by Edward Lee
Jane grit her teeth. "No."
"You'll believe ... if you look at me."
"No! You're hypnotizing me-"
"Very well." The man was smiling gently. "The icon will be hidden in some dark place, below ground, a basement, a crawlspace or a conduit-"
"Of course. How creepy!" she mocked.
"Because its owner exists in dark, low places."
"Fine." She thought about it and thought about it. Maybe I should let him go with me, find this thing, and be done with it. She kept feeling like she could trust him, without knowing why. "I have to go to the bathroom," she said, distracted.
"Right over there," he told her and pointed.
She got up hesitantly and looked around at the dilapidated accommodation. "I mean-there aren't, like, roaches and rats in there, are there?"
Another smile. "No. I evicted them all personally. I told them that if they expected to stay, they'd have to split the cost of the room with me."
Jane spared a laugh and went in. Actually, Dhevic had cleaned the bathroom quite well-that or the housekeeping staff, but Jane doubted that this motel even had a housekeeping staff. She sighed and looked at herself in the mirror over the sink. Her eyes had dark circles; she was tired, worn out. All the more reason to get this over with, she thought.
She stiffened at a skittering sound. Roach, probably. The things made her hair stand on end. Forget about going to the bathroom and just leave, she suggested, but a morbid curiosity seized her.
The skittering came from the bathtub behind her. She pulled back the shower curtain and, indeed, saw a large palmetto bug roving around near the tub mat.
But that's not why Jane nearly had a heart attack.
Lying on top of that rubber tub mat was a slim naked woman with her throat cut. Jane's feet felt nailed to the floor. The woman was young, with long flowing mocha hair, her mouth agape in death.
At the end of the tub sat a pile of clothes. Jane recognized the colors at once: the light-blue shirt and the slate-blue shorts. A post-office uniform. And that's when she knew who she was looking at; it was Doreen Fletcher, one of her newest employees.
Carved on Doreen's chest was the likeness of a bell with a star-shaped striker.
Jane sucked in her scream. She popped open the narrow bathroom window, crawled out, and ran.
There was no time to think. Her biggest fear was that her heart might begin to fibrillate from the shock of what she'd seen. The car, the car, she thought manically. What if Dhevic was waiting for her? Fortunately, she'd parked toward the end of the motel, in front of the office. When she peered around the corner, her car remained, and there was no sign of Dhevic.
She took a chance, jumped in, drove away with her foot to the floor.
Police, police, police, came the next staccato bursts of thought. Steve, I've got to find Steve. She could pull over right now and call him but she didn't want to stop. It would only take a few moments before Dhevic realized that she was gone-and what she'd seen and he would be after her. She pulled off the main road onto a side street, cutting across town. There was a county sheriff's station just up the road. I'll be safe there. I can call him from there-
But the rest of her thoughts severed.
Hands were on her from behind.
Rough hands first cupped her breasts, then slid up to her throat. Now she truly believed her heart would stop.
Dhevic's right behind me, in the back seat...
But as the hands tightened, her terrified eyes shot to the rearview mirror, and that's where she saw the face.
Not Dhevic's face at all.
It was the face of Aldezhor.
Suddenly ghosts of the fallen angel's hands were covering her own on the wheel. She heard a chuckle and a whisper, felt the faintest kiss at the side her neck, then a foul hot tongue licked her skin.
She heard words not in her ears but in her head.
You will not foil me. And you will not challenge my servants.
The hands were forcing Jane's to steer to the side- The arrival of the Messenger is at hand...Jane's car thudded over the curb, plowed down into a ravine, and collided with a yard-wide oak tree.
Chapter Twenty-two
I
Jane awoke in a fog, the most obscene nightmares tittering at the fringes of her memory. Had she awakened to the sound of a bell?
She raised a hand to her throbbing head, felt a fat bandage there. When her vision cleared she noticed with some shock that she was in a hospital room.
What happened? Her memory was a blank.
"Hi, Jane."
She looked aside and saw the smiling Dr. Mitchell peering back at her through his circular spectacles. He was holding a clipboard.
Steve stood worriedly beside him, holding Jane's hand.
"Don't worry, you're going to be okay," Steve said.
"What happened?"
"In clinical terms," Dr. Mitchell answered, "you have a minor orbital concussion and sequent but extraneous abrasions."
"In not so clinical terms?" Jane asked.
"You dumped your car into a ravine off of Craker Avenue, banged your head pretty hard. One of my patrol units spotted you and called an ambulance. Jane, what were you doing out there?"
She felt bewildered. "I...I don't remember."
"A retrograde amnesic effect, Jane," Dr. Mitchell said. "It should pass in twenty-four hours, and so should the blurry vision and grogginess. If symptoms persist, though, call me."
"I think you should stay the night," Steve said.
"No, I don't feel that bad, just a little light-headed." She winced in frustration. "I just...wish I could remember what happened. Is my car-"
"Totaled, I'm afraid," Steve said. "We towed it into town. And the kids are fine; I posted a female officer at your house to look after them. Christ, Jane, I was worried."
"Well I still am! What the hell was I doing so far away from the post office?"
