by Edward Lee
“Maybe.”
“Thanks for being so informative.”
“Hey, Walter, that little-boy-hurt stuff doesn’t work with me.”
Walter just frowned and let it slide off. At least that was one thing he was getting good at. “Can I ask you something, No-name?”
“Yes, but only if it doesn’t involve the revelation of an ethereal abstrusion.”
“Are you my friend?”
“Yes,” she said without pause.
“Then why do you give me crap all the time?”
“Because I’m your friend.”
Walter could’ve laughed.
Sometimes it sounded like he was walking on something wet, and when he looked down he’d see periodic used condoms lying on the sidewalk, demonic seed leaking though their factory-made perforations. He’d also see occasional charred hands and feet, from low-end hookers who’d sold the parts to street-side smoke-diviners for drug money. Across the street, two horned pimps were mugging a john, and a block down, a pair of Imp prostitutes were stabbing each other. Golem police officers walked slowly by, unconcerned.
“Turn here,” No-name said when they finally got to the end of the half-mile-long bordello block.
BOTTOM OF THE BARREL ALLEY a street sign read.
Denizens strolled out, hands in pockets. One bearded man was walking and he looked right at Walter and said, “I told you I’d see you here.” His head sat on his shoulders at an angle, and the bloody shirt he wore read: PIL: THIS IS WHAT YOU WANT, THIS IS WHAT YOU GET. Walter watched him walk by, speechless.
Shouts could be heard from the distance. The left side of the alley remained the window-pocked Wall of Skin, but here the skin shined less lustrously and eventually grew infectious. Chancres throbbed, gonorrhea raged in folds of flesh, chlamydic discharge oozed from pocks. Some of the epidermal pocks squirmed from chiggers embedded beneath.
The women in these windows were all afflicted in one way or other: missing a limb, missing a scalp, burned, covered in demonic rashes, and the like. One girl sat dejectedly in one window, looking to one side. She appeared petite and attractive, until she turned to reveal the other side of her face, which had been scraped off to the bone. Another Human woman could’ve been a model, save for the fact that her breasts had been chewed off. Another, a She-Troll, looked out her window sightlessly, her eye sockets empty. A sign under her window read: ANY HOLE OF YOUR CHOICE: $5.
Walter felt petrified now. What would await him?
“Get ready, Walter,” No-name consoled. “Remember, it’s better to regret the things you have done than the things you haven’t done.”
“Meaning?”
“You’re not going to like what you’re about to see. But you wanted to come here. You willingly came through that Deadpass to see Candice, and now you’re going to see her. So. We’re here. This is what you want...”
Another refrain. Walter stood still in the moment.
This is what you get, he thought.
The red-light district in Hell.
A muffled voice eddied out from the dark as a slinky figure approached, high heels clicking. “Half-and-half, ten Hellnotes, cutie pie. I’ll give it to you like you never got it before.”
Yellow light from the windows glared down, and it was into that light that the figure stepped.
Walter’s heart pattered.
It was her. It was Candice.
Walter could only stand and stare, enamored.
Here she was as he’d always envisioned her: the Adriatic-blue eyes, the long blond hair down past her waist, five-foot-ten and a half, and taller on the stiletto heels.
Then those Adriatic-blue eyes widened.
“Walter?” she questioned.
Her voice sounded muffled, almost like someone talking through a mouthful of food. Walter didn’t understand it ... and didn’t care.
Because she was here.
“Yes, it’s me, Candice.” His words sounded miles away. “I came here for you.”
She stood in the light, but a shadow obscured part of her face. “So Colin wasn’t bullshitting me. He killed me, to send me here. Then he killed himself.”
“You know?” Walter was dismayed. “You know that I’m—”
“Yeah, I know all about it. You’re an Etherean now, because Colin blew his head off before you could. You don’t look very powerful to me.”
Walter didn’t feel it, either. He felt helplessly human, love radiating at his heart, his very mortal heart. He took a deep breath. He wanted to talk to her, about so many things, and about the future he could provide for her, even in this damned city ...
