by Tim Waggoner
“There’s more to come,” Russell said.
“A lot more,” I added.
“One can only hope,” Jinx said, still grinning. As long as there was violence in the offing, that grin wouldn’t leave his face.
The Deathmobile, though still damaged, was now in a hell of a lot better shape than it had been when the fight with the car-bots had started. It was more or less in good shape again, although it still had a multitude of dents and scratches across its surface, and its windshield and windows were still spiderwebbed with cracks. But its engine sounded stronger, if still a bit unsteady, and its right headlight gleamed with life, although its left remained broken and dark. Connie continued to stroke the vehicle’s hood, and the Deathmobile’s engine seemed to purr in response.
“What should we do next?” Abe asked.
Before I could answer, the door to the building burst open, and Incubi flooded into the parking lot, bellowing with rage and bloodlust as they ran toward us. None of them were armed from what I could see, and most were dressed in work clothes – suits and ties, blouses with slacks or skirts. But that’s where the similarity to normal office workers ended.
Some resembled animals – mammals, reptiles, avians, sea creatures, insects, or bizarre combinations thereof. Others looked as if they’d started life as inanimate objects – wood, stone, metal, glass, plastic… Some defied easy description, forms and faces so distorted, the human eye could barely make sense of them. They shouted, roared, and shrieked as they came rushing toward us, hands, talons, claws, paws, and assorted other appendages raised and ready to do some damage.
Jinx gripped the handle of Cuthbert Junior so tight I feared the wood would splinter. He looked at me, and his grin should’ve turned my guts to ice, but it didn’t.
“Now this is more like it!” he said.
I was already holding my trancer, and with my other hand, I drew my M-blade. I grinned back.
“First one to draw blood wins,” I said.
Russell shook his head. His mustache and beard were tacky with blood, but his nose had stopped bleeding. “I swear, sometimes I don’t know which one of you is scarier.”
Bloodshedder gave a snort of agreement.
I turned to Abe, Maggie, and Connie. “You three should get in the Deathmobile. You’ll be safer there.” I hope, I added mentally.
The hearse was almost completely repaired by now, and Connie climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Lousy bastards think they can hurt my baby,” she muttered. She revved the engine a couple times, her face a mask of anger and determination.
Before Abe and Maggie could get in, the Darkness said, “Don’t worry. I’ll protect them.”
I nodded. I wasn’t about to argue with the Darkness.
Jinx and I exchanged a last look, and then we sprinted toward the oncoming Incubi, with Russell, Bloodshedder, Cancer Jack, and Lizzie Longlegs at our sides.
What happened after that was a blur. I fired my trancer and cut with my M-blade, while Jinx swung his sledgehammer like a berserker in clown-white makeup. Acid sprayed from his boutonnière as if of its own accord, striking attacking Incubi in the face and causing them to back off, screaming in agony. My earlier weariness and muzzy-headedness were gone, swept away by surging adrenaline. I felt strong, fast, and, most important of all, focused.
Russell wielded his rapier to devastating effect, the M-sword far stronger and sharper than any steel blade could ever be. For good measure, he held a trancer in his other hand and blasted those Incubi his sword couldn’t reach.
Bloodshedder did what she specialized in, tearing into Incubi with teeth and claws and swinging her spiked tail like a mace. Cancer Jack shot jets of fire from his newly grown cigarette fingers, setting Incubi aflame, and he spewed toxic smoke from his mouth, causing Incubi to gag and choke. Lizzie Longlegs was putting her curved blades to good use, slicing and dicing opponents with maniacal glee.
Maggie and Abe stood close together, Abe with his arm around her shoulders. The Darkness stood in front of them, broadcasting waves of terror at anyone who approached. Whenever an Incubus managed to resist his fear-casting and came rushing toward him, he opened his robe to reveal an endless expanse of Nothingness inside. The lucky Incubi were able to turn aside at the last instant, fall to the ground, and curl into a fetal position, sobbing and shivering. The unlucky ones were unable to stop – and they fell into the void contained within the Darkness, their screams growing fainter the farther into Nothing they traveled.