After Dr. Mitchell had released her, Steve took Jane home to his house. She wanted to talk about what happened, but the frustration just kept overwhelming her. "Why can't I remember anything?" This is just so aggravating.
"You heard the doctor," Steve said. "That smack on the head gave you a temporary loss of short-term memory. But you gotta do what they say, get some rest, take it easy for a few days."
Sure, she thought. Take it easy. Gimme a break. She couldn't remember anything. But in a moment, her eyes widened as a single memory popped into her mind. "Steve...I think."
Steve brought her some coffee to the kitchen table. "What? You remember something?"
"Dhevic," she whispered. "That's where I was."
"Dhevic? Where is he?" Steve stood poised at the information. "How did you get there?"
"He...left his address the day he came to my office."
"We've been trying to find out where he is all week, but- Why did you go there? I told you the guy's dangerous!"
"I had to talk to him. There were so many things he's said, things that were too uncanny. There was no one else to ask, Steve. But when I got there ..."Jane closed her eyes, struggled to remember.
The next flash of memory slapped her in the face. Her new employee, Doreen, lying naked and dead in Dhevic's bathtub. "My God, Steve, I remember now. You were right-"
"What?" He was leaning over, intent. "What do you remember?"
"There... there was a dead body in his bathtub, one of the girls who works for me. Her throat was slashed and ... she had that bell-shaped symbol cut into her chest-"
"Jesus Christ!" Steve exploded. "I told you he's the guy behind all this! You're lucky he didn't murder you too!"
"I got out through the bathroom window before he could get to me."
"Where's he staying?"
Jane gave Steve the slip of paper; he snatched the phone. "Dispatch, this is Chief Higgins. We finally got an eyewitness for capital murder against Alexander Dhevic. Send all units ten-six to the Palms Motel on thirty-fourth Street. Arrest Dhevic on sight, multiple homicide. And put out a state-wi
de all-points." He paused to ask Jane: "Any idea what he's driving?"
She'd seen that, too, hadn't she? The big SUV right in front of his motel-room door. "A Ford Explorer. It was silver. I know the make and model because I almost bought one once."
Steve piped the vehicle description to the dispatcher, and he hung up. Then he hugged Jane. "I'm sure he's not dumb enough to be anywhere near the motel now, but at least we can take him in when we find him."
"Where do you think he'd go from there?"
II
It was almost as if the woods conspired against him. Dhevic's footsteps crunched through heavy thicket; fallen branches snapped like firecrackers. He knew he had to be very careful now; he'd avoided the main road and came in through the other side of town, on foot. They'll be looking for me, he realized.
He wasn't terribly worried though. He knew that his Lord and Master would protect him.
Where is it? he thought. Had he lost his sense of direction? It should be coming up any second.
His hand reached out and pushed away some branches...and there it was.
The west branch post office sat alone in the moonlight. Dhevic looked for signs of police, saw none, then jogged to the building, using shadows for cover. There were no cars in the lot-would there be maintenance people here this late? I'll find out real soon, he thought. He opened a tattered briefcase, extracted his lock picks, and was in through a back door in little more time than it would take to open with the key.
Dhevic stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
III
The coffee was helping her feel better, even after the grisly recollection.
"You're right, though," she said at the table. "I'm sure he would've left the motel once I got away."
"Sure, but now that I've got an APB out-plus your description of his vehicle-every cop in the county is going to be looking for him. There's no way he can get away."
"God, I hope you're right."
"Relax, I am right." He poured more coffee for them both, then grabbed the phone again. "Let me call in and get a status report."
Jane went to the kitchen sink while Steve was on the phone. She needed some cold water in her face. It livened her, as she'd hoped, but it also sharpened the images of her memory: Doreen in Dhevic's bathtub. She could hear Steve talking in the background.
"Yeah, dispatch, it's Chief Higgins again. I need a status report on that APB."
IV
The strong flashlight beam roved over the darkened aisles, feeders, and collators. Just doesn't feel right up here, Dhevic thought. It would be an easy vibe. He spotted a door, hoped it led to the basement, and when he opened it, he was right. The only problem, now, was going down there.
I better not be afraid of the dark...
His stomach flipped when he began to step down. The darkness was so complete, it seemed to soak up half the flashlight's power. Downstairs was a clutter of shelves and storage bins. Columns of stacked boxes, in the shifting darkness, looked like men standing in wait.
He was scared, yes, but when his head began to hurt, he knew he was getting close.
There, he thought.
The beam hovered over a crawl space.
Dhevic got on his knees and began to crawl in.
V
Jane walked to the window in Steve's dining room, still playing over her thoughts. She didn't know where to start, what to do next; too much had happened for her to assess anything with any logic. "Good work," Steve was saying into the phone in the kitchen. "I can't believe it. And he had some of Doreen Fletcher's clothes in the car with him? That's rock-solid."
Jane's eyes widened.
"I can't believe we got him so fast," Steve said. "That psycho son of a bitch. Book his ass and put him in the detention center. I'll be down shortly."
Steve hung up. "Jane, great news. One of my mobile units arrested Dhevic a few minutes ago. He was heading for the interstate-"
Then Steve's look of confidence corroded into a frown of failure. He was looking directly at Jane.
