Chapter 7: Dawn of the Drones
The air in Salem tasted of wet stone and burnt wiring. The gas lamps along the perimeter of the square hissed, their flames guttering in shades of green and orange, fighting a losing battle against the purple dusk. Shadows didn’t just fall here anymore; they pooled and thickened, lingering in doorways like uninvited guests.
Max stood beside Sarah on the broad, worn steps of the old courthouse. She leaned into him, her head on his shoulder, a picture of contentment. Her fingers were laced with his. Through that touch, he could feel the low, satisfied thrum of the town’s despair. It was a vibration, a background noise he could never unhear.
“See?” she said, her voice a happy murmur against his collar. “Told you we’d have a good seat.”
The people came slowly. They drifted from the side streets and alleys, from their cars left running at the curb. They moved without purpose, their footsteps scraping on the damp cobblestones. Their faces were smooth, wiped clean of expression. A mother pushed a stroller with a silent, staring infant. An old man in a bathrobe stood shivering, his slippers soaked through. Mr. Henders, the high school chemistry teacher, was still wearing his apron from the grill, a spatula dangling from his limp hand.
Then he saw them.
Dani and Alison emerged from the crowd, moving to the front as if pulled. His little sister, now a woman with lines of worry he remembered etching her brow, looked blank. Her eyes, usually so bright and fierce, were dull pennies. Alison stood beside her, one hand clasping Dani’s, her artistic fingers slack. They were empty vessels, waiting to be filled.
A cold knot, sharp and alien, formed in Max’s chest. It was a feeling that belonged to him, a last scrap of something trying to surface through the fog.
Sarah felt it. She straightened up, her smile widening. “Aw. There’s that protective instinct. It’s cute. Like a little mouse trying to roar.” She turned to face him, her back to the gathering, her body blocking his view of his sister. Her free hand came up and stroked his jaw. “But you’re not her big brother right now. You’re mine.”
Her other hand, still holding his, guided his palm to her hip. Then she slipped her own hand between them, her fingers deftly finding the button of his jeans. The denim was stiff. The zipper sounded too loud.
“What are you doing?” he breathed, the words thick. He couldn’t move his feet. He could only watch her face.
“Celebrating,” she said simply. Her fingers slid inside, past his waistband, wrapping around him. He was already half-hard, his body anticipating her command before his mind could protest. She stroked him, a slow, knowing rhythm. “Look at them all. My garden. I planted the seed, and you watered it. Now look at it grow.”
Her thumb rubbed a slick circle over his tip. A shudder ran through him—part revulsion, part electric compliance. Over her shoulder, he could see the vacant crowd, hundreds of eyes staring at nothing. At them. Dani was right there, twenty feet away, seeing everything and seeing nothing.
“They can’t look away, you know,” Sarah whispered, leaning in so her lips brushed his ear. Her hand worked him faster, a rough, possessive motion. “The spell makes them watch. Makes them absorb the corruption. Every moan, every sigh… it’s a lesson. This is what power feels like. This is what it looks like. And they can’t have any.”
He was fully hard in her fist. The pleasure was a razor wire, cutting through the numbness. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, trying to anchor himself to that pain instead.
“You’re gonna come for me,” she said, her voice dropping to a low, intimate growl. It wasn’t a question. “You’re gonna come on these historic steps, with your sister watching, and you’re gonna know, deep in that pretty, bound soul of yours, that you did this. You chose this. Every time you touched me, you chose them.”
Her words were the final trigger. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, pressing into her tight, relentless grip. The climax tore through him, silent and violent, a wave of shame so profound it felt like annihilation. He spilled over her fingers, his knees buckling slightly.
Sarah held him up, her strength inhuman. She brought her wet hand to her mouth, licking his release from her skin with a slow, deliberate swipe of her tongue. She savored it, her eyes locked on his.
“See?” she said, her voice returning to its bubbly, ditzy register. “No guilt. No pesky little morals. Just… biology.” She tucked him back into his jeans and fastened them with a pat.
She turned then, keeping one arm possessively around Max’s waist, and faced her congregation. She raised her soiled hand, the one that had just been in her mouth, as if in benediction.
“Hi, everybody!” she called out, her voice echoing weirdly off the brick facades.
A single, unified breath seemed to sigh through the crowd. Their heads tilted up in unison.
“You’re all feeling a little off, right?” she continued, conversational. “A little hollow. Like you lost your keys and your purpose at the same time. That’s okay! That’s just the rot settling in. It’s comfy, once you get used to it.”
Max watched Dani’s face. Nothing. Not a flicker.
“We’re gonna have so much fun,” Sarah promised, grinning. “We’re gonna break things. We’re gonna say the quiet parts loud. And all that yummy, delicious anger you’ve been swallowing for years? I want you to spit it right out.”
She snuggled back into Max’s side. He couldn’t feel his own heartbeat anymore. He just felt her, a constant, warm pressure against his will.
“So go on,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “Start small. Argue with a neighbor. Key a car. Spread a lie. The little cracks make the big ones easier later.”
The crowd didn’t move for a moment. Then, as one, they turned and began to disperse, shuffling back into the twilight, the first whispers of conflict already rising like steam from the cobblestones. A shout from down by the pub. The sound of glass breaking in an alley.
Soon, it was just the two of them on the steps, the dark shape of the Sanderson house looming at the end of the square, its windows like blind eyes.
Sarah rested her head on Max’s shoulder again, sighing with deep satisfaction. She took his hand, bringing it to her lips for a kiss.
“They’re all mine now, lover,” she whispered, her breath warm against his knuckles. “Every last soul. And you get to watch me rule forever.”
In the distance, the first siren began to wail.