Tales of the Fallen Book I: Awakenings
Page 5
“See, Chico, you ain’t the first to call me and it’s always the same old story and I don’t really fucking care anymore. Besides, all you had to do was go to a machine at a small grocery store on 5th and 26th and the spell is in one of those temporary tattoo dispensers, you dumbass.” The beast shook his head in disgust at Travis. “So tell me what you want and we can get this shit over with.”
Travis was a little dumbfounded. He knew what he wanted, but that came at the end of his speech. And now he scrambled to run through his entire diatribe in his mind. What did I want? he thought. Fuck! “Well…”
But before he could get anything else out, the giant claw quickly dropped and clamped to his head. Travis soon found himself about two feet off the ground looking directly into the demon’s face, and once again, smelling his lovely, minty breath.
“And let me say this up front, Chico. It had better be fucking good or I’m gonna swallow you whole and let you pass through my digestive system alive. And believe me, there are nasty-ass things down there.” Travis’ eyes were wide with fear and he felt a nice warmth spread down his left leg. “Ever heard of a bunklewart?” Travis tried to shake his head, but since it was held firmly in place by the beast’s grip, he just sort of shook in the air like a ragdoll. “Nasty little bugger. Ate it on a dare a couple millennia ago. Little bastard is still down there. Likes to poke his head out every now and then when I take a dump. Never been able to get him out, though. You do not want to meet him in a dark place. And trust me, Chico, it’s damn dark all up in my hole. Know what I mean?”
Again Travis tried to nod, only hurting his neck in the process. Then the beast let go and Travis fell in a heap on the floor. He quickly gathered his legs under him and stood, brushing himself off.
“You can’t harm me. You serve me,” Travis said only half -believing what he was saying.
“Wanna try that one out?” The demon’s eyes glowed as the corners of his deformed mouth turned upward.
The grin that crossed the beast’s face told Travis that he had received some even more bad information. Shit! he thought. “But I thought if I called you to me you would have to do what I commanded.”
The beast huffed, disgusted. “I don’t have to do shit for you, my man. I can do something for you as a reward for bringing me up out of The Pit, but I don’t have to.”
Travis looked around confused and eventually glanced at the ground at the large circle he had put there to contain the demon. He felt a glimmer of hope. He spent years killing virgins, cremating them and gathering their ashes to form the circle. He waved his hand toward the ring of gray dust. “The Circle of Confinement bids you stay where you were summoned. You cannot…”
But before he could finish the beast dropped to his knees, leaned down and stuck his right nostril—which was about ten times the size of his left—into the circle of virgin ashes. He put all his weight on one knee, cocked his glorious ass in the air and spun himself around a full 360 degrees. It happened in a flash and when he was finished, the entire ring of ash was gone, inhaled deeply into the beast’s cavernous nostril.
“Your ‘Circle of Confinement’ blows, Chico.” And he jumped up, leaned into Travis and said softly while tapping his ash-covered nostril, “Between me and you…some of them weren’t virgins.”
Travis was stunned…all that work.
“But I wouldn’t worry about it,” consoled the demon, “pretty much impossible to find a hundred virgins these days. Shit, even back in the day it was hard to find a good crop of virgins.” The demon struck a demure pose and his voice changed to that of a young woman, “Why I assure you, sir, my yummy bits remain as kosher as the day I was born.” Then he dropped the woman act. “Meanwhile, she just got done spreading her virginal herpes to the entire infield of the 1919 Brooklyn Dodgers.” Then he shook his head sadly. “Women, huh?”
Travis stepped backwards, and kept moving until the back of his legs met the seat of a chair and he collapsed into its worn leather. All that he worked for, everything he had planned for so long…all for nothing. He was devastated.
The beast, seeing Travis’ hound dog expression, slowly approached him. He crouched down, tilted his head and gave Travis a look of concern. Or what he thought was one. His gnarled and lumpy face was hard to read.
“Look… Uh, what’s your name, Chico?”
Travis muttered something.
“What? Speak up, boy.”
