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City Infernal

Page 28

by Edward Lee


  Her best friend that was alive, that is.

  Via scuffed around invisibly. “He’s got the hots for you, you know?”

  “I know,” Cassie said, but then instantly thought, Damn! I keep doing it!

  Roy looked at her oddly. “You know what?”

  “Nothing.”

  Roy sipped more beer, suddenly shaking his head.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Can’t stop thinkin’ about it,” he said. “Been buggin’ me for days, and I probably shouldn’t even tell ya.”

  “What, Roy?”

  “Aw, you’d think I was whacked in the head.”

  “Probably not. Try me.”

  Then he laughed under his breath. “I had the weirdest dream the other night, damn stupidest dream I ever had in my life.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah? I dreamed that ... I was helpin’ you dig up a grave....”

  Via laughed out loud.

  “Kind of a strange thing to dream, don’t you think?”

  “And you want to know whose grave it was?”

  “Hmm, let me guess. Uh ... Fenton Blackwell’s?”

  Roy sat up straight. “Yeah!”

  “You’re right, Roy. You’re whacked in the head.”

  Cassie remained in the bar a while longer, drinking Cokes and watching Roy—with Via’s help—rule the billiards table. But eventually the country and western jukebox began to get on her nerves; she could only take so much of The Judds. Some Nine Inch Nails was what she needed, or maybe even some Aldinoch.

  “Gotta go now, Roy. See ya later.”

  “Yeah, see ya!”

  “The poor sap’ll probably lose it all now,” Via said when they left the tavern.

  “He’ll learn.”

  “You ever gonna tell him?”

  “Naw.”

  The hot summer night teemed in moonlight and cricket sounds. They began to walk back up the path, toward Blackwell Hall. They dawdled back, Cassie’s mind aswarm with doubts.

  She knew she had some options to consider but she was pretty sure that her mind was made up now.

  “I guess you’ve been thinking about—well, you know.”

  “Yeah,” Cassie divulged.

  “Have you decided?”

  “Going back to the Mephistopolis? Risking death and eternal imprisonment? Returning to Hell as Lucifer’s worst enemy to help a Fallen Angel who looks like Brad Pitt wage war against him, and being hunted by every Usher, Golem, Conscript, and any other gross-out homicidal hellborn creature in the city? Yeah, I’ve decided.” Cassie gulped. “I’m going to go back.”

  “Cool! Via celebrated, hugging her.

  What else could she do?

  “Lissa’s still there somewhere, and, damn it, I’m going to find her.”

  “Yeah, and we’ll have a friggin’ blast!”

  Cassie wasn’t sure about that part. But she was an Etheress. She was the First Saint of Hell.

  Might as well go with the flow. It beats sitting around on my butt all day watching MTV and a bunch of White Zombie videos.

  “Use the power,” Via said. “It’s yours. You can make history.”

  Cassie supposed she could.

  Sudden footsteps crunching down the dark path startled them for a moment, but then Via said, “There she is!”

  It was Hush who approached them, short and spooky with her wan white face and flowing black dress.

  “Hi, Hush,” Cassie said.

  “Hey, guess what?” Via excitedly informed. “Cassie’s decided that she’s gonna go back to the city!”

  Hush smiled back at them. Ezoriel’s own team of Transfigurists had sewn her hand and head back on, and they’d even implanted a new voice-box in her throat.

  She pointed to the next trail, the Rive out of the Deadpass.

  “Then why fuck around?” Hush said. “The next train leaves in ten minutes. Let’s go back to Hell right now and kick some demon ass!”

  (II)

  The sky churns dark-scarlet. The moon is black. It has been midnight here for millennia, and it always will be. The scape of the city stretches on in an endless sprawl. Just as endless are the screams, which fly away into the eternal night only to be immediately replaced by more of the same.

  It is an incontestable cycle of human history, 5000 years old:

  Cities rise, then they fall.

  But not this city.

  Not the Mephistopolis.

  EDWARD LEE has had over twenty-seven books published in the horror and suspense fields, including Flesh Gothic, The Backwoods and City Infernal. He is a Bram Stoker Award nominee, and his short stories have appeared in over a dozen mass market anthologies, including The Best American Mystery Stories of 2000, Pocket’s Hot Blood series, and the award-winning 999. The translation rights for several of his novels have recently been sold to Germany and Romania. His movie, Header, was filmed in late 2003 and awaits release. Meanwhile, City Infernal, Messenger, Ghouls, The Bighead, and Family Tradition have been optioned for film. Upcoming novels include Golemesque and Gast. Lee lives on Florida’s St. Pete Beach. Visit his official Web Site at www.edwardleeonline.com.

 

 

 


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