by John Everson
NeverAfter
The bedroom was grey with the fall of dusk when Mark opened his eyes. He yawned and felt his belly growl. He’d slept the entire afternoon away. Correction. He stared at the ivory skin of Selena’s back next to him. They’d slept the entire afternoon away.
Again he marveled at her body. The moon of her ass peeked out from the sheet as he propped himself up on his elbow. With his hand he touched the warmth of her hip and followed the silk-smooth skin to her waist. Her face was half-obscured by twisted strands of ice-blonde hair, and her breasts were crushed beneath her arm. But Mark could follow the path up her ribs and around the shoulder blades to where her scars were. The only thing about her that was imperfect.
Mark traced the scars. What had happened to her? Part of him knew, but he didn’t want to admit it. He’d begun to suspect before Rae had ever disappeared. NightWhere was more than an extreme sex club. The Watchers were more than human. Or maybe less.
And Selena? What was she?
She stirred and rolled onto her back to see him better. “Hey,” she whispered. She still sounded sleepy.
“Hey,” he answered and bent to kiss her. When he pulled his lips away, he rested there on his elbow, just a foot from her face, watching her for some sign. Some proof. And then finally, he just spoke what had been on his mind for longer than he cared to admit.
“You’re an angel, aren’t you?”
Selena’s eyes flashed, and she frowned.
“Thanks but…”
“No, I mean it,” Mark pressed. He slid his hand around her back and traced the knotty flesh of a scar with his fingertips. “You’re an angel. Apparently a fallen angel, since they cut off your wings. Isn’t that what this is from? When did it happen? Why?”
“I can’t…talk about it.” Selena said. “Please don’t ask me.”
“The whole club,” Mark said. “It’s just a doorway to hell, isn’t it?”
Selena stared at him without answering.
“Isn’t it?” he insisted.
“If that’s your theory, then I can’t really be much of an angel, can I?” she said.
“You said this morning that you try to steer people away from it,” Mark said. “Sounds like the work of an angel. NightWhere is hell, right?”
“It’s a place of ultimate sin,” she acknowledged.
“How did you end up there?” he asked.
“I’m here for you now,” she said. “Let that be enough.”
Selena reached up and put her arms around his back, pulling him down into an embrace. “Let me stay with you,” she whispered. “Leave all that behind and let me take care of you now. My arms, my love can heal you. It’s why I’m here.”
Mark took a deep breath. “Don’t you need to go back to NightWhere? Don’t you belong there somehow?”
“I can never go back,” she said. “Not now.”
“But you have to,” he said.
Selena frowned. “Why?”
“Because I need you to take me. I hurt Rae. I might have killed her. I have to get her out of there.”
Selena shook her head vehemently. “Are you crazy? You can’t go back. They will kill you. And if Rae survived until dawn, then she is healed by now. You saw it happen yourself. Sleep heals all wounds in NightWhere. That way, when the night comes round again, they can start the pain all over again. Fresh.”
“I won’t leave her for them,” Mark said stubbornly. “They did something to her. Brainwashed her. I have to get her out of there before they do kill her.”
“She’s made her choice, Mark,” Selena said. “You can’t force someone to salvation.”
“No, but I can at least give her the chance to choose it. She will never have that chance inside NightWhere.”
“You can’t go there.”
“You’re going to take me.”
Selena sat up and took Mark’s hands in her own. “I cannot go back to NightWhere,” she said.
“Cannot, or will not?” he pressed.
“Will not.”
“So you can find your way back.”
Selena sighed. “NightWhere is like a beacon to those who have spent enough time there. If I look, I can always see it burning in the distance. It’s connected to me. But they can look the other direction. They’ll know that I’m coming. They’ll know if I’m there.”
“I need you to show me the way,” he insisted.
“Listen to me,” Selena pleaded. “If I return to NightWhere… They will torture me forever. You’ve seen the pits of fire. The crosses of the damned.”
“They left you alone before,” he pointed out.
“They couldn’t hurt me before. There was a deal. Now that I’ve helped you…”
“But you’re an angel,” he said. “Use your powers.”
“Stop saying that,” she said. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“If you are really here to help me, then you have to do this for me,” Mark said. He knew he was being stubborn. Utterly, stupidly stubborn. But the part of him that had loved and protected Rae all of these years…letting her have her fun but always shepherding her home…wouldn’t let him simply walk away. Even after she’d tried to kill him. She had always relied on him to be her safe word, if it came to that. Now he was going to have to use force to give her the protection she needed, but didn’t want.
“Take me back there tonight. Just get me to the door.”
Selena hung her head. Her breath hitched, as she struggled to stifle a cry. But it came anyway. When she looked up, Mark gasped.
The pure white skin of her cheeks was marred by twin trails of darkest red.
Selena wept blood.
“Oh my God,” Mark said. “You’re hurt.” He touched her cheek with his finger and showed her the drop of red on his fingertip.
She shook her head. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “Don’t worry about me.”
She slipped past him, out of bed, and went to the bathroom. When she returned, her face was clean.
