He resented paying anything for the piece of shit room, but he had to live somewhere and you could say guest-watching was his hobby, so he hadn’t complained. You really got to know people if you saw their comings and goings, studied their body language, and listened to what they said and how they said it. An hour earlier, Meredith Granger and the Queen Douchebag’s granddaughter - Little Miss Fancy Pants - had come upstairs. Meredith was a real looker with a great rack - he wished she’d show it off more and wear shorter skirts, but she was too high and mighty to slut it up. He’d watched as she disappeared down the hall with the girl then reappeared a few minutes later and went back downstairs.
Now, half an hour before midnight, he heard the drunken couple before the elevator doors even opened. Peering out the peephole, he saw the porno actress and a guy in a cowboy hat pass by, hanging all over each other. He waited until he heard her door slam shut then took his skeleton key and trotted to 426 - the room next door to Cherry Devine’s - let himself in and put his eye to the spyhole.
She’d picked up a lanky dark-haired guy in jeans and a cowboy hat. She’d already shucked his shirt and boots - and now she stripped the Levis off him like the pro she was. Giggling, she pulled down his shorts then gave his johnson a yank before pushing him onto the bed, still wearing his hat and black socks.
Total porno move.
She did a striptease for him, kicking off her shoes so hard one thunked against the wall near his spyhole. Methuselah jerked to life, as Cherry slowly stripped off the bra, playing peek-a-boo with one boob then the other, then twirled the garment by its strap before letting it fly across the room. Arthur let Methuselah rub against the wallpaper.
Finally, she peeled off her bikini panties, turning to give him a fine view of her ass and bush. She was so close he picked up a whiff of poontang.
Arthur watched it all, until the guy - and Methuselah - splooged. The couple fell back on the bed and Arthur was about to return to his room, when the cowboy - replacing his hat - stood up and approached the dresser. Arthur couldn’t see what he was doing, but he could smell the marijuana as he rolled up a joint. He lit it then went back to the bed. “Toke?” he asked Cherry Devine.
She took a big hit, held it, then blew it in his face. “Nice,” she said. “Got anything stronger?”
Meredith had told her the high desert nights were cool, even in summer, and she hadn’t lied. Holly’s bed was big and comfy with a soft mattress and clean sheets the color of pale butter. She folded back the flowered quilt and one of the blankets, but after twenty minutes, tugged them back up.
After Meredith left, Holly opened all the drapes and windows and turned the slats of the Venetian blinds so that she could let the breeze in and see out without others looking in if they happened to stroll by on the long balcony. From her bed, she could spot a few lights down on Main Street between the branches of the trees dancing in the breeze, and lights here and there dotting the hills. Beyond the town were the bright white and yellow lights of the cement plant in Lewisdale, a town just a few miles north.
Brimstone was as quiet as a tomb, so quiet that she could make out sounds she’d never hear at home, even the occasional whoosh of a car going by out on the highway far below. Now and then a snatch of boisterous voices drifted up from town, but so soft that if not for the pervasive silence, she’d never have noticed them. A horn honked, and an engine revved as a car took off down on Main Street. Then, more silence. Now, propped up in bed with four extra pillows she’d found in the closet, Holly looked around the room. She’d put her clothes in the dresser and set her books in a bookcase built into a wall near the kitchenette. Her prized possession - a Hummel Friar Tuck bank her father had sent her from Germany when she was five - took center stage on the dresser. It made her smile. Peter Tremayne had died when she was six and Friar Tuck was all she had of him. “I miss you, Daddy.” She blew a kiss at the little monk then snuggled down happily with a small stack of reading material - The Haunting of Hill House and the booklets Adeline Chance had given her. She didn’t know what to look at first.
She finally chose The History of Brimstone and began reading about the mining town’s origins. The local natives had mined copper here hundreds of years - at least - before the white man came. There were petroglyphs in the ancient cave dwellings up on Brimstone Peak that indicated they had worshipped a spirit who guarded the copper. When white miners had come, they embraced the copper-guarding spirit, calling it the Brimstone Beast and blaming it for accidents, earthquakes, and disasters.
