by Gini Koch
“It would be preferable to do it now,” Yates said in Mephistopheles’ voice.
“Oh, come on, big guy. You’re telling me that you want to miss the big reveal? You know, where you manifest in front of all the chosen people and declare yourself their god? And then you choose your next human vessel and go all soul-transference and mysterious? You really want to pass that one up? With a freaking captive audience in attendance?”
“The one you cling to must be destroyed, you know.”
I snorted. “Hardly. You’re saying I don’t get to pick who I bang when I’m your vessel? Yates got his pick of the kiddies. I want this one. And his cousin, too. And a few of the others, as well.”
I really prayed Martini was picking up where I was going with this, because if he wasn’t, it was going to get scary ugly fast.
“Perhaps. If they do not try to interfere.”
“Oh, they won’t. Right, Jeff? No interference, you let me go mano-a-mano with Master Fugly?”
Martini looked at me. “Sure. If that’s what you want.” He looked freaked out but not panicked. Hopefully this was a good sign.
“I do. Now, be a good boy and get the elevator down here.”
Martini pushed the button, and we all waited, as if we were in an office building and going up for a meeting. Elevator doors opened, no one inside. Good.
The three of us got in and Martini looked at me. “What level?”
“Top.” I hoped. It had the most open space I’d seen.
He pushed the button, and we went up. Just like every other elevator ride, no one looked at each other. Nice to know the big fugly had that bit of humanity still in him. Yates wasn’t really human, but if they could breed with us, the spark was there. At least, this was what I told myself. Because I was counting on it.
We reached the top and exited. No one around. This was a really good sign.
“Where are the masses?” Yates asked in Mephistopheles’ voice.
“I’m sure they’re coming. It was sort of an off day today.” I moved us into the biggest open area. “We’ll wait here for them.”
“There is not much more time,” Yates said. “I grow tired of waiting.”
“Well, while we pass the time until the others get here, why me?”
He looked at Martini. “Leave us and bring the others. My words are for my next vessel only.”
Martini clutched me to him. “Jeff, it’ll be okay.”
He kissed me, not too long, but with a lot of meaning put into it. “Be careful, baby. Please.” He let go of me and moved away. Yates let him go, and I relaxed a tiny bit.
Now it was just the two of us. Alone at last. Me and the ickiest man in the world. I was actually looking forward to the fugly of my nightmares making a return appearance.
“So, Yatesey, you have about, what, an hour to live?”
“Possibly less.” The eyes were still red, so it was Mephistopheles.
“Okay, we’re alone. Why me?”
“You are . . . different. You don’t fear me. I anger you, but you turn that into courage. You, more than any of the others, are the protector, the right one to take up the mantle.”
“And yet somehow you picked Yates last time? Not exactly a protector.”
“He was, once. I searched for one like him for so very long, a charismatic leader without fear. I almost had him many decades ago, but he was sent away.”
“From Alpha Centauri? You went there first?”
He nodded. “It was a more appropriate world for us, much more than this one.” He smiled. It was official—Yates and Mephistopheles both were scarier smiling than when they tried to look threatening. “Soon, we will own this world fully, and I will remake it as it should be. We will have enough power then to claim a better home world, to expand our influence as is our right.”
“Fab plan. So, Yates was actually heroic at one time?” No time that anyone who knew him could come up with, of course, but maybe Mephistopheles had a different perspective. Some people liked Hitler, after all.
“He was willing to do what was necessary to lead his people. That they and others did not appreciate his sacrifices does not diminish them.”
“He was a megalomaniac with a serious racial purity issue. And while money and power is a big deal on our world, we still respect courage and decency more.”
Mephistopheles shrugged. “He corrupted, as you will corrupt, as all leaders and protectors corrupt.”
“I can think of a few who didn’t.”
“Absolute power corrupts absolutely. He chose this path without my help. You will come to see why as well. The more you lead, the more you will learn the truth.” He shifted impatiently. “Where are the masses?”
