by Edward Lee
Karen was right. The trees had barricaded them. "I guess we'll have to walk out. But-"
"There's more than two of those things out there," Karen pointed out.
There'd been three or four in the makeshift grave. "I know, I-" Then Westmore got the worst feeling in his belly. He turned around, faced Karen.
"It was just me and Clements who dug those things up. We didn't tell anyone."
" That?"
His eyes leveled on her in the dashlight. "How did you know there were more than two of those things?"
"Shit," Karen whispered under her breath.
Westmore reached for the shotgun beside him but Karen had a pistol to his head first.
"Don't even try," Karen said. "I swear to God I'll kill you. Nothing can interfere. I'll take Debbie to Vivica's myself if I have to."
She reached over the seat and took the shotgun.
"You bitch," he said.
"Sorry. You don't understand. I didn't even think any of it was real," she began. "Until the day after the first rite. I was just going along with it 'cos I had to."
"Why? Why did you have to?"
"Hildreth and Vivica paid me more money than I've ever been paid. And I had to protect my daughter. Shit, at first I just thought I was accommodating the shits and giggles of a nutty old man and his wife. But it didn't take me long to see that they were for real. They killed or ruined anybody who jeopardized Hildreth's plan for tonight, Beltane Eve, during the apogee that celebrates Lucifer's fall. They killed Debbie's parents, they killed that bum to pass for Hildreth's body. They paid people off, falsified court records, paid graft to cops and newspapers. And they wrecked Clements' career. They fucked up a lot of other people, too, without thinking twice. They didn't have to say it to my face, Westmore-it was clearly implied. My ass was in the ringer, too, and if I didn't go along with the program I'd wind up in the ground myself. I had to protect my daughter."
"Your daughter? The one at Princeton? What's she got to do with this?"
"She's not at Princeton-I lied," Karen admitted. "She's at Oxford, registered under a phony name."
"Debbie Rodenbaugh," Westmore figured.
"Um-hmm. And I know damn well if I ever even thought about blowing the whistle on the Hildreths, or if I stopped helping them-my daughter would be dead in two minutes."
"So it was you and Mack, Vivica's people on the inside."
"That's right. And it was me and Mack who buried the four Adiposians on the night of April 4th. They came through when the Rive opened, and they stayed alive for several hours after the first rite, until the mansion's charge was totally dead."
"So you and Mack killed the lock-girl, too, I guess. And Willis and Adrianne and Nyvysk and-"
"Mack may have, I didn't kill anyone," Karen asserted.
"You just turned the other way."
She didn't respond.
"And what about Cathleen?" it just occurred to him. He hadn't seen her body in the Scarlet Room. "She must be dead too."
"She's with us," Karen said.
"What's that mean?"
"It doesn't matter, Westmore. She has uses that Vivica's interested in. Forget it. Just drive me to Vivica's with the girl. Then you can go. Vivica's not afraid of you-she actually kind of likes you-"
"Great."
"And if you start any trouble or tell anyone what happened here tonight, she'll simply have you killed. Just let it be. The only thing she didn't know was the exact time and date." Karen chuckled dryly. "But you solved that puzzle. Mack told Vivica once you got all the information about the piece of paper in the safe. In a weird way, you helped fulfill Hildreth's plan more than anyone."
The observation didn't set well with Westmore. "What's the rest of the plan? What was the purpose?"
"Her," she said, pointing to Debbie's still-unconscious body. "Hildreth cultivated her. He'd already made his pact. His instructions were clear. Debbie Rodenbaugh was exactly what they needed. A naive, innocent virgin. The first rite on April 3rd opened the Rive to the temple of Belarius, and then Debbie was put in to the Rive. She's been there since then. And six hundred and sixty-six hours after that first rite was tonight. The Rive opened again, and-"
"And Debbie came out," Westmore realized. Finally he understood the purpose of the chrome rings, which were gone now. Belarius tore them out ... "And now she's pregnant.
"Yeah. So just forget it. Take me to Vivica's, then leave. There's nothing you can do." She nudged the pistol against the back of his head. "Or else I'll have to kill you, and I don't want to do that, 'cos I always liked you, too."
