Just one glance and he’d be surrendered to Parin, the gatekeeper of reality and truth. Just one glance and he’d know he’d reached the edge of the universe.
Even with the heightened perception of truth Parin’s possession had brought him, it took a moment for Dawson’s eyes to hone in on what he was looking for and even longer to process it.
Floating out in the sea of colors and light, tethered to the ship by an umbilical cord of oxygen and static, bobbed Commander Dawson himself. He smiled through the open mask of the spacesuit, as though the absence of oxygen was no more a hindrance than running out of clean underwear two days before laundry day. Why he’d even bothered to wear the suit, Dawson didn’t know, but it also seemed right to him. As strange as it was to see his own body awash in the cosmic sea, it didn’t trouble him in the least. Not anymore.
And when the great and terrible face of Parin filled the colored landscape with an insane grin, Dawson knew it was all over, and that was just fine.
The other Dawson, the one outside the ship, pointed at his wrist. "Do you know what time it is?"
Dawson looked down. The digital face of his wristwatch smiled at him while the ship tumbled over the edge of the universe, into the face of God.
AMSTERDAMNED
Mitch Richmond
I wasn't quite sure what to think of this one at first. Most short story writers go for the crescendo-approach, where things build up into this great orgasm of action or dynamism or what-have-you. "Amsterdamned" isn't like that and, I'll be honest, I missed it initially. This is the definition of slow-burn, where you realize there was a vicious sting only after you come to the end of the story. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised, then, when I discovered he'd won Writer's Journal's Science Fiction & Fantasy contest in 2010.
A red, incandescent bulb hung from the cracked plaster ceiling. The harsh glow bathed the girl in the window in a wash of glaring crimson. On the other side of the glass, the feeble sunlight of the cloudy evening sky barely penetrated the gloom of the narrow alley that was home to the girl’s den.
As her dark gaze settled on the trio of gawking young men standing on the cobbles of the alley, the girl’s mouth curled into a smile. There was little question as to the nationality of two of the boys. The t-shirts, blue jeans, and converse gave them away as surely as if they’d been wearing American flags draped across their backs. The third, a slight, young Indian dressed in an insulated jacket, despite the warm summer weather, and carrying a great suitcase with an old fashioned trolley, seemed out of place in their company.
Breath quickening and nostrils flaring, the girl in the window came closer to the glass as the two Americans erupted into a fairly heated argument. The lean one in the black t-shirt with longish, rumpled hair and an intense look about him was shaking his head and kept turning to look towards the mouth of the alley as if seeking an escape route. He shifted his gaze back towards the girl and their eyes met. There was fear there and… something else, something she could not quite put her finger on. His large, stocky friend tugged at his arm and the eye contact was broken. The two began to speak back and forth, their faces angry, their hands gesticulating wildly. The larger American tossed her hard, covetous looks throughout the exchange. Ignoring the two who were arguing, the third stared in her direction, his eyes never rising above her neck. The girl bent her head forward, lowering her gaze to meet the eyes of the dusky-skinned Indian. When their eyes met, the Indian's face screwed up in confusion. She did not like the way that he seemed to be studying her. He mouthed something aloud that caused the Americans to stop arguing. They glanced at him, and then turned back towards her.
Shifting her stare quickly back to the lean one with scared, yet vibrant, eyes, the girl in the window poured desire through their shared gaze. She ran her tongue across her full, red lips. Yes, this was the one, she thought to herself. He would do nicely. Her smile grew broader as the larger American shoved his friend forward.
*****
"Come on," Sean said, pushing Aaron towards the chipped door beside the large window. "Forget, Rishi. He doesn't know what the hell he's talking about. She's the one for sure."
"I do not know, my friends," Rishi said, staring at the girl with a confused look on his face. "There is something about her that I do not like."
Sean just snorted. "Whatever, man. Ever since you latched onto us in London, you've been staring at every girl as if you could see right through her clothes. Now you're going to tell us something's wrong with that ridiculous hottie?"
"I don't know, Sean," Aaron said, glancing around the alley. "It's not even night yet. Maybe we should come back later."