Distraction time again. “So, Lucifer? Can I call you Lucifer? Lucifer, why do you manifest so damned ugly? I mean, biblically, you should be the hottie of hotties, yet Yates is not the snazziest A-C on the planet, and your manifestation is, let’s be honest, butt-freaking ugly.”
He didn’t answer. No problem. As long as one of us was talking, we were all still alive. Of course, to kill him, I had to get Mephistopheles to appear. This superbeing extermination gig really wasn’t anything close to glamorous or fun. Pity I seemed so good at it.
“See, to me, you should look like Jeff or Christopher. They’re totally hot. All the A-Cs are. And we have human hotties, too, like James, for instance. Any one of them could get any woman or gay man hooked into you instantly. And as for the straight men and lesbians? Jeez, man, pick a chick here and go for it, right? So, again, why?”
Silence, but I thought I saw a little steam coming out of his ears.
“Oh, by the way, did you know that Yates tried to blow me up this morning? I really doubt you wanted him to do that.”
This did it. Yates shimmered, bubbled, and boiled. It was truly gross, like all the werewolf transformations the movie special effects guys love to do, only far more disgusting. In the movies, you don’t get the full smell-a-rama that I was privy to. Yates had carried the odor of walking death, but the transformation smelled like every kind of dung boiled up together and then stir-fried. I managed not to gag, but only because I was revved up more than before a race or sex with Martini.
Mephistopheles burst through Yates’ so-called skin and grew. It was like a Harryhausen film on steroids. He ended up at his twelve-foot range. Nice of him not to try to break through the roof, all things considered.
“Minion, you will accept me!” he thundered. Interestingly enough, Martini was able to bellow a whole lot louder. I allowed myself a moment of possessive pride. I hoped he was keeping his cool wherever he was. I knew what I was doing . . . I hoped.
“Nah, don’t think so.”
He looked at me in shock. “But . . . you have been prepared. Trial by fire. Death of loved ones. Murder. You are ready.”
“Dude, did it really work like that on your original world?” I shook my head. “Trial by fire? C’mon, Mephs. You have nothing on my track coaches. Those people knew from torture. Stair drills when it’s a hundred and twenty-five in the shade. Hill charges during a monsoon. Twenty-mile runs in the desert when you’re a freaking sprinter. You think a couple of fuglies are a match for that?”
Now that the Head Fugly was fully here, I sauntered around. I didn’t want to be in one place too long, just in case. And I was looking for something. Something I hoped someone had placed strategically for me. I didn’t see it yet, but it was, after all, a big room. Mephistopheles trailed after me. I resisted making another Clifford the Big Red Monster comment.
“Murder? Maybe. I don’t count killing your fugly buddies as murder. No one on Earth would. Alien monsters don’t count as having souls to us. They might, but we don’t care. Show us a fugly monster, and we want to kill it. Hell, half of us don’t like spiders or snakes, and at least they’re from around here. No one’s going to say I murdered anything, including me.”
“Beverly was killed by your hand.”
“Yeah, and you should take a
note. She threatened my man. I get really testy about that. Do you know how hard it is to find a man who’s fab in bed, wants to settle down and have kids, and is drop-dead gorgeous, who also happens to be straight? Harder than killing a fugly, let me tell you.” I really hoped Martini was nowhere within view of Mephistopheles.
“Things you loved died.”
“You killed my fish. I don’t know how to break it to you, but I name all the fish the same thing. The Siamese fighter is Carradine, and the guppies are Mickey and Minnie. I’ve had at least twenty Mickeys, about thirty Minnies, and more Carradines than I can count. I don’t love fish, they’re just living décor that requires my attention.”
“They were not the only things killed.”
“Oh, good point.” I was there. Someone had gotten my message. God love them, whoever they were. “Yeah, I’m still pretty pissed about Cox. He represented everything you’re trying to destroy—goodness, decency, bravery, duty—and I’ll never forgive you for killing him. Or Terry.”
