Beetlesmith's

First, I would like to thank the wonderful Bella Mariposa for editing this chapter.

Synopsis

: To recap the story so far, our protagonist, Will Henry, walks into an unusual curio shop owned by Bartholomew Beetlesmith. After some discussion, Beetlesmith makes him an unusual offer, a test sample of what Beetlesmith claims is the most powerful aphrodisiac ever designed, called the Elixir. Though skeptical, Henry does administer the drug to his wife and her friend. The results exceed Will's wildest imaginations in carnal delights.

Henry returns to Beetlesmith's shop to purchase more elixir. Beetlesmith agrees to sell him more, but imposes a condition, and a warning.

The condition: silence is golden. No one outside Beetlesmith's client list shall know of the elixir's existence. Breach of this one condition, by anyone, results to total banishment from the purchase of the elixir, and not just for the offending party, but banishment for all of the current clients as well. Beetlesmith is adamant about this condition, saying that he has scuttled more than a few client lists in the past when word of the elixir leaked out to the uninvited.

Beetlesmith also warns that the elixir is not without side effects, some minor, others more severe. The more one uses the elixir, the more pronounced the physical and mental side effects become.

Even with all these warnings and the strange requirement for silence, Henry accepts these conditions. Thus, his name is put on the current list, and he becomes Beetlesmith's newest client.

Almost immediately, Henry begins to experience side effects from using the drug, but they are not the ones Beetlesmith talked about. Among many other things, Henry developed the ability to read minds, as well as developing a form of psychokinesis, where he can manipulate people and things around him. Fearing irreparable damage to his brain, Henry attempts to discontinue using the elixir. However, even without using the elixir, Henry's superhuman abilities continue to grow.

Though these side effects are unsettling to Will, eventually he realizes his newfound powers allow him to do all the things the elixir can do, by only using his mind.

Just when things seem to be working out well, Will discovers an unsettling truth about Beetlesmith. That he isn't the jolly, benign inventor and antique dealer he's always claimed to be—his motives being far more nefarious and dangerous.

In the last chapter, Henry confronts Beetlesmith, having discovered that his past clients were not just banished from access to the elixir, but they were all, in fact, murdered. We pick up the story as Will Henry is going to 'deal' with Beetlesmith once and for all.

____________________________________

"The time has come," the Walrus said, "To talk of many things: Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax—of cabbages—and of kings..."

—The Walrus and the Carpenter

from

Through the Looking-Glass and what Alice Found There; Lewis Carroll.

********

Beetlesmith stared back at me, wide-eyed. Obviously, he hadn't counted on me finding out his secret. I guess I finally surprised the old fuck.

I didn't wait for his response. Instead, I folded his old list back into my breast pocket and set about securing the entrance and pulling down the shades to his shop.

I had murder on my mind...

No, that isn't entirely true. I did plan to kill Beetlesmith, but I didn't see it as premeditated murder—thinking it closer to self-defense.

It was apparent that over the course of a few weeks Beetlesmith had killed well over one-hundred people. How long before he decides those on his current list, specifically me, are also in need of extinction? I do not intend to find out, and to paraphrase Dylan Thomas, 'I was not going to go gentle into that good night.' I'm going to kill the old fuck before he kills me.

My only question now: would I do it with my bare hands, or just shrivel his brain with a thought?

Beetlesmith must have guessed my mind, saying to me as I pulled down the last shade, "Perhaps we should talk about this first, Mr. Henry, before you do anything rash."

"What is there to talk about? You get your kicks administering a drug that fucks with our minds. Then you kill us."

"Let me assure you, I killed no one."

I thought he was lying to save himself. I ask, suspiciously, "If not you, who? One thing's for sure, everyone on this list is dead, and they all didn't die of natural causes."

"Well, not everyone, but we can get into that a little later after we talk a bit. As for who, let's just call him my benefactor."

Now I was confused. The old cocksucker sounded sincere. I asked, "Benefactor? I suppose he knows of us? Of the list?"

Beetlesmith laughed at my absurd question. "Of course. You don't think I'd have any dealings with you reprobate dolts without having a little...muscle as a safeguard. I told you, Mr. Henry, the list is my insurance, and my Benefactor will ensure the policy is carried out to the last name, if and when the time comes, and even if I'm extant or not."

