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    Veil Of The Damned
    Veil Of The Damned
    Veil Of The Damned
    Ebook139 pages1 hour

    Veil Of The Damned

    By K. Massari

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    About this ebook

    "Please don't do this, please don't do this to us!" - A neighborhood is haunted by the powerful spirit of a prostitue, leading a pack of vicious hyena demons. Revered as a saint by some, hunted relentlessly as a witch by others, Valeria struggles to find love and salvation while fighting for justice.
    Wallace, a young homeless man, is drawn into the conflict. Can he search for the truth hidden behind the veil which separates this world from the next?
    Can the diabolical cycle of evil be broken?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherK. Massari
    Release dateApr 12, 2015
    ISBN9781310237058
    Veil Of The Damned
    Author

    K. Massari

    I've always been passionate about horror. Whether it was watching Bela Lugosi, Boris Karloff or Lon Chaney Jr., or devouring Stephen King's books, I have been drawn to and fascinated by the dark side, what creates suspense, tension and terror.

    Read more from K. Massari

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      Book preview

      Veil Of The Damned - K. Massari

      Chapter 1

      Wallace tried to smile. He was getting tired. He didn’t want drugs or beer, just sleep. And a hot bath, maybe. It was late, an hour before midnight, and how it would end, he did not want to know.

      Mr. Lighthill had been up watching a movie, when he had escaped down Harbor Road. Wallace hadn’t had the nerve to ask. Okay, so no bath. He would try the pool, tomorrow. Which he never did, anyway, not with all his bulges. He would figure something out.

      He sensed he was being watched. Many tanned legs moved about, creating a blur; he tried to focus. It was quiet now, he could hear the sea, first sucked back, then tumbling forward. Someone passed a wine bottle. Wallace was seriously beginning to feel sorry for himself.

      After another cigarette, he saw her. Her coal-black eyes were not piercing. They were huge; they looked as if they belonged to a doe. She looked at him. Nothing more. He looked back. ‘Don’t get your hopes up,’ he thought. ‘Bitches want money. They can’t help. They just want you to take care of them.’

      It had been a while, though, since he had had sex, and he was just dirty enough now to come across as masculine, and not hopeless.

      He locked into her gaze; she went to his head like the wine. He could see flowery tattoos all over her arms, and small nipples under a small black sleeveless top. Some jewelry, and lots of black, shiny curls. She smiled. It came as a surprise. What? Him? Here? On dead end beach?

      Perhaps she was a runaway, looking for that shoulder to cry on, the way he was looking for someone to help him make it through the night. The only home he had right now was Mr. Lighthill’s basement, and God only knew, Lighthill could drop dead at any moment, and his picture-perfect children would kick Wallace out pronto.

      Someone he knew, Danny, nodded in his direction. Are you coming? he mouthed, meaning a ride back into the neighborhood. Tears welled up in Wallace’ eyes. Good old pal from South America, always looking out for him.

      Oh, thank you. Thank you very much, he said and waved. Not tonight. Got other plans.

      Which was a lie. He would just fall asleep, further back, in the bushes, deep in the bushes, here on the beach.

      Okay, Danny said, much louder, take care. See you tomorrow?

      They waved and grinned.

      Danny left with Esmeralda, his girlfriend, and her baby girl.

      The beach party was calming down, the next day, Wednesday, being a work day, and most of them had jobs and schools to return to.

      Except for The Man, an African American who had lost his mind long ago. Wallace was suddenly alone on the beach with him, the tattooed girl and a fire that had died. He was still nursing the bottle of wine. He did not dare offer her any. She sat quietly, her hands folded over her knees, as if she were waiting for him to finish and then go. With her.

      Hi, Wallace said and smiled.

      Hello, the girl answered.

      Wallace tried to guess her age. Hard to determine. Was she eighteen? Or twenty-two? Or even thirty …

      New here? Wallace asked.

      No. I come here all the time.

      Really.

      Yes, she said and giggled. Really.

      They did not talk. They sat staring at the embers, and listening to the waves. The Man moaned, but when Wallace handed him the bottle of wine, he stopped. Darkness was closing in all around them. It wasn’t threatening, it was soothing; Wallace knew, even if he slept outside, the night would be warm, and the sleep, for hours at a stretch, refreshing.