“You didn’t know her.”
I looked at him. “Actually, I know her really well.”
He lowered his face to look more directly in my eyes. “How could that be?”
“She’s in my head. And she, like me, really thinks you’re a moron.”
I grabbed the aerosol canisters that were on a table and hidden by a couple of well-placed boxes and sprayed, two handed.
There are those who would question how I grabbed and sprayed correctly without looking away from Mephistopheles, but these would be people who hadn’t used hairspray every day of their lives. I knew the feel of a spray button against my index finger better than the back of my hand.
He grabbed me, screaming, as I sprayed his face. I focused on his eyes, nose and mouth. I was going to run out of aerosol, but I was hitting what I needed to.
“Kitty!” I turned toward the sound to see another can flying through the air. Christopher had a great arm. I wondered if he’d consider a career in professional baseball when this was over. Our team could use him.
I dropped the empty cans and caught the one in the air. He threw another, and I caught that too. I went back to spraying.
I could see the parasite. It was moving toward me, slowly, but with a lot of determination. I knew it was going to do the parasitic lunge soon. It was waiting, though, until I was out or had to catch something.
It was on the back of his tongue, definitely within lunging range. And I was almost out of Ever-Hold.
CHAPTER 62
I HEARD THE BAYING OF HOUNDS. I risked a look to see my dogs barreling toward Mephistopheles’ feet. They were leading the charge, with my parents and most of the other people I knew well right there with them.
It looked like the entire A-C population in the Science Center and a goodly number of the related human personnel were heading toward us. Everyone but the dogs was equipped with aerosols and heavy sticks. Better than guns—there were too many of us to risk the bullets.
The dogs slammed into his feet, causing him to lose his balance. I didn’t want to look down and see someone get squished. I looked back at Mephistopheles. The parasite was quivering. Ready to lunge. “Your people are coming. You might want to stop and say hello.” And, I hoped, good-bye.
Mephistopheles looked at me, the parasite still quivering on his tongue but not moving. “They come to save you. Why?” He didn’t know, I could see it. He was confused by me, by the situation, by all of them.
I felt sorry for him, all of a sudden. “I don’t think I can explain it to you. It involves love and sacrifice and caring. And you’ve never understood those things, have you?”
“There is only survival. And making the world in your image. Nothing else.”
“I wish, I truly wish, I could explain it so you’d understand. So you’d change. People can change, A-Cs and humans alike. But maybe you can’t. Maybe you never could or you’ve forgotten how. And for that lack or loss, you have my sympathy. And my pity.”
“I don’t need your pity.” He was angry again, and the parasite started to move toward me. I was out of spray, and I let the cans drop.
“No, maybe you don’t. You need my soul. But you can’t have it.”
“KITTY!” Ah, that was what a bellow should sound like.
I wasn’t sure what part of Terry had been transferred to me, if it was her or just my own feminine intuition, but as I turned my head, I ducked.
To see Christopher pitching a fastball to Martini. Martini had the bat, and he connected with the ball. It sailed toward us, possibly the best hit I’d ever seen, home run all the way. I ducked lower.
Mephistopheles turned to look as well, his mouth still open. He made an excellent catch, denying the hitter a trot around the bases. I covered my head with my arms.
The explosion was immediate, and I was lucky—Mephistopheles let go. I dropped straight down. And landed in Martini’s arms, just like always. He ran. Everyone was running the other way now, dogs included. “We have to kill him,” I shouted in his ear.
“Stop yelling, I’m not deaf! And, trust me, he’s going to die.”
I looked back. Mephistopheles’ head was exploding, and the explosions were moving down his body. “What did you send into him?”
“High-powered, self-contained nuke.”
“Jeff, that means we’re all going to die.”
“No,” he said as he slowed down. “We won’t.”
