by Edward Lee
“Walter, meet Augustina. She doesn’t say much, she just looks good and drives my ass around. Pretty hot stuff, huh?”
Walter groggily nodded. In all that had happened, though, he really wasn’t concentrating on the girl.
“Her name isn’t really Augustina. I named her that when she came over.”
“Came over?” Walter managed.
“I thought it would be kind of nifty to name her after the saint who cut his cock off because he thought sex was a perpetration of evil.”
Walter drifted further away. The words sounded like echoes in his head now. When Augustina opened the back limo door, an automatic lift lowered out. Her vested bosom bloomed before his face when she leaned over and eased the wheelchair onto the lift. In another second, Walter was being drawn into the car.
A few more moments of perplexion. Walter could barely talk anymore. “This-this-this doesn’t feel right, Colin. What-what-what’s happening?”
The door gently thunked closed. The car’s motor could barely be heard when they drove off into the night.
“Cool stuff, Buddy-bro. That’s what’s happening. All kinds of cool stuff. And you’re part of it. In fact, you’re the key player.”
Walter could make nothing of what his brother had said. Something else kept bothering him and it was hard to focus on what it was, but eventually he snagged it as his mind and senses faded further from the drugs.
“Colin? Did you say something earlier? Did you say we have a lot to talk about?”
A cork popped. Colin had just opened a bottle of Kluge champagne. “Uh-hmm,” was his response to the question. He took a sip of the champagne, then spat it out the window. “What is the big deal with champagne? Tastes like rotten club soda—Jesus!” Aggravated, he lobbed the bottle out of the car.
There’s someth¡ng else, there’s something else... Walter remembered the man who’d been killed by the drunk driver, and he remembered what he’d seen and heard in the snack bar rest room last night.
“Did you say something about destiny?”
“Your destiny awaits, Buddy-bro.” Outside, the stars swam by in the window. “It’s time for you to embrace your destiny...”
(II)
Colin owned the entire top floor of the Strauss Building in downtown St. Petersburg, overlooking Tampa Bay. That’s what Walter’s eyes opened to when he began to regain consciousness—the low moon glowing over the bay. A gentle breeze off the water revived him. He winced; his head ached.
It took several moments to re-sort all that had happened. He wasn’t sure what was real and what was imagined. He was still in the wheelchair—someone had put him out here on the balcony to look at the bay—but when he tried to stand up, he couldn’t, still too shaky from the painkillers.
“Buddy-bro!” Colin’s voice called from behind. “I see you moving out there. How you feeling?”
“I’ve been better,” Walter grumbled under his voice. His arms felt weak as he grabbed the wheels and began to turn the chair.
“Augustina? Give him a hand, will ya?”
The buxom shadow slipped outside. The loveliest scents drifted off the tall woman’s hair. But when Walter’s eyes adjusted, as she came around to the other side of the wheelchair, her form seemed ghostlike and white. That’s when he discerned that she was naked now.
Walter shuddered when her hands smoothed up his chest, then over his cheeks. A cooing sound faintly drifted around his head, like a caress itself, and then he was turned around and wheeled slowly back into the suite.
Walter squinted; the expansive room off the balcony was done up in dark wood paneling and large, ornately framed paintings. Maroon carpet hushed the chair’s wheels. The entire room seemed to flicker darkly, tiny shadows licking up the wood-grain walls. There were no electric lights here, just dozens of tall black candles.
Colin was standing knee deep in a churning hot tub. “Want some of this?” He held up another bottle of champagne : Perrier-Jouet. “It’s six hundred bucks a bottle. Can you believe that? Six hundred bucks for a bottle of hooch?”
“Colin,” Walter reminded, “we’re not even old enough to drink.”
“When you win a hundred million in the lottery, Buddy-bro, you’re old enough to do any fuckin’ thing you want.” He took a slug off the bottle, winced, then spat it out in a bubbly spray. “Jesus Christ, that’s worse than the other shit I was drinking.” He winged the bottle, like a bowling pin, out the open sliding doors where it sailed over the balcony and disappeared.