“Travis. I said my name is Travis.”
“Well, Travis, what say you and I hit the town? See some sights, maybe a little rape, slaughter some innocents, get a cheese steak…? But between you and me, I say we get the cheese steak first. I’m freakin’ hungry. Whadda’ya say?”
Travis looked up into the demon’s grotesque face. “Do I have a choice?” he asked with a little more than a hint of bitterness in his voice.
The demon moved in close, practically touching Travis’ nose with his own. Or it might have been his cheek or lip—who knows—it all blended together into a lumpy mess. Kind of like head cheese, without the gelatinous goo to give it some shape. “Check your tone with me, little man. I’m pretty easy going, but don’t think for a minute I won’t snap your neck,” he threatened. But then he pulled back and mussed up Travis’ hair. “And besides, play along and we’ll see what we can do about these desires of yours.”
Travis was stunned. “You mean you still might grant me…”
“Ah, ah, ah… We’ll see. Depends on how I feel after we go apeshit out on the town. We have fun, I’ll listen to what you want. But not until then. Deal?”
Travis’ spirits soared. Finally, some hope. “Okay. Whatever you want to do.” He stood, smoothing his clothes. “Where to first?”
The demon stood to full height, put his claw to his chin and adopted a look of serious pondering. “Hmmm. You know what… I would kill for a frappuccino. Is there a Starbucks around?”
Travis let out an amused huff. “Isn’t there always?”
The demon let loose a tremendous laugh that shook the floor. “True dat, my man. True dat.” Then he slapped Travis on the back, almost knocking him to his knees. “Lead on, chico, lead on. But you might wanna change your pants…you pissed yourself.”
Travis blushed with embarrassment.
««—»»
Travis had seen some pretty sick shit. A lot of it had even been at his hands. But right now, the display in front of him was rivaling even the sickest stuff he had done.
The beast sat in front of Travis consuming his fifteenth cheese steak. But Travis wasn’t sure if even one complete sandwich had made it into that atrocious mouth. The remnants of the other fourteen lay strewn in a good three-foot circle around their table. It was a blast zone of soggy bread, slimy, grilled onions and peppers mixed with some low-grade meat.
Dewanal—and you could bet he did too—chomped with glee upon his sandwich. His face, hands and chest glistened with grease. “Holy fucking shit, Travis, it’s like I cum with every bite,” he said, spewing bits of food all over himself, and Travis, and the window, and the floor, and a baby and her horrified parents two tables away who suddenly decided they had someplace better to be.
Travis thought Dew’s—that’s what he was told to call the demon—show earlier at a Starbuck’s was bad enough. The demon had consumed enough lattes, frappuccinos, and espressos to tweak out a small army. Travis had been fine with his non-fat, half-decaf, half soy, mochacino, no whip. Tall. Dew called him a fag while spewing foam from his deformed mouth. Now this…
“Bitch, you need to eat one of these things. I mean seriously, it’s better than sex.” The demon paused, “Well…most sex.” Then he roared with laughter, giving the floor another coat of chewed up food.
««—»»
“So how come I can’t see what everyone else sees?” Travis asked, hoping Dew would let him see the human façade that everyone else saw instead of the mess he had to look at.
“Aw, what’sa matta, baby. You don’t find me pretty anymore?�
�� Then Dew let out an anguished sob and started huffing as if caught up in a deep crying fit. “You used…to think I-I-I…was sexy.”
Travis sat there, jaw hanging open.
“Remember when you used to call me your little pretty pony and ride me all night long? Huh, do you?” cried Dew.
The people in the restaurant who toughed it out during the feeding frenzy stared at the two of them. Everyone likes a free display of drama.
“You were the one who wanted kids, not me. You’re the one who said you’d pull out. You bastard!” Dew shouted, standing and slamming the table with his palm. “You’re the one that did this to me. You ruined me and now you don’t want to fuck me anymore. Well, fuck you, Mr. Man.”
Travis shot uneasy looks at those around him. Even people on the street were looking in the window.