Connie and the Deathmobile were perhaps the most deadly of us all The hearse’s headlights – now both restored – blasted attacking Incubi with their rapid-aging beams. Normally, Incubi are immune – or at least resistant – to the passage of time. However, in the green wash of the Deathmobile’s energy, they grew wrinkled, stooped, and weak.
But that wasn’t Connie’s and the Deathmobile’s only contribution to the fight. The hearse’s rear door was open, as was the lid of the coffin housed inside. A legion of moaning wraithlike forms poured forth from the casket, and they darted and swirled through the crowd of Incubi, passing intangibly through their bodies. Whenever they did so, the victim stiffened as if struck a painful blow, but instead of falling to the ground, they remained standing but immobile. I didn’t know if they were dead or just in some kind of suspended animation, and right then I didn’t care.
So, Connie kept an army of ghosts in that coffin. Cool.
At one point during the battle, a large figure came rushing toward us. Jinx and I were fighting side by side, each moving in a comfortable rhythm with the other. Neither of us paid much attention to the figure at first, as we were too busy dealing with other Incubi.
But once the others were out of the way, the newcomer loomed before us, a grotesque mound of flesh with multiple arms and legs, as well as heads, all protruding haphazardly from the flesh-mound wherever they could fit. The body parts came from both males and females, and they were held together by what looked like miles of duct tape. So much of the stuff had been needed to hold the thing together that it looked like some kind of bizarre hardware-store mummy. Oh, and one more thing: the flesh of all those parts was ivory white, and the faces had individualized patterns of color around their eyes and mouths.
It was the Brothers (and Sisters) of Bedlam, the clowns that had kidnapped Jinx. Or what was left of them, anyway.
“Well, that’s something you don’t see every day,” Jinx said.
“Thank the First Dreamer,” I added.
The clowns spoke in unison, their voices seeming to merge as one, as if they had become a single being operating with a combined intelligence. The loudest voice of all belonged to the head on the very top of the mound – the one that had once been on Big-Ears’ body.
“We didn’t have time to heal properly. It didn’t help that we couldn’t find all our pieces.”
Jinx let out a loud burp. He picked a piece of meat from his teeth with a thumbnail, then flicked it away.
The Clownglomerate ignored him and continued.
“So, we got ourselves together as best we could and hurried to Earth to join the party. The Fata Morgana summoned us to deal with Jinx in the first place because she figured she’d fight clown with clown, as it were. We decided to take you back with us to the Circus Psychosis because those of us of the clownish persuasion should stick together. As scary as we are on our own, together we’re absolutely terrifying!”
The heads broke out in lunatic laughter, and I had to admit they had a point. They were pretty damn scary like this. But they were even more annoying.
“Come back with us willingly, Jinx,” they continued, “and your partner lives. Refuse, and we’ll kill her, subdue you, and take you anyway. Your choice.”
Jinx and I exchanged a glance.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked.
“I believe so,” Jinx said.
We turned to face the Clownglomerate.
“Fuck you,” we said in unison. Jinx swu
ng his hammer at the same time I fired my trancer. They say duct tape will hold anything together. They’re wrong.
The Clownglomerate exploded apart in a spray of blood, organs, and bone shards. I squeezed my eyes shut and turned my head to keep from getting splattered in the eyes. I knew from experience that Jinx didn’t bother averting his face. As far as he’s concerned, getting sprayed by blood is like walking in a warm spring rain.
After that, we went back to fighting whatever came at us.
It appeared not all of the Incubi were fanatically devoted to the Lords’ cause, for as soon as they realized the tide of battle had turned against them, many fled. Some ran for their cars, got in, cranked the engines, and got the hell out of there as fast as they could. Others just ran for the sidewalk and headed down the street at full speed.
After what seemed like hours but was surely only minutes, there were no more Incubi to fight. Our opponents – those who hadn’t headed for the hills, that is, or been frozen by the wraiths’ touch – lay scattered across the parking lot. Some lay on the ground, some atop smashed vehicles, and a few hung from light poles. The fortunate were broken, bleeding, or burned. The unfortunate had been aged to desiccated scarecrows – or torn into pieces of various sizes, from large chunks to tiny shreds. The wounded who remained conscious groaned, wailed, and cursed us, but I ignored them.