Westmore saw now that the gun she wielded was the same gun he'd seen in the office drawer. If she was sitting up front, he could take a chance on grabbing for it, but in the back seat?
I'd be dead in a second.
"So just drive. Step on it and drive over that first tree." She smiled brightly. "You'll make it. You're good luck."
Westmore saw no options, but a moment later, one was unfolded for him.
The window in the back door shattered inward. Karen screamed through a rain of glass and several deafening shots were fired upward. Gunsmoke filled the interior, and when Westmore looked around into the smoky madness, he saw that the other two Adiposians were indeed afoot.
They smashed the window and were pawing at Karen.
Her pistol thunked to the floor. "Help me!" came her crazed shriek. "Westmore, help me!"
One of them had two fistfuls of her hair, and the other had her throat.
"Help me!" she pleaded one last time.
"Not tonight," he said and floored the gas pedal.
As the car pulled off, Karen was pulled out. He didn't care to look in the rearview to see what was commencing. The big car rocked down the road, barreled over the fallen tree with a trounce. Westmore's head smacked the roof, but the car cleared the tree without serious damage.
And then he drove away, with Deborah Rodenbaugh still unconscious but still alive in the back seat.
Epilogue
Seattle, nine months later
I
Westmore's first hangover in almost four years was undoubtedly the worst of his life. Why do people drink? he wondered. When he looked up from the bed, Debbie sat on the decrepit couch, eating Pop Tarts and watching television. She wore a robe, her gravid belly like a great satchel in her lap. He dragged on his own robe and grabbed his cigarettes. "Good morning-er, good afternoon."
"Try good evening," she corrected, eyes rapt on the TV.
She's got to be kidding. He opened the door and stepped out. Beyond the shabby room's narrow portico, rain poured in all of Seattle's glory. A glance down each side of the motel showed him no other lights on in any of the other rooms, as though he and Debbie were the only guests. It was nighttime now
Jesus, I've been in bed twenty-four hours? That's what I call sleeping of a drunk.
He felt irresponsible and useless; he was supposed to be taking care of her. All the way through to-
He watched cars soar by in rain, the highway only twenty yards from the front of the motel. The fast, gritty hiss of tires helped blank his.mind but it wasn't much solace. There's no more time to keep my head in the sand, he thought. She's probably going to give birth by tomorrow.
What then?
But Westmore already knew the answer to that.
Horns blared on the highway just ahead, a near crash. When a bus roared by-at probably sixty miles per hourits tires plowed into standing water and threw a great black wave up from the street. Westmore stepped back inside and closed the door.
A shower revitalized him to an extent. Bloodshot eyes looked back at him in the mirror. Shit ... He thought about shaving but discarded the idea when he noticed how badly his hands were shaking.
Dark, moody piano music drifted from a small clock radio on the windowsill. It somehow made him feel less of a failure. But he hadn't really failed, had he? He'd come all this way and protected her, and his only foul up had been one fall off the wagon. It coul
d be worse, he supposed.
He knew he'd only fail if he lost his nerve after she had the baby.
He'd brought his clothes in with him-he'd feel awkward dressing in front of her. Hungover like this, it took some effort pulling his pants back on; he almost fell over in the bathroom's close confines. His pants hadn't fully dried yet; he could feel his gun still stuck in the wet pocket. Eventually he combed his hair, brushed his teeth and gargled. The next glance in the mirror was more inspiring.'At least I don't took dead anymore.
When the piano piece ended, Westmore walked out of the bathroom only to find a gun in his face.
"Sit down:'
Westmore obeyed. Mack had a sizeable pistol in his right hand. He didn't have anything in his left hand because ... he didn't have a left hand, nor arm. Scars streaked one side of his face from 12-gauge pellets.
"Clements didn't miss by much," Westmore said.
"Belarius protects those who bow down. to him." Mack grinned. "Tonight's a very special night."
Debbie sat wide-eyed on the bed, with someone else beside her.
"Don't think about trying to get away, sweetheart," Vivica Hildreth said. "We won't hurt you, but the same doesn't go for your friend, Mr. Westmore."