Mark got out of bed and met her in the middle of the room. He put his hands on her shoulders and stroked her arms. “It’ll be okay,” he promised. “I’ll go in armed at dawn. I’ll get her out just as they have to go to sleep. I’ll bring her home, and she’ll have to stay here for the day. If she decides to go back after that, I’ll have to let her go. But I want to give her the chance to make that decision outside of the influence of NightWhere. You can’t say no to that. I want to save her soul.”
He forced her to meet his eyes. “There is always a chance for forgiveness, right?”
Selena looked away.
He changed the subject. “Right now, let’s get something for dinner, all right?”
Mark walked to Rae’s dresser and pulled out a University of Illinois T-shirt that Rae liked to wear around the house. Selena accepted that and a pair of blue sweatpants without a word.
Then Mark pulled on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt himself and led her to the kitchen.
He looked around in the freezer and found chicken and Italian frozen dinners. Selena shrugged. “Whatever,” she said. “I’m not really hungry.”
“We haven’t eaten all day!” Mark laughed. “Or don’t angels have to eat?”
“I’m not an angel,” Selena said. Her voice was sharp. Under her breath she added, “Not anymore.”
“Ah ha!” he said. “So you admit it.”
Mark pulled a bottle of wine from a rack on the counter. “Can you drink?”
“I’m just like you,” Selena said. “I’m nothing special. And yes, I’d love a glass of wine.”
“You’re something very special,” he countered, twisting a corkscrew into the bottle. “You’re amazing.”
“If I was so amazing, you would stay here with me,” she said. Her voice could not have sounded more disconsolate. “I asked you this morning not to leave me alone. I might not be here anymore when you get back.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Selena shrugg
ed. “I have been a part of NightWhere for too long. I don’t know what will happen when I am out here.”
“Out here?” Mark said. “The real world?”
She nodded.
“I won’t leave you,” he promised.
“But you will,” she insisted. “If you go into NightWhere again, you won’t come out.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Pawned and Ready
The fact that the pawnshop was still open after 10:00 p.m. in a dark alley of the river district was one clue that it was probably not the most law-abiding place on the planet. People selling and buying used stuff long after dark were desperate.
Mark needed a place that would cater to desperate. And he’d visited his ATM to make sure he could pay the price.
He stepped inside with Selena close behind him. A bell on the door jingled loudly as it opened. Mark walked a few steps down the main aisle and took a quick visual inventory of the store. There were stacks of VCRs, DVD players and stereo equipment in one corner, and guitars and amplifiers dominated another quarter of the store. But it was the case right near the cash register that interested Mark. The glass revealed more than a dozen handguns. In a case on the wall behind the register, a row of rifles hung. Mark was a little surprised to see some military-issue weaponry there as well.
The proprietor was a thin, gangly man in a ratty, grey button-down shirt with two days’ growth of beard and black plastic-rimmed glasses.
He sat behind the counter watching a small television set. Mark couldn’t tell what the show was, but he could hear the fake canned laughter. The man didn’t say anything, and Mark walked along the perimeter of the glass counter, looking at the array of guns. He really didn’t know enough about firearms to know what was good or bad. But he liked the look of one with a squarish muzzle and equally blocky handle. It looked like a spy gun. Get in, shoot fast and silently, get out.
That’s what he intended to do tonight.
He walked past the case to a wall of Chinese throwing stars, stilettos, hunting and Bowie knives and switchblades.
Mark picked a couple off the wall and hefted them, trying to decide if he wanted to have a back-pocket backup plan.
He chose one with a dark wooden handle that was carved to conform to the fingers of the hand. The knife blade tucked into the handle for easy hiding in one’s back pocket. Mark nodded. He’d been a Boy Scout. It was a good idea to “be prepared”.
Selena was idly thumbing through DVDs in a rack nearby. Mark walked to the counter and pointed at the squarish gun. “How much for that one?”
The thin man eased off his seat with a small grunt and stepped to the case. “The Ruger?” he said.
Mark noticed the word was emblazoned on the handle. He nodded.
“Depends on how fast you want it,” he said.
“I need it tonight,” Mark said.
“Uh huh.” The man nodded, as if that was a common request. “You know we have gun laws in this state?”
Mark nodded.
“Let me see some ID.” The man held his hand out as Mark pulled a driver’s license from his wallet. The man took it and held it up to the fluorescent light on the ceiling. He raised an eyebrow as he handed it back. “Looks like a real one. You a cop or something?”
“If I was a cop would I hand you a real license?”
“Maybe. Lift your shirt.”
It was Mark’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Looking for wires.”
Mark guessed at the logic for that. He lifted the T-shirt up and turned around, giving the man a good look at his chest and back.
“Flash me.”
“You’re serious.”
The man nodded.
Mark looked at the door. The parking lot remained empty. He undid his belt buckle and lowered his jeans a foot, then pulled them up fast.
“Her too,” the man said.
Mark turned towards Selena, who walked up to the counter. She’d been listening. “You didn’t tell me we’d be strip-searched,” she said.
“I didn’t think we would be.”
“Hmmm. I could say no.” She smiled thinly.