“It’s got a lot of Everclear in it, along with our technology. No spread, no afterlife, perfectly safe.” Christopher was next to us. “Did you get the parasite?”
“Sort of.”
“Sort of?” He was shouting. I chose to believe it was because of the explosions. “How the hell are we supposed to be sure it’s destroyed?”
I thought about it and looked up at the ceiling above where Mephistopheles’ head had been. “We have to get up there.” I pointed to the spot where the parasite was clinging. “Or make it come to us. Jeff, put me down.”
He did, unwillingly. “What are you going to do now that’s going to give me a heart attack?”
“You don’t get heart disease, Christopher already told me.”
“I think I’m going to be the first.”
I looked around. “Lorraine, Claudia! Over here!” They came over. “Girls, it’s going to be up to us. I need more Ever-Hold.”
Someone dumped a case at my feet. “Ask and ye shall receive, girlfriend.”
“Thanks, James. Nice to see you.”
Reader grinned. “Nice to be seen. Quite the rave you’re throwing. By the way, all the empaths wanted me to tell you that they got your messages, loud and clear, the first time you emotionally screamed them out, and you didn’t need to keep shouting at them.”
“Oh, duly noted. Next time the world’s in danger, I’ll be sure to whisper my emotions.”
“I wasn’t complaining,” Martini said. “I was too busy wondering if I was in love with a crazy girl or a girl who was crazy like a fox. I picked fox,” he added with a grin.
“Not a lot of time,” Christopher said meaningfully.
I tossed two cans to each girl and took two for myself. “Mom! Need you and a gun, now!”
My mother shoved her way through the crowd. She had her shoulder holster on. “What are you doing?”
“I’m really hoping you’re a sharpshooter.” With that, I ran back to stand under the parasite. Lorraine and Claudia came with me. “Get ready. It’s going to drop, most likely on me. It can’t connect immediately, it needs a few seconds.”
“We’re ready,” Lorraine said, as the parasite dropped down, right toward me.
I wanted to duck or run, but I sprayed instead. So did the girls. But we didn’t have to. Mom shot it fifteen times before it hit the ground. My mother, the Annie Oakley of Antiterrorism. Maybe one day I’d be as good as her, but at least the last few days had been a decent start.
The girls and I sprayed all the parasite parts until they dissolved. Reader had to bring o
ver reinforcement cans, but finally it was all gone, the last bits of the devil incarnate destroyed by things most would say he’d invented himself.
Ironic justice. I could dig it. And it would make a great title for a monthly comic, too.
CHAPTER 63
THE NEXT FEW DAYS WERE A BLUR. Christopher and the top imageers had to spend inordinate amounts of time altering footage, including showing Ronald Yates’ plane crashing in the Nevada desert. There was a lot of mourning for his passing around the world that, strangely enough, wasn’t shared by anyone connected with our group.
My appointment as the head of the Airborne Division was confirmed. I couldn’t tell who was trying harder not to laugh—Reader, my parents, Christopher, or Martini—but I decided not to care. I’d been given the rank of Commander, and that made me equal to the heads of Field and Imageer Divisions. They could snicker all they wanted to—they’d had to work years for it, and it had taken me less than a week. I decided to save that tidbit for when I was angry with them. It would be more satisfying that way.
I brought my resignation in to work, and Reader went with me to clear out my office. We caused quite a stir, to the point where people I’d never met from the neighboring office buildings came by to say good-bye to me, just to get a look at him.
He made sure to let drop that he’d left male modeling because of me and was thrilled I’d finally consented to stop working and run off with him to the Mediterranean so we could make love on the beach every day. Reader was right—if he’d been straight, Martini would’ve really had something to worry about.
My parents offered to let me move back home, at least until I could find a new apartment. But I didn’t want to for a variety of reasons, all of them related to Martini.
I had my pick of rooms at the Science Center, and while moving next to Claudia and Lorraine sounded kind of fun, I still didn’t have a lot of faith in the soundproofing.