After finding out that bit of information, I resigned myself to hear what he had to say. Mostly, I wanted to humor him long enough to figure out if his Benefactor was real, and whether I could dispose of him and Beetlesmith. "You said you wanted to talk. I'm listening."

"Good, good. A cooler head is to your benefit, Mr. Henry. First, I must commend you on your astuteness. Rarely do any of my clients catch wind that anything's amiss."

"Spare me your compliments, and get on with it."

"Then allow me the opportunity to compliment myself." He paused for a long moment, staring at me as if I were a great work of art that first needs to be admired with utmost thoughtfulness before commenting. "From the moment I first saw you, I had a feeling you were the one. I felt it in my gut. Right down in my bones, as it were. However, life is so fluid and unpredictable. Given the mercurial nature of events, there's so much one can't be sure of, particularly at the beginning of things. There were others such as yourself, to be sure. Many others over the millennia that held promise at the start, but who tragically failed in the end. As such, I was never positive about you. Hopeful, yes, but never positive. That is until you told me all that was happening the last time you were here. It was then that I knew, unequivocally."

"Knew, what?" I ask, frustrated. As always, he wasn't coming to the point.

"That you are the one. That you are the apple of his eye, and he has taken a very personal interest in you."

"Speak plainly for once. Who is this

he

you're talking about?"

Beetlesmith playfully put a finger to his lips, and said, "Hush Mr. Henry, we mustn't say their names aloud. They prefer to work anonymously from the shadows. But to answer your question, he is my benefactor of whom I spoke of earlier. He is my Master...or I should say, our Master now. If you need a name, then call him the redoubtable Mr. A."

"Very well Mr. Beetlesmith. Go on. Why am I so special to this...Mr. A?"

I stayed quiet from then on, as Beetlesmith began his explanation. What he told me is just too fantastical for me to relay in any kind of detail, except to say it was a strange mixture of theological mysticism adulterated with an unhealthy amount of science fiction, or so it seemed to me. I didn't understand half of what he said and the other half I found hard to believe.

It seems there has been an ongoing 'conflict' between two factions, who Beetlesmith calls the 'Cruel Ones' and the 'Bright Ones.' The conflict has been going on for thousands of millennia, ever since our ancestors began walking upright at Olduvai. The factions have been influencing us, pulling human beings in one direction or another, to meet their contentious goals. Beetlesmith was unclear on the specifics of each factions' ambitions, but he did make it clear that a final reckoning is occurring. An event that will put an end to the war once and for all, and somehow, I'm at the center of it all. The prize of victory was nothing less than the disposition of all sentient life—life, not just on Earth, but throughout the whole universe.

'Not just our world, but a whole universe of worlds.' These were Beetlesmith's exact words, and they struck me as comically insane. Feigning interest in his nonsense, I asked, "Why this world when there are supposedly so many that could hold their attentions? What makes us so special?"

"Because we

are

that special. They've traveled a universe and find us singularly unique in it all. Of all the species they've encountered, no other is as malleable; and no other is as imbued in the universal contradiction of existence. The dichotomy of good and evil coexists within us, unfettered and without hindrance, and because of this, we are the fulcrum that holds the universe in balance. Tip us in one direction or the other, and

everything

slides either into the cool, familiar darkness or into the stark, warm light." He grimaced when he said 'light,' as if pronouncing the word filled his mouth with ash. Regaining his composure, he finished, "It's because of our uniqueness that it is here they've decided to put everything to a final test."

I ask, incredulously, "And this prize you speak of, what do you mean by, 'disposition?'"

"It's hard to explain without a common frame of reference, Mr. Henry."

"Try. So far you've told me nothing I find pertinent or believable, and I'm fast losing patience with your bullshit."

"Given my situation and your intentions, I'm sorry for your lack of patience, Mr. Henry. Truly I am. However, I couldn't tell you even if I wanted. Just take my word that all will be revealed to you in time."

I laughed in his face. "What good is your word? You've done nothing but lie to me ever since I first entered your shop."

