Devil City

by Gestalt Publishing

  Fuck am I doing? Getting hero dreams. Ride in, save the day? Not how anything works. But I feel that white horse temptation. Look around. Doing dishes, chatting away like a civilian? Making plans?

  Plans are bullshit. They fall apart like bones. Fuck this noise.

  'Bettina?'

  Looking at me from the couch she's laying on, curious at the phone call.

  'Sup?'

  'We're finding Ava. Now.'

  'A’ight.'

  iii

  First things first. Money.

  There's cash stored with Lin and I have a bank account. Still have to live in the world, still need a civilian profile. No time for Lin. She makes a deal out of a visit and it's not cool to rush her. Hit up the last three hundred from the account.

  Ava. How to find her? Read somewhere that part of what makes a good scientist is being able to make good experiments. Know that feeling but I ain't new to this. Freeform rituals are a speciality.

  Get a bunch of magazine with her in. Print out sites with her mentioned. Gossip style, linking her with such and such an indie director. This guitarist. That actor. The scuttle from her movies. Reviews of the albums she never made.

  Kick it old school. Cut-up method. Words become the thing. The thing becomes readable.

  Cut out words or phrases from a text, fashion mags and gossip websites and music reviewers in this case, anything helpful or on point, put ‘em in a cup. Shake it up like you're rolling the bones. Spill it out. Select the strips and lay ‘em out, making sure you do it random as possible.

  Hot new sensation wears a bikini with her hot new lover a modest box office hit reminds us of P.J new album Summering Solace 'She really sizzles this time.' edgy new role.

  Look for the similarities. Bikini. Summering. Sizzles. Somewhere hot. There's no beach in the City. Not that. Solace reminds us. Edgy.

  Reminds us of solace.

  Maybe.

  Whose solace? Mine or hers?

  Solace.

  There's exactly one place in the whole City I'd call that.

  My place.

  Motherfucker. This dame really does believe in hiding in plain sight. Lazlo was right all along, the mad old bastard. There's your union of fucking opposites.

  Cab lets us out at my place. Seems easy? Finding her like this? Bettina's eye says different, fucker.

  iv

  Open the door. Go in careful.

  Ultrascorpions, up by the roof. Resting. Can't even see her. Chitin brushes against each other. White robes tucked into folds of their shells.

  Should probably sneak around, open creaking doors, check my corners. Fuck that. This is my joint she's been dossing in.

  By the one big window is the collection of old couches, the coffee table I lifted off the street eight years ago. Lounge room, best call it. She's stretched out on one of those couches. Ava. The Devil's wife.

  'You found me.'

  She's trying to keep it casual but, whatever she is, she's wearing the body of a woman and the body language comes with. She's surprised.

  Keep it casual, I lean on the doorframe, watching.

  'Yeah. I know all about it. So, you and Satan, eh? I've known some chicks with exotic tastes in cats but, lady, I got to tell you... far as leather jackets, guitars and drinking problems go, you make ‘em all amateurs.'

  She just laughs at me.

  'Also have a knack for hiding. You here all along?'

  'Yes. Even when you summoned him up I was here. But that room was sealed up tight. I couldn't get in. So I figured I'd wait. Thought he'd come here eventually but he's playing his games. Keeping on the move.'

  Sit down in my own chair. Bettina stands in the door, loose, ready to move if it goes down.

  Not in her vintage outfit which, gotta admit, I was kinda hoping for. She's done up in jeans and a Yeah Yeah Yeahs T-shirt. Playing games on her phone. Listening to Joe Strummer and the Mescalitos. Wearing thick-framed specs. Shirt rides up to show off a belly but I need to keep my eyes on her eyes. Nothing with this woman, skin included, that I see is a mistake. Way she stretches her back and the pull of her t-shirt.

  She wasn't expecting me and she's looking to throw me now, get herself some room to move, playing peek-a-boo just to keep me occupied.

  I start copping an eyeful, she'll have me. She's walked around in hell. She's got a will like iron. Power like I could only dream. Forget that, forget to respect, she'll have me.