Jane had the dining room phone to her ear. She slowly lowered it.
"Really? And who told you that? The dial tone you've been talking to the whole time?"
"How did you know?"
"I never specifically told you it was Doreen."
Steve sighed. "Smart girl, stupid me. But I kept you strung along long enough."
Jane's heart felt like it was twisting in her chest. "Why? You've been lying about this whole thing from the start? Why?"
Steve smiled sheepishly. "Well, not from the start. Just a few days ago, actually. When I met the Messenger."
VI
The crawlway was hot; cakes of dust stuck to the sweat on Dhevic's hands and face. A panel at the end of the cubby was pushed out, leaving a maw of utter black. Would a Rive be waiting for him? I'd be able to see it, he thought. Or at least I hope so.
It was hard to remain fearless; nevertheless, he crawled right up to the stinking opening and reached in.
What would he do if something reached back?
He closed his eyes and felt around. Yeah, if they'd used the striker to open a Rive, I'd definitely know by now.
There was nothing.
Then his hand landed on something: A box.
Don't count your blessings, he told himself. He pulled the box out. It was just a standard cardboard shipping box, oblong in shape. Its flaps stood open; Dhevic shined the flashlight in, and...
My God. This is it.
The iron striker of the Cymbellum Eosphorus lay at the bottom of the box. Dhevic grabbed it, kneed backward until he was out of the crawlspace.
But when he stood up and turned around, he could plainly see that he was no longer in the post office.
VII
Jane shrank into the corner. I guess this is it, she thought with amazingly little fear. This is the end.
"I was looking around in your west branch the other day," Steve said, "just looking for any clues or evidence, anything that might give me a lead as to how your employees all became connected to a cult, and, well, I found it. I found it in the basement."
VIII
The Rive opened before Dhevic's eyes. He was standing at the threshold, that narrow strip of anti-reality that exists between two worlds. To his back was his own world, to his front a byway to the abyss.
Dhevic looked across the blood-red sky, saw the black church in the pestiferous valley. Tall pale things encroached, tumid sex organs swinging at their groin, enlarged fruitlike heads, stick-thin limbs, all showing black veins beating beneath translucent-white skin.
Dhevic stepped back. Can they cross? he wondered, face glazed by sweat. Does the Rive allow them to cross from there...into here?
"No, but you can cross from here to there," a voice informed him from behind.
Hands latched on to him; Dhevic couldn't jerk loose. The striker fell to the basement floor and rolled away. Chuckling and shrieks of glee resounded about his head. Dhevic was turned in place, forced to glimpse his attackers: all human, all dead. Martin Parkins, Marlene Troy, Sarah Willoughby, Carlton Spence, and others he didn't know. Inhuman traits
had infused into their features-this close to the netherworld-tiny horns sticking out from their foreheads, grins full of fangs. The clawed hands gripped Dhevic as surely as chains.
Sarah and Marlene and several other women were nude, breasts gorged from excitement, nipples erect. As the men held Dhevic upright, the women's hands caressed Dhevic's groin.
"Get his pants off," Sarah urged.
"Let's get it out," Marlene panted. "I want to bite it off."
"Save that for the spermatademons," Carlton Spence ordered, gesturing with his eyes toward eager things that waited just across the threshold.
Dhevic was turned about again; a hand clenched in his hair pushed his face out, a half-inch away from the plane. Beyond, the pallid creatures slavered for him, some male, some female, some both. When Dhevic's head and shoulders were pushed fully through, bone-thin ar
ms wrapped round his neck and puttylike lips sucked onto his. The cold demonic tongue
pushed through his teeth then dropped like a live snake to the bottom of his belly.
More claws grabbed him and pulled him all the way through.
He was laid out on steaming earth, his shirt pulled open, evil fingernails scratching crimson threads into his flesh, forming a campanulation.
The figures huddled around him, intently kneeling. When his genitals were touched through his slacks, they withered from revulsion. The tongue was retracted from his gut and then a penis like a foot-long maggot was thrust before his face. Dhevic squirmed.
Does a child of God go to heaven if he dies in hell? he wondered. He closed his eyes, to shut out the grinning, primeval faces above him, and then he muttered the first intercession to come to mind, from The Gospel According to John, " 'God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them. There is no fear.'"
The sudden cannonade of shrieks threatened to implode his eardrums. The monstrous hands flew off him, the equally monstrous bodies crawling away on their knees in total horror. Some preferred to rip out their own throats and hearts rather than hear holy words in the most unholy of places. Others crawled away, vomiting black blood.
Dhevic stood up and smiled at them, held out his hands. "I live to love and serve the Lord on High. I am his unworthy servant forever."
Groans and bellows, like surf, rose up. A final prayer finished them, from Psalms:" 'But truly God has listened; he has given heed to the words of my prayer.'"
The creatures that hadn't yet killed themselves died then, at those final words, their bellies exploding, their eyes shooting out.
Dhevic could feel his aura beaming bright around his head, when he stepped back through the Rive.
Then the Rive closed.
Dhevic looked around, and...
IX
