The Rising

by Temple Mathews

  To placate her, Will drank the martini. His phone vibrated while he was drinking and he slipped it out and glanced at it. It was Natalie. He put the phone back in his pocket and then turned to Loreli.

  “Now tell me about the drawing.”

  She leaned close to whisper in his ear. Anyone watching would have thought she was flirting with him. But her voice was cold, harsh, and unambiguous.

  “If you keep playing with fire, you’re gonna get burned. Hasta la vista, baby.” She slid off the stool and moved to the dance floor just as the song changed. The new song was crazy fast, and the singer, who sounded like she was being flayed, spewed out unintelligible yelps and grunts. The song drove Loreli wild and she undulated fluidly, her movements syncopated and alluring. She danced with an unbelievable style and intensity, and a few teens stopped and watched in unabashed admiration.

  Will was mesmerized. What was it about this girl that pulled at him so strongly? Whenever he looked at her, he grew warm inside. Something about her was so right it scared him. He began to move closer to her when the martini hit him. It wasn’t just dirty, he realized, it was spiked with some kind of drug. Will’s head exploded in a kaleidoscope of images. It was raining rainbows, the colors splashing on his brain. His knees grew weak. He leaned against a column for support. He wiped his forehead. He was sweating profusely, sweat running into his eyes, stinging them.

  Loreli danced on. Will looked down and the floor came rushing up at him. His cheek was on fire. He slowly realized that he’d fallen. He got up and stood on uncertain legs. Rocco Manelli got up from his table and left. Loreli followed.

  Will had difficulty walking—his legs were like bags of sand—but he was in pursuit. He couldn’t lose track of her now. As he awkwardly jostled his way across the dance floor, kids shoved him back and forth. He fell twice, and the second time he went down someone kicked him in the neck. Angry, he rose up to find the culprit, but the room was spinning. He had to keep moving. Though his vision was blurry, he finally made his way to the door Loreli had disappeared through. He pushed it open and was immediately set upon by two large boys wearing red face-paint and black scrubs.

  “Well, what do we have here?” one of them said.

  “I’m not sure, Doctor,” said the other. “Anyone comes through this door and doesn’t know the password, we’re supposed to operate.”

  “So, butt wipe . . . what’s the password?”

  “Whatever you think you’re going to do, I would seriously rethink it,” said Will, standing his ground. But he was woozy, and the scrubs boys saw it.

  “Sorry, wrong answer. Now we’re gonna have to operate.”

  And operate they did. They took out tape-wrapped pipes and went at him. Will tried a defensive move, dropping down and attempting to kick their legs out from under them. But he was seriously impaired—his legs just wouldn’t cooperate—and the “doctors” used the pipes to hammer him from the back and front. One of them hit his cell phone, and Will heard it crunch, dead. Whatever drug had been in the martini was so powerful that it rendered Will helpless. If he didn’t do something, and fast, these two were going to crack open his skull and pound his brains out. With great effort, he yanked out a couple of Cloakers and flung them wildly. He got lucky. The Cloakers wrapped around the attackers and tightened, cinching them up like trussed turkeys. They toppled over, impotent and screaming in pain.

  Will got up and lurched into the nearest bathroom—the women’s room, as it turned out—and took out a nasal spray from one of his jacket pockets and administered it as fast as he could, spraying twice into each of his nostrils. Then he turned on the hot water full blast and sucked at least a gallon from the faucet as a girl in a wolf shirt just coming out of a stall stared at him incredulously. As she left in a huff, Will was still drinking. He guzzled down another gallon of hot water, then moved into a stall and relieved himself. From both ends. It was a world-class purge triggered by the nasal spray, and it flushed the toxic hallucinogen from Will’s body in under a minute.

  When he came out of the bathroom he picked up the pipes the “doctors” had used against him. He was angry and hurting badly, but he didn’t have time to waste. They were still trussed up, so he knocked them out with two precise blows to their heads, and then released the Cloakers. Then he looked around. There. A hallway leading to a door. He was down it quickly. If Rocco’s goons decided to put the hurt on Loreli, it wasn’t going to be pretty. Will hoped he wasn’t already too late. The door was locked. He unzipped a flap on his jacket and removed a Blaster Key, which he inserted into the lock. He ducked as the lock blew, then kicked open the door and was hit with a gust of cold air.

