by Edward Lee
"Suicide," Venetia muttered.
"Not quite. They knew we couldn't kill themHumans can't kill Angels-so as they were hanging, they pulled each other's hearts out. It's the only way. They killed one another."
Closer inspection showed Venetia the rents in each of the being's chests, and each held in a desiccated hand a malformed lump that could only be a heart.
Utter confusion made her plead to Whitewood, "How can we be waiting for them to arrive when ... they're already here?"
"Remember what I said about time and its inconstancy once the Piths are charged. Satan's ploy can only work in two stages. He is now going back in time to implement the second stage. Only then can he reclaim what was born here all those years ago."
Venetia felt more and more static prickling her skin. "What was born here?"
"It's time you saw for yourself." Then he took her into another brick anteroom off to the left. His flashlight pushed aside the shadows to reveal ...
Boxes?
Concrete boxes-six of them-sat in a row, each a yard long, two feet wide, and two deep. Coffins. The word snapped into her head.
And atop of each sat a yellowed bone.
"The bones of St. Ignatius," she whispered.
"Yes, the most potent Power Relics that we could come up with. Once the Vatican realized what Tessorio had done, it was too late, so we entombed them. The bones keep the crossbreeds inside paralyzed. They've continued to grow, of course, but they can't escape as long as the Power Relics are present. Nothing evil can touch such a Relic." The old man stepped to the first coffin. "Help me, child....
The grating rasped in her ears as she helped push the first lid-half off the box.
Venetia almost keeled over when she got a look at the thing inside: a grooved face and warped bald head with flesh the color of mucus. The abomination filled the confines of the cement coffin, clearly growing from infancy until the coffin's walls prohibited further development. Venetia noticed breasts but also what appeared to be a hairless penis.
Senses reeling, she pushed back the lid.
"It's the offspring of an angel raped by a demon," Whitewood said in his lowest tone. "Each one is different, a variant abomination."
In the second box was a lithe, crushed thing as pale as butter with crystalline orbs for eyes. Between the broken spokes of its wings were folds of carnation pink skin. Lips the color of liver trembled, and between them sprouted disarrayed fangs.
"It's still alive, isn't it?" Venetia asked, shuddering.
"Yes." The response echoed. "They all are."
"Even in spite of what they are, how could you entomb them alive? How could ministers of the Church be that barbaric?"
Whitewood's shadow shifted on the wall. "We were terrified, Venetia. We didn't know what to do, so we followed the Vatican's orders. We had to become as ghastly as their creator. They can never escape as long as the Power Relics hold down the lids."
Venetia looked into the next three, one after the other. Whitewood was correct; they each displayed a variety of hybridized features, the hideous compacted into the beautiful. One seemed near-perfect, but for gelled-over eyes and bruise-blue wings sectioned by black veins. Another had perfect human eyes and nose but a mouth like a jackal, and the third-had it not been malformed by growing within the unyielding box-was flawlessly Human on one side and flawlessly monstrous on the other. One was male, one female, and the third both.
Did Whitewood step back when Venetia stooped over the sixth coffin? She had to see the last one, just to see them all before time was jerked backward and their tainted mothers rearrived in the Living World.
The lid grated till it was half off.
Venetia stared down.
It was empty.
"That one's yours," Whitewood intoned.
The luminous red mist was slowly intensifying. Mine. The word thumped in Venetia's brain. She could hear her own heart beating.
A heart only half Human.
"I'm one of them...."
"Yes. You were the only one born perfect."
Now Venetia's mind overloaded.
"That's what makes you so valuable to the wards of Hell. Your Christian faith and willing chastity conquered your genetic heritage."
A heritage of evil, she thought. "And my true mother ... is hanging over there ... ?"
"No," Whitewood said.
Venetia's eyes bloomed.
Whitewood's voice sounded battered, and it was with the most secret whisper that he pleaded, "This was all foreseen, dear girl. Remember to do as you were bidden."
It was now impossible for Venetia to fathom anything ... as another voice-a woman's-began to flirt through the underground chamber.