"If you're talking about the elixir, then yes, I lied to you. They were lies of necessity, though. Lies more of omission rather than commission. I hope you understand."

"I don't understand any of this. Just speak plainly for once. Why lie about..." Then it hit me in midsentence, "Why lie unless the elixir isn't really an aphrodisiac."

"Ah. Very good, Mr. Henry. You finally have clarity." Beetlesmith underscored his praise by vigorously nodding his head in affirmation. Then he continued, matter-of-factly, "To answer your first question, the lie is an old magician's deception. Get the audience watching one hand as you set the trick up with the other. I wanted you thinking...believing the elixir imparts some biochemical change in the participants. I wanted your mind focused on

that

possibility, rather than what was actually occurring."

"What do you mean? What is actually occurring? I don't understand..."

"You see, lack of a common reference," he said, cutting me off.

"Then you need to bring me up to speed so there is a common reference. You're going to find a way to explain it to me in one minute, or I

will

burn a hole in your brain, this mysterious Mr. A notwithstanding! What is it?"

"It is many things, Mr. Henry. A portal, a beacon...an insidious corruptor, among its many, most wonderful properties. In this regard, its functionality makes it a universal Swiss army knife for the depraved. All that aside, its main purpose is to act like flypaper."

"So far, you're making less sense than before, and that's saying something. You have thirty seconds. What does this, so called, flypaper catch?"

"Souls, Mr. Henry, it catches souls."

"Souls? You mean as in our spiritual souls, forever and ever, everlasting?"

"Exactly, Mr. Henry, the spiritual self."

"My soul?" I asked, rhetorically.

"Of course. You don't see any other miscreant in the store, do you?" I must have given Beetlesmith an odd look, because he paused for a moment before continuing, "I was under the impression from our first meeting you didn't believe in such things; thus, my remark about lacking a common reference."

"As a matter of fact, I don't."

Beetlesmith smiled suspiciously before responding, "If you say so, Mr. Henry. The look you just gave tells a different story. However, if not, then you had better start believing. You're already wading hip deep in the beyond: slipped almost precariously through the mercurial plane that exists outside our own reality. We can't see it, of course, although we do feel it on occasion...in our souls, to be precise. Start believing, Mr. Henry, it's only a matter of time before you're totally submerged."

I ignored his cryptic message about 'submerging in the beyond,' asking, instead, "What do you mean by 'portal?'"

"Just what it implies, it acts as a doorway between our two planes. Ordinarily, their power over us is ephemeral and amounting to no more than mere whispers of influence; though they can be powerful whispers, if given at the right moment in a person's life. The elixir, on the other hand, allows for actual contact between the 'Others' and we mortals."

"You're talking about...possession," I said it as a declaration, but it sounded like a question.

"It doesn't really work that way. You've been watching too many Hollywood movies, Mr. Henry. Oh, accidents do happen. Sometimes the incubus or succubus slips through the plane and into the mortal. Causes a terrible mess for all concerned, and the host usually dies as the Other claws its way back into its own realm, but this is a rare occurrence. Ordinarily, when contact is achieved, the Others treat us as finger puppets, manipulating us, this way and that, but nothing more. "

"Oh, please," I scoffed.

Beetlesmith was becoming annoyed. "Mr. Henry, if you are going to sneer in disbelief at everything I tell you, then we are at an impasse..."

"Listen to the serial liar, outraged at not being believed. All right, I'll bite. If what you say is true, how is it that I'm the only one with special powers? I can only assume my powers are derived from using the elixir, allowing these Others to have their way with me. Yet according to you, they manipulate everyone that has been given the elixir. So, why doesn't everyone have these powers?" I didn't tell him about Karen, who was also developing the same powers, wanting to keep any mention of my wife as far away from him as possible.

"I told you, the Master has taken a personal interest in you. In all my dealings with him, I've never seen this type of enthusiasm for a client. It's unprecedented."

"Which means what, exactly?"

"The Master is very esoteric, to say the least, but one thing I do know, he doesn't like to get too involved in...oh, how should I say it...involved in the day-to-day operations of contact and control. He lets his minions do the dirty work, allowing them their fun with us. Usually, he only watches us as his minions play; though, he may visit us in our dreams on occasion, but nothing more. His corrupting force is powerful enough from the shadows. This time, it's different."