Intrigued, Holly read a few more pages. In the silence, she heard the elevator ding halfway down the hall, then voices: Cherry and a man. They were drunk. What else is new?
Holly turned back to the book but couldn’t concentrate. Her mother’s laughter and speech pattern didn’t vary as she struggled to open the door across the hall; as usual, she was doing Marilyn Monroe. Holly wished she’d knock it off. It was embarrassing. The guy with her seemed to like it though - men always liked it. Holly sighed, turned off the light, and buried her head under a pillow, drowning out the laughter.
11
Darkness Rising
In her dream, Adeline Chance looked into two burning red pits sparking with blue. There was no face, so they weren’t really eyes, but they seemed to stare back at her. The Beast appeared to be a spirit of darkness, a shadowy elemental demon that sought entrance into the physical realm, but Adeline - and Ike - knew what it really was. She had helped set its master - and it, in the process - to slumber when she was barely more than a girl.
But now it was awake. Adeline. She heard the low voice grumble, felt it scratching at the edge of her mind. Adeline.
After all these years, after nearly a lifetime, he was calling her again, scenting the air. Hungry.
“Addie! Wake up!”
Adeline stumbled out of the Beast’s sinuous mind, opening her eyes to Isaac’s dear, seamed face, lit by moonlight. “It’s awake. He’s awake.”
“No, Addie, you’re awake. You had a nightmare. You kicked me, girl!”
“No, it’s awake, Ike. The Beast. He has woken up.” She sat up, pushed stray gray hairs away from her face.
“You don’t think maybe that quake just gave you the jibber-jabbers?”
She turned on the bedside lamp. “I wish it were the jibber-jabbers, Isaac. I really do.” She sniffed the air. “Do you smell it?”
“Smell what?”
“Sulfur.”
“No, I don’t smell anything but nighttime.”
Adeline saw fear in his eyes, but he would only deny it as he tried to comfort her, so she rose and donned her robe and slippers.
“Where’re you going?”
“Outside. I want to take a look.”
“Addie, it’s cold. How about I make you some warm milk? It’ll help you sleep.”
She shot him a look.
“Sorry. It’s been so long since anything’s happened. Since we were newlyweds. It’s hard to feature it.”
She watched him pull on his own robe and slippers. “I’m glad to have your company. Ike.”
They’d been kids together, then sweethearts who’d married straight out of high school. Not long after that, she and Carrie had put the Beast to sleep, ending his reign of terror over Brimstone. She knew that deep down, Ike remembered and believed. She loved him even more now than she had back when they’d shyly said their I do’s. “Come on, then, Ike.” She started out of the bedroom, then called back, “Best leave the shotgun behind. Won’t do a bit of good.”
Holly wandered in a dank, dark building. It was old and off-kilter, with sagging stairs and cracks in the walls. Dark lumps - bodies - lay scattered throughout the corridors, but she barely noticed them. There were many doors, some shut, some hanging open on darkness. All were rimmed in a cold blue glow, and veins of molten red ran along the edges of the corridor. The dry air smelled of matches; the odor cloyed in her nostrils. She knew she was dreaming but she couldn’t stop it, couldn’t force herself
to wake up. She was strangling on sulfurous fumes.
There was something in the long hallway with her, something darker than the shadows, impossible to see except for occasional crackles of red and blue electricity, but she knew it was there - and it knew she was there. It was trying to seep into her mind; she felt it like a scratching in her brain.
Then a rumbling voice. “Hello, Holly. I’m your friend.”
Suddenly, something jumped onto the foot of her bed, jarring her toward wakefulness. Small and determined, it padded up next to her then walked onto her chest even as the thing in the blue-scaped corridor approached, red dragon’s eyes sparking blue. Terrified, Holly tried to push the small thing off herself, but her arms wouldn’t move; she was still dreaming and the dark thing was nearly on her.
“I’m your friend,” it cajoled in its itching cavernous voice. “Come with me.”
