully down on its bright surface. Laura bent over the box, and peered at them. Mulder stood back out of her field of vision. His dick was tenting the front of his pants. He didn't want her to see it, and he didn't want to take a chance of brushing against her either.
"These are my uncle's slides...from Italy," she said, biting her lower lip a little.
"Yes...do you recognize everyone?"
She smiled. "Keith and John look so young. I'd forgotten they went on this trip together. Yes, I recognize them all. Barbara looks so happy..." Laura's voice trailed off and she glanced at Mulder. "I know I told you I don't remember Barbara very well, Agent Mulder, but one thing I do recall is she had a good sense of humor and was always laughing."
Mulder nodded and she bent back to the light table. After a few seconds she spoke again.
"This is the Varelli Academy," she said.
Mulder moved a little closer.
"You recognize it?"
"The Varelli Academy is very well known for its bronze collection."
"Do you know anything else about it...about Varelli for instance?"
Laura Massey stood up and swiveled in his direction. Her eyes captured his and Mulder felt his whole body flush. He could practically hear the sound of his own heart pumping blood into his engorged penis. He struggled to pay attention to what Laura was saying.
"Varelli was an Italian architect. He built the academy. It was said he was a satanist...but that's only rumor," she said.
Her voice flowed over him, like molten metal that might have come out of her smelting furnace. His muscles quivered as sensations of pleasure flooded through his body and centered in his swollen dick.
"Uh...excuse me. I could use some iced tea," he mumbled. Mulder turned on his heel and strode back to the living room area.
"Are you all right, Agent Mulder?" Laura asked. He sat down and reached for his iced tea glass. "You were a little white there for a minute."
"I think...the heat is bothering me...either that or I'm fighting the flu. I've felt ill on and off since I got out here," he said. He took a long drink of the tea. When he put the glass down, Laura was standing at his side, her hand on his shoulder. He hadn't heard her cross the space between them. She touched his cheek and his thoughts spun away.
"You don't feel feverish. Let me get you some more iced tea...and some aspirin," she said.
Mulder scrubbed his hand over his face while Laura left him. 'I'd better see a doctor when I get back to DC,' he thought...'yeah...I'd better see Scully...Scully's breasts have freckles just like that on the top they'...Jesus...He had to stop thinking about Scully's body...it was making him useless here. Before he could shove her out of his mind however, Laura returned with a second glass of ice and some aspirin.
"Maybe you just haven't been sleeping well," she said. "I know when I travel I have a hard...time sleeping in hotels. But then again, the Wyndham is comfortable."
"How did you know I was staying at the Wyndham?" Mulder asked.
Somewhere in the back of his mind an alarm was going off...a warning. Laura leaned close and placed the glass and aspirin down on the table in front of him. Mulder could smell her then...she smelled like...she smelled like Scully's perfume. He looked into her eyes again.
"Ross told me," she said. He could see something shift in her eyes...a dark opaqueness similar to what he'd seen in films of shark's eye as they bit into their prey...and then she stood up and moved away.
Mulder shook his head when her back was turned. He tried in vain to dispel the confusion and waves of arousal that were coursing through him. He needed to do something or he was going to come in his pants. He needed a minute to think...to get his head clear.
"May I...may I use your bathroom?" he murmured, standing.
"Oh...certainly. It's back through those doors. You can't miss it," she replied, pointing toward the area where the tabernacle had been.
Mulder turned and strode across the expanse of the sanctuary as quickly as he could without giving away that he had a massive erection between his legs. As he walked he felt marginally less aroused however and his heartbeat slowed when he realized he wasn't in imminent danger of climaxing in front of this woman. He reached the door at the back of the sanctuary and just as he started to open it, the alarm that had been trying to warn him finally got his attention.
He remembered. Last night.... He remembered the woman he had seen on the bridge over the Milwaukee River...he remembered his dreams...he remembered he'd seen the same woman in his fevered sexual dreams the night before too. He remembered...and he knew it was Laura Massey.
"Let me help you with the door, Fox," Laura said.