      The young lady was the first to speak:

      By the way, I’m Valeria.

      I’m Wallace.

      Nice to meet you, she said shyly.

      Nice to meet you, too, said Wallace and smiled a broad smile.

      So … you intend to sleep in those bushes tonight? she asked, pointing her chin in the direction of a field of wild shrubbery.

      At first, Wallace was taken aback. How did she know? Well, she hung out with the crowd here, didn’t she? She knew the score.

      I guess so.

      She nodded.

      Want to come to my house first, have some coffee?

      How did she know he loved to drink coffee, around the clock? Mere coincidences.

      Lady, I don’t know you that well yet.

      It’s on Chestnut.

      Do you live there alone?

      Yes, with my cats and dogs.

      At this, Wallace relaxed a little.

      As if she sensed it, the young woman got up and walked towards him.

      Wallace twitched nervously. Was she coming on to him?

      Valeria was at his side. She looked him in the eye, and ran a hand along his shoulder.

      I am here to help you.

      Wallace jumped to his feet. Valeria was small and fragile; with his hulky frame and extra pounds, he towered over her like a fortress. He felt weak, though.

      Lady, I think we’d better call it a night, and go our separate ways.

      I have a message for you.

      What about?

      Come with me …

      Please, Wallace pleaded. I am too tired for games like this.

      No games. Honest concern.

      With her large brown eyes, and beautiful tan complexion, Wallace could not help feeling at once comfortable, and aroused, in her presence. ‘Let her tell you more,’ a voice in his head whispered.

      Okay. One cup of coffee, then I go.

      Valeria smiled, a pleasant, charming smile. It was nearly impossible not to like her. She took his hand.

      Come.

      Chapter 2

      Wallace looked over to The Man, slumped forward with the wine bottle dangling from his dirty, bruised hands. Wallace felt uncomfortable about leaving him, alone, on the beach.

      The Man’s head suddenly jerked up, and his eyes changed. All at once, he was sober, intelligent, and somewhat younger. It lasted only for a few seconds, then his eyes dulled, their light turned to gray, and it was all gone. Wallace shuddered. He was imaging things.

      The Man was a shell, a homeless person. And no one missed him.

      Wallace tried to push the thoughts away, the despair creeping up on him. Would he end like that? Was he working his way towards a life of lonesome misery?

      Valeria led him over the sand to a small wooden bridge that connected with a lawn. The stars were out, and the waves were murmuring softly. Her cool hand was smooth as ivory. Wallace rejoiced in touching this woman. It had been so long since he considered himself a candidate for love. He had nothing to offer right now.

      His mind flashed ‘girlfriend’, but he quickly pushed the word aside. Impossible.

      Valeria stopped, made a half-turn, and smiled up at him. ‘She must be reading my mind,’ he thought. (‘Or by now, I am fragile, made of glass. My options few, my reactions predictable.’)

      That was probably it. He bowed his head and let her lead him out into the street.

      Her black Honda was parked in front of the path snailing down to the beach. Wallace’ body slid comfortably into the cool, leathery car seat. In the discreet, shaded darkness, the Honda’s hood glistened like the flanks of a sleek, strong panther.

      "What the hell,’ Wallace thought and smiled inwardly. He could easily get used to this.

      Valeria drove two blocks down the street. Passing a Subway, she turned to Wallace and raised her eyebrows as if asking a question. ‘Do you want any?’

      I know we agreed on coffee … she said playfully.

      Wallace licked his lips and touched her cheek. It was very cold.

      It hit Wallace. For the second time that night, tears welled up in his eyes. With a clumsy hand, he tried to wipe them away. Valeria was buying dinner for him, and it was Subway. His favorite food.

      There were good people all around, people who were willing to help out, and who were willing to take care of him. Even if his brother Harold cast him out, Harold, who had a heart as cold as stone.

      Valeria drove into the parking lot, and went inside for food.

      She brought back many bags with a smile.

      There, she said. We’re all set to go.

      He took some of the bags, the rest went to the back seat. Valeria started to drive, and after another two blocks, they were on Chestnut Avenue, where she parked in front of a very impressive white mansion in the moonlight.

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