  He didn’t want to start pulling out weapons just yet, so he kept his Megashocker strapped to his calf. The hallway was dark, and he used the light from his watch to see. It was, of course, no ordinary watch, and the light it emitted could be considerable when he needed it. In addition to the light, the watch housed an ultra-thin, retractable, two-foot steel cable for choking and/or garroting, and it was loaded with three Phosphor-Shots, blasts tiny but strong enough to create a distraction—especially to demons, whose eyes were sensitive to bright lights.

  Using the glow from his watch light, Will went down a wooden stairway, the old boards creaking under his weight. The handrails were worn smooth from years of use, and Will’s brain was still foggy enough that he had to use one of the rails to steady himself. The air grew progressively more damp as he went down one story after another. Descent. A rat skittered past his feet. Descent. He heard voices echoing from below and kept moving. The voices grew louder. Descent. He heard a slap, and then another. Someone was getting smacked around and he had a pretty good idea who. At the bottom of the stairs he found himself in a brick tunnel. Time to get moving. He hurried toward the sound of voices. Was Loreli’s voice one of them? He couldn’t be sure. Whoever the girl behind one of the voices was, she was in great distress. He rushed forward, then switched his watch light to low as he approached another tunnel forking off to the right. Taking light footsteps, he approached the corner and reached down to unstrap his Megashocker.

  The shedemons were up on First Avenue in a black Mercedes van that was rocking to the doom metal sounds of Dead Man’s Throne. It was a custom van, trimmed with red leather and fitted with a mini-bar and a table for four, upon which sat a cache of crystal meth in boxes. Each dose of the drug was in a mini-baggie with a red falcon stamped on it. Every dealer had their own “brand,” and this band of four shedemons called theirs Satan Dust. The shedemons were sparked, their eyes glazed, brains simmering in the toxic swamp that crank created when smoked. Two were texting on their phones, one was counting money, and the other would venture out onto the street to complete a delivery whenever an order was called in. The shedemons never worried about getting busted and weren’t particularly motivated by the money they raked in. They were doing his work, distributing evil in the form of what they laughingly called “crankenstein.”

  They loaded the pipe with more white chunks, fired it up with a mini-blowtorch, and passed it around, sucking the smoke into their lungs. Their brains took off like jets. Sure, demons on sky rocks got the meth mouth and the face sores—because when you were jonesing you felt like things were crawling on your face and you had to claw at them—and the sallow skin and sunken eyes, just like humans. But sometimes the shedemons could make all those symptoms go away by calling upon his evil power, and they’d look normal or, even better, beautiful. It was so awesome to serve him. He was their everything. They had pledged their everlasting lives to him.

  When they got the signal from below, the shedemons closed up shop, locked the van, and flew into an alley, where they stopped and popped a manhole cover, one of them lifting it out with a finger and flinging it aside like a paper plate. Smiling, eager for the hunt, and amped up for any action that came their way—and there was bound to be plenty of that—they dropped down into the darkness.

  Rounding the corner, Will surprised a squat, m
uscular demonteen who was built like a fire hydrant and looked about as smart. He was standing in front of a huge old wooden door, blocking it. He had Loreli by the throat and was slapping her face.

  “Rocco don’t wanna see you! You don’t got the mark! How many times I hafta slap your stupid face before you hear me?” he yelled. “You don’t got the mark, you don’t get in!”

  Loreli was showing amazing cool in this situation. Even though she was being slapped, she showed no fear. She was surprised to see Will, surprised that he had recovered so swiftly and thoroughly from the drug. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

  The chunky kid saw that she was staring at something behind him, read her eyes, and whirled and dropped into an immediate crouch. He didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was a full-blown demon, and he sprouted a stumpy tail as his claws extended. Growling like a rabid dog, he leapt. Will was still feeling the aftereffects of the drug, and though he tried to sidestep the beast, he wound up with the kid’s massive jaw clamped into his shoulder.

  “Ahhhhh!” Will screamed in pain. And he dropped the Megashocker. The beast relaxed his jaw like he was yawning, and Will rolled onto his side against the wall, bleeding.

  “I hope you’re ready to die,” said the demon. As he said the words, his jaw grew massive, muscular, and his teeth became longer and sharper. He was in super-kill mode and was already doing his victory dance. He flexed and leapt again.

  This time Will was able to move more quickly, and he jacked a Flareblade into the creep’s neck. The beast