Ain’t no use in going no place,
Whole damn world is just like here.
Boss men really fixed us this time,
Think I’ll have another beer.
Ain’t no use singing those radiation blues.
BLOWUP BLUES
“What you gon - na do when you flip the switch and the
lights don’t go on, ba - by? What you gon - na do when you
flip the switch, and there ain’t no lights at all?” “Why, I’ll
buy me some can - dies at the cor - ner store and
set them burn - ing bright - ly. If I
don’t feel like go - ing to the cor - ner store, I’ll just
pick up the phone and call.”
II
“What you gonna do when the gas go off,
And the cook stove don’t work, baby?
What you gonna do when the gas go off,
When there ain’t no gas no more?”
“Why I’ll send me a letter by the postal man,
For my love to take me dining.
Never cared ’bout cooking for myself nohow,
I’ll just lock that kitchen door.”
III
“What you gonna do when the water go off?
What you gonna drink then, baby?
What you gonna do when the water go off,
And you start a-getting dry?”
“Why I got me a bottle of champagne wine
My true love gave me Sunday.
And when that bottle am all drunk up—
Just set me down and cry.”
IV
“What you gonna do when the rockets come,
And the whole town blow up, baby?
What you gonna do when the rockets come,
And that trumpet start to blow?”
“Why I’ll put on my party dress,
And watch the sky a-falling,
’Cause the Lord’s a-waiting for to raise me up,
When it comes my time to go.”
1962
PRISONER OF LOVE
HALBERT FENIMORE SHIREY, PRIVATE WARlock 3rd Class (Provisional), had just got his feet settled comfortably on his desk, and was reaching in the bottom drawer for the traditional fifth, when the battered old incantation detector that stood on the window sill suddenly began to let out a raucous beep blatt beep blatt beep blatt.
He winced and then yelled, “Hey, Astrobeth, turn that damn thing off!”
The little blond who was nominally his secretary, but spent most of her time curled up on a sagging old couch reading True Necromances, yawned and said petulantly, “Like I told you before, I don’t lift a finger until I get at least part of the three months pay you owe me. And if you’re going to pay me, you’d better hustle up a paying job. And a paying job is what’s beeping at you right now.”
Halbert hesitated and then reluctantly got to his feet, walked over to the window, and turned down the volume knob on the detector.
“Look, honey,” he said unhappily, “Every time I take on a human job I end up in trouble. Last time I almost got my license suspended.”
“Last time you were stupid. Even an apprentice would have had more sense than to try to cast a spell within a restricted area.”
“How was I to know it was consecrated ground?” he said defensively.
“Because it was on the map! Now get to work.”
He crossed his arms stubbornly and shook his head.
“Then I quit.”
He started to argue, and then, realizing that as usual he was getting no place, gave a shrug of defeat. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to check and see what’s up.” He dusted off the crystal ball that stood in the middle of his desk, made a few passes over it, and then looked down into it. Slowly an image began to form—an image of a young and curvebearing female who knelt before a carefully chalked pentagram. Halbert glanced surreptitiously at his secretary.
“On second thought,” he said with an attempt at a casual note, “You’re probably right.”
Astrobeth started toward him, a suspicious look on her face; but before she could see what was in the crystal, he made another pass that erased the image within it.
“Just a fat old lady,” he said quickly. “Drag out my gear and I’ll hop down and see what she wants.”
“I’ll buy the lady part,” said Astrobeth, “but I’ll give you ten to one she’s neither fat nor old.” With a sulky look she walked over to a wall cabinet and opened the double doors. A strong odor of stale perspiration, unwashed clothes, and brimstone rolled out into the room. Her nose crinkled in distaste, and as she tossed the box over to Halbert, she said, “Why don’t you break down and send that stuff out to the cleaners?”
“Because I wasn’t ever going to wear it again, that’s why,” said Halbert, looking down at the box which had bounced in front of him and spilled open. He bent over and examined the untidy pile that was spread out on the floor and then straightened up, nudging a pair of battered horns as he did so.