But something wasn’t right. Something was out of place.
Her voice.
It sounded so muffled, so garbled. He didn’t understand.
“Candice, what’s wrong with your voice?”
“Try talking through this, asshole,” came her next garble, and then she took another step closer and brought the rest of her face into the light.
The mouth of an infernal sea creature known as a Bapho-Octopoid had been surgically affixed, replacing Candice’s human mouth. A tight, toothless o-ring of gray-white rubbery flesh. It was actually a not-so-rare surgical transfiguration for prostitutes, to embellish oral proficiencies. Around the rim of her new mouth, tiny tentacles squirmed, that reminded Walter of sauteed calamari.
“Still love me, Walter? Still wanna kiss me?”
“Yes,” Walter said.
“This is all your fault, you geek piece of shit,” came the next wet mumble. “Your goddamn brother killed me just so you’d come after me. I didn’t have anything to do with that occult shit—I was used.” She pointed to the tentacle-rimmed sucker mouth. “This is your fault.”
Walter desperately shook his head. “I can fix all that, Candice. They have surgeons here, they have these Transfigurists. They’ll change you back to normal. Once I hook up with Lucifer, he’ll do anything I ask.”
Wet laughter fired from the mouth-hole. “You arc such a gullible dweeb!”
“No, no,” Walter was growing frantic. “I saw the page in your diary. I’ve come to rescue you. I’m an Etherean, I have great power and Satan will reward me if I agree to use my power for him. I’ll make sure he rewards you too. I read your diary page, and I know now that you truly do love me.”
The constricted ring of flesh twitched as she talked in a gargly whisper. “I hate you, I hate your guts.”
“But-but, your diary page!”
“Colin made me write that bullshit with a gun to my head, you dickless asshole. I hate you, I hate you, I’ve always hated you. The only reason I was ever nice to you was because you did my homework for me.”
“You-you-you’ll change your mind—you’re under an understandable amount of stress. I’m telling you, when I go over to Lucifer, he’ll give me anything I want. I’ll have him give you your regular face back. It’ll be wonderful. We’ll finally be together.”
No-name rolled her eyes. “You poor sap.”
“I’m serious, Candice,” Walter babbled on, “we’ll live in a big palace with servants and every luxury. Satan rewards the faithful.”
Her mouth twitched some more. “Satan rewards only himself through the misery of others. Colin was faithful and look what he got as a reward.”
She pointed across the alley, where a large Ghor-Hound-drawn carriage sat, the fanged Ghor-Hound itself bigger than the largest horse. The carriage was rocking on the springs over its great spoked wheels. Outside the carriage stood a line of at least a dozen fat, well-dressed Trolls, each holding Hellnotes in their stubby hands. And standing at the carriage door was somebody Walter remembered.
Her nude beauty was impeccable, her black hair shining like oil. It was Augustina, Colin’s former limo driver in the Living World. Here she looked the same as she had on earth: the perfect hour-glass physique, the erect bosom, and the blazing white skin checkerboarded from ankles to throat with stark black inverted crosses. She was taking money from the Trolls standing in line.
>
She’s... a pimp, Walter realized.
Then the carriage door opened, and out climbed a corpulent Troll, grinning in satisfaction as he hauled up his trousers.
“See, Walter?” No-name observed. “She’s the pimp, and your brother’s the ’ho.”
Aghast, Walter watched as the next Troll gave Augustina a stack of bills and climbed into the carriage, unbuckling his pants. Before the carriage door was re-closed, Walter had time to catch a glimpse of his brother. Colin had not been transfigured into a Grand Duke as he’d anticipated. His head had been shaved, and he’d been tarred and feathered, save for his buttocks. His wrists were chained to the floor, and right now the Troll was bending him over the carriage seat. The door slammed shut. Walter turned away when Colin began to scream.
Augustina smiled at him, waved daintily.
“But that’s nothing compared to what you’ll get,” Candice mumbled, trying to smile herself through the Octopoid mouth. “And you’ll be getting it soon.”
