by Derek Landy
“But when it doesn’t,” Linda said, “we’ll move on to another threat. And another one after that. You’ll tell us the code eventually.”
“But it’s up to you how much it’ll have to hurt, or how much you’ll have lost, by the time you do,” finished Kelly. “So, one more time … tell us the code or I’ll pull these wires.”
“Okay!” the Party-Monster said, hands up. “Jesus, okay! It’s 4-0-1-5. It’ll beep and a green light will come on.”
Kelly released the wires. “Thank you.”
“So you’re … you’re really a lesbian? And are you a lesbian, too?”
“Afraid not,” said Linda.
The Party-Monster seemed disappointed, then looked at Ronnie. “You ever get involved?”
“I’m not sure you understand what a lesbian is,” Ronnie said, “so we’ll go while you google it.”
The Party-Monster frowned, but Ronnie was already leaving the room, followed by Linda. Kelly desperately wanted to say something clever on the way out, but her desire to leave the smell behind proved somewhat overwhelming. She joined the others in the hall outside, shut the door, and breathed deeply again.
The Party-Monster’s parents stood side by side, waiting for them.
“Are you leaving now?” asked the Party-Monster’s mom.
“Yes, thank you,” said Ronnie, smiling.
The relief that washed over their faces was palpable, and the mother took a plate from the table behind her and held it out. “Cookie?”
Kelly grinned. “Don’t mind if I do.”
OSCAR MORENO’S CAR WAS in his driveway. Virgil and Javier sat across the road in the Sienna.
“What’s wrong with you?” Javier asked.
Virgil frowned at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you’re all surly and bad-tempered.”
“Don’t I have a right to be? This town is infested with evil.”
“Yeah?” said Javier. “So’s Hollywood. You should be used to it.”
“In that house, right now, is a … a monster, who may or may not have already abducted another child in the few hours since this morning. There could be a terrified kid in there right now, and what are we doing?”
“Well, one of us is getting very angry about something.”
“We’re watching,” said Virgil. “We sit in this car, not knowing what’s going on in there, while the other young people are risking their lives to battle the forces of darkness.”
“And?”
“And that’s what I want to do, goddammit. I was investigating all of this fine on my own. I figured out who the Narrow Man was and I was putting it all together, piece by piece. Sure, I was doing it slowly, and I didn’t have all the pieces, but it was building to something. And now here I am – sidelined.”
“Hmm,” said Javier. “I notice at no time during that little monologue did you mention me.”
“Well, forgive me, but as of yet you haven’t done anything of particular note.”
“I was there,” said Javier, leaning in and jabbing the air, “every step of the way.”
“Except the beginning.”
“It’s my face that sonofabitch is using!”
“He probably figured you were done with it.”
Javier sat back, really pissed. “If you’re so determined to get yourself killed, why don’t you go get yourself killed? Why don’t you march in there and search the place for any abducted children?”
“Because they’re right,” Virgil said miserably. “I’m old.”
“And you don’t know what the hell you’re doing?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean you’re an actor, Virgil. You act. You pretend. You do remember that the show wasn’t real, right? You’ve never battled the forces of darkness in your life. You wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Maybe not, but back in the old days—”
“If this had happened back in the old days, you still wouldn’t have known where to start,” Javier said. “These kids are young, yeah, but this is what they do. Let them take care of it.”
“It just … it goes against the grain, you know?”
“Yeah, well, get over it. They’ve got their plans.”
“So you’re not even curious?”
“About what?”
“About why he chose your face.”
Javier hesitated, then shrugged. “He must appreciate fine faces. Probably opened a lot of doors for him.”
“Yeah,” said Virgil. “Maybe. But wouldn’t you like to find out?”
“Of course I would. But I’d like a lot of things.”
“Do you know why you weren’t a bigger star, Javier?”
Javier sighed. “If you mention goats one more time …”
“It’s because you had all these things you wanted, whether it was this relationship or that job or that role … but you were never bold enough to reach forward and take them. You’ve played it safe your entire life, and that’s what’s kept you back all this time.”