  'Offer you something to drink?'

  'Instant coffee or the half bottle of whisky that cost pennies and has been marinating in the sun for weeks? I'll pass.'

  Arch up at that. Let it go with a breath. Poking me in the gums like that? Simplest move she's got.

  Reach into the pocket. Bring out smokes. Extend one, like she didn't say anything. Takes, lights up, makes a face. 'I don't suppose you have anything mentholated?'

  'Already brushed my teeth this morning.'

  'So you did! I can smell it on you. You've got a woman!' she laughs, like I just said something funny. Hitting at my pride again. Pride? Guess who she's been playing this game with for a hundred hundred years?

  Ego goes on hold for this conversation.

  Just light up. 'You're welcome.'

  'What?'

  'For the cigarette. You're welcome.'

  Frowns a little at me. 'Oh, yes. Thank you.'

  Devil's woman or model/actress/singer, either way, I figure no one's said no to her a long time. No one's held her accountable to another person in any way, even suggesting manners, for a while.

  Breathe out smoke and look out the window like I'm in no hurry. Keeps my eyes away from her. She's amped up the sexy glamour around her. Don't take a second to disorient it, shift my gaze, I'll catch a bad case obsession.

  Think of Scarlet and how we used to throw down on that couch in the very same afternoon sun. One hopeless, pointless thought at a time. It helps. Anti-venin.

  'Just a thought here, lady. You and me... there's things to talk about. I'm not here to jack up your action. But you put me in the way of something and that's the second time in a year that's happened to me. Not happy. But we can move past that if you play straight with me.'

  'And pay what you owe,' says Bettina, arms crossed, muscles tight.

  Ava reaches down, picks up a purse costs two months of my rent. 'Cash or cheque?'

  Don't even bother answering. Out comes a fistful of yards she drops on the table like it was nothing. Count out what she owes, hand her some back. Bettina sighs her disappointment but Ava, she runs on lies. Right now, we have to keep it symbolic. This is a negotiation with a magical entity and it resonates. If I want it to.

  It can either be a chat with a dame on my couch who owed me money or a spiritual meeting with an infernal power, whichever I want.

  I play it honest with her, that keeps the story even. Means there's less in for more deceit magic, more lies, to mar our road.

  Count out what I figure she owes. Take a few more for expenses. One finger passes the rest back over the table.

  'Oh keep it. I don't need you to make change.'

  Put the rest of the roll in my pocket. Ten grand all up then. Alright. Tip is something different. Saying something about pride?

  Ash. Look out the window again. Get back to it.

  'You got what you wanted. Devil's out. You got a bead on him but he's blaming me. That's alright. You don't know me, don't know my history. Just a job. Nothing personal.'

  'Well,' Ava smiles. 'That's not quite true.'

  'Tell it.'

  'Scorned women, women who have had things taken from them, when they pray, they pray to me. I heard someone interesting praying for revenge. She'd lost something, so I tuned her in. Turned out, she had a problem with you.'

  'Lady, I never got into it with a woman like that.'

  'Nevertheless.'

  'You gonna talk or is it just fun for you, throwing up more dust?'

  Truly, I want to ask who has the beef with me so bad but I have to get ori
gin story out of Ava. No place for distractions.

  'I'll give you this. She's not someone you ever met.'

  'Jesus, lady, I don't need more hassle.'

  'You have it. But, anyway, this woman, she's mad. Aching for retributions. Lost someone she loved very much. I hear her and I listen to her thoughts. Lark. A magician. I answer - which is what she's after all along. See, she knows a thing or two about my situation. She's an initiated woman. She knows I'm looking for a means to settle some things with my husband. She gives me your name and your M.O. It wasn't random, me choosing you. This woman, she recommended you. I reached out and here we are.'

  'This woman I never met.'

  'The woman you never met.'

  Fuck it, curiosity gets the better of me. Shoot out a feeler.

  'Who you're not gonna tell me about.'