"Sextus rhytzum despiritae devorare-"
Whitewood collapsed with a groan, gnashed his teeth as if resisting an urge, then wailed....
God in Heaven, Venetia thought.
Whitewood began to eat the flesh off his own arms. Blood smeared his face as grisly sounds smacked about the vault.
Before the crimson light stood the cloaked figure Venetia had already seen prowling the prior house.
Not the ghost of Tessorio, she realized now.
The cloak dropped to reveal Venetia's mother.
She stood nude, arms spread as if in jubilation. Sweat glazed her robust breasts, and branded just above her pubis was the Involution. "My dear sweet child," her voice resounded. On her face was a smile of rapture.
"But ... the angels all killed each other," Venetia stammered.
"Yes, all but me-I was the last. They thought they could redeem themselves to God, but I chose to redeem myself to Eosphorus."
Venetia's eyes darted to the mass of hanged corpses. Only then did she notice the numerical fact: there were only five, not six.
"But ... my father ..
"Your father was a Demon called a Coitasaurian," Maxine Barlow said. "The man you thought was your fatherRichard-was just a dupe whom I machinated with Obsession Spells. I asked Lucifer to make him rich from his silly computer chips, and the money enabled us to raise you with ease. He did whatever I told him, never saw what I didn't want him to see. I cultured him for money and sex-that's all." Maxine seemed aroused just talking about it. "I burned him alive last night, by the way. And as for my wings?" Her mother turned to show her bare back ... and the two clipped stubs at the shoulder blades. "I cut them off."
"So it was you haunting the house all this time," Venetia concluded.
"Helping make you ready for this unholiest of nights."
Venetia fell to her knees. "Why me?"
"Because you were the only perfect child, just as was prophesied."
Tears glittered in Venetia's eyes. "But why would Hell want me? I'm a Christian."
"By your own free will, yes, dear," her mother sighed in bliss. "And once you are plucked back into the abyss, that same Godliness will revert to the opposite. You will be the first true wife of Lucifer."
Venetia gagged.
"You will be corrupted and despoiled, tortured and degraded, your willing virginity and faith in God cast aside for sport. The free will of your beliefs will be turned inside out, after which you'll choose just as willingly to disavow God and serve the Lord of Wretchedness."
Venetia was trembling on her knees.
The remains of Father Whitewood convulsed on the floor. By now he'd devoured all the flesh off his arms and legs, and was now digging a skeletal hand into his gut for more.
"What did you do?" Venetia gasped.
"A simple Anthropophagy Hex." Her mother looked down with glee; Father Whitewood was attempting to admit his entire liver into his mouth. "But in Hell, my beloved daughter, you will have such powers a millionfold."
Why?" Venetia cried.
"Because after your debauchment and willing abandonment of God, you will be sent back here through the Pithto bear Lucifer's son for the end of times. It's perfect."
Venetia wished she could shrink to nothingness.
Her mother stepped
forward, the crimson light aglow on her glazed skin. "There, there, dear. For this you will sit in a far higher place in Hell than me. No beingHuman or Demon-has ever been so privileged." The room's scarlet luminosity grew brighter, the static edge sharpening. "And consider the privilege, too, to behold the miracle of Lucifer's genius, to witness him molding time with his bare hands." Her mother's eyes beamed as a black aura formed around her head. "You're about to watch yourself be bom.....
Venetia's face was thrust forward when her mother grabbed her by the hair.
"Watch!"
The static maximized. Was it Venetia's imagination, or were the cinder blocks all around her bleeding?
"The Involution is charged!" her mother shouted in triumph. "The Pith is coming alive!"
Venetia felt something like a variation in gravity as the slab of stone seemed to become superimposed with a similar slab....
"Glory be to he who was first cast out," " her mother whispered.
An impulse dragged Venetia's eyes to her watch, whose hands jerked forward and back at random. The days and the dates, too, changed with each half second, and when she looked again to the Pith ...
