Free A Knight of the Sacred Blade by Jonathan Moeller Page B

first. Good day, Senator. Rest assured my editor will hear about this, at length, as will my lawyer.” She turned to leave. 
    Wycliffe smiled and summoned the full force of the Voice’s black magic. “Stop.”
    She froze. Wycliffe watched her tremble as she struggled against his will. 
    “Turn around.”
    Miss Louis turned, trembling. “What…what the hell is this? What are you doing to me?” 
    “You needn’t know,” said Wycliffe. “Take off your clothes.”
    Her hands jerked to her jacket, pulled it off, and began undoing the buttons of her blouse. “Oh my God. Oh my God. I…I can’t stop.” She began to cry. “What the hell are you doing to me?”
    Wycliffe rolled his eyes. “Do shut up.” Miss Louis’s jaw clicked shut. Her blouse joined her jacket on the floor. “And enjoy yourself. Wait…that’s not too likely, is it? Pretend to enjoy yourself, then.”
    Miss Louis’s lips peeled in a wide grin, her eyes wide and terrified, as she undid her bra and slid out of her skirt. 

    ###

    “You will then conclude the interview,” said Wycliffe. “Describe how you were impressed by my sincerity and integrity and so forth.”
    Miss Louis managed a nod, her hair tangled, her clothes rumpled, her eyes glassy. 
    Wycliffe smiled. “That’s a good girl. Don’t worry, in a few hours you won’t remember any of this.” He considered the timing for a moment. What would Goth do to her in five days? He thought about it and shuddered. But suppose he could turn it to his advantage? If she did a favorable interview with him, and then was found dead a few days later…
    Miss Louis twitched every now and then. 
    “A few more instructions,” said Wycliffe. “There is an abandoned parking fifteen blocks west of here. Five days hence, you will drive there alone and in secret…”
    He drove the instructions into her mind with the Voice, the black magic tangling like icy needles in his throat. Her face twisted with horror until he buried the instructions deep in her subconscious, a technique he had developed after years of practice with the Voice. She would follow his wishes, even if she could not remember why.
    “Now,” said Wycliffe, the Voice vibrating in his words, “carry out your instructions, and remember only those things I have told you to remember.”
    The woman’s eyes fluttered. An expression of profound bewilderment crossed her face. “Senator…”
    “Ah, but I’ve kept you most of the morning,” said Wycliffe. “You should have enough material for a remarkably thorough article. Or so I should hope.”
    “I…the interview?” said Miss Louis. 
    Wycliffe leaned forward, frowning. “Are you feeling quite all right? You look a bit pale.” 
    Miss Louis stood, blinking. “I…you know, I feel…I feel…I don’t know. Just not right.”
    “Well, it’s been quite a long night,” said Wycliffe. He almost smiled. “You’ve likely worn yourself out. Go home and get some rest. You’ll feel better then.” He thought of Goth. 
    She would not feel better for long. 
    Anne Louis nodded, and Wycliffe watched her face. He saw the memories struggling to break free from her subconscious, but the power of the Voice kept them at bay. “I…thank you, Senator. For everything.”
    Wycliffe smiled and rose to his feet. “The pleasure, I assure you, was entirely mine.” He shook her hand. She shook back and then withdrew her hand as if she had touched something filthy. 
    He watched Anne Louis retreat into the hallway. 
    A pity Goth would kill her. 
    He dropped back into his desk chair with a contented sigh. It had been a most enjoyable evening and early morning, but he was tired. He would go down to his bunker under 13A and sleep for a few hours. Then the demands of the campaign waited. 
    Wycliffe smiled and rapped his knuckles on the desk. Vice President of the United States of America. Who would have ever thought?
    The wall intercom chimed. Wycliffe glared at it, considered ignoring it,