by Noah Harris
“And I have mine,” Anton said, sitting in one of the armchairs and pulling a pistol from his pocket with his one good hand.
“You have mine too,” Richard said with a tone of mock friendliness. “Why aren’t you using my shotgun? Oh, wait, you need two hands for that.”
Anton snarled. “You little—”
Cliff raised a hand. “Gentlemen, please. We should be friends. It would profit us all.”
After they were free of the cuffs, Richard and Georgios sat together on the couch, rubbing their wrists and flexing their arms. Richard still felt cramped and tired, and his fellow prisoner looked worn out as well. David stood near the couch with his pistol leveled at them. Sam and Cliff sat down facing the two captives.
Richard held up the wrist that had the silver bracelet locked around it.
“You’re not going to take this off?” he asked Anton.
The cult leader shook his head. “You think I’m that stupid? No, with your level of ability I cannot risk having you step into the other world again. Even as tired as you are you might be able to manage it. I must say your trick tonight was truly impressive. You stepped from one reality to another like a trained wizard.”
“So silver blocks magic? Like silver bullets against a werewolf?” Richard asked. He figured that as long as he kept the cult leader talking, he’d remain alive.
“In a word, yes. Except werewolves don’t actually exist.”
“They do in Greece,” Georgios said. “Sometimes shepherd boys get killed by them.”
Anton shook his head. “Those are not actually werewolves, at least not in the way you think of them. There is one branch of magic that helps the magician transform into various shapes, but all those stories about the full moon and wolfsbane are mere folktales.”
“But silver isn’t a folktale?” Richard asked. A couple of months ago he would have thought Anton was talking a load of bullshit. Now, he knew better than to doubt anything coming from that man’s mouth.
“It is a most efficacious dampener of magic.”
“So how can you put a spell on a silver bracelet?” Richard asked, studying the odd, cursive glyphs engraved in the silver
Anton laughed. “Clever boy! While it seems a contradiction, at the higher levels of magic nothing is a contradiction.”
Georgios shook his head. “You are crazy man. You all crazy men.”
His voice came out slurred, heavy with fatigue.
Cliff stood up and went to the kitchen. “You look in need of refreshment. I’m afraid the water is run by electricity so I can’t offer you any of that. I have beer but I think you’ve both consumed enough harmful substances for one night. How about milk? Orange juice?”
“I’ve already sampled your orange juice,” Richard said.
Anton smiled. It was not a pretty expression to look upon.
“You almost slipped this time, Richard. Why don’t you give in to what you really want?”
Richard glared at him. “Why don’t you? Cliff said you’re a bridge too. I guess that’s why you’re the high priest, right? So why don’t you peddle your ass to the Hooded One? Or aren’t you a virgin in that hole?”
Anton curled his lip in disgust. “I’d never do something so unnatural.”
Georgios turned to Richard. “You see? Even this Devil worshipper knows it is wrong.”
Richard resisted the urge to hit him. “Says the guy who an hour ago spread his legs for cock.”
Georgios shoved him and raised a fist.
“That’s enough!” David said, waving his pistol at them.
Cliff came out of the kitchen holding two glasses of milk, shaking his head and tutting. “You young men today are truly mixed up. I suppose it’s all the drugs, plus the pressure the hippies brought to bear on you to be whatever you wanted to be and flaunt it. In my day we all had to conform. If there was an aspect of your personality that made you uncomfortable, you simply suppressed it. Life was easier that way.”
Richard stared at him. “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.”
Cliff handed him a glass and handed the other to Georgios.
“Can you truly say you’re happy to be gay?” the occultist asked.
“I am when people aren’t persecuting me or demons aren’t trying to hunt me down.”
“Oh really?” Cliff said. “We’ve been watching you, as I am sure you are aware. All those drugs, all those liaisons with random strangers, and then that charity fundraiser? Goodness gracious. Two hundred men ejaculating on you, and you even drank it!”
“Sick fuck,” Georgios muttered, moving as far away from Richard on the couch as he could.
Richard blushed and stared at his milk. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Wouldn’t I? Drink up. You look like a wreck.”
Richard hesitated. Georgios put his glass on the coffee table untouched. Cliff smiled, took back both glasses, and took a sip from each of them.
“No tricks. I want you healthy.”
Cliff went back to the kitchen and returned with a bowl of nuts and another of potato chips. Then he went to a liquor cabinet set into the side of the couch and poured himself a generous glass of scotch. He did not offer anything to the other cultists. Settling down in an easy chair, he smiled at his prisoners.
“What you want?” Georgios demanded.
“To bring you onto our side. Anton tried trickery,” Cliff raised his glass to the high priest, “and that didn’t work, although it came close. Brute force cannot work due to the nature of the magic. Thus we have to convince you. Finding yet another virgin sacrifice with the required talent to straddle the worlds might take years. We were lucky enough to find two in such a short space of time.”
Anton leaned forward. His eyes gleamed in the candlelight.
“You can have anything you want. Anything you ask for.”
“You made me an offer the last time we met. The answer was no then and it’s no now.”
“Have you truly thought about how much power you could get from this?”