The hanging corpses were gone, as were the cement coffins. Instead, each blink of her eyes showed her another glimpse of what had happened over twenty years hence:
Six debased angels shuddering on the slab, all pregnant as if about to burst; each gravid belly shuddering, then collapsing, as the tiny monsters were disgorged; six angels moaning as they hanged themselves with no reluctance, and tore each other's hearts from their chest ... all but one-Venetia's mother-who took herself down from her own noose, plucked up the one infant who was perfect, and ran off.
And the last blink:
Solemn priests placing the five squalling newborns into their coffins and sealing each lid with one of the bones of St. Ignatius.
The Pith throbbed in its light, standing empty now. When Venetia stared, she thought she could see through it, into a similar chancel of rock, while onlookers peered back-Demons beyond description-but one figure more hideous than the rest
A man wearing a pope's miter, with a face of salt.
"It's time, my love," her mother beckoned.
Venetia rose to meet her destiny, yet the old priest's words haunted her: Remember to do as you were bidden....
Venetia froze.
What had she been bidden?
And now, Venetia thought, I have to go there....
When Maxine donned her cloak, Venetia grabbed the bone off the sixth coffin lid and stuck it in her pocket.
Then she and her mother stepped onto the slab and melted away.
(VII)
Keeping her cool wasn't easy as the anciently beautiful Pasiphae took her down through the labyrinth. The Putridox face felt even clammier in these humid warrens, and the tongues of her ghastly skirt seemed to slather with more voracity the deeper they went. Ruth's only relief was knowing that Alexander was close behind-and undetectable.
Finally she saw scarlet light flicker beyond a great stone archway. This must be it-the Lower Chancel....
But Pasiphae didn't take her in; instead the abyssal woman stopped, her bottomless eyes reaching into Ruth's.
Oh, shit-that's right, Ruth recalled with no enthusiasm. She's got a thing for me.
She knew she had to make this good.
The shining, obsidian face drew close; at once Pasiphae's indescribable arms slipped around Ruth to embrace her. I've made out with chicks before, she reminded herself. But not ... monster chicks.
Ruth did the best she could.
Cold lips were on hers, a cold tongue eager to probe. Ruth kissed the obscene woman back for all she was worth....
Then Pasiphae recoiled, alarm on her night black face.
"She knows!" Alexander exclaimed. "Don't let her scream!"
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK! Ruth thought. She latched on to Pasphae's throat and squeezed harder than she ever had in her life.
The effort choked off the shriek that would've betrayed them. Then-
Schulp-schulp-schulp ...
Alexander's disembodied hand had shot out of the umbra to plunge a knife in and out of Pasiphae's belly. After a few more plunges, oil black organs fell forward along with a slew of tarlike blood.
Pasiphae, the Night-Mother, fell over dead.
"What the fuck happened?" Ruth asked, bewildered.
"I guess you don't kiss as well as Voluptua," the priest's voice presumed.
Ruth frowned.
"I can tell by the light-the Involution is almost charged, which means the Piths will merge-"
"When?"
"Any minute now. Get in there. Go to Boniface, and try to distract any of them from watching the Smoke-Light."
Then an invisible hand shoved Ruth into the archway.
Rude prick!
Ruth resumed her role, and followed a short corridor of blood bricks toward a wide, rock-hewn chamber in which scarlet light seemed to float like fog.
A Minotauress stood watch at this last entry, the sleek feminine physique rising to high breasts, which then converged into the head of a bull. Black beads for eyes looked down below sharpened horns.
"Stand aside," Ruth ordered. "The Exalted Duke is expecting me." Then Ruth walked in, Bone-Sandals clicking on the rock floor.
Holy fuckin' shit, she thought. Look at this place.
The mistlike light was rising. Helmed Conscripts stood round the chamber's perimeter, holding wickedly sharp weapons. She immediately saw the Smoke-Light. The modest metal-framed cylinder sat on a stand of some kind.
Right next to it stood a hooded Bio-Wizard.
That's the dude I've got to distract.
Beyond the Smoke-Light, however, was the chamber's most paramount feature: a warped stone slab that seemed to be half-aglow from some throbbing inner illumination. Ruth's stomach flipped when she saw what was taking place atop the slab.
