“Aurora Skye Miller,” I said. “That was her name. Nine years old at her death.”
We were at the location of our our secret headquarters, found as it is in the trapezoidal rooftop of a certain skyscraper in the downtown area of the city. The main chamber of our HQ is filled with electronic equipment and sundry artefacts from our long and storied career. Seated behind a computer console, I was clad in my usual finery -- including a frilled poet shirt, purple velvet suit, and jungle boots. My panama hat and opera cape hung from a near by hallstand.
I looked again at the old photo of the little blonde girl on the computer screen. “The official cause of death has been changed by her family over the years. First they claimed it was an urinary tract infection, then a form of cancer, then an adverse reaction to treatment for some unknown affliction.”
“How did she really die, Daniel?” asked my friend Millie Drake -- an exceedingly beautiful young lady, petite and perfect with luxurious chestnut hair, lovely violet eyes, sun-kissed skin, and a sensuously wide mouth. The powder blue dress she wore only served to highlight the soft lines of her slender teenage figure.
“In reality,” I replied, “Miss Aurora Skye Miller, nine years of age, died of an infection contracted from sexual abuse by her uncle, Vincent Gale Wilson, Jr. -- yes, the same occult terrorist and so-called 'stage magician' known to eternal shame as ‘Vince Wilson the Paranormalist’!”
“That is terrible,” shuddered Millie. “And now it also turns out that Vince Wilson is still alive? We have seen him die at least twice.”
“Indeed so. Despite being consumed by the very alien terrors he has attempted to evoke into this world, Vince Wilson has survived. He achieved a sort of semi-immortality, you see, due to having engaged in homosexual contact with the renegade Algolite, Magister Don Wingus, shortly after the latter’s use of the device known as the Time-stalker.”
“So where is Vince Wilson now?”
“Kit-10?” I called. “I believe you have that information, hmmm?”
“Of course, s--,” replied the simulated yet pleasantly feminine voice of our mobile personal computer that resembles a small mechanical cat. “The individual self-promoted as ‘Vince Wilson the Paranormalist’ has announced he is presenting a ‘magic workshop’ this evening at a location known as the Catonsville Clubhouse.”
(It should be noted here that Kit-10, along with her other feline characteristics, is possessed of the total inability to openly show respect to anyone. In point of fact, the closest she ever even comes to it is by addressing me by a slight “s--” sound -- for “sir” -- and Millie Drake by “m--” -- for “ma’am”.)
“Quite so,” I pondered. “The Catonsville Clubhouse was originally the meeting place of the Catonsville Women’s Club, a particularly boring gaggle of middle-class suburban housewives. The structure is now rented out to anyone who wants to utilise it for presentations and events.”
“So Vince Wilson is using it to teach people ‘magic’?” wondered Millie.
“That is the cover story, of course,” I explained. “In reality, he is building another cult in hopes of using their combined adoration to aid him in again calling forth the forces of darkness -- forces he intends to use in his bid to become ruler of the planet Earth!”
“We need to stop him right away!” Millie stated.
“Quite so, love,” I agreed, fetching my hat and cloak from the stand, “Vince Wilson must be destroyed, but this will be a dangerous mission indeed. He is just about the most degenerate, execrable, and mentally-disturbed human being I have ever encountered -- and he has learned to utilise these very qualities in order to attract alien powers of extreme evil.
“So come along, Mills and Kit-10, hmmm? We have work to do.” …
My name is Doctor Daniel Rumanos. I carry within my blood the vastly superior genes of the legendary Watchers of Algol, the most intellectually advanced race in all of the known galaxies, whose technology is so sophisticated it often appears to be miraculous to lesser beings.
Whilst most Algolites live in elitist seclusion from the rest of the Universe, I am an operative for an organisation known as the KOSMIKOS. Assisted by the beautiful Miss Millie Drake, I protect Earth from all manner of menace. I am -- The Daemon-Star!!! …
A few minutes later we were on our way in my especially-modified, canary-coloured Edwardian roadster (affectionately known as “Lizzie”), with me in the driver’s seat.
“Please be especially wary of this ‘Catonsville Clubhouse’ location, hmmm?” I warned. “Such suburban conclaves always hide horrifically dark secrets. They are, after all, the psychic dumping ground of supposedly ‘normal’ human beings and the darksome perversions that such people hide in their festering souls.”
“I understand,” shivered Millie. “Anyone who would allow Vince Wilson to be there are terrible people anyway.”
“Forsooth, my dear,” I agreed. “Forsooth.” …
At the same time, inside the building of the Catonsville Clubhouse, the sickening occultist known as Vince Wilson had already begun his presentation to the small audience of middle-aged humans of the Caucasian type. Vince stood before then, morbidly obese in his garishly-hued carnival suit, his hair and scruffy beard the colour of excrement. His very presence had already filled the room with nauseating body odour.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced in his high-pitched, decidedly reedy voice, his heavy mouth-breathing now also filling the room with the fumes of his extreme halitosis. “It is great to be in Catonsville tonight, or perhaps I should call it ‘Satansville’, because right here and now I am going to show you how to achieve power by calling forth the forces of darkness!