"Quit stalling. You just want to get stoned and hope I forget all about the plan. You remember the plan, don't you? The one we agreed to at the Tavern back at school."
"I was hammered," Aaron protested, trying to shake off Sean's hand. "I barely even remember…"
"Save your excuses," Sean interrupted. "Don't think that I don't know what this is really all about. You don’t want Dana to find out."
Aaron’s eyes narrowed and he glanced over. "We’re not seeing each other anymore. You know that." It was true. They had officially broken things off halfway through Aaron’s first year at Penn State. The long-distance thing was just not working out.
"We’re roommates, man," Sean scoffed. "I know you call her just about every day and the two of you are constantly texting. There’s no way you go home on the weekends just to see your parents or your brother or even that gigantic mutt of yours."
"So what," Aaron said dismissively. "We talk a lot and hang out when I’m back in town. Things are different between us now."
"Then what’s the problem?" Sean shook his head and gave Aaron an intense look. "I’m telling you, Dana is a dead end. She’s stuck in that lame, little town with her train wreck of a family, her pathetic job, and those loser friends of hers."
"Dana and I are just hanging out." Aaron thrust his hands out to the side, frustration etched on his face. "We’re going in different directions. We both know that."
"Exactly. We’re going off to Manhattan after school. Our lives are going to be like a freakin’ sitcom. And Dana…Man, she’s going to turn out like all the rest of the rejects who stay in that town. Fat, worn out, and miserable." Sean gestured towards the girl in the window. "So, there’s no issue, right? We’re going to do this thing tonight."
"Sure, whatever," Aaron tossed out offhandedly, his thoughts traveling back across the ocean. Sean started to prattle on about how the transaction was supposed to go down based on something he had read online. Aaron tuned him out.
Sean was right about one thing. Dana was content to stay in their small hometown with no apparent interest in the wider world. She worked the register for Duncan, the town’s sole tattoo artist, and hung around with a bunch of new friends. That gaggle of losers that she spent her time with these days had been the freaks in high school, unpopular misfits who were never invited to any parties or frequented the usual hangouts. Instead they haunted the lame, independent coffee shop and used bookstore with its big occult section. Despite their unpopularity and low standing on the high school social ladder, that crew had always seemed to possess some sort of vaguely superior air, as if they knew something no one else did.
Since Aaron had left for school, Dana had grown closer to this crew of outcasts. She started wearing lots of black clothes, getting tattoos, and listening to obscure bands that were lucky to draw a dozen fans to their shows. And that weirdo Duncan, the unofficial leader of the freaks, was even teaching her how to be a tattoo artist. Unbidden, Aaron’s hand rose to rub at his chest just above his heart.
"Uh, friends?" Rishi appeared before the two. "You are about to lose your chance. Although I am thinking that might be a good thing."
Looking up, Aaron saw a smallish, pale guy moving towards the door. Sean jumped forward and steered him aside.
"Get lost, buddy," he said giving the guy a shove. "This one's occupied."
Rishi moved between Aaron and the window. "Friend Aaron. I am thinking that you are right. We should move on." Rubbing his hands together, a covetous smile replaced the look of consternation on Rishi's face. "Perhaps we should go back for more of… What do you like to call it? The chronic?"
Aaron gave Rishi a confused look. The weird, little guy from India had approached them at a pub during their one-day stopover in London. Apparently, he'd ditched his tour group because they were boring nerds. Wearing every article of clothing that he owned, he spoke about prostitutes, booze, and drugs in a reverent, almost worshipful manner. Aaron and Sean had instantly found him amusing. So much so that they had allowed him to talk his way into coming with them to Amsterdam. It was odd that he was balking now. He had been nearly as ardent as Sean in seeking a girl.
"I do not think that is the right one, my friend." Rishi's eyes narrowed slightly as he looked back at the shapely, dark-haired girl in the window.
"What are you talking about?" Sean was back, dismissing Rishi with a glance and turning to Aaron with a crooked smile on his face. "That is exactly the kind of girl we're looking for. She’ll make you forget about Dana quick enough."