“And I could say get out of my store,” the man behind the counter said. “No difference to me. Except I’m missing my show here. So if you’re gonna finish this business…”
Selena nodded. She was still in the outfit Mark had given her before dinner, without undergarments. She lifted the U of I T-shirt to expose her breasts and held it there a moment before turning and letting the block I slip back down over her chest. Then she pulled the string on the sweatpants and let them fall to the floor.
“No strings attached,” she said quietly. “Or wires. How much do you think this is worth on the secondhand market?”
The man didn’t even attempt to keep his tongue in his mouth.
“Brick shit…”
“How much for the gun tonight?” Mark interrupted. “Cash and carry.”
The man struggled to bring his eyes back from Selena as she tied her pants back up. He reached into the case and turned the gun over. “Normally it’s $250, and there’s some paperwork and a week or so wait. But I can do this for you. Come back and finish the paperwork tomorrow. You take the gun tonight for $650. You need ammunition? That’s extra.”
Mark nodded. He knew the guy never expected him to come back the next day.
“You know how to load it?”
Mark shook his head.
Ten minutes and $750 later, Mark and Selena emerged from the store with the gun, a knife and a crash course in handling it.
The dashboard read 10:44.
“Okay,” Mark said. “What are we going to do for six hours?” They’d agreed that he wouldn’t try to enter the club until after 4:00 a.m., to make their escape as close to dawn as possible.
Selena put one creamy hand on his arm and drew it towards her stomach. Mark smiled, and she slipped his hand under her T-shirt, leading his fingers up beneath the cotton to cup her left breast. “I can think of something,” she said.
“I thought you were an angel,” he said. “Angels don’t have sex, do they?”
She leaned over the gearshift and kissed him. Her mouth was warm and hungry. When she drew back, a thin line of spit still connecting them for a heartbeat, she whispered.
“I’ve fallen,” she said.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Waking Up to the Night
The faces were leering again. As Rae blinked to clear the fog from her eyes she watched them. It felt as if she’d been asleep for days and focusing on the faces helped her struggle to wake up. At first glance, they seemed like just faint, ghostly etchings on the dark ceiling, but when you stared at them a moment or two, you began to see the faint movements as they frowned, blinked, smiled slowly. It was as if they were in slow motion; they didn’t change much, but they did change.
She focused on a woman’s face in the center of the crowd, just above her bed. The woman’s face was long, the lines of her face visible even in the dim light. “Who are you?” Rae whispered. “Who were you?”
The woman opened her mouth, as if to speak. But Rae couldn’t hear anything. The woman blinked and then shook her head. It looked as if she was crying. She shook her head again and mouthed one syllable. It looked like…no.
Rae brought her arm up to scratch her head and the memory of everything going wrong last night came back to her in a rush. She brought her arm back down and touched her stomach, afraid of what she’d find.
The skin was smooth beneath her fingers. She brought it up to her chest and felt the place where Mark had stabbed her when he’d escaped.
No gaping wound, no blood, no scabs. She still wasn’t used to this sleep-and-heal thing. But thank…er, not God…for it. The devil? The Night Mother?
Rae eased herself up on her elbows and pulled the sheets aside. The sheets themselves were covered in dark stains, but they slid off her body to reveal skin that was whole and healed. The scars, however, remained. Her belly n
ow bore the knife-written tattoo of the snake. She remembered the latticework of scars that Amelia’s body had been and wondered how long it would take before she looked the same.
“You’ll never look the same as her,” Kharon said, answering her thoughts again. He stepped into the bedroom from the outer living room. “Amelia tried, but she didn’t have what it takes to cross into The Black. And so she gathered her scars, but never passed on. After tonight…you will be transformed. I will take you to the doorway, and then Yvonna will be your guide.”
“But, what about Mark?” Rae asked. “How can I do it without him?”
“You don’t need him. You’ve never needed him. He was a convenient crutch. But I have someone else in mind for you to use for the danake.”
“Who?” she asked.
“In good time,” he answered.
“When I enter The Black, will I see you again? I don’t want to lose you.”
“Yvonna will decide,” he said. “My place is here.”
“Who is Yvonna?” Rae asked. “Why haven’t I seen her here before?”
“She is the Night Mother,” Kharon said. His voice was quieter as he answered. “She lives in the dark and has many places to visit. She only comes when one is ready to enter The Black, as you are.”
“Did she take you to The Black?” Rae asked.
Kharon shook his head. “I was born in The Black. All of the Watchers were.”
Rae looked at Kharon’s corpse-white body, at the way his bones shone through his skin, at the way his face leered, skull-like. He wasn’t human then. But rather, some kind of devil…or fallen angel.
No matter what he was, even though he looked like death in his black robe, something inside her yearned for him. Every time he was close, her blood pressure rose. It wasn’t his appearance, certainly. Some power in him held her. Connected to her. The power of The Black? She hated the thought of losing him, but she also yearned to take the next step. She held out her arms. “Come be with me then,” she asked. “I don’t want to think about not having you again.”
Kharon shook his head. “You must be an empty vessel for the danake later.”