Angels, she thought.
Six of them lay naked and squirming on the slab, some invisible force paralyzing them. Pain and horror distorted their faces as their swollen breasts and hugely pregnant bellies shuddered. Ruth paled as a higher ranking Conscript stepped between each of them and- Ssssssssssssss-put a branding iron low on their abdomens. When the sizzling smoke cleared, Ruth saw the configuration of the brands: The Involution.
This is some hard-core shit....
Several Golems and slavering Ushers stood on each side of the slab.
"It's glorious!" a voice rattled.
And there he is, Ruth noted.
Boniface, short and squat in his white cloak and funny hat, stood beside another Wizard, watching the spectacle through the hideous mask of salt.
"The Involution is nearly charged, my lord," the Wizard boasted. "Soon the Pith will become subcorporeal." When he glanced over his shoulder at Ruth, she saw that his face looked like the bottom of a charcoal grill. "And my horrendous Duke, your Harlot has arrived to be by your side."
Ruth noticed a lustful joy through the mask's eye slits when the Exalted Duke glanced at her. A fat corroded hand waved her over. "Voluptua! My most rank and corruptible whore! Come to me and behold my greatness!"
Ruth groaned and went to him. When she took his hand as a lover would, she could've been holding the hand of a cadaver. Boniface at once turned to kiss her.
Ruth choked back bile and let her Putridox lips meet the mouth-hole of his mask. This is a new low for me, she told herself when a tongue like a strip of spoiled beef slid slimily into her mouth. She embraced him, playing the game, then felt something unspeakable harden against her thigh.
Fuck this shit, man....
His hand plied her breast through the hairy bra-cup. "You're always so lovely in these infernal garments," came his wet voice. The foulest stench piped from his mouth. "Only your despicability outweighs the beauty of your disgraceful whoredom."
Ruth was slack-jawed. I guess that's a compliment. "How ... sweet, my great Exalted Duke," she whispered, but then
she quailed when his dead hand began to slither up her Tongue-Skirt.
Acting like she enjoyed it was the most difficult thing she'd ever done.
"Pull up that putrescent visage," he breathed. "I must now kiss your Human face."
Ruth felt like a flowerpot had landed on her head. What am I gonna fuckin' do now?
Boniface stared. "Your obedience is not instantaneous? Do you wish to be quartered and eaten by Ghor-Hounds?"
I'm sorry, my lord. It's just that I'm so aroused by the sight of you...."
Boniface seemed pleased by the flattery; then he moaned when Ruth's hand went to his crotch.
"I just can't keep my hands off you, Duke...."
For a moment, Boniface's mask blushed; then he reached to yank up her Putridox face-
"Exalted Duke!" the Wizard next to him exclaimed. "Put aside your lust for now! The Pith is fully activated!"
Thank you, God, Ruth thought. Boniface's wretched hand fell away from her as he turned to watch.
Ruth watched, too.
"Great Satan, let it be so!"
The scarlet light buzzed; then the Angels on the slab seemed to melt out of existence.
Is that it? Ruth wondered. But something else was supposed to happen now, wasn't it?
That Venetia chick ...
Boniface had forgotten her, instead grabbing the arm of the Wizard next to him.
"Fire the Smoke-Light!„ the Wizard commanded.
"Ruth!" Alexander whispered.
Fuck. Ruth ran to the Warlock by the Smoke-Light. "Let me help!" she said. The revolting magician was about to touch the oil lamp beneath with a burning twig. Ruth grabbed it, then-
"Oops! Sorry!"
She faked a 'stumble and knocked the Smoke-Light off its stand.
Did she feel Alexander's invisible form brush against her as she fell?
Boniface bellowed at the farce. "You clumsy, ridiculous, pox-ridden sow! You pitiful Human waste product!"
. "Secure the Smoke-Light!" shouted the Wizard. "If it's broken, the Chancel will be vulnerable!"
Boniface was insane with anger. "I will have your blood replaced with the piss of Gargoyles, you useless trollop!" Then his hands wrung her neck.