“That stuff ain’t for pawing,” snapped Astrobeth, “it’s for wearing. Get into it! If you don’t come up with a fat retainer in a hurry, I’m walking out of here.”
Halbert had inherited the rig from the former owner of the agency. The hooves were a size too small, the horns didn’t want to stay in place, and the over-sized bat wings that strapped to his shoulders were so heavy that he had difficulty standing erect; but after a certain amount of fumbling he managed to get it all on. Astrobeth walked around him, examining him critically. He gasped as one small hand suddenly smacked him in the stomach.
“Look proud!” she barked. “Suck in that gut! Shoulders back! Fangs out! Wings high! And get that tail cocked at a regulation angle! You want her to think you’re the real thing, don’t you?”
Halbert nodded meekly, twiddled his fingers, and disappeared.
After a brief flicker of darkness he found himself standing in the center of a long low living room which was completely, and expensively, furnished in Helsinki moderne. As unobtrusively as possible he straightened his horns, which had slipped slightly askew during transit, and examined his invocator with more than casual interest. She was wearing a clinging transparent garment that left only as much to the imagination as the imagination really needed. This, he thought with satisfaction, was the sort of caper he had dreamed of when he first came into the business. His usual client had hennaed hair, buck teeth, and a double chin. But this one! His eyes ran a quick tour of inspection that gave unqualified approval to everything from her delicately sandled feet to the artfully tousled mop of short cut, red-gold hair that set off slightly slanted, jade-green eyes.
“Hearkening and obedience,” he said, making a low salaam.
She eyed him for a moment, seemingly unimpressed, and then said, “Where’s Baal?”
“He’s busy,” said Halbert without thinking.
“He wasn’t last time.”
A cold and uneasy tremor suddenly ran down Halbert’s spine. “Baal!”
“Before!” She’d been playing around with the real thing! And the real thing was something no half-worlder wanted even a nodding contact with. The consequences could be too unpleasant.
“I’ll go back and see if I can find him,” Halbert said hastily.
She gave a determined shake of her head. “There isn’t time. You don’t look like much but I guess one is as good as another. I’ve finally decided to sign.”
“Sign?”
“The contract,” she said impatiently.
“Contract?”
“For my soul, stupid.” Her eyes suddenly narrowed. “Say, what’s with you, anyway? Baal and I had the deal all worked out.”
That was all the word Halbert needed. He wanted out. And fast. The Dark World hadn’t tried to do any retail business with humans for over a century—with the rise of the modem superstates they had dropped individual transactions as a losing proposition and had concentrated on developing a mass wholesale trade. But legally they stil
l held the franchise and if they wanted to get nasty about Half World poaching, they could. Under the terms of the original nonintervention agreement, grey magicians who were caught dabbling in the black arts automatically came under the jurisdiction of the Infernal courts.
“Soul?” mumbled Halbert. “Oh, yes, soul. He . . . he changed his mind. In fact he sent me up to tell you to forget all about it.”
A hard coldness came into her green eyes. “He did, did he? Well, busy or not busy, I think he and I better have a little talk.” She grabbed a piece of chalk from a table and began to draw another pentagram on the floor. Halbert developed a sudden and acute case of tachycardia. It was too late to dematerialize. If Baal did respond to her invocation— and since he had in the past there was no reason to assume that he wouldn’t in the future—he’d be able to track Halbert down in no time. And when he did . . .!
“That is,” added Halbert hastily, “to forget about it as far as he is concerned. He asked me to take over.”
“Why? He seemed to be enjoying himself last time he was here.”
Halbert was stumped for a moment. If Astrobeth were here, she’d know what to say. She always did. But she wasn’t. He was on his own and he couldn’t afford to make a simple slip. He felt his horns start to slide forward again and tossed his head back just in time.