“I didn’t realise you knew me so well.”
“I’m a quick study. But it’s never too late to learn to seize the moment, Javier. Seize the moment and take the chance.”
“Cliché, cliché, cliché … This is why you’ve always needed a writer to put words in your mouth.”
“You might fail,” Virgil continued, “you might get rejected or scorned or, hell, even laughed at … but at least you took the chance.”
“I’ve lost track of what you’re trying to talk me into.”
“We have to go in there, make sure the Narrow Man hasn’t snatched another child.”
“That’s insane.”
“How will you feel if we find out there is a kid in there that we could have helped? A kid that we could have saved, if only we weren’t too cowardly?”
Javier sighed. “And will that shut you up?”
“Temporarily.”
“Then I’m all for it, you crazy bastard.”
They got out, zipping their coats up against the cold.
“Do we have weapons?” Javier asked.
“Only our wits.”
“So no, then.”
They crossed the street.
“Let’s sneak around back,” said Virgil.
“Good idea,” said Javier. “Put off our horrible deaths by another few minutes.”
“We’re not going to die,” Virgil said, lowering his voice now that they were passing round the side of the house. “If we’re discovered, we’ll just make something up. We’ll improvise.”
“You’re terrible at improvising.”
“Then you’ll improvise.”
“I’ll ask him if he’s found God.”
“Yes,” said Virgil. “Good.”
“Unless you think the mention of God would set him off? Considering who he works for.”
“Okay, we’ll avoid mentioning God. How about if we’re selling something? Like life insurance?”
“Who’s going to buy life insurance from two old bastards like us?”
“We’re not actually selling it, for crying out loud.”
“Still, though … How about if we’re selling encyclopaedias?”
“Fine, whatever.”
“No one buys encyclopaedias anymore,” said a voice right behind them.
Javier yelled and Virgil’s heart almost burst in his chest, and they spun awkwardly as Oscar Moreno walked towards them.
Moreno was all smiles. “People use the internet to find things out these days. Encyclopaedia salesmen would have been a bad cover, gentlemen, even if I didn’t know who you were. Now, you probably hear this all the time, but … but I am such a fan.”
“We know who you are, too,” said Javier. “And if anything happens to us your secret won’t be a secret any longer. There are people who know where we are.”
“I assure you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re a child-killer,” said Virgil.
; Moreno’s smile dropped a little. “I would ask you to lower your voice, Mr Abernathy. I wouldn’t go to your house and start flinging insults around, willy-nilly. Yes, I’ve killed children. But not exclusively. I’ve killed all sorts of people over the years.”
“Why me?” Javier asked. “Why’d you take my face?”
Moreno smiled again. “I’ve always loved television. TV trained me, in a way. It showed me how to interact with people, how to form relationships … I studied it. My kind, we’re not a social species, but there was always a part of me that wanted … a connection, I suppose. And now I have it. I have a family, because of you and your wonderful show and all the wonderful shows like it.”
“But why me?”
“I came to Desolation Hill a long time ago,” said Moreno. “I was nobody. I was this thing they called the Narrow Man. I had a simple purpose that I fulfilled. And I fulfilled it for many years. But I was missing something. I was missing an identity.
“Then you moved in, Mr Abernathy. I recognised you immediately, even if others did not. We’ve spoken, actually. Twice. I wore different faces each time, so you probably don’t remember me.”
“I meet a lot of people,” Virgil said carefully.
“Of course,” said Moreno, “of course you do. I knew you wouldn’t remember me. I didn’t have a personality back then. I do now. I realised I needed a face to build it around, a face to keep, as my own. Desolation Hill already had its Shroud – so now it needed Ernesto Insidio. It was with this face that I married, that I bought the hardware store, that I assimilated into this town. Mayor Jesper helped, of course, but it was this face that made it all possible.”