Dew’s theatrics were in full-gear. Tears running down his face, wheezing, trying to catch his breath between sobs. “Well, you just go off to your fucking whore. We’re through and I’m taking you for everything, you cheating bastard.” Dew stood there panting for a second or two, then stormed out, leaving Travis with all eyes focused on him.
Travis slowly stood up and tried to keep his composure while getting the hell out there as fast as he could. He smoothed his jacket, as was his habit, slid the chair through the grease-covered floor into place under the table, gave a slight nod to everyone watching, turned and casually walked out the door.
He caught up with Dew about a block away. “So I take it everyone sees you as a woman?”
“I thought it would be fun,” Dew said somewhat distracted, as if looking for something.
“Nice.”
Dew shrugged. “Strippers.”
“What?”
“Strippers, whores, women. Need some titty in my face. Need to put my log in the fire.”
Travis just stared at Dew, stunned by his eloquence. “Wow,” was all he could say for a minute.
“What? When was the last time you went all raw dog on a bitch?”
Travis stood silent.
“Exactly,” Dew said slapping Travis on the back. “We need pussy.”
Travis started to protest, then stopped, thought a minute. He could stand to get laid. It had been a long time. When he did have sex it was usually part of some rite or ritual and always ended in him covered in blood and shit. Would be nice to just find a hot whore and just have her fuck his brains out.
“Okay, we need pussy. Only problem is, there are no strip clubs or hookers around here that I know of. Kind of a conservative town.”
Dew started to say something, stopped before any words came out, sniffed the air. “Vegas.”
“What?”
“Vegas. We need to go to Vegas.”
“It’s like 2000 miles away. How the hell are we going to get to there?”
Dew smiled—maybe, who knew with that face—and pulled Travis close. “Hang on, baby. Daddy’s just bought us a ticket on the Cooter Caboose.”
Dew raised his arm high in the air and started swirling it around. Travis could feel a shower of energy fall down around them. He had a sudden feeling of complete claustrophobia. The air was forced from his lungs as the energy wrapped itself around him, squeezing tighter and tighter.
He saw it coming like a wall barreling toward his face—darkness—pure, pitch black, scary-as-hell darkness. Then it hit him full-on and Travis fell hard and fast into its cold embrace.
««—»»
Knock, knock, knock.
Travis shot bolt upright in his bed. “What the hell?” he said, panting. He shook his head trying to get the images from a nightmare out of his head. He was wrapped in his sheets, or more like glued to them. His entire body was covered in sweat. He started to struggle with the soaking wet sheets and quickly gave up and just sat in the middle of his bed, dazed and confused.
Travis never had nightmares—never—until just now and man was it a doozie. He wasn’t even sure what had happened in the dream. Just chaos, blood and screaming. And in the middle his wife… She was…that guy… What the fuck? was all Travis could think.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Shit,” Travis said, realizing someone was at the door. He tried to get up and—thud—quickly found himself face down on the floor, the sheets firmly wrapped around his legs. “God damn it!”
Knock, knock, knock.
“Hold on,” Travis yelled. He rolled onto his back and began furiously kicking his legs to loosen the sheets.
Knock, knock, knock.
“I’m coming. One second. Christ!” A couple of more kicks and Travis was finally free. He pushed himself up and spun around trying to get his bearings. He saw his robe, grabbed it, and headed toward the door while pulling it on.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Keep it in your pants! I’m coming.”
Knock, knock, knock.
Travis was getting pissed. He reached the front door, grabbed the handle, turned it and yanked the door open hard. “Son of a bi—”
Travis cut himself off when he saw the two uniformed men standing in front of him. The dour looks on their faces told him something was wrong—very wrong.
“Mr. Burnsfield?” asked the one on the right.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Mr. Travis Burnsfield?”
“Uh-huh.”
The two officers stood there giving Travis an up and down with their eyes. Then they gave each other a quick look as if deciding to continue. “May we come in, sir?” asked the same officer.