Diamonds glittered around the rich woman's neck, in the V of her Burberry raincoat. She also wore the funky gemstudded flipflops she'd been wearing the day he'd met her in her penthouse. "It's good to see you, Mr. Westmore. You've done a fine job protecting our prize."
"Debbie?" Then Westmore said the most stupid thing. "You're gonna have to kill me to take her."
Mack and Vivica laughed.
"It all worked out perfectly." Vivica's eyes glittered with the diamonds. "And in your own way, you helped quite a bit."
"We owe you one," Mack said, still grinning.
"And so does our Lord ... "
Westmore sighed. "How did you find me? I spent cash, I never used a credit card, and I've only stayed at fleabags where you don't have to show ID to check in. There's no money trail; we've been moving all over the country like this for nine months."
"How did we find you?" Vivica repeated the question. Her smile shot to Mack. "Show him."
Mack opened the front door and said, "Come in" to someone. A frail figure in a dark rain jacket entered. At first Westmore didn't even know who it was.
"Cathleen7"
Hollow eyes looked back at him. She looked skeletal now, the once bright-blonde hair lank and dulled by streaks of gray.
"What happened to you, for God's sake?"
"Oh, we signed her up with Uncle Smack," Mack answered. He dragged one of her coat sleeves up, revealing ugly clusters of needlemarks. "We control the bitch now."
Cathleen glanced up at the comment, disdain in her lusterless eyes.
"In fact," Mack continued. "It's almost time for her to take another bang. You can watch, Westmore."
"She's quite an addictive personality," Vivica offered. "Addiction suits her. It's heroin in place of sex now. She's proven quite useful since she's been under our thumb." .
"My God, Cathleen," Westmore almost moaned. "How could you let them do this to you?"
"I'm sorry," Cathleen whispered, her head bowed in shame.
"She tipped over quick," Mack said. "It was a cinch. And she's a great piece of ass, too. You should've snagged some when you were at the mansion."
Another hate-filled glance upward from Cathleen.
"But you still haven't answered my question," Westmore reminded. "How did you find Debbie and me?"
"Cathleen's famous for her spoon-bending tricks, but to us her other talents were far more applicable," Vivica said.
Westmore smirked. "I don't get it."
"She's not just a medium, Mr. Westmore. You know that. And she's not just a telekinetic and a crystal-gazer, either."
"She's a diviner, you asshole," Mack clarified. "She can find things with her mind."
V vica daintily crossed her legs, adding, "The heroin's killed what remained of her telekinetic and medium powers. But Cathleen can still see the future. We simply made her tell us where you'd be today" The woman stroked Debbie's hair in a way that was almost maternal. "And tonight we take our precious Debbie back, for the miracle that she and Belarius will bestow upon us." The elegant face leveled on Westmore. "It's too bad that you won't be alive to witness the birth of our Lord's son. But you'll go down in history, Mr. Westmore, as the chaperon of Hell's first mother, an acolyte of Belarius and the steward of the first child to ever be conceived in the abyss."
Westmore only stared.
"We knew you were here several days ago," Vivica continued. "Didn't you think it was odd that no one else is occupying this motel?"
"I didn't really notice."
"We booked every room here, except yours."
,.W I.
"Nobody to hear the shots when I blow your ass away, genius," Mack chuckled.
Westmore slumped. What am I gonna do now? The only thing he could think of was stalling. "Can I at least have a cigarette?"
"The final request of the condemned man," Vivica quipped. "Of course."
"But no cigarettes," Mack began, "until after I snag your piece," and then he reached into Westmore's pocket and removed the small revolver. He placed it on the tacky dresser. "There. No funny stuff."
Shit. He lit a cigarette, then, and sighed smoke.
But Cathleen was looking right at him.
What? he wondered.
She made the tiniest gesture with her eyes.
Westmore's anticipation ticked like a clock in his gut. What did Cathleen mean? When he lowered his cigarette to tap an ash in the glass ashtray-
Holy shit!