  'Who I'm not going to tell you about. She's one of mine and, after all, look, her plan worked. You're in His Infernal Majesty's bad books and I've got him out in the open. He can't go back to hell when you're linked. And of course, he can't just kill you.'

  'Why not?'

  'Rules. He could kill you, why bother tempting? He could just point a gun in everyone's face. Commit sin or I'll shoot your dog. Everyone's got rules.'

  'Yeah, figured it something like that.'

  Ava looks up at Bettina, like she's just noticing.

  'Oh hey, sweetie. How'd you lose that eye?'

  'Punching mouthy slappers giving us the runaround.'

  Ava just laughs.

  Get up, bring us the last of the beers in my fridge. Everyone takes one and Ava shudders at the sip. Ignore it. Posh bird showing off.

  'Lady,' I start again. 'Ava. Listen. It doesn't even really matter how it starts. Just matters how it plays out. Can't say I'm fond of how you handled your business but... let it go. Nothing to be done. You're nothing I can easily hurt.' That's not quite a lie.

  'No.'

  'So I came here. Didn't want to trade shots. I came here to listen to a story.'

  'Which story?'

  'There's only ever one. People in love. I have it figured, you walk into hell and get married. Got up to that part. Whatever happened. I mean, really, the facts, happened, that doesn't matter anymore. One day, you're just a person, the next, a Queen of Hell. Makes sense. Some stories, even God has a girlfriend.'

  'Sophia'.

  'Wisdom, sure. Figured out that much of the tale.'

  Light up again. Drink from my beer.

  Make a gamble. Famous movie star. Queen of hell. Figure she hasn't just spoken in a while except to P.R types. And there's a person under all that myth and power. Come at her straight.

  'What happened after that night at Hondo's?'

  Eyes go wide. 'Hondo's? Wow. That's good. Yeah.'

  'Mr. Goya says hi.'

  'He's still alive? Oh. How is he?' Fondness in her voice.

  'He's old now. Still in love with you. Kids and grandkids and you're still in his life. He can't. He never shook you.'

  Reckon you should learn from Mr. Goya, Lark. Enough. Another time for that noise. Shut down that voice inside me, likes to point out when I'm stupid.

  She stirs. Dust shoots into sunbeams. Circling.

  'He was... I loved him, Goya I mean, in my way.'

  'Well, that's real heart-warming. But that's not what I want to talk about.'

  'So what do you want to talk about? I should warn you, I'm not one for small talk.'

  Yeah.

  '1940 whatever. You leave Hondo's with the Devil. Before that, you'd been wandering the earth. Then, you walk out on his arm. Somewhere between then and now, everything changed between you two. What happened?'

  'These are secrets things between husband and wife.' Her voice gets more formal now, slowly but sure.

  'They were secret ‘til you got me involved.'

  'You're intruding on my intimacies.'

  Snap off a cigarette. Gather up lighter and pack, money in my leather jacket. She's either playing games or needs the ego. There's limits to how much I take, even from the Queen of Hell.

  'Bettina.'

  She nods, takes a step back, gaze never leaving Ava.

  'Alright! Alright. This is a tale I've never told before. And you're... off-putting. But I'll tell.'

  Everyone likes talking about themselves. Gotta admit, I'm tempted to keep walking just to prove a point but I can't figure out what the point is.

  Sit back down. Take the pack out. Offer another. She waves me away.

  'I left the Devil because I knew, I knew, that I would just be an amusement to him. I'd done what no one else ever did and got him to marry me. Promised my mother a dowry. Truth to tell, escaping my mother was the reason that started it all off... anyway. He came to earth and we met, my mother played her time-wasting tricks. In time, I found him, and we were married. I thought that would be a fine thing.

  It wasn't. My achievements, he wouldn't respect them. Men were cruel then and I was denied so much because of the body I was born with. That always burned me. It made me furious. The Devil would be no different. He fought a war for his own freedom but he never cared about anyone else's. I knew that. So I left. I told him I wasn't ready and he railed but I told him that for the Devil, a blushing virgin bride was no good. I needed to go into the world and return to him wanton. Dirty. As if the touch of another sullied you forever. The idea excited him.