“You mean the power you’d get,” Richard grumbled. “I’d be a slave in the demon realm for the rest of eternity.”
“Not at all! We could make a new deal. The Hooded One is a logical being and willing to compromise. You could have your fun there but still live here as well. You could straddle the two worlds just like you do now, but in a controlled way, a clear-headed way. You could sample the pleasures of both worlds and maintain complete control. Cliff, fetch me your Candles of True Sight.”
“An excellent idea,” Cliff said. He went through another door and returned a minute later carrying a small, three-legged table in one hand and a brass candelabra with two widely spaced candles in the other.
Sam got up and moved his chair away. He had been sitting opposite Richard and Georgios. Cliff put the small table where his chair had been and set the candelabra on top of it. Producing a lighter, he lit the candles. As he did so, strange letters in gold leaf that appeared to be pressed into the white wax of the candles came into view.
“What devil do you call now?” Georgios said, shrinking back.
“No devil, only the outcome of the right decision,” Anton said.
Anton stood to one side of the candles and raised his hands. He began to intone in a foreign language. Richard thought it sounded like Latin.
Georgios stood up. “I don’t want to see this black magic.”
“Sit your ass down,” David ordered, brandishing his pistol.
The Greek stared at him a moment, and reluctantly took his seat.
“Look at the candles and the smoke in between,” Cliff said as Anton continued to chant.
The twin flames flickered higher than with normal candles, and produced much more smoke. Richard’s heart began to beat faster. There was something strange about that smoke. It seemed to hang above and between the candles, forming a hazy curtain that shone dull grey in the light.
This did not feel like a connection to the demon realm. This was m
agic of a different sort.
A picture began to appear in the smoke. Beside him Georgios took in a sharp breath. Richard did not look at him. He was too entranced by the image.
He could see himself, happy, healthy, smiling. A far cry from the beaten up, used, and exhausted figure he must look like at the moment. He was a giant, in a well-appointed living room with glass doors looking out across sunny fields and verdant trees. While there was no sound, music must have been playing because he danced along with several other men.
Richard jerked a little when Tyrone appeared at the glass door. His boyfriend was naked, beautiful as always, and he motioned to Richard and the other men. Richard’s image disrobed, as did the others, and they ran outside and down a path through some woods, frolicking and laughing. Tyrone and Richard held hands and ran in front of the rest. The woods looked a lot like Missouri.
It was a beautiful day, and he and his friends ended up at a pond where several men already played in the water, or played in couples and groups on the grassy shore. Tyrone picked up Richard, spun him around and ran into the water. They laughed and splashed about. A pickup truck passed by on a nearby dirt road, its cab and bed filled with naked men. They waved at the bathers as they drove by.
“What is this?” Richard asked, his voice almost stilled with wonder.
“Your paradise. We can rule the world, Richard, and you can rule part of it. How would you like Missouri all for yourself? How would you like all of the Midwest? A sanctuary for gay men. You could do what you like and love who you like and no straight people would look at you sideways. And don’t think of this as some sort of Indian reservation. No. Gays would have equal rights all over the world. They could hold any job, live in any neighborhood. They could even get married. Any religion that objected would be abolished. Think of all the gay men suffering in places even less tolerant than the United States. Gay sex is legal here and in Europe now, but in many nations it still carries a jail sentence, even the death penalty. You could save them, Richard. You could liberate every gay man on the planet.”
Richard felt a tightness in his throat. Was such a world possible?
The scene clouded, and resolved itself into something new.
Georgios lounged in a luxurious penthouse overlooking Central Park. Half a dozen beautiful blonde women rubbed oil all over his toned and naked body. He sat, relaxed and content, sipping a martini as the women looked after his every whim.
A group of soldiers in foreign uniform marched into view, leading a row of men dressed as officers. The arms and legs of the officers were bound by heavy chains.
The real Georgios leaned forward, his jaw dropping with shock. “It’s the colonels!”
“Who?” Richard asked.
“The bastards who led the junta,” Georgios said.
Richard remembered. All through his childhood, Greece had been ruled by a military junta that had overthrown the legally elected government. Democracy had only returned three years ago.
“You told me about this junta, my young Greek friend,” Anton said. “They killed your grandfather because he was a communist, yes? Even though he had been a partisan liberating your country from the Nazis, they killed him, because they are fascists too. And because your father is a communist as well, they wrecked your house, and beat him in the street in front of you and all the neighbors. They confiscated your father’s restaurant and made you live a life of poverty.”
“Prison is too good for such scum!” Georgios shouted.
“Yes, you told me how angry you were when the new democratic government gave the junta leaders life in prison instead of execution. Who knows? Perhaps in a few years they will be granted amnesty, like so many fascists from Germany. Many of Hitler’s henchmen now live wealthy, comfortable lives in positions of influence. The same could happen in your country. But there’s a way to make sure it doesn’t.”
The line of soldiers made the officers kneel before the naked Georgios. The chained men begged and pleaded, but Georgios shook his head and flicked his wrist. The soldiers took the officers one by one and hurled them over the edge of the porch. The scene shifted to show the bodies falling fifty stories to smash on the pavement below. A crowd had gathered, waving Greek flags.