Walter felt as though his heart had been blown out.
“Let’s go, Walter,” No-name said.
Walter headed back toward the main drag. Augustina continued to wave after him, Colin continued to scream, and Candice continued to laugh.
I’m the biggest sucker in Hell, Walter thought.
No-name’s head seemed to be contemplating something, her mouth opened in a pause. She seemed bothered. “Walter, I know you’re sensitive, so don’t take this too hard but—”
“But what?” he asked, looking down.
He’d been carrying her all this time under his arm. “You need a better deodorant. Consider my position. I’m practically living in your armpit right now.”
Walter, again, thought about the possibility of dropping her into the nearest garbage can. The last thing he needed now was more shit from other people. “Well, I’m really sorry about that, No-name. I’m under a little stress here, if you don’t mind. I’m an Etherean—I’m a living myth in Hell—and with all that, I come to find out that I have no powers anyway. And I just found out that the girl I love is one of Satan’s hookers, and so is my brother. I’ve had a bad day.”
“Oh, poor Walter, boo-hoo. Pity poor Walter. Poor Walter’s under so much stress.” The head glared at him. “What about me? I’m not under stress? I haven’t had a bad day? I’m a severed head!”
“That’s not my fault!”
“No, nothing’s your fault, Walter. You’re too afraid to ever take enough of a risk. You’d rather shuffle around with your stooped shoulders and mope. You wanna know why people think you’re a geek, Walter? Because you act like one. You let yourself be the target of other people’s cruelty because you ask for it. You’re not man enough to change that. You’re your own nerd, Walter, because you made yourself that way. If you don’t like it, then do something about it.”
Tears flowed down Walter’s cheeks. He grabbed No-name by the hair and held her out, looking at her. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I can’t tell you what to do. There’s gotta come a time in your life when you make a positive decision on your own. Here, or back in the Living World. That time is now. Grow up. Stop acting like the wimp you’re certain you are.”
“Please stop being mean to me,” he pleaded. “I can’t hack it anymore.”
“Then do something about it. Summon the courage within yourself.”
“What? Throw you away?”
“If you like.”
“But you’re my friend! You just said so! Are you lying too?”
“No, Walter, I can never lie to you. And I am your friend. I rag on you to provoke you, because, very soon, you’re going to need to make a very serious decision.”
“The only decision I have to make is do I kill myself here or back in the Living World? You already know, but you won’t tell me.”
Now No-name looked equally disheartened. “I’ll tell you this. There’s another decision you’re going to have to make first.”
“What is it?” Walter’s mind reeled. “Why don’t you help me?”
“That’s what I’m trying to do. You’re not thinking clearly. I already told you. Be deductive. Be smart.”
I am smart, he thought, angered. What is she talking about now?
“What do you know about your current situation, Walter?” the head asked next. “Be transitive, be—”
“Yeah, yeah, be deductive; I heard you the first time.” Walter tried to let some of the fog clear from his head. Yes, he knew he was smart—that was about the only thing he was certain of—but he also knew that the shock and horror and despair of everything he’d just seen was sidetracking him.
He repeated No-name’s question: What do I know about my current situation?
“One,” he started, “I’m an Etherean, and right now I’m in Hell.”
“Good,” No-name said. “Go on. Why are you in Hell?”
“Because I came through the Deadpass.”
The head frowned. “Why did you come though the Deadpass?”
Walter frowned back. “For the express purpose of getting here.”
“Why? What were your motivations? Start again. Be deductive.”
Walter let out a long sigh. “One, I’m an Etherean. Two, I’m in Hell. Three, I came to Hell willingly because I wanted to see Candice, to see if I had a chance with her because in her diary she said that she loved me. Four, it turns out that Candice doesn’t love me, Colin just made her write that. Five, that’s the reason that Colin killed her in the first place, to send her soul to Hell.” Walter slowed, thinking. “That’s about it, isn’t it?”