“Umm, well… Ah,” Travis realized he was sounding like a babbling idiot, but he was a little stunned to see two cops at his doorstep. He took a second and pulled it together. “Sure. Please,” he said and stood to the side to let the officers in.
He led them to the living room and offered them a seat. Neither took one. Instead: “I think it best if you sat down, Mr. Burnsfield.”
Shit, Travis thought. This isn’t good. So he sat. He didn’t do it because they told him he should. He sat because he knew what they were going to say. Oh, God, he thought, I know what they’re going to say.
The same officer began talking again. “Mr. Burnsfield, your wife…”
No, not Sally…
“Mrs. Sally Burnsfield…”
Oh, God…
“Well, we’re very sorry, Mr. Burnsfield, but there was an incident at the school today.”
An incident?
“At approximately 11:20 this morning a man entered Jefferson Elementary. He worked his way to the classroom of your wife.” The officer paused. He was trying to stay calm and be cool and distant, but Travis could tell he was having a hard time. The other officer just looked at a spot somewhere above Travis’ head, chewing his bottom lip.
“And after entering your wife’s classroom the man pulled a knife and well…” It was as if he suddenly decided that the details weren’t all that crucial right now. “Your wife was rushed to the hospital, but was pronounced dead on arrival.”
The other officer finally lowered his eyes and looked right at Travis who had looked to him as though trying to ask if this was a joke. Finally the other officer spoke, “We’re very, very sorry, Mr. Burnsfield.”
“Yes,” said the first one. “Rest assured we have every officer available looking for this man. And I promise you—”
The words just filled the space between Travis and the officers. All Travis could hear was a loud hum as the officers babbled on—a hum, a buzz, then just static. And then he saw it coming—a wall of darkness barreling toward his face—pure, pitch-black, scary-as-hell darkness. Then it hit him full-on and Travis fell hard and fast into its cold embrace.
««—»»
“Hey, T-man.”
Travis felt himself being shook. “Sally?” he croaked groggily.
“What? No, man. Come on. Snap out of it. We’re here.”
Travis felt a hand gripping his shoulder, shaking him some more. “Here? What?” Travis said trying to get his head to stop spinning.
Travis was finally recovering from the effects of the trip. He looked up and immediately closed his eyes to the assault of light from a million flashing, colored light bulbs. “Fuck!”
Dew looked down at Travis and laughed. “Trip a little rough on ya, buddy? Here…” And Dew touched Travis’ forehead very delicately and suddenly Travis felt fine.
“Damn. Thanks.”
“Uh-huh,” said Dew distractedly. It was obvious his mind had already moved on to better things. “You know what?”
“Uh… Let me guess… Pussy,” Travis said knowingly.
“Ab-so-fucking-lutely. Daddy’s dip stick needs to check some bitch’s fluid. Know what I mean?”
“Well, although masterfully subtle, I think I get your innuendo.”
Dew laughed, “I like you, T-man.” Then he raised his arm and Travis braced himself for a hard slap on the back. But just before the hand reached him, Dew yelled, “Psyche,” and mussed up Travis’ hair instead. “Let’s roll.”
And they were moving. Travis had to laugh; here he was, walking down the Vegas strip next to a demon he had just summoned a couple of hours ago. This is like some sort of fucked up Harold and Maude shit, he thought. He looked up at the abomination next to him and wondered what others were seeing. “What are you now?”
“Huh?”
“What are people seeing you as? Still a woman?”
“Hell, yeah. And you wouldn’t believe the rack I got. And of course my ass is perfect. I’m so hot, I’d fuck me—” Dew looked down at Travis, eyes wide. “—twice.”
“So where are we going?”
“Little place hidden off one of the side streets. Anything goes there. Private parties for special customers.”
“And I take it you’ve been there before?”
“Shit yeah. Lots. Been around a long time. Kind of a traveling sex depot. Just so happens you summoned me at the right time, T-man. Cuz it being here in Vegas makes it even more special.”
“Why?”
“’Cuz after we get done we can go gamble. And, baby, Daddy feels lucky tonight.”