  So I came back to the world. I learned magic. I learned science. I learned languages. I invested the money I earned in those first few years, posing for painters, working in restaurants, thieving. This was, I don't know. Five hundred years feels right.

  By fifty years in, I was a wealthy woman. That's the only kind of power they understood, the great and the good of the earth. Money. And I wanted ... authority. I never wanted to be at the whims of father or husband or God. I never wanted to obey their rules. They never did. Those powerful men just made them for others to obey so I saw I had to be powerful too.

  But it never changed. No matter what I achieved, and I achieved a great deal, I was at best, freakish. An amusement. A clever woman meant no more to them than a dog in trousers. At worse, they resented me. All the lords and bankers and powerful men. Women, too! Though not all. But many, they thought I was a traitor, acting above my place, to try and take everything I could.'

  She sits up straight. Drinks her beer. Catches Bettina's eye.

  'My memory shifted in those days. Like someone was taking it away but it always came back, like scar tissue. I never even perceived it, though, till much later. I think I could have held history in my hands like reins if I had been allowed to go through the centuries unmarred.'

  She takes a moment, letting anger pass through and away from her. Takes the story back up.

  'Modern people. You don't know. Where you could sit, what jobs you could have, who you could marry, all decided for you. I couldn't get served in a bar unescorted until 1915! If I asked to see my bank managers, they'd often, not once or twice but often, refuse to do as I instructed without corroboration from my husband or father. All because I wasn't one of them. Male, mostly. But in their clubs. Part of their class. I didn't know their schools or their slang. They refused me over and over. Refused to share influence.

  I tried a different tack. One power women have always had is beauty. So I became beautiful. I don't just mean sexual. I've had my share of men and women both and being sexy is easy. The Devil only married me because I was sexy as a girl. No, I mean beautiful. I found every way to signify elegance and beauty and taste and refinement there is. Sexiness is just something you want near. Beauty is a commodity you own.' She smiles bitter. 'And it can be taken from you. You can leech it off a person, if you own the person.'

  Drinks some of my beer, forgetting the too-good-for-it show.

  'They loved me for it. Men longed to share secrets with me. Loved to tear each other down to get at me. To frighten off rivals. But they never shared their authority with me. And when I was done with them, because
they would not let me in, that same beauty denied, aroused anger. Children angry their big sister won't share a doll. At my most charitable, I think men crave beauty so much it makes them weak, and their own weakness requires a target. Invariably, that target becomes the thing that made them aware of their own weakness. In my anger, I think they are simply brutes, who, it is simple, like to hurt what they desire and it goes no further than that. Men controlled women's beauty like they controlled everything. There was so many ways they could control me.'

  Bettina nods. Alright.

  'Women's anger is different but... no matter. Then the wars came and women were needed. It's hard to describe the World Wars and the changes that happened. Men's resentments never changed but their need outweighed them. I was the Queen of Hell but I built bombs, fixed cars, swept streets. I wasn't a stranger to such work. I was rich, in a long period with memory, and didn't need to do that sort of thing but I was needed. Men came to me, needing my labour. I remember the first time I ever got a raise. It was a liberating feeling.

  Men were going into hell and their desire for beauty overwhelmed their scorn of it. Pictures of girls went to war. I think you would blush if you knew what wartime letters and images were sent. We tell ourselves stories now about the nature of those innocent times. We imagine letters sent to the front 'oh, I wish you well and you must kiss dear cousin Bertie. All is well here, Pappa caught a trout. When you return, we shall be married.' Most of the girls I knew put knickers in the mail and talked about how many times they'd played with themselves, thinking about their soldiers and how they couldn't wait to suck off the soldier the second he came back.'

  Laugh a little.

  'Yes, it's a better image than the rest of that sentimental shit. I did it too, of course. Shaving off some hair from down there and putting it into an envelope. It felt strong, to know that a part of me and a few harmless words of lust could reach out, through distance and time and help someone in horror. So I grew brave about my beauty again. It taught me a thing or two about hell.'