“Experience,” he blurted. “He . . . eh . . . felt I needed the experience. You see, I’ve never done any field work. I’m a computer man with V.S.T.—Venial Sins Tabulation. But somebody in the front office got the bright idea that it would make for better understanding between the records sections and the sales force if we had a little first hand experience with their problems.”
The green eyes suddenly thawed and the girl gave a catlike stretch that sent little tingles running down Halbert’s back.
“You know something,” she purred, “you’re cute. I think we’re going to get along fine. Just fine.” As she spoke she moved closer to him, making little undulating movements as she smiled up at him. Halbert was tempted, terribly tempted, but his pulse suddenly steadied with the unhappy realization that his horns and the rest of his paraphernalia were too insecurely attached to permit much in the way of gymnastics. He twisted his lips into what he hoped would pass for a lecherous grin.
“Business before pleasure, my dear.”
She gave a little moue and shrugged. “Whatever you say, junior.” Moving lithely across the room, she slid into an oddly angled chair whose seat rose so sharply that the sitter was forced into a foetal position. Resting her chin on her knees she said sweetly: “But before you get any of my blood on the dotted line I’d like a little advance demonstration of the product.”
Halbert felt a fresh wave of apprehension sweep over him. “Such as?”
She waved a hand airily. “I don’t care. It doesn’t have to be complicated . . . just something to prove that you people have the sort of power you claim you have.” She puckered her brows for a moment. “Something like . . . oh, say a love potion. If it works I’ll sign. Can do?”
Halbert stifled a sudden sigh of relief. His warlock’s oath pledged him never to attempt to practice black magic, but matters of this sort fell safely within the gray area in which he was permitted to operate professionally.
“Can do,” he said crisply. “Only I’d suggest a spell rather than a potion. It works just as well and you don’t have to worry about somebody switching drinks on you.” He quickly demonstrated the simple pattern of passes and then gave her the word of power. “To break the spell—and most people want to before too much time passes—just point your finger and say the word backwards.”
She gave her knees a little hug. “But what if the person I put it on wanted to break it badly enough to call in an expert like you? I may be traveling in fast company and I’d like to be sure.”
“I know my business,” said Halbert, a touch of annoyance in his voice, “Baal himself couldn’t crack that one.”
She looked across at him in wide-eyed admiration. “You’re not only cute, junior; you’ve got talent. Now let’s see if I’ve got it straight.” She began to move her hands through the simple sequence of passes. “First I go like this—”
“You’re doing fine,” said Halbert.
“And then I just point my finger like this—”
“Watch it!” As her finger stabbed in his direction Halbert tried desperately to dematerialize; but before he could, a triumphant “Verachon!” rang out and ten thousand volts of something slammed through him and sent him sprawling to the floor. He felt a sudden savage longing boil up inside and, though his conscious mind was still set on escape, he found himself crawling toward her, crooning syrupy snatches of adolescent love songs, his wings dragging awkwardly behind.
She didn’t move but an expression of ugly triumph momentarily marred her pixie like face. “Back in the comer, junior,” she drawled. “The business is about to begin.”
Obediently, Halbert crawled to the far side of the room and then painfully hoisted himself to his feet.
“Now let’s see if I slipped up anyplace,” she said slowly, half to herself and half to him. “I didn’t sign a bill of sale so my soul’s still my own. Right?”
Halbert gave a mooncalf nod.
“But in spite of that I have a pet demon who loves me so much that he just couldn’t bear not to give me anything I asked for. Right?”
“I will bring you black panthers and white doves,” he crooned. The rational part that remained inside his head, untouched but helpless, winced at the words that were coming out.
“And so,” she concluded happily, “I can have anything I want, but I won’t have to pay for it.” She got briskly to her feet. “So now to work!” She gestured toward a closed door at the far end of the room. “The first item on the agenda is Uncle Henry. He’s in there and I want you to do something about him.”
Halbert looked at her blankly. “What, oh precious?”
