by Edward Lee
“R.J.! At the clinic! It had to have been the same language we saw at the Archives!”
Cassie’s eyes bloomed. Yes, yes... But how could she possibly remember that?
Think!
Lucifer’s ungodly brow turned up. “What are you babbling about, angel?”
Then the Biowizard collapsed.
This caught them all by surprise. Iblis rushed to the fallen Wizard, shook him. “What the fuck is going on!”
The Biowizard’s black eyes fluttered open. He was coming out of some sort of communicative trance. “My lord, 1-1-I—”
“You WHAT?” Lucifer demanded.
The Wizard’s voice sounded like rocks being crushed. “I must report intolerable news...”
“WHAT?”
Think! Cassie kept telling herself, using the distraction. It’s in your head somewhere. So find it!
A droning pause, then the Wizard’s lips parted and said, “The Etherean just committed suicide—”
“NO!” Satan exploded.
Think! Cassie kept repeating. Think! Remember! What was it?
“—at the Bastille of Otherwise Souls,” the Wizard finished. “The Bastille is destroyed.”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
Lucifer rushed to the mouth of the Nectoport. He looked out, just as a distant light flashed. Even Cassie could see the light. A flash and a mushroom cloud.
Lucifer fell to his knees.
Then Cassie remembered, dragged the incomprehensible words from her mind, and said: “Eòñw nalde flåveaaiz me staadpa stilluadte.”
Silence.
Angelese smiled, and froze.
The Usher holding Cassie’s net stood immobile from the Paresis Invocation. The remaining Ushers, the Biowizard, and even Lucifer himself were totally paralyzed. Cassie managed to shrug out of the Usher’s grasp now, and dragged off the net. Wincing, she dug her fingers into her wound and unseated the glowing green chip of stone. She flicked it out of the Nectoport. Then she turned to the Usher behind her and said, “Out.” The Usher churned against its paralysis, lumbered toward the Nectoport’s Egress, and jumped out. “Pull those out of her,” she commanded the pair of Ushers who still held the pikes in Angelese, “and then jump out.” They did, and then a final command, to the Biowizard and remaining Ushers, “All of you, out!”
One by one, they all jumped out of the Nectoport. More silence. Cassie’s hair whipped around in the wind when she looked out. The Bastille, she thought. Angelese had mentioned it during their Trance-Channel from the clinic. All those suicidal souls... released.
Suicidal souls...
“Lissa?” Cassie jerked around, stared down at where her sister’s disfigured body had been lying.
It was just dust now.
She could only hope what that meant. She returned her gaze out the Nectoport. In the distance, the glowing mushroom cloud was dissipating, drawing a shroud of dust over the entire district.
So that’s what happens when an Etherean or an Etheress dies in Hell. But a further glance showed her the now-familiar Atrocidome, its huge Killing Plate dropping yet again in the next Merge. Another Deadpass destroyed.
“Uh, excuse me?” Angelese said. “If you’re not too busy, I’d prefer not to spend eternity unable to move from a Paresis Spell.”
“Sorry,” Cassie said. “But what should I do with him?” Her eyes fell on the Morning Star, who remained paralyzed himself.
“Send him on a trip. The fucker will never die, but I’m sure a good long fall will at least muss his hair.”
Cassie liked the idea.
“Don’t,” the First Fallen Angel said. “Join me. You’ll be more powerful than any woman in history.”
“Gimme a break!” His shoulders felt warm when she began to push.
“God damn you,” came his crystalline whisper. Black sparkles seemed to hover in the wake of his words. Cassie pushed him out of the Nectoport. She didn’t even bother watching his fall.
“How do I break the Paresis Spell?” she asked next.
Angelese rolled her eyes. “You’re an Etheress. Why do you think all those Ushers jumped out when you told them to? They were under the Spell too.”
My words break the Spell, she realized. She looked at Angelese and said, “You’re not paralyzed.”
Angelese got up, worse for wear. Her blood had dried on her gown and had turned it into some kind of hip tie-dye. The wounds were already beginning to heal.
“I’d ask you if you’re all right but that would be a pretty dumb question, wouldn’t it?”
“I’ve been treated worse,” Angelese said.
“I’m trapped here, aren’t I?”
“Yes. By the time you found a Deadpass, they’ll all have been destroyed by the Merges.”
Cassie leaned against the Port’s slimy wall. “I don’t know what to do now. I know what I should do, but I don’t know if I can do it.”
“What do you want more than anything?”
Cassie’s fingers touched her locket. “I want to see my sister.”
“She’s gone now. But you know where she is, right?”
“Yes.”
The angel grinned slyly. “Have you been a good girl?”
“I’ve never stolen, I’ve never hurt anyone, I try not to lie, I try to be cool to everyone.” Her mind ticked. Who knows? “Jeez, I’ve never even been to third base!”
“Then don’t worry.”