All of us had blood on our clothes, but Jinx, Jack, and Lizzie had been drenched, and Bloodshedder wasn’t much better. Even though I’d contributed to the carnage that surrounded us, I still found the aftermath of our battle to be a stomach-churning sight. I consoled myself with the knowledge that these were Incubi and thus capable of recovering even from injuries this severe. Although from the look of many of them, their recovery was going to take quite some time.
“Let’s go,” I said. “We still have work to do.”
It was an effort to get the words out. My adrenaline rush had run its course, and now all I wanted to do was go find somewhere soft and quiet to lie down. Jinx looked as if he might say something, and I noticed Abe reach into his pocket, probably intending to offer me something from his portable pharmacy to keep me going.
I was tempted, but I turned away and started jogging toward the building. My legs felt like lead and my lungs burned with every breath, but I forced myself to keep going. An instant later, Jinx was by my side, and although I didn’t turn to look, I could hear the others, including Connie and the Deathmobile, following.
I felt another wave of dizziness and nausea hit me, and I knew we were about to experience another Incursion. This one was subtle, though, and at first I didn’t realize what was happening. The asphalt beneath our feet began to grow soft, assuming the consistency of thick batter.
We were lucky. The change occurred slowly enough that we had time to slow down. If the transformation had taken place instantly, we’d have fallen face-first into the goo and risked suffocation. We were two car lengths from the entrance when we began to sink. Jinx and I managed to keep our balance as the soft black asphalt rose over our ankles, then halfway to our knees. Russell maintained his balance, too, and Bloodshedder’s four legs helped keep her steady.
Jack and Lizzie both fell backward onto their butts, though, and immediately sank up to their waists, the tops of their knees peeking out from the black muck. Abe held onto Maggie, so they remained upright as they sank. Next to them, the Darkness sank, too, but he appeared undisturbed by this. He made no move to assist Maggie, so I assumed that despite how powerful he was, there was nothing he could do in this circumstance.
Connie and the Deathmobile had it worst of all. The heavy vehicle rapidly sank into the liquefied asphalt, and the wraiths that had been released from the coffin could only circle in the air above the Deathmobile, wailing impotently. It seemed they really were wraiths, creatures without substance, and whatever unearthly attributes they possessed, grabbing hold of physical objects and pulling them out of quicksand-like muck was not among them.
I looked at Jinx.
“Anything in those bottomless pockets of yours that’ll get us out of this crap?” I asked.
“You mean like a grappling gun?”
I felt a surge of hope. “Yes, exactly like a grappling gun!”
“Nope. I’ve got a squirt gun, though. Does that count?”
The asphalt was over our knees now, and if we hadn’t been in danger of imminent death, I’d have punched Jinx in the jaw as hard as I could.
I turned to Russell. “How about you? You got any fancy tech that’ll help us get free?”
“Afraid not,” Russell said.
I thought furiously, trying to come up with some way out of this mess, but nothing came to me. It looked like we were headed to gooey black graves. Well, we humans were. The Incubi would likely survive, and maybe in time they would be able to dig their way free. A fat lot of good that would do me, Russell, Abe, Maggie, and Connie, though.
I looked at Russell again. “Too bad we didn’t get to know each other better.”
He smiled. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
“Were you imagining the two of us naked and in bed? Because I totally was.”
His smile widened. “No comment.”
“Chicken,” I said. I then turned to face Jinx once more. The asphalt was up to our waists now.
“We had a good run, didn’t we?” I said.
For once, he didn’t grin at me like a maniac. “Yeah. It sure would’ve been nice to disembowel the bastards inside that building before we checked out, though.”
“Sure would’ve,” I agreed. “But I’m the only one checking out tonight. You’ll just be stuck at the bottom of an asphalt-goo lake until you can find a way out.”