Wake up! she told herself, Wake up! You’re dreaming! It’s a dream. Nothing’s real! Wake up! Wake up! But she remained paralyzed in a terrified half-sleep.
Then the thing on her chest meowed and licked her nose with a sandpaper tongue. A small cool paw patted her cheek.
And Holly came bolt upright, wide awake, her hand fumbling for the bedside lamp, eager to see the cat that had helped her escape the nightmare.
“Kitty, kitty?” She looked under the bed, in the bathroom, and even inside the closet - but there was no cat. Sighing, she got a drink then climbed back into bed. Tomorrow, she’d ask Meredith if there was a hotel cat. Hoping so, she smiled as she turned off the light and curled up on her side. Nightmares were nothing new to her, nor was being aware that she was dreaming - that was something she’d thought everybody did until other kids told her different. She cuddled into her pillow, enjoying the quiet of the room, thinking about how much she’d love a cat of her own, a cat like Fluffy. She relaxed until she picked up the faintest scent of sulfur - then the nightmare clawed into the edges of her memory as if something dark was waiting for her.
She was about to turn her light back on to read the nightmare away when she distinctly felt the cat jump onto the bed again. She stayed very still knowing the kitty must have hidden herself in the shadows when she’d looked for it. Maybe it’s a stray who needs a home. After a time, the feline came closer, then nestled right up against her side and began to purr.
“Nice kitty,” Holly murmured. She fell asleep before she could reach down and pet the cat.
Isaac and Adeline Chance’s neat single-story river stone house was just up the road from the Humble Station. Ike had built it himself, stone by stone; his wedding present to Addie fifty years ago. They had raised their children here and still had Thanksgiving and Christmas with them when they came with their own children - there were even great-grandchildren now. It was a wonderful house, cozy and warm on cold nights, cool and breezy in summer, and although the quake this afternoon had knocked down a few dishes and tilted some framed photographs, the river stone house was too sturdy to allow for any real damage. It cradled Adeline and Isaac Chance, keeping them safe from earthquakes and bad weather and, perhaps, other things.
Adeline heard Isaac coming up behind her in the living room. “Can’t you smell it, Ike? The sulfur?”
“I’m sorry, no.”
“Let’s see what it’s like outside.” She unlocked the heavy wooden door and stepped onto the broad covered porch without turning on the porch light. Isaac joined her.
Not a leaf stirred, nor a blade of grass. The high desert air held a breezy chill and all Adeline could smell now was juniper and sage. No bird sang to the full moon, no rabbit or ground squirrel stirred.
“Too quiet,” Ike murmured. “Hope that quake today wasn’t a precursor to something bigger.”
“I hope not.” Adeline sniffed. “At least the sulfur stink is gone.”
“I was thinking - maybe that quake broke something underground, maybe it opened a mining pit that still had some gas or burning ore in it.”
The slight quaver in Ike’s voice made her uneasy. “Maybe it did at that,” she allowed. “But Ike, the Beast is awake, too. I feel him.” She shivered. “I feel him like I did when I was a girl. Before …”
Ike rested his hands on her shoulders. “Addie, girl, I think we’re too old to be of any interest to the Beast, even if he is awake. Let’s go back to bed.”
She nodded and they locked themselves in their cozy house, and moments later, they sat sipping warm milk at the kitchen table. She stared at the familiar red and white checked oilcloth cover. “It’s been a very long time. I was hoping that he had gone.”
“You’ve got something on your mind, Addie.”
“I do.” She looked up at her husband. “It’s that little girl we met today, Holly.”
“Sweet little thing. She sure did put me in mind of your cousin Carrie.”
“She did at that.” Adeline tried to keep her voice from shaking; no sense stirring up old memories in the middle of the night. “And she has the sight. Just like me. Just like Carrie did. And our grandfather.”
Ike slopped his milk. “Henry Hank Barrow. I hoped I’d never say that name again.” “Carrie was a lovely girl. Tragic.”
“My best friend. Carrie gave her life to save mine. And her little sister’s.” Adeline looked at Ike. “I’d hoped that Holly’s presence wouldn’t start it all up again. But, Ike, I’m afraid it already has. It - he - knows she’s here.”