“Yes! Die, fascist scum!” Georgios pumped his fist in the air.
“You will be a national hero. Your family will be avenged,” Anton said. He waved his hands and the curtain of smoke disappeared. Cliff blew out the candles.
Anton turned to them. “So what do you say? Do you want to have everything you’ve ever dreamed of? Everything you’ve ever craved? Do you want to make the world a place that’s fit to live in? The deal has changed, my friends. The Hooded One understands that. He will give up dominance over you if he can just come into this world.”
Richard and Georgios looked at each other. Richard saw temptation in his fellow prisoner’s eyes.
Richard shifted in his seat. He took a handful of nuts, both because he was ravenously hungry and because he needed time to think. Something had changed tonight. What Anton Black was offering would have tempted him before, but now he just wanted to be done with it. He wanted to have a normal life, or at least the normal life of a gay man in New York. He wanted to spend time with Tyrone and his friends, work on some charity for the community, have a regular job, and just live.
This all smelled of bullshit. There was no way a world ruled by an entity like the Hooded One was going to be some gay paradise.
Or would it? His words from earlier in the evening came back to him.
This is more than just sex and power for you, isn’t it?
The demon had saved his life when David had tried to shoot him. Even after all the times Richard had frustrated the Hooded One, the demon had stopped him from being killed.
The Hooded One wanted him. Maybe even, in some strange way, his kind could care for a human.
If that were true, then Richard could get what he wanted from him.
Sure, he would pay a heavy price in his flesh, but he had shown himself willing to pay that price on more than one occasion. After the Hooded One and his minions had their way with them, they would turn their lust onto other humans. Richard would still have some influence, wouldn’t he? The demons would want a world where gay men could express their sexuality. They’d want the same paradise that Richard envisioned.
Then it hit him. He realized why Anton wouldn’t do the sacrifice himself to the Hooded One. It wasn’t disgust like he said, although he probably did feel disgust at Richard and his kind, it was self-preservation. Anton was power hungry, but any sacrifice to the demon would involve becoming a slave and that was the exact opposite of what the power hungry cult leader wanted. The Hooded One owed a lot more to Anton than he ever did to Richard, and Anton was far more savvy in the ways of the demon realm than Richard. He could make a much better deal, and yet Anton knew he’d still be getting screwed on the deal long after he finished getting shafted. If Anton didn’t dare make the deal himself then neither should Richard.
What would happen to the world when a demon with millennia of pent-up lust was released on the world? It wouldn’t be a gay paradise; it would be a gay hell. All of this was just a pack of lies.
But the Hooded One doesn’t care for Anton the way he cares for you, he thought. He’ll listen to you.
Before Richard could sort out his muddled thoughts, Georgios spoke. His voice was low and hesitant.
“So if I do this thing, you promise I get to kill the junta?”
Anton shrugged. “A small price to pay. Why would the Hooded One care for such people? And he knows you’re straight, so he won’t want you after that one night.”
Richard remembered that eager look on Georgios’ face when the Hooded One had first exposed himself. Georgios had gotten a raging hard on. Despite what this guy claimed, he was not straight.
Cliff appeared with some more milk and some sandwiches.
“Eat. You two have had a long night. And when you’re done we will
leave you alone to think about it. I’m confident you’ll see things our way given time. In the meantime…”
Cliff pulled out a fat leather wallet and handed each of them a wad of notes. Richard looked at his share.
“You tried to kill me a couple of hours ago and now you give me five hundred dollars?” Richard said, dumbfounded.
Cliff smiled and sat back down, raising his glass in a toast. “I am a rich man. My esoteric studies have led to great wealth. This isn’t the only home I own. I have another in the Adirondacks, and a yacht down in Greenwich. I’m more than willing to give you ten times that amount tomorrow if you agree. And that’s nothing to the riches you’ll have once the Hooded One rules the world.”
Richard turned to Georgios. The Greek man stared in disbelief at the stack of fifty dollar bills in his hand. Richard had heard Greece was a poor country. This was probably more money than he had ever held in his life.
Georgios looked from Cliff to Anton, then gave David a nervous glance. The crazy Italian with the gun still stood next to the couch.
“How can I know to trust you?” Georgios asked.
“You are alive, aren’t you?” Anton asked. “And while seeing the Hooded One’s face must have been a nasty surprise, have we ever lied to you? We gave you money so you didn’t have to hustle anymore. We set you up in a nice apartment, and offered you a lot more if you would perform the ritual. Have we ever betrayed you?”
“You didn’t tell me what that thing was,” Georgios said.
Anton shrugged. “We said it was a being with amazing powers, and he is. If we had told you the truth, you never would have believed us. You can believe me now when I say that if you go along with this, you will get your revenge on those bastards who dishonored your family. And as for you, Richard, I’m willing to let bygones be bygones for the sake of the greater prize. I get what I want, and you get what you want.”
“We’ll even go one further,” Sam said, speaking for the first time. “The Hooded One will be able to give us all what we want. So both of you get your desires even if only one of you agrees to take the Hooded One’s seed. Will that be all right?”