Cassie’s heart was thumping. “What about you?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Cassie put a hand to her belly and looked down again over the edge of the Egress. They were still hovering. Directly below her stood the massive Mephisto Building.
Oh, man.
“I guess I’ll never hear Rob Zombie or Sisters of Mercy again,” she murmured.
Angelese laughed. “Probably not. But there are better things to hear. Wondrous things.”
Cassie turned one last time to the angel.
Angelese was smiling. She took off her Obscurity Stone, and at once, the Nectoport was radiant in light. But even through that light, the angel’s smile could still be seen, and that’s when Cassie jumped out of the Nectoport.
Epilogue
“This sucks. I’m gonna have to find some new digs.”
Her name was Tony, a Human when she’d arrived here for a life of considerable indulgence, uncharitablility, and deceit. The appealing looks of her sultry Spirit Body quickly caught the eye of the Agency of the Constabulary, who’d just as quickly done the job on her, for the sake of commerce, of course. A simple Lycantropic Organic Vexation plus several Transfigurations had changed the attractive streetwalker from San Francisco’s Mission District into an attractive werewolf streetwalker from the Mephistopolis’s Eichmann District. Totty was now a full-fledged, to-the-max, turn-every-head-in-town, down-and-dirty Lycanymph.
“Shit, business is in the tubes,” she complained to a half-melted woman at the carry-out café. “I’ve only had two tricks all night, and they were both bj’s. Fuckin’ chumps arc such tightwads.” She bought a hot cup of rusted water for a five-cent McVeigh piece. Awful, but at least it helped get rid of the taste. The taste Humans left in her mouth was bad enough, but—yowzah!—Trolls and Zombies were the worst.
“I knuh-low,” the attendant mumbled back. “The-the duh-duh-dlagnets.”
Totty guessed she meant dragnets, and she was right. The Merge operations were cleaning the streets. No customers! Like she was telling that skinny kid the other night. What was a girl to do? Erotopathic Lycanymphs had bills to pay too, you know.
Her silken blond fur shimmered in the sulphur light. Her high-heels snapped on the bone-embedded pavement. Rings pierced all eight of her gorged nipples, glittering like tinsel. She’d really dolled herself up tonight, but why? The dragnets made the johns too scared to come out for some action.
Two lousy tricks, she complained. Tap-tap-tap, went her high-heels. Shit, shit, shit, went her thoughts. She passed some shops—GEIN’S CUTLER
Y (LESSONS AVAILABLE), WALLACE WHEELCHAIRS, MEHITOBEL’S ROTTEN HEAD BOUTIQUE—and at least noticed with some satisfaction that the dragnets were killing everyone’s business, not just hers.
“Man-Burgers?” a voice inquired.
Aw, Christ. Totty hated to be tempted. The sizzling sound wafted wonderful aromas into her nostrils. She turned, stood arms crossed and hip cocked, tapping her foot. The Troll vendor’s liverwurst face looked hopeful as her vulpine eyes appraised the sizzling patties. I got ten bucks tonight! I can’t blow my dough on food.
“Gimme one burger and I’ll give ya a knobjob, cutie. Lemme suck the chrome off that trailer-hitch.”
The vendor crackled laughter.
Totty frowned. After all, she gave a great knobjob. “All right, one burger for a half and half. And you can take all the time you want.”
The vendor kept laughing.
“Hey, buddy, I’ve had your burgers before and lemme tell ya, they ain’t all that great. What’s so damn funny?”
“No, no, you don’t understand!” the vendor chuckled back. “I’d love to take ya up on that deal, but I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I got penecomied and gelded by the Constabs five hundred years ago.” He pointed to the groinal area of his blood-splotched apron. “There ain’t nothin’ down there you can do a half and half on!”
Asshole. Totty strutted away. Why does my eternal life have to be so fucked up? Then she stopped. That’s why ...
She’d stopped mid-stride in the middle of the street. She was looking up.
In the bright phosphoric spotlights of Satan Park, the 666-floor Mephisto Building shined, the black sickle moon shimmering behind its obelisk form.
“That’s why my life’s all fucked up. Because of the asshole who lives there... ” All right, so she hadn’t been a model of good-will and altruism in the Living World, and, sure, she’d sinned her butt off.
But this? Did she really deserve this?
I gotta live in this gore-hole of a city for eternity, turning tricks as a fuckin’ eight-titted werewolf, and for what?
The question seemed legitimate, or at least to an eight-titted werewolf prostitute in Hell. She pointed up at the impossibly high building, jabbing a finger like a knife. “You’ve got all the power, you schmuck. You could make things better for all of us. It doesn’t have to be this bad, does it? No, but you make it this bad just ’cos you’re an asshole!”
Totty huffed off, fuming, and either fantasizing or praying, Yeah, man, one of these days I hope someone fucks you up but good—
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWHAP!
“Whoa-boy! What was that?”