Aaron grimaced. "I told you. It’s not about…"
"Yes it is," Sean interrupted. "I know that’s the whole reason you’re trying to back out of this deal. Listen, man. I wasn’t going to say anything because I didn’t want to ruin the trip for you, but before we left, Heather told me that she heard Dana was seeing someone else."
"Bullshit," Aaron scoffed with a certainty he did not feel.
"It’s true," Sean said with a smirk, turning back to the girl in the window. "Some tattoo dude at that dump she works at. A guy named Duncan or something like that."
Aaron stared back at the girl in the window. His hand went up to rub absently at his chest.
*****
Looking out through her window, the raven-haired girl locked eyes with the young man now staring at her from the street. She watched as he took a step toward the door leading to her bedroom, his large friend calling encouragement. Then he hesitated, pulling his hand back from the door handle at the last moment. She gave him an encouraging nod, casting a look of intense desire his way. It was not wholly feigned. The guy was young and cute, not like most of the slobs that she had to spend time with, weak-minded, lecherous fools who pawed at her with sweaty hands. Yet, this life was the best way to feed her need, a need that called to her desperately. She stared hard at the young man again, giving him a suggestive wink. He reached up, grabbed the handle, and opened the door. A dark smile graced her face as the girl in the window went to meet her customer.
*****
Lying back on the thin mattress of the girl’s bed, Aaron’s heart thudded in his chest. Her room was small and sparsely decorated. The paint on the walls and ceiling was old and peeling. A faint, spicy scent hung in the air. This is a bad idea, he thought to himself. Aloud, he said. "Hey, listen… I think …"
"Quiet," purred the girl.
Dressed in skimpy lingerie, she stood at the foot of the bed staring at him. One long finger tapped at her chin, the crimson hue of the nail matching the color of her full lips. Her dark eyes stared boldly, making him squirm beneath her piercing gaze. Lowering herself catlike to the bed, she crawled forward, her eyes locking him in place.
"Look," Aaron began, his voice somewhat unsteady. "I think I made a mistake. I’ll pay you, I just…"
"Silence, boy!" The girl’s voice grew deeper. She tossed her head and her long, dark hair flew about her shoulders. When her gaze settled on Aaron once again, he found himself staring into inhuman eyes with long, narrow vertical pupils set in dark amber irises. Beneath her small, straight nose, the girl’s jaws had elongated and thrust forward, the upper and lower canines in her mouth grown long and curving. Bony, sticklike objects seemingly wrapped in leather sprouted up from her back, framing her head like goal posts.
Eyes wide, paralyzed with uncomprehending fear, Aaron could only stare at the monster sitting over him. A flitting thought crossed his mind that he was hallucinating. Too much pot--maybe Sean had even slipped him a pill or something. Aaron had a momentary fear of reacting too much to what he was seeing, of making a fool out of himself. The girl-thing above him licked a long, red tongue across her fangs and glistening slobber struck Aaron in the face, dashing all thoughts of hallucinations. No, this was real. This was actually happening.
"Lie still, my pretty," the thing’s voice was distorted and difficult to understand with her protruding jaws and the mouthful of oversized teeth. She raised one hand, the nails grown long and thick, not unlike the talons of a bird of prey. "And try not to die too soon. Life tastes so much better when seasoned with pain and terror."
One taloned hand pinned Aaron’s head to the bed with an undeniable strength while the nails on the other caressed his cheek. The girl leaned in, her slit-pupil eyes boring into Aaron’s. The incongruous aspects of feminine beauty and horrifying monster flowed together in some bizarre way in this creature, making her sensual and terrifying at the same time. Nails dragged down from Aaron’s cheek to his neck, lightly pressing against the pounding artery along the side.
"Not just yet, darling," purred the creature atop him. "The bleeding, the pain, the screams will all come in due time." She gestured with her hand in a circle about the room and air wavered and rippled.
"Don’t worry, love. No one will hear you." The talons slid lower, tearing through his t-shirt as if it were tissue paper, yet only lightly scratching his skin. "We are safe in here, you and I. And when I’m finished, there will be nothing left to …"
A sudden flare of blinding pain ripped through Aaron’s chest. He was sure his heart had been torn through his ribcage and was now clutched, bloody and throbbing in the she-devil’s hand.