“That’s it?” Javier said, frowning. “That’s all?”
Moreno looked concerned. “You were hoping for something else, weren’t you? Something … more meaningful. Oh, I’m sorry. Now I feel bad.”
“That’s okay,” said Virgil. “We got what we came for. Now we know. We better get back.”
Moreno stepped into their path, wearing a look of deep, deep regret. “I can’t allow you to do that, I’m afraid.”
Virgil’s knees began to actually tremble. “So what are you going to do? Kill us? Kill the Shroud and Insidio? Do you really want to do that? Could you live with yourself?”
“You flatter me,” said Moreno.
“I’m sorry?”
“My performance must really be convincing if you believe I am capable of either remorse or empathy.”
Virgil swallowed. “Then … then take us instead.”
“I’m sorry?”
“They took Austin from you. Do you have another kid? If you do, for God’s sake, release him. Let him live. We’re old. If you’re going to kill us, please, give our deaths meaning. Let the kid go.”
“You would do that?” Moreno asked. “You, too, Mr Santorum? You would replace the child as a sacrifice?”
“Well, I … If you only need one of us, I suggest taking him. But if you need both … yeah, I guess.”
Moreno made a surprised sound, deep in his throat. “Very well. And maybe the fact that there are two of you will make up for your advanced age. Quantity over quality, as it were. I accept your proposal. Mr Abernathy, the cellar door is unlocked.”
“Here?” said Virgil. “This cellar?”
“I always move the sacrifice into my own house a few hours before they’re due to die, just in case anything goes wrong. They can scream all they want – no one will hear. If you please …”
Virgil hesitated, but he could see no alternative than to just do what he was told. He gripped both handles and pulled, revealing the steps leading down. He went first and Javier followed, and lights flickered on. Moreno came last, closing the doors behind him.
The cellar was large and wide and clean. Also soundproofed. To their left, there was another set of stairs leading up to a door, presumably to the house itself. On the wall to their right, an array of shackles hung. There was no child down here.
Virgil gritted his teeth. “You don’t have another kid, do you?”
“I have misled you,” Moreno admitted. “I have my rules, you see. It is the town that decides which child shall be sacrificed. If I were to arbitrarily choose another, why would they bother to vote in the future? The process is important to them. The process is everything.”
Virgil and Javier stood shoulder to shoulder. Javier made a whimpering noise, but stayed standing. His right leg was shaking so badly that Virgil worried it might pop off his hip – a not unlikely scenario, it had to be said.
“So now you’re … you’re just going to kill us?” Virgil asked.
“Now I’m going to chain you up,” said Moreno. “And at precisely eleven twenty-four I will come back down and take you to Naberius.”
“Okay …”
“And then he will kill you.”
BENEATH A BLOOD-RED SKY, Amber stepped from the trees into a clearing, the golden leaves crackling under her feet. Balthazar turned to her, his shock of black hair falling over his ice-blue eyes, the sun catching his cheekbones, sharp as blades. Tempest, the woman beside him, was pale, her bronze hair long and tousled, her lips full and her green eyes wide. They clung to each other like the lovers they were, their features perfect, their passion barely contained, and they stood there while the trees stopped swaying and it all went quiet and Amber blinked, saw that she was not in a forest in Montana at all, but merely looking at one, and she stepped back, a peculiar kind of fuzziness working its way between her thoughts. It was a picture – no, a poster, an In The Dark Places poster – on a wall. On her wall, in her parents’ house in Florida.
Amber looked round. Wesley Sterling, the Nightmare Man, stood by her old bed, holding a speargun. It was hot. Bright outside. She was already sweating. That was odd. She looked at her hand, at her small pale hand. Ah, that explained it. No longer a demon. She smelled something cooking. Did she smell it, though, or did she just think she smelled it? Did it matter? Not really. She left her bedroom and walked down the long, long corridor to the kitchen. Much longer than she remembered. Her parents were here, in the kitchen, as was her demon-self. They parted and she walked between them, climbed on to the table and lay with her head beside the salad bowl, waiting to be eaten.