Walter just looked at him. “Colin. What’s going on?”
“Lotta cool shit, brother. And I’m gonna tell you all about it right now. Everyone has their destiny, you know?”
Walter, by now, was starting to get scared by that word.
“Some people have a modest destiny, some people have a great destiny. But your destiny ... is monumental.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Relax. We’ve still got a little time to screw around, I guess. Till midnight, I mean. Kind of hokey if you ask me, but midnight really is the Witching Hour. It’s all about faith, Walter. Belief in myth is just another form of faith.” Candlelight flickered over Colin’s face. He smiled sharply. “And faith is power.” He hitched up his baggy swim trunks. “Entities of power reward the faithful—with more power.”
I guess my brother’s gone off the deep end, Walter thought. Give an eighteen-year-old kid a hundred million dollars and look what happens. But at least Colin had gotten his dream. Walter hadn’t, had he? Colin got his riches, but Walter never got Candice.
“Augustina, hon? Grab that caviar, will ya?”
Walter hadn’t even noticed that the tall nude woman had left the room. How could I have missed that? he wondered. It was as if she’d vanished, and here she was now, coming out of the kitchen, holding something. Walter’s eyes bugged. He wasn’t looking at what she was holding, he was looking at her. The visual image of her embellished nudity struck him like a punch in the eye.
“Oh, the tatts,” Colin realized. “You’ve never seen them.”
Walter saw them now, and perhaps that revealed a lot. Augustina slunk into the room, still totally nude, and with a body curvaceous and lusty as a Penthouse Pet. The straight black hair shimmered, dancing at her shoulders, and her perfect breasts jutted. But even the impeccable body wasn’t what Walter was staring at. The flawless white skin looked almost checkerboarded with raven-black tattoos from the tops of her feet to her throat. The tattoos weren’t squares, though. They were upside-down crosses.
“Slick, huh?” Colin remarked.
“What?” Walter finally spoke up. “She’s a Satanist?”
“No, no, Buddy-bro. Augustina’s not a Satanist, she’s just a little toy that I was given, a little doll to play with. I’m the Satanist.”
Colin grinned further. The woman smiled too, right at Walter, her eyes dark as volcanic glass.
“I want an explanation,” Walter began, still unable to get up from the wheelchair.
“What’s the rush?” Colin glanced at a ticking pendulum clock with a moon-face. Elaborate hands ticked toward eleven-thirty. “We still got a half hour, so let’s chow down on this fancy grub.”
Augustina ran the tip of her tongue over her top lip as she opened a hockey-puck-sized tin of caviar on a plate. “Try some, Walter,” Colin offered.
“No, thanks.”
“Oh, well. This stuff cost five grand. It’s from Iran, supposed to be the best.” Colin ignored tiny platinum caviar spoons, electing instead to dip two fingers into the mass of shiny black eggs. He sucked the caviar into his mouth, winced, then spat it out. “That shit tastes awful! Boy, am I a sucker.” He lobbed the can through the open doors, over the balcony. “I guess you can’t buy class, huh?”
“Colin, what’s going on?”
Augustina stepped into the hot tub; she stood behind Colin and rubbed his shoulders but she was looking right at Walter. “No, you can’t buy class, which I guess means
you can’t always have what you want. You have to maximize what you do have, though, right? You have to take advantage of it. Everybody’s born with something. Augustina, for instance. She uses her beauty for her own gain. And you, Walter, you’ve got the brains, and you were well on your way to using them to your best advantage. But me? What have I got? I’ll tell you. I’ve got ambition.”
Walter couldn’t figure out what his brother was getting at.
“That’s it. Ain’t got looks, ain’t got smarts, ain’t got charisma, and I sure as shit ain’t got class. So I gotta go with what I’ve got.”
“Colin, this is a really weird scene...”
Colin and Augustina both stepped out of the hot tub at the same time, coming around toward Walter from opposite sides.
“But sometimes we fuck up, don’t we?” Colin continued. “Like those fuckin’ Enron assholes, for instance. They had it all but now they’re in jail. And another example—you. All that potential, all those brains, and you almost blew ’em all over the dorm room, and why? Because of a girl. Well, I’m not gonna fuck up, not me...”
Augustina came around and stood behind the wheelchair, while Colin stood in front of Walter in his ludicrous swim trunks. Did the candlelight in the room actually darken? Colin’s voice seemed to darken with it. “You almost queered everything, and you don’t even know it; it wasn’t supposed to happen this soon. I made a deal—how do you think I won all that money?”
“What?”
“You and I both have a destiny. My destiny is to see to it that you fulfill yours.”
“This is really creeping me out, Colin! What are you talking about!”
“I’m talking about infinity, Buddy-bro. I’m talking about immortality and things that never end. There are secrets not of this world. I know all about them. I found a way to read some of the secrets.”
Before Walter could object further, he was being wheeled into another spacious, plushly paneled and carpeted room. More candles guttered, an entire wall of them. It was in here that Walter saw the strangest scene.
“What... is this?” he asked, peering.
Long tables were arranged about the room and sitting at the tables were a dozen naked women. The women weren’t robust and attractive, though, not like Augustina. They all looked emaciated and straggly, dirty hair hanging before wan faces as they leaned over the tables. They were all writing very intently, almost frantic as they scribbled on yellow legal pads. The sound of their etching filled Walter’s ears like locusts.
“Welcome to my Scriptorium. Meet my holographers, my Unholy Transcribers.” Something smelled funny in the room, something burning.
Then Walter saw the burner in front of the tables, a crucible sort of thing sitting on top of it, and a large tank marked FLAMMABLE.
“Bones,” Colin said. “We’re burning bones, which takes a very high temperature, by the way. The girls inhale the smoke, and it puts them in a Conveyance Trance; it’s kind of like catalepsy, only they can move. Think of it as a phone line to that other world.”
Walter just kept looking at the row of girls as they sat scribbling away. They were all so skinny and slat-ribbed, their hands and fingers bony under parchment-white skin. Their eyes looked dead.
“Only the bones of murderers, rapists, and child molesters work, but in Florida?” Colin let out a modest laugh. “They were pretty easy to find. The girls are all junkies and crack whores from Tampa and St. Pete. The drugs corrupt their willpower. Weak-willed people are the easiest to turn over. They all work for me, or I should say for a greater glory. They’ll write till they die.”
At that, one girl on the end flopped over onto the floor, her tongue out, eyes opened staring at nothing. That’s when Walter noticed several other dead girls who’d been shoved out of the way under the tables.
“They’re pretty much done,” Colin continued. “They’re hooked up to someone downstairs, if you know what I mean, and they’re transcribing the Evocations of Lucifuge in their entirety, the first book to ever be published in Hell. Not the kind of thing you can pick up at Barnes & Noble, you know. That’s why I’m having it transcribed by the girls. It contains something very important, something that you’ll need to read right away—a chapter called ‘The Unsacred Edicts of Hellspace.’ It’s like a rule book. Hell For Dummies.” Colin chuckled again. “And there’s a sub-chapter, Walter. Please read it. It’s called ‘Etheresscs and Ethereans.’ ”
The incessant scribbling was sidetracking Walter’s ability to properly process the information. He’s crazy, came the eventual deduction. He’s crazier than I am. All I wanted to do was kill myself... Another girl toppled over. She twitched a few times on the carpet, urinated weakly, and died.
“I made a deal,” Colin said. “A you-scratch-my-back-I’ll-scratch-yours kind of deal. I got the hundred mil, and I’ve gotten to live like a king. But it’s over now. Something even better awaits.”
“You’re not making any sense at all,” Walter said.
“You’ll read the whole scoop later, but I’ll give you the short version. We’re a rarity, Buddy-bro. For one thing, we were born on May 18th. You probably don’t know this, but May 18th is a balls-to-the-the-wall occult celebration day.”
Walter frowned. Occult celebration? “What’s the big deal with May 18th?”
“On May 18th, 636 A.D., Pope Honorius the First sold his soul to the Devil. That was a big feather in Satan’s cap. Occult holidays are very important in the jazz you’ll read about later. And there are other things that make us important, too.”
“Like what?”
“We’re both identical twins, and we’re suicidal.”
“You’re not suicidal.” Walter felt sure. “You’ve always been the most confident, level-headed guy I’ve ever known.”
Colin laughed heartily. “Every motherfuckin’ day, man. I wake up, take one gander at the dork looking back at me in the mirror, and I just wanna blow my head right the fuck off. People are shit, they’re schmucks, they’re liars who only care about themselves and they’ll walk on anybody, trash anybody, hurt anybody, just to get one more nickel out of life. They pretend to be your friend but shit all over you the minute your back’s turned. They write you off like you’re chalk on a fuckin’ blackboard. The whole world is full of ’em, Walter, full of phony backstabbing assholes who need people like you and me just to keep their self-esteem up. I’d had a belly full for years. I hate people, they all suck. They lead you on, lie to you, set you up, and tear you down. Why? Because they can. Because it’s fun. It’s the beautiful over the ugly, the powerful over the powerless, it’s the nice guys getting mowed down by the Black Hats simply because we’re standing there and can be mowed. It’s their power, Walter, and guys like me and you are their ego fodder. We’re the meat they eat for breakfast every day, and there’s nothing we can do about it. I guess the only reason I never really did blow my head off is because I was afraid some chump would curse my nerd corpse for making too much noise.”
Walter sat mortified. He was in utter shock by the revelation. “I ... never knew. You were always the one I looked up to when I was depressed. You never seemed depressed. You never seemed suicidal. You never seemed—”
“Things are never as they seem,” Colin cut in. “People are never as they seem. That’s why I joined the club, that’s why I went over to a belief system that knows what I’m all about. I’m an outcast, Walter, and I always have been. And who was the first person to ever be cast out? Ever?”
The silence chilled Walter to the bone.
“There’s one other thing, the most important thing that makes us special,” Colin continued. “We’re both virgins.”
Walter raised a brow, looked back at the sultry, grinning, and still very nude Augustina. “You’re telling me that you never—”
“Virgins in the Biblical sense, Walter. Hands and mouths don’t count, if you catch my drift. Augustina is very well-practiced. She kept me happy without breaking any of the Rules. And you haven’t broken th
e Rules, either, have you? I know you haven’t, I saw to it.”
Again, Walter said, “What are you talking about?”
Colin winked to Augustina, who then leaned over behind Walter and began to brazenly rub his crotch. Walter squirmed. Soon her hand slipped down into his pants ...
“Nothin’, huh?” Colin said with the same grin. “No life south of the belt, ain’t that right?”
It was true, as it had been for some time now. Even the few times he’d gotten a chance to be intimate with Candice, Walter’s erection had failed utterly. This he could only attribute to nervousness and performance anxiety.
“Those iron pills weren’t iron pills,” Colin informed.
“What?”
“And you’re not anemic.”
“But the doctor said I was!”
“The doctor said you were because I paid him to say that.
The pills are something called cholaxinol tartrate. It’s something the courts make sex-offenders take. Makes it impos . sible to get hard.”
Walter was instantly enraged. “I’m gonna kick your ass!” he shrieked, but it was more like a girl’s shriek, his voice cracking. He tried to push himself out of the chair but he was still too weak and light-headed.
“Relax. It had to be done. If you’d lost your virginity, everything would’ve been ruined. I couldn’t let that happen, Walter. I couldn’t let that blond bimbo jock-chasing tramp wreck my whole gig. Just one roll in the hay with her, and everything would’ve been lost. That’s one of the Rules. You have to stay a virgin, and so do I.”