Ike put his hand over Addie’s. “Let’s get some sleep. No sense worrying tonight. And maybe you’re wrong. After all, it’s been half a century since anything’s happened.”
Again, Holly wandered the first floor of the derelict building. It was lit by moonlight that entered through broken windows edged in the same cobalt glow as the doorways. She peered out a shattered window and saw a few faint lights near a reddish glow far below. That’s Brimstone?
Turning, she continued, refusing to look closely at the sprawled bodies littered on the floor, keeping her eyes on the stuttered path cast by moonlit windows. The corridor turned and twisted as she walked, her hand trailing along the cold cement walls. She knew she was downstairs. She came to an intersecting hallway and saw a heavy planked door hanging open on one hinge. She saw deep claw marks etched into it, saw a rusted padlock, broken. A staircase dusted with cobwebs disappeared into darkness relieved only by a dim red glow somewhere below. Something got out. Something escaped. This she knew with all her heart.
Then, came the scratchy sensation in her brain again. She caught a glimpse of ruby eyes dancing with cobalt sparks. They came closer and a hollow voice as old as time rumbled through her head.
“Holly. Come to me, child.”
The building began to shake.
“Earthquake,” Holly whispered as she came awake. She welcomed the tremors, lying still and calm in her bed until they ended. They were so much better than the dream of the old building and the thing that called to her and tried to get inside her mind.
Then she heard purring and sensed a small body next to hers as she fell back asleep.
In her grand rococo bed, in her even grander rococo bedroom, Delilah Devine gasped and sat up, fumbling for the lamp. She’d been dreaming her favorite dream - she was accepting the Oscar for Violet Morne - then the earth was shaking. And this wasn’t a dream. The whole room, along with the bed, moved again, jerking down and sideways. It was brief but stronger than the earlier quake. Delilah pulled on her robe and rushed to the dining room, where she crawled under the massive oak table and curled up like a fetus, trembling, hugging herself, and wishing she hadn’t sent the Commodore home.
Cherry Devine and Kevin Guitar, in the midst of a three a.m. grope-fest, fell out of bed. “Holy cow!” the man cried. “You made the earth move!”
“I have that effect.” Cherry knew it was just another quake, but was happy to take the credit.
“It’s late as hell. I better get home to the wife before she discovers I’m missing.”
“Wife?” Cherry turned on the lamp.
“Yeah, is that a problem?” Kevin pulled on his Levis.
“No. You got kids?”
“Two of the finest little rugrats in town.”
“Those are problems.” Cherry rose, naked, and handed Kevin his hat. “See you around.”
He had his shirt and socks on, but had stopped dressing, his eyes taking in her curves. “I could stay a little longer.”
“No.” She handed him his boots.
“Yes ma’am.” He stood. “What’ve you got against kids?”
“Nothing.” She opened the door. “But I don’t fuck men with kids.”
“Ah, come on. Didn’t you have a good time?”
“I did. Now go home.” She prodded him out the door, locked it, and fell back into bed.
“Evening,” Michael Granger said to the guy in the cowboy hat coming out of the Brimstone Grand as he walked in. The cowboy nodded and headed straight for a blue Chevy pickup. He tore out of the lot, tires spewing gravel. “Jerk,” Mike said no rancor.
“Thought I’d be seeing you.” Steven Cross picked up a pile of postcards that had spilled off the desk. “Quite an aftershock.”
“Sure was. Who’s that guy that just left?”
“Cherry Devine’s date. Plays guitar over at Darkside Johnnie’s. He’s been here before.” Steve grinned. “He’s a real slut.”
Mike hoped Holly hadn’t seen the guy. “Anything break?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Good.” Mike glanced at the elevator. “Anybody use it since the quake?”
“No. The cowboy took the stairs.”
The switchboard buzzed. “Excuse me a minute.” He plugged in, said, “Desk,” listened then hung up. Turning back to Mike, he said, “That’s the second phantom call from 329 tonight.”
Brimstone Page 8