He looked at me with a smug expression, as if that should have settled the matter—'Question asked and answered, Mr. Henry, you dolt.'

Of course, I was still in the dark as to what he was talking about, although his mentioning, 'visits to our dreams,' sent a chill down my spine. To say I wanted to punch that smug look off his face would be an understatement. "I still don't understand. What does any of this have to do with my powers?"

He smiled that little smile that now so inflames my heart with rage and hate. "As I've said, it's obvious from everything you've told me that he has taken a personal interest in you. He's manipulating you directly. And every time a part of him crosses over and makes contact with you, a little bit of him is left behind. Your powers have grown exceptionally strong, indeed, Mr. Henry." He chuckled to himself before finishing, "You've become a regular, chip off the old block, as they say, though you don't exercise your powers as much as you could."

Beetlesmith continued, rhetorically, "Do you know how rare you are, Mr. Henry? A virtuous man...or as virtuous as any man can be in this day of pervasive and cheap pornography and even cheaper virtues...full of such love and devotion to a barren wife, who, and let's be honest, isn't the most faithful spouse a man can have. Yet, you love her in spite of all her carnal flaws, a love bordering on saintly devotion. However, what makes you the true prize, a real plum, is that virginal friend of yours."

He paused for a long moment, allowing that last revelation to sink in. "Miss Resik is her name, isn't it? Gloria Resik? Do you know how many forty-plus virgins there are in the modern world? Very few that can still have normal children. Yes, such a prize, you are."

I was taken aback at hearing Gloria's name. I hadn't talked to her in months, and I know I've never mentioned her to Beetlesmith by name. Now, hearing her spoken about so prominently by him, and in such reverent tones, was unsettling. How could he know about her, and know the other details of my life—a barren wife who committed adultery? A virginal friend?

Regaining my composure, I said to him, slowly, as a warning, "Leave them out of this."

"Why, Mr. Henry? It's the reason you are here."

I wanted to ask what he meant by that, but he kept talking and talking in a way that was taunting me. Poking me, like an idiot tourist who pokes at a bear with a stick, trying to elicit a response for his camera.

"She loves you, you know. Gloria. She loves you almost as much as you love your wife. Haven't you ever seen how she looked at you over these many years? Always pining after you with her eyes, so full of love and lust, laughing at all your silly witticisms, always feigning great interest in even the most insignificant and mundane thing you have to say. Her love for you is deep, so deep that she was saving herself for you and you alone. She wanted to tell you these things, and almost did a few times over the years, but her love and friendship to your wife precluded it. So, she stayed a virgin, suffering in silence. Suffering, at least, until those glorious nights when you used the elixir and she could finally have you without guilt or remorse because her friend, your wife, gave her permission."

Now, he was making things up. I was about to scoff at him, again, when I remembered something that happened.

It was the first time I administered the elixir to everyone, myself included. It occurred late in the evening, just before I passed out. Karen and Jackie had their fight, leaving Gloria and I coupled by ourselves as the other two worked through their differences.

It was a slow, romantic fuck, and one Gloria specifically requested. What I remember most was how she looked up at me, holding my head lovingly in her hands as I laid on top of her. It wasn't a look of lust, which I saw often from all the women that evening, but a sweet, innocent look of love, hope, and longing. Then, just before I fell unconscious, she said something to me. I couldn't hear what she said, but I read her lips clear enough, 'I've always loved you.'

When I woke up the next day, I didn't give her words much importance, thinking her feelings were due to the effects of the elixir. Now, in light of what Beetlesmith just told me...

"How can you know these things?"

"It's my job. I've been granted certain powers of prescience as keeper of the elixir. I'll tell you what else I know, Mr. Henry. Your friend was pregnant."

"What?"

"We sometimes forget the little details; details, such as self-imposed celibates and their lack for needing birth control. It was an error on our part, and shouldn't have happened so soon. It has since been corrected. The time for that wasn't yet ripe, but it's ripening."

The anger was rising in me, soon to become rage if he kept up his smug taunts. "You sick fuck. Not another word about her."