Her dad put his arm round her demon-self. “I much prefer you when you’re like this,” he said. “You’re the daughter we always wanted.”
“Oh, Dad,” her demon-self giggled, and rolled her eyes.
Amber’s mother stepped up, carving knife in hand. “Leg or breast?” she asked.
“Leg,” said her dad, and her demon-self said, “She doesn’t have much of the other.” They laughed the way a family was supposed to laugh, with good humour and warmth. Behind them, Wesley Sterling loaded a spear into the speargun, which was roughly the length of Amber’s forearm.
“This was my father’s,” Sterling said. “Only good thing he ever did, teaching me to use it.”
Nobody else heard him, and Amber ignored him. Her mother carved a slice off Amber’s leg and laid it on a plate. It was white meat, and steam rose off it.
“I don’t want to be eaten,” said Amber.
Her parents turned into demons.
“So?” said her demon dad.
“We don’t care,” said her demon mom.
“We’re going to eat you, anyway,” said her demon-self.
Amber shook her head, started to get up, but a dozen corpse hands emerged from the table and grabbed her, pulled her back down. She kicked and struggled and her mom carved off another slice. The kitchen was gone. They were in the Firebird Diner now.
“Please don’t eat me,” Amber sobbed. “I don’t want you to eat me.”
Her parents had full plates, and they ate with their fingers. When their fangs pierced the white meat, blood ran down their chins, dripped on to their clothes. So overwhelmed were they by the taste of Amber’s flesh that they didn’t hear her sobbing.
Her demon-self leaned over. “I hate you,” she said.
“Please let me go.”
“You’re weak,” said her demon-self. She was wearing Amber’s Firebird uniform. It looked so much better on her. “You’re ugly. You’re pathetic. I hate you so much.”
“I don’t want to die.”
“You deserve it, though. For all your stupidity. Think of the life I could have had if you’d been better. You think I’d have let them fool me? You think I’d have had to run?”
“Help me.”
“Why couldn’t you have been stronger? Why couldn’t you have been better?”
Amber’s demon-self picked up a plate of Amber’s flesh and Wesley Sterling moved aside, allowing her to take it to the booth opposite. Two boys sat waiting. Amber knew them. She knew their names. Brandon. Brandon and Dan.
Her demon-self dropped the plate on the floor.
“You stupid fat pig,” said Brandon.
Dan howled with laughter.
“You clumsy, ugly little troll,” Brandon continued. “You did that on purpose.”
Amber’s demon-self looked back at her, and smiled.
“Oink, oink, little piggy,” said Brandon.
Amber’s demon-self took Brandon’s head off with one swipe of her claws. Dan kept laughing until she pulled his throat out. Blood gushed like a fountain and Amber turned her head away so suddenly that she tore free of the hands holding her. She tumbled from the table, landed on a sidewalk, and it was dark, it was night, and she was alone apart from Wesley Sterling, standing over there with his speargun.
She heard a voice – Kelly’s voice – raised in alarm. Amber got up. She didn’t know this street. Didn’t know the buildings. Didn’t know this alley she was now running into, tripping on unseen things in the shadows. Kelly was ahead of her, but blocking her way out was Amber’s demon-self.
“There’s a toll to get by,” said her demon-self. “One kiss. Just one little kiss.”
Kelly shook her head. “Let me go.”
“I’m paying you a compliment!” Amber’s demon-self roared. “Can’t you take a compliment? Stop playing the victim!”
She slammed Kelly against the wall and pinned her there. “I know you want me,” she whispered. “Not her. Never her.” The whisper was loud in Amber’s ears, as Wesley Sterling walked up behind her. “I can see it on your face.” Amber’s demon-self glanced towards Amber. “Look at her. She’s nothing. You want me. You’ve always wanted me. She’s weak and pathetic and fat and ugly. Admit it. Admit it. You want me.”