“Well,” she said, “I’ll tell you. After spending four of the best years of my life playing nursemaid to that puritanical old goat, he cut me off without a cent because he caught me playing hop-scotch with the milkman. Before I could talk him into changing his mind, he keeled over with a coronary. And with that, junior,” she said grimly, “two million dollars went down the drain. Your first job is to get it back. After that I’ll see if I can’t think up something else to keep you busy.”
Getting into Uncle Henry wasn’t a very pleasant job. To be quite blunt about it, Uncle Henry could have used a little refrigeration during the three days that his niece had been trying to get her pentagram right. But Halbert, after a certain amount of initial gagging, finally made it—just as Mr. Cousins of Cousins, Cousins, Cousins, and Finch came creeping into the room, his nostrils twitching in a most unFinchlike fashion.
“Changed my mind,” Halbert croaked—Uncle Henry’s vocal chords were slightly on the mushy side—“Strike out the widows. Strike out the orphans. Leave everything to Myrtle.”
“But Mr. Swithens,” protested the little lawyer, “just last week you said—”
“Changed my mind. Sound mind. Sound enough to get another lawyer if you give me any trouble.”
Mr. Cousins let out a long unhappy sigh. “But you said she—”
“Don’t care what I said,” interrupted Halbert again. “Blood is thicker than water. Kith and kin. Write it out so I can sign it.”
“She gets everything?”
“Everything. All that I ask is a Christian burial.” When Myrtle started to frown he added quickly, “Nothing expensive, of course.”
When the necessary signing, sealing, and witnessing had been accomplished, Halbert, per instructions, clutched his heart, gurgled, and rapidly expired. Myrtle collapsed in a chair and began to make noises like a bereaved niece while Mr. Cousins made the necessary phone calls.
There was no trouble with the death certificate. Uncle Henry was obviously dead, in fact so obviously dead that the physician was somewhat confused. But the
presence of Mr. Cousins reassured him, so he signed the certificate and left. As soon as he did Myrtle began to pull herself together. “Please,” she said, “before they come . . . could I have just a few minutes alone with him?”
Mr. Cousins bowed and discretely withdrew. As soon as the door clicked shut, she said, “All right, you, you can come out now.”
Halbert slipped out of Uncle Henry with a shuddering gasp of relief. Materializing in his normal form was a rather complicated business, however, because he had no one to help him with his gear. When he popped into sight he suddenly sensed that his horns were on backward, but fortunately Myrtle was too excited to notice.
“Hearkning and obedience, oh fairest of the fair,” he heard himself saying.
Myrtle ignored him. She was too busy beaming down at the corpse of Uncle Henry. “Two million dollars,” she whispered, “and all mine!” She turned toward Halbert, “Junior, I’m about to have me a ball, and you’re going to be tagging along to smooth out the rough spots.” She stopped suddenly and began to frown. Then with a little shiver she said, “One of your jobs is going to be to see that Uncle Henry doesn’t come back and haunt me.” She gave a nervous cough. “You know, I suddenly find myself paying attention to all sorts of things that I used to think were nonsense. Tell me, what’s it like down there?”
Halbert didn’t answer. He just gave a jerky shudder as tears came to his eyes. It was true that she hadn’t really sold her soul, but he had a strong hunch that by the time she was through doing all the things she had in mind, such formal action wouldn’t really be necessary.
“Well?”
“I can’t bear to think of it.”
“Of what?”
“Of that beautiful body slowly turning on a spit, century after century.”
Myrtle stiffened but somehow she managed to keep control of herself. She’d had a fair idea of the risk she was running when she’d started all this. The mere fact that her incantations had worked gave a certain indication that at least some of the old beliefs were true. But the shrewd keystone to the whole machination was the foolproof protection she had come up with to shield herself from the usual consequences. Her pet demon wouldn’t let that happen to her. He loved her too much.
Collected Fiction Page 51