Ahead of her, twenty-foot-long cracks spiderwebbed the pavement, and a figure lay there. He’d obviously fallen from a tremendous height.
Jesus Christ! And he’s getting up!
It was hard for Totty to make out any details of the figure. He seemed tall, slender but toned and whatever it was he wore was dappled with blood that looked black. He struggled to his feet. Obviously broken-boned but somehow still able to rise, and before he staggered away, he looked at her.
Totty’s eyes narrowed. He was looking right at her but for some reason she couldn’t see his face.
Then he hobbled away.
A Fallen Angel? she wondered. Only one of that crowd would be able to get up after a fall like that. Totty just shrugged. Big deal. Crazy shit happened here, and there were plenty of Fallen Angels bopping around. She sure didn’t mind seeing one of them get his clock cleaned.
Just as she would stroll off again, though, she stiffened. Her fur began to stand up, like a cat in a room that had just been entered by a predatory animal. Totty had certain hyper-sensitivities now that she’d been transformed. Her hearing, for instance, was as perceptive as a wolfs.
Her ears pricked up; her gaze shot high.
It wasn’t a scream she heard, was it? It was a wheeling, swirling shriek, yes, but it seemed gleeful, like someone on the fastest ride at the amusement park.
“Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”
Then Totty’s eyes spotted something, too. Way, way up. Just a speck falling in a straight line.
In a second, it was gone, and so was the shriek. Whatever that speck had been, it had fallen right onto the top of the Mephisto Building.
“What the hell was that?” she wondered aloud.
She’d never really know.
A split-second later, Totty was knocked to the pavement by the concussive blast that hit her hard as a sledge-hammer to the chest. Before she could even think what had happened, a white flash lit the sky. It was blinding.
Then came the roar.
Like the loudest thunder she had ever heard. The ground vibrated, then trembled, then it seemed that the entire district, if not the entire city itself, was shaking at its foundations.
A pillar of fire rose in the distance. Through the teeth-chattering rumble, Totty watched astonished as the Mephisto Building collapsed from top to bottom. A mile-high mushroom cloud rolled up over it, topped by a great flower of orange-tinted, smoky light.
The rumbling lasted a few moments more, replaced by the creepiest silence. The Mephisto Building was gone now, as the donut-like cloud rolled higher, darkening, then dissipating altogether.
Totty’s mane of blond hair rose in a waft of warm wind. Now it was the Lycanymph who shrieked in glee. She flung her purse wildly over her head and began to dance.
SIMON CLARK
THIS RAGE OF ECHOES
The future looked good for Mason until the night he was attacked...by someone who looked exactly like him. Soon he will understand that something monstrous is happening—something that transforms ordinary people into replicas of him, duplicates driven by irresistible bloodlust.
As the body count rises, Mason fights to keep one step ahead of the Echomen, the duplicates who hunt not only him but also his family and friends, and who perform gruesome experiments on their own kind. But the attacks are not as mindless as they seem. The killers have an unimaginable agenda, one straight from a fevered nightmare.
ISBN 10: 0-8439-5494-9
ISBN 13: 978-0-8439-5494-4
To order a book or to request a catalog call: 1-800-481-9191
This book is also available at your local bookstore, or you can check out our Web site www.dorchesterpub.comwhere you can look up your favorite authors, read excerpts, or glance at our discussion forum to see what people have to say about your favorite books.
GRAHAM MASTERTON
THE DOORKEEPERS
Julia Winward has been missing in England for nearly a year. When her mutilated body is finally found floating in the Thames, her brother, Josh, is determined to find out what happened to his sister and exactly who—or what—killed her.
But nothing Josh discovers makes any sense. Julia had been working for a company that went out of business sixty years ago, and living at an address that hasn’t existed since World War II. The only one who might help Josh is a strange woman with psychic abilities. But the doors she can open with her mind are far better left closed. For behind these doors lie secrets too horrible to imagine.
RICHARD LAYMON
SAVAGE
Whitechapel, November 1888: Jack the Ripper is hard at work. He’s safe behind locked doors in a one-room hovel with his unfortunate victim, Mary Kelly. With no need to hurry for once, he takes his time gleefully eviscerating the young woman. He doesn’t know that a fifteen-year-old boy is cowering under Mary’s bed....
Trevor Bentley’s life would never be the same after that night. What he saw and heard would have driven many men mad. But for Trevor it was the beginning of a quest, an obsession to stop the most notorious murderer in history. The killer’s trail of blood will lead Trevor from the fog-shrouded alleys of London to the streets of New York and beyond. But Trevor will not stop until he comes face to face with the ultimate horror.
ISBN 10: 0-8439-5751-4
ISBN 13: 978-0-8439-5751-8
To
order a book or to request a catalog call: 1-800-481-9191
This book is also available at your local bookstore, or you can check out our Web site www.dorchesterpub.comwhere you can look up your favorite authors, read excerpts, or glance at our discussion forum to see what people have to say about your favorite books.
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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.