Gasping, the creature pulled back, her arms crossed before her protectively. The sticklike objects behind her back flared out, leathery skin stretched between them to form bat-like wings.
"You are warded," she hissed, her eyes staring down at the swath of Aaron’s chest bared by the torn shirt.
Following her gaze, he saw that the tattoo Dana had given him, the first one she had ever done, was visible beneath the shredded fabric. It was a simple enough design, a rune within a pyramid within a circle, all the same flat black color. Yet now, the ink appeared to quiver slightly, somehow seemingly floating a hairsbreadth above his skin.
"Are you of a coven?" the girl-thing growled. "Why did you say nothing? Even after I revealed myself to you?"
Aaron looked on in confusion as the creature stood up and slowly transformed back into the beautiful, young woman that she had been moments before. She paced for a moment in frustration, then turned back to face him.
"No. There is something within you, but no true talent." The girl glared, her hands on her hips, the wings beginning to shrink and fade behind her. "The ward is raw, but rife with power. Why one of a coven would work such craft on a careless fool like you is beyond me. Tell your master or mistress, whomever they may be, that I seek no conflict with them. I only wish to feed on undesirables, according to the Pact."
Aaron was still unable to move, the girl’s words a jumble of meaningless nonsense in his ears. His mind screamed at him to run for the door, yet he could not move a muscle.
"Boy?" the girl barked at him. She was wholly normal now, nothing remaining as testament to the horror she had been. "Are you listening? Do you heed my words?"
Sudden life seemed to flow throw Aaron’s veins. It was as if he had just woken from an unexpected nap. Now able to move, Aaron scrambled from the bed. He grabbed the handle of the flimsy door and pulled to no avail. It was stuck fast and as strong as if nailed to the frame.
"Humans," the girl snarled. "Go then.
Yet, be forewarned. The magic in you from the ward I tripped yet lingers. You will … see things." A dark smile pulled at her lips. "I would strongly suggest that you ignore them and forget about what happened here. You’re likely to end up in an insane asylum or a rehab if you go spouting about demon whores and monsters in the streets of Amsterdam."
The girl made a lazy gesture and the door opened in Aaron’s hands. With one last wide-eyed glance back at the girl, he fled into the alley. Sean and Rishi were nowhere to be seen and night had fully fallen. Where had the time gone?
Times different in the in-between, a disembodied voice whispered, neither male nor female. His tattoo--ward--throbbed once, as if it had been the one who'd spoken.
Stumbling, Aaron ran back into the open of the city. His senses were assaulted by the pungent scent of the stagnant canals, mixed with the stenches of unwashed human bodies, vehicle exhaust, frying food, and raw sewage. Beneath it was an undercurrent of something worse, something fetid and rotten, reminding him of the time he had found a dead raccoon in the woods near his house. The canals were filthy and stinking, full of debris that floated on the greasy surface, hinting of darker, shadowy things beneath. The profusion of flowers on the houseboats could not hide the reek of this city and reminded him of bouquets surrounding a corpse in a funeral home. Dark, eerie buildings loomed over the streets, holding ancient secrets of death, betrayal, and sordidness. Thrill seekers, drunks, addicts, and perverts, locals and foreigners alike, roamed the streets; all seeking escape from their miserable lives. And there was worse. For Aaron’s eyes seemed to be truly opened, seeing far more than just a darker side of the city.
Aaron stood transfixed, eyes wide and staring. Throngs of people filled the streets. Most were normal looking. Yet some were straight out of dreams and nightmares. A pair of impossibly beautiful girls with alabaster skin, silver hair, and red eyes strolled by arm in arm. A biker with great, shaggy sideburns, long, thick hair covering his arms, wolfish features, and baleful amber eyes leaned against the wall near the entrance to a tavern. A normal man walked hand in hand with a being formed wholly of glowing light and swirling mist. Shapes flew above the streets and high in the sky, some as small as bats, others larger than a man. As a tall, willowy couple passed Aaron, they both grinned, revealing long, sharp upper canines. They laughed as an involuntary whimper escaped from Aaron’s lips.
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