-the ashtray flew across the room as if catapulted. Before Mack could comprehend what had happened, the ashtray sailed hard into his face, one rounded glass corner hitting him square in the eye.
Mack's pistol fell from his hand. Westmore lunged.
"You bitch!" Mack roared. Blood poured down his face from one eye.
Vivica had leapt up. "Traitorous whore!"
"Debbie!" Westmore yelled as he dived to the floor for Mack's gun. "Get out of here now!"
Debbie jumped from the bed. Vivica shrieked, was about to grab her, but in the same instant, Cathleen looked up at the wall where a large mirror hung over the dresser.
Then the mirror came of the wall and shattered over Vivica's head. Vivica fell to the floor.
When Westmore grabbed the gun on the carpet-
"000W!"
-Mack stomped on his hand, then kicked it away. Then they both leapt for it at the same time.
And Mack got there first.
He was on his belly, had his hand on the gun.
"Cathleen!" Westmore pointed to the other gun on the dresser.
The gun flew off. Oh, so her tekkinesis is dead, huh? Westmore thought. He felt glorious when he caught the gun in mid-air and fired one shot into Mack's back with an earsplitting bang.
Mack collapsed again. "Piece of shhhhit," he managed to voice. "You don't shoot a man in the back."
Westmore shot him in the back again-
BANG!
-and again.
BANG!
A final shot blew out the back of Mack's skull.
Then Westmore thought: Debbie ...
He gave the gun to Cathleen. "Watch Vivica! I'm gonna go get Debbie."
The whites of her eyes were blood-red now from her telekinetic outburst. She feebly grabbed Westmore's wrist. "You ... won't make it .. "
Westmore tore himself away and ran out of the motel.
Rain pelted him. Where is she? The roar of highway traffic on the wet road deafened him. And that's when he saw her, drenched.
Standing right at the edge of the highway.
"Debbie! Don't!"
She turned to look back at him. Her eyes were afraid now, this close to the event.
"Please! Don't!" Westmore shouted again through the rain.
She stood limp, unconsciously bringi
ng a hand to her belly. "I have to. Either way, I could never live with myself."
"Have it! Then I'll kill it!"
The rain turned her hair into a black mop. She shook her head. "I couldn't live with that, either."
The words exploded from Westmore's throat. "IT'S NOT A BABY!"
Debbie smiled meekly, turned, and stepped into the road, whereupon an eighteen-wheeler full of brand-new cars plowed into her at once. There was no time for the driver to even hit his horn.
Westmore turned away after a glimpse of Deborah Rodenbaugh's body being fed through the massive rear tires.
I guess that's what she really wanted all along, he thought, coming back inside. Cathleen didn't have to ask. She gave him the gun back, Vivica still collapsed in the corner.
"It's over," he said.
Cathleen hesitated. "Did you ... see it?"
"No."
Westmore picked up the bloody ashtray, then lit another cigarette. "Let's go home," he said, exhausted.
Cathleen had tears in her eyes. "I'm all fucked up, Westmore. I don't think I can make it."
"Bullshit. If you can throw ashtrays across the room with your mind, you can quit drugs. I'll take care of you."
Cathleen offered a ghost of a smile.
"But what do we do with her?" he said.
Vivica was just coming to in the comer. Her eyes burned, but the rest of her face remained composed. "You think you've won but you haven't."
"I'd really like to kill you," Westmore said. "You're an evil person. You're a murderer and a cold, calculating bitch."
"I, like my husband, am an unwavering servant of Belar ius, Mr. Westmore. And you haven't won this battle. Mack and Karen weren't my only attendants. I have many."
Westmore was so tired. "What are you talking about?"but then he caught himself-"no, wait a minute. I don't even care what you're talking about," and then he raised the pistol and put a bullet into Vivica's belly.
Westmore and Cathleen both jumped at the shot.
Vivica doubled over a moment but then managed to look up, an inexplicable smile on her face. She just shook her head, grinning at him. "I will live forever in the temple of my Lord," she choked out.
"No. You're gonna die, in a shitty little Seattle motel-" Westmore fired another bullet into her belly. "Oh my gosh! I sure hope the neighbors don't call the police!"