“But before we begin that, allow me to introduce my assistant, the Magical Dakota!”
At this, a tall, muscular African-American woman -- of obvious lesbian proclivities -- lumbered forth from the backstage area. She was clad in black and fanning a deck of playing cards out before her, a sick smile on her bestial face.
“Now, ladies, and gentleman,” continued the execrably perverse magician known as Vince Wilson, “also allow me to announce to you the truth; the truth of what you are now going to be privileged to witness this very evening, right here at the Catonsville Clubhouse. For it is here that I, Vince Wilson the Paranormalist -- master of magic, mind-reader, hypnotist, occult researcher, ghost hunter, and the greatest entertainer of all time -- am going to summon forth the very powers that reside within my own self. They are powers of extreme and utter strength that I have developed over the years of my ascendancy as the magical master that you see me as before you right now! Yes, ladies and gentleman, you heard me right. For I, Vince Wilson, am no longer merely a worshipper of the dark forces. No, I am much more than that. For I, the city’s very own Vince Wilson, have now brought myself to the very heights of power and have become the very idol of darkness itself. I have gathered the powers within me and have mastered them all. I am the god of darkness and the king of demons. I am --- Moloch!!”
It was then that Vince Wilson did indeed succeed in making an audience gasp in astonishment; for it is then that, with a sudden rush of ebon black power, a swirling cacophony of terror suddenly sprang forth and surrounded him and his disgusting assistant, the so-called “Magical Dakota”.
“Witness them now,” commanded Vince Wilson. “Witness them, the very powers and servitors of Moloch! Witness the powers that I will use to achieve total ruler-ship over this planet!!” …
We were approaching close to the Catonsville Clubhouse, having now driven into the County area a few blocks from it. The sun was just setting on the horizon.
“So, Daniel,” said Millie Drake, “what do you expect we will have to do to fight Vince Wilson?”
“We will have to be wary of trickery,” I replied. “He is primarily a stage illusionist after all. We must at all times remember that everything he has achieved with his occult and satanic dealings is nevertheless still predicated upon that. He is a low-level carnival entertainer who only achieved any semblance of power by abandoning all moral, legal, and ethical restraint. He is…”
“S--,” suddenly interrupted Kit-10. “Systems detect danger approaching.”
“By the Triple Star!” I swore when I looked and beheld what Kit-10 had detected. “Millie, hold on tight!”
Directly above us, and falling fast, was an enormous mass of darkling horror. It was like unto a swirling amalgamation of demoniacal beings, countless thousands of them all amassed together. I attempted to utilise the car to evade them, but it was to no avail. Kit-10 attempted multiple blasts of her nose-laser at the things, but there was no effect.
I heard Millie Drake scream as the black hoard of demons engulfed our vehicle.
Then in a split second, it was over. The demons had disappeared and the surrounding Catonsville street was all normal.
“Daniel,” said Millie Drake, “what happened?”
“It was all an illusion,” I explained. “It was a visual echo of the forces that Vince Wilson is evoking at the Catonsville Clubhouse tonight. They came to intimidate us.”
“But what are they, really?” asked Millie.
By now, we had pulled into the parking lot of the Catonsville Clubhouse. I took the transonic turnscrew, an highly advanced scientific instrument in physical form somewhat resembling a writing pen, from the pocket of my jacket and used it to scan the area.
“According to this,” I said upon reading the resultant information. “The forces Vince Wilson is now calling forth are unique to him. They are the result of his myriad demonic dealings over the years -- with Pazuzu and Moloch and others -- further empowered by the energies of his own perverse and unholy lifestyle.”
“So the usual exorcisms won’t work on them, will they?”
“Not likely. We shall have to confront him directly and then determine what can be done.”
As we walked the pavement to the entrance of the Catonsville Clubhouse, we encountered no resistance. It was not until we reached the door that we saw anyone. It was several rather normal looking people leaving the building -- this being Vince Wilson’s supposed audience fleeing his horrible black magic presentation.
We entered the building and walked the short entrance hall to its one main room, a small auditorium with an elevated stage and now-deserted seating. On the stage, in all his repulsively-obese glory, was the very self-proclaimed “Paranormalist” -- Vince Gale Wilson, Jr.! Next to him was the sickening black lesbian known as Magical Dakota -- who eyed Millie Drake lustfully as we approached. Surrounding them both were the whirling forces of demoniacal chaos.
“Doctor Daniel Rumanos,” sneered Vince Wilson as we approached. “We are not surprised to see you. It is well known that you cannot stop your meddling Algolite ways. But this night you will not succeed, because this is the night of my ascendancy. This is the night when I -- Vince Wilson -- will take my rightful place as master of this world!!”
“You are insane, Vince,” I countered. “The only reason you have achieved any power at all is by giving yourself up to sodomy with an alien criminal. You are really just an human being who has become inebriated by the powers of evil. You shall achieve nothing but further madness and degradation.”
“No!” bellowed Vince Wilson in anger. “You are wrong! You are wrong and will now feel the full force of my power!”
Whilst I was talking to him, I had not noticed the movements of Dakota. The disgusting lesbian had slipped off the stage, and was now approaching Millie Drake from the side.
I heard Millie suddenly scream as the Magical Dakota grabbed her. I turned quickly to see what was happening and saw the black woman dragging the girl away across the floor of the room.
“Look at that, Doctor,” chuckled Vince Wilson. “The Magical Dakota will now initiate your beloved Miss Drake into the mysteries of lesbian mysticism -- and you will not be able to prevent it!”
At that very moment, before I could move to assist Millie Drake in escaping her captor, the evil Vince Wilson suddenly released an host of the demonic spirits against me -- forsooth an howling eldritch maelstrom of swirling occult horror that suddenly engulfed my very consciousness.
“Kit-10!” I called. “Help Miss Drake!”
With this, the robotic cat hurried off to hopefully save Millie, and I was left alone as the power of myriads of darksome terror demons blasted my very being!
“This is no illusion, Doctor!” exulted the evil magician known as Vince Wilson. “This is my very power, and you will now die!”
Do you, my dear friends and readers, recognise the horror and terror of this eldritch situation? Do you see the unmitigated sickness of it? Whilst I was being blasted by the forces of demonic horror -- forces that the execrable occult terrorist Vince Wilson intended to utilise in order to make himself ruler of the planet Earth -- the beautiful Miss Millie Drake was being abducted by the disgusting dark lesbian known as the Magical Dakota!
“You will now die, Doctor Daniel Rumanos!” repeated the insane Vince Wilson as the darksome demons continued to engulf me. “You will die as the alien monster you are, while I will go on to become master of this planet!” …
Across the room, the Magical Dakota was by now attempting to drag Millie Drake into one of the supply closets.
“Come on, girl,” leered the lesbian savage through her slobbering thick lips. “I’m gonna show you what a woman can do to you.”
Then Dakota was hit from behind by a blast of Kit-10’s laser. It was not enough to send the lesbian would-be rapist unconscious, due to her recent contact with the demonic forces, but it was sufficient to make her release her grasp upon Millie Drake.
At this, Millie immediately recovered and delivered a Daemonian kung-fu kick directly to Dakota’s black face. The latter then found herself bashed against the edge of the very same closet door through which she had so recently attempted to drag the seemingly-helpless young lady. The resultant force split open Dakota’s subhuman skull, killing her instantly. …
Through the pain I was experiencing from the dark powers, I suddenly noticed something. It was a figure, a form that had suddenly appeared in the room. It was as unto the form of a little blonde girl in a white dress. She hovered like a spectre above us and then headed directly to-wards Vince Wilson.
“Aurora?” stammered Wilson in sudden horrific realisation of what was occurring. “No… no, it can’t be… Not that!”
“Hi, Uncle Vince,” spoke the hollow voice of the ghostly girl. “Don’t you want to play with me like you used to? I can take you to a place were there are demons who want to play with you the same way.”
Then we heard Vince Wilson scream. It was a scream of utter loathsome horror and complete mortal terror beyond anything I have ever before heard issue forth from an human being. Vince Wilson screamed and screamed and screamed again as the form of the little girl drifted to-wards him. With her was the force of the demons that were no longer under his control and had left from attacking me. They all now surrounded him -- they all surrounded Vince Wilson in a spinning psychic hurricane of grotesque eldritch horror.
Millie Drake had run into my arms by now, and we watched together as the forces of evil turned upon their ersatz master, the grotesque “Vince Wilson the Paranormalist”.
Then, a moment later, all was silent. Vince Wilson had vanished, as had the dark demons and the figure of the little blonde girl. I looked over and beheld that the corpse of the lesbian Dakota had also been taken away with them.
“Are you all right, Mills?” I enquired concernedly.
“Yes, I’m okay,” confirmed Millie Drake.
“What about you, Kit-10?” I queried.
“My systems are undamaged, s--,” replied the robotic feline.
“So, what happened?” asked Millie. “I mean really? Was that actually what it appeared to be? Was it really… the ‘ghost’ of Vince Wilson’s niece?”
“It was indeed the so-called ‘spirit’ of Aurora Skye Miller,” I affirmed, there in the now quiet suburban surroundings of the Catonsville Clubhouse. “It was her very mentalist essence, unable to find peace in death due to the anguish she had experienced in life at the perverted hands of her execrable uncle. She came to redress that grievance, hmmm? She came to take Vince Wilson away from this world -- to be imprisoned forever on a certain inter-dimensional ‘hell’ -- forsooth a place were Vince will find himself subject to eternal tortures unimaginable!”
***** DANIEL RUMANOS AND MILLIE DRAKE SHALL RETURN