He shook his head. “You go, I go. Incubi only fade slowly if they try to fight it. I won’t.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I found myself wishing that his Day Aspect could also be present, so I could have a chance to say goodbye to him, too. Both Jinxes had been a part of my life since my late teens, and even though they could both be pains in the ass, leaving them was the worst part about my dying.
The asphalt rose up to our chests – and Russell, Maggie, Abe, and the Darkness had sunk to the same level. Bloodshedder was in up to her neck, and she held her head as high as she could, straining to keep it out of the asphalt for as long as possible. Jack and Lizzie were up to their chins, but Connie and the Deathmobile had fared even worse. The hearse was almost completely submerged, with only a foot or so still showing. The circling wraiths, still moaning in despair, dove toward the hearse’s roof one by one and passed through the metal and back into the vehicle. I suppose they intended to go down with their ship.
“Fuck you for getting us into this mess!” Lizzie said.
“You’re lucky you’re going to die,” Jack added, “or we’d kill you!”
“It’s too bad Budgie isn’t here,” Abe said sadly. “He’d be able to get us out of this.” Then Abe whistled the simple melody he’d shared with us on the drive here. One high note, one low, one high. “I so would’ve liked to see him one last time.”
Maybe it was the stress coupled with the fact that I hadn’t gotten decent rest in who knows how long, but I looked over my shoulder at Abe and shouted, “Damn it! Budgie isn’t real! Everyone’s just been humoring you all these years!”
Maggie shot me a venomous look, but Abe’s expression didn’t change. I wondered if he’d heard me. But then I realized he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking up. A wide smile spread across his face.
“Budgie! You came back!”
I heard a sound like burlap snapping in the wind, and I understood that I was hearing the flapping of wings. Big wings.
The creature that descended from the night sky resembled a pterosaur – long, pointed mouth, bony-crested head, saucer-sized eyes, wide wings, and sharp-clawed feet. Budgie lowered those feet and took hold of Abe by the shoulders, and then the dinosaurian beast flapped harder and lifted Abe – and Maggie, whom Ab
e still held tight – out of the black mire, liquid asphalt dripping from their clothes. Abe laughed with delight as they rose into the air.
“Take us to the roof!” Maggie shouted.
“Yes, Budgie!” Abe said. “That’s a great idea! Please do as she says!”
Budgie let out a loud squawk that sounded like a cross between Godzilla and a chicken. He then angled toward the building’s roof, lizard-skin wings flapping. I’d read somewhere that pterosaurs didn’t so much fly as glide on warm air currents, but Budgie was Abe’s Incubus, and his body worked the way Abe had dreamed it would. So, regardless of how real pterosaurs had flown, Budgie flew like a bird, and he did so with the same speed and skill, despite his immense size. He deposited Abe and Maggie on the roof and then, at Abe’s request, returned for the rest of us.
As Budgie approached, I shouted for him to save Connie first, but it was too late. The Deathmobile had disappeared beneath the rippling black surface, taking Connie with it. I then looked for Lizzie and Jack, but I couldn’t see them either.
“They’re gone,” Russell said.
The Darkness hadn’t sunk all the way yet, but he was as badly off as the rest of us. He hadn’t said a word when Budgie had rescued Maggie and Abe, and since I couldn’t see into the shadows within his cowl, I couldn’t tell what, if anything, he was thinking.
Like Jinx and I, Russell had sunk up to his neck by this point, but Bloodshedder fared worse. Her muzzle was all that protruded from the asphalt. Russell had hold of her spiked collar, trying to keep her from slipping all the way under, but it was useless. She was too big and heavy, and Russell didn’t have any leverage. But he’d die before he let go of her collar. I could see it in his eyes.
As Budgie approached, I told him to rescue Bloodshedder first. The pterosaur dipped low enough to reach into the asphalt and take hold of her collar. Budgie’s wings beat the air furiously, and with an effort, he dislodged Bloodshedder from the black muck and transported her to the roof. She growled softly as Budgie carried her, probably because she was irritated at having to be saved by a giant flying lizard.