Mulder hadn't heard her cross the sanctuary floor again, but he felt her iron grip as she grabbed his left arm and threw the door to the tabernacle open. He watched her smile as she looked into the room, which was lit with hundreds of candles. His eyes inexorably followed hers inside. He saw Ross Lyon spread-eagled on his back on a table in the room, blood pooled under him. The other agent's head was encased in a bronze lion's mane that had been bolted to his skull. He had nine-inch claws attached to every finger and a long metal tail bolted to his pubic bone and encasing his penis. Each bolt had been soldered neatly in place. He saw the rictus of agony on Lyon's face.... And Mulder went for his gun.
Laura Massey's arm blurred in front of him. His gun was knocked from his hand and he was pushed hard up against the room's wooden door and held there. He gagged and choked as Laura's arm pressed against his throat.
"Welcome to my world, Agent Mulder," Laura said. "It's been a long time...but I'm so pleased to finally show you my work."
"Who...who are you?" Mulder asked. But he didn't need to ask really...he already knew. He knew because he could hear it reverberating in his ears; a sound very much like the sea makes in a seashell hissing itself into his brain.
"I know you know, Fox," Laura said, grinning at him. She pushed, pinning him with inhuman strength, and Mulder saw spots swim before his eyes. "But just in case I've overestimated you...this should help."
And as Mulder watched, Laura Massey opened her mouth to show him a bloody stump where her tongue had been.
"Jesus Christ!" Mulder gagged.
"Blasphemy!" Laura screamed, slapping his face with her free hand. "You'll pay for that."
"Fffuck you, whatever you are," Mulder replied.
"Oh...we'll get to that, la mia volpe piccola, we'll get to that too."
In that instant Mulder had all his answers...and he also knew he'd been lured here...manipulated and compelled to come to this de-sanctified church. He knew because the thing in front of him was in his head, telling him, boasting of it, at the same time as it squeezed his brain like a lemon for information. He could feel it. It made him gag again...but it also made him even harder and his cock twitched between his thighs.
The thing that inhabited Laura Massey trailed its free hand down Mulder's body and reached for his crotch. He yelled something incoherent in protest and pulled away from her. The artist laughed, yanked him back and slammed his head into the wooden door. Mulder fell unconscious at her feet.
xXx
THE DULLES AIRPORT HILTON. WASHINGTON, DC.
Dimitri Yvashko thrashed in his sleep. Sweat rolled down his body. He was dimly aware that he had an erection. The voice came to him, hissing in his head like a thousand seas in a thousand seashells.
"Say the words, il mio priest piccolo. I know you want to say them."
He moaned long and low.
"No...I will not let you tempt me."
The voice laughed.
"I have not tempted you, my little priest...your own mind and body betray you. Say it...go on...say it. Say, "I love you, Sergei". You want him...he's magnificent and virile. Say it and spill your seed for him.
As hard as he tried he couldn't wake up. His hand strayed between his legs and rested on his swollen penis.
"God, help me," he mumbled, resisting with all his faith.
The voice cackled its laughter.
"Go on...pray. Blaspheme my master...you'll pay for it later. Pray to your bastard deity, priest. He will not help you. You will lose...and I will have *all* the prizes. See...look...see what I am about to do. Watch...and despair."
His vision shifted, blurred and then cleared. He could see a man...a lean, naked man with brown unruly hair and hazel eyes. The man was bound hand and foot to a flat surface and he was struggling up out of unconsciousness. He groaned.
"Scully," he said. "Scully...ohhhh...Walter."
A naked woman came into view, a tall woman with raven black hair and blue eyes. Suddenly, the man woke and struggled in his bonds. The woman approached and touched his brow, stilling him.
"It's all right, I'm here," she said.
"Scully?" the man coughed. His hoarse voice rang in Dimitri's ears as the woman stroked his brow and bent forward.
"NO!" Dimitri cried out, thrashing in the bed sheets.
The voiced cackled in triumph.
The woman bent close and captured the man's lips. Dimitri could taste her...taste them...taste the heat that was blossoming between them. And then the woman's face twisted, the features morphed, changed...and it was Sergei kissing the man. Sergei devouring his mouth. Dimitri couldn't help himself...he came, his cum shooting out, spurting into his boxer briefs. Suddenly the kiss tasted like burning sulfur and he gagged, crying out to God as the voice shrieked in pleasure.