AUNT EDITH
By Gary Brandner
from Hot Blood: Tales of Provocative Horror anthology
Skip's arms seemed bound immovably to his sides, his legs tight together, and his body braced stiff and straight. He was being propelled toward the entrance of a cave — dark and moist and unknown inside. He tried to speak, to call out, but no sound came from his constricted chest. Nothing. Nothing at all.
Some three hours earlier Skip had been sitting beside a lithe blond girl in the front seat of his BMW. His arm was around the girl's shoulders with his hand resting lightly on the upper swelling of her young breast. He nodded toward the blue-trimmed white cottage set back from the street where they were parked.
"So this is where Aunt Edith lives," he said. "I was expecting something more like Dracula's castle."
The girl swept her long hair to one side with a graceful movement of her head. "I suppose you say that because of the stories they tell in town about my aunt."
"I have heard that she's not your typical sweet old lady," Skip said. "Nobody seems to know what goes on out here, but there are some mighty interesting theories. Some people say the old girl is practicing voodoo. Or raising up the dead. Or maybe she's really a vampire and sleeps in her coffin." He grinned. "My guess is that she's building a monster out of spare parts. What's she really up to, Audrey?"
The girl gave a nervous little laugh. "You really shouldn't make fun. Aunt Edith may be a little… different, but she's the only family I have. I lost both my parents when I was a little girl, and she's been awfully good to me."
"From what I hear, your father left Aunt Edith a nice chunk of money to be good to you. At least until you're twenty-one and get what's coming to you."
"You know a lot about me."
He gave her the grin again. "I work in the bank, remember? I just don't like to see your aunt piss away what's rightfully yours."
"Skip, that's unkind."
"Hey, I was only kidding," he said. "Don't go all serious on me."
She regarded him with huge blue eyes. "It isn't the money, is it? That's not what attracted you to me?"
"Sweetheart, you know it isn't. I love you and I want to marry you. Do I look like the kind of a creep who would just want your money?"
"No, but tell me again why you do want me."
Skip pulled her close against his chest and nuzzled the top of her blond head. "I love you because you're young and cute and fun and sexy. I would want to marry you if you didn't have a nickel. At least that way we'd be starting off even."
As he spoke Skip's hand slid down and cupped the girl's ripe breast. He felt the nipple come alive under his fingers and thrust against the soft sweater.
Audrey turned in the seat and pushed herself against his hand. "My darling, I believe you. But I do hope you'll get along with Aunt Edith. You know how important it is that she approves. She has control of everything until my twenty-first birthday, and that's almost two years away."
"Believe me," Skip said, working with his hand, "I do know how important it is. And don't worry — I get along fine with old ladies. They want to mother me." He slid the hand down across the gentle mound of Audrey's belly to where the Spandex pants molded themselves to her crotch.
Audrey twisted in the seat, riding on his hand. "You make me vibrate like a violin string," she whispered.
With a show of reluctance Skip pulled away. "We'll have a concert later. Now we'd better go on in and meet Auntie," he said. "She'll be wondering what we're doing out here."
For a long moment Audrey sat back against the seat, breathing deeply. "Lord!" she said. "One more minute with your hand down there and I wouldn't have cared if Aunt Edith and the whole darn town had come and stood around the car to watch us." She closed her eyes for a moment and opened them. "But you're right, darling. We'd better go in."
They walked together up a path of crushed seashells to the front door of the cottage. Behind a gauzy curtain a warm orange light glowed inside. Audrey opened the door with a key and they walked in.
The smell of sandalwood and some spice wrapped around the young couple as they entered. Skip gazed around at the cluttered living room. It looked like one of the so-called occult shops that were so popular these days. All around him were Zodiac symbols and other strange runes and signs he did not recognize. They were on wall plaques, plates, samplers, cushions, even sewn into the carpet. Colored bottles, ceramic figures, masks, strange pictures covered all available space. A stuffed monkey grinned at them from a trapeze.
"Do you really live with all this stuff?" he said. "I mean, this is weird."
"You get used to it," Audrey said with a laugh. "Anyway, I did. It's the only home I've known really."
Skip continued his survey of the room until his eye fell on a row of six blunt, erect figurines that marched across the oak mantel. He frowned at them, trying to call up the source of the sense of familiarity he felt, but it eluded him for the moment. Then he laughed aloud as recognition came.
"Hey, do you know what those things look like?" he said, pointing.
Audrey blushed and lowered her eyes. "Yes, I know, but don't blame me. Aunt Edith makes them."
"She makes them?"
"It's sort of a hobby. Aunt Edith is really quite talented. She makes up her own special plastic for them. Do you want to feel one?"
"No, thanks," Skip said quickly. "The old girl must be really spacy. No wonder they tell those wild stories about her in town."
"Hush, I think she's coming."
"Is that you, Audrey?"
The voice from the rear of the house was too rich and vibrant to fit the mental picture Skip had of elderly Aunt Edith. When the woman herself entered, his mouth dropped open.
Her presence seemed to fill the room. Tall and straight she stood, with hair of burnished copper flowing loose around her fine shoulders. Her cream-colored skin was without wrinkle or blemish. She wore a white and gold hostess gown. The top was cut to provide a matched pair of silken bags slung from her neck to carry the full, swaying breasts. An expanse of midriff was bared to reveal the delicious curve from rib cage to waist where the flare of her hips began.
Dimly, Skip became aware that Audrey was speaking.
"Aunt Edith, this is Skip Dial, the fellow I've told you about. Skip, my aunt, Miss Edith Calderon."
"How do you do, Mr. Dial." The woman made his name sound like music. A light smile touched her lips.
Skip had to swallow before he could get his voice working. "Hello," he said finally. "Please call me Skip."
"I'd like to." A mischievous spark danced deep in the woman's sea-green eyes. "Please come to the table. I've made some bouillabaisse. It's a specialty of mine."
"One of my favorites," Skip mumbled.
Aunt Edith stepped forward and took his hand to lead him into the dining alcove. He felt as though a jolt of electrical current had jumped from her fingers to his.
As they sat eating the savory fish stew Skip found it difficult to pay even polite attention to his fiancée, so powerful was the primitive aura of the aunt. Once when she rose from her seat and passed behind him on her way to the kitchen, a silken hip had brushed softly against his shoulder, making him flinch at the shock of physical pleasure.
During a lull in the table talk Skip said to the red-haired woman, "I was looking at the collection of things in your living room. Very, uh, interesting."
"Yes, aren't they. They mostly have to do with my avocation. I'm a witch, you know. I imagine you have heard stories to that effect."
"They do say some outlandish things about you." Skip put on a tolerant smile to let her know that he was much too sophisticated to listen to the town bumpkins.