“No!” No-name bellowed. She was getting mad. “I can’t tell you! You have to figure it out for yourself!”
Now Walter stopped completely. He blinked. Then he whispered, “Holy shit....”
“Yes?”
“I’m Plan B. Plan A failed. Lucifer wanted to capture the Etheress but he failed. Colin had Candice fake the diary page and then sent her to Hell because he knew that I would follow her here. Lucifer failed to capture the Etheress so now he wants to capture me. Candice was the bait he was using to lure me here.”
“Yes,” No-name affirmed. “And now? Deductively?”
“Candice was the trap.” Walter blinked again. He finally got it. “And I just walked into it.”
“Yes,” No-name whispered. “And you’re standing in the middle of that trap right now, right this instant.”
When Walter looked up the street, he saw a regiment of armored demons standing there in total silence. Some of the demons had chains, others had nets. Then he turned around and saw a similar regiment behind him.
“We’re trapped,” No-name observed.
“And there’s no way out,” Walter added.
Two wedge-faced demons broke from their ranks and approached, armor clattering. One dragged a net, the other carried a mallet so large he needed both hands to hold it. The mallet’s head was as large as a microwave oven.
No-name’s head was grabbed from Walter and placed on the ground. “The head is an enemy of the state,” the first demon proclaimed, and to the other he ordered, “Destroy it. I’ll bring the Etherean in.” The demon eyed Walter with amusement. “An Etherean with no power. It takes a man to be an Etherean. I see no man here.”
The other demon—the one with the mallet—laughed. “Our lord’s diviners were right. This boy is harmless.”
No-name’s head looked up at Walter from where it lay in the street. “Your test is upon you, Walter. Only faith can save you now.”
“Faith in what?” Walter asked dismally. “In God?”
“No, in yourself. If you fail your test, you will be taken in chains to the Mephisto Building, and there they will drain all your blood—your Ethereal blood. In your blood there is a monumental power to be tapped. That power exists nowhere else. And Lucifer wants it. He doesn’t want you, Walter. He just wants your blood. It will enable him to change the world. Whether you give it to him or not ... well ... that’s
all up to you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Choose. Now.”
Walter looked absurdly at the two massive demons. “I can’t fight these guys. And even if I could, there’s a hundred more of them in front of me and behind me.”
“Choose,” No-name said. “Now.”
“Send this soothsayer’s spirit into the body of a worm,” the first demon ordered. The second demon began to raise the mallet over No-name’s head.
“Leave her alone!” Walter shouted.
The demon exploded. It sounded like a howitzer going off. In a split second, the demon flew away in black bits, in a tornado-like rise. Even the mallet exploded.
The same thing happened to the other demon, the instant it lunged and tried to throw the net over Walter. The street shook in another cannon-like bang.
What the hell? Walter thought. His knees wobbled, and his cars hurt from the sound. No-name, below, smiled up at him.
“Get ready,” she whispered.
“Seize him!” a black voice barked, then a wave of rallying shouts rose. Walter peed in his pants when he saw both regiments of demons charge at him.
“Walter,” No-name said. “They think they’re bad? Show them what bad really is.”
Walter put his hands over his eyes, and his voice cracked like a boy entering puberty when he shrieked. “Fuckin’ DIE!”
Both ends of the street exploded in encroaching stages, as if carpet-bombed. The concussion knocked Walter down, and the buildings on either side trembled. The street broke apart into great chunks, like an instantaneous earthquake. The demons were engulfed by the rubble and ground up to pulp. Arms, legs, and heads, boots, helmets, and breast-plates, flew up into the air and then rained back down, along with a torrent of demonic blood.
Then: total silence.
The only part of the street that hadn’t been destroyed was the immediate area of space that Walter and No-name’s head occupied. Walter sat huddled over the head, teeth chattering, shell-shocked.
“You can get up now, Walter,” No-name said.
Walter did so, shakily. Both sides of the street were now a massive pile of rubble and gore.
“Did I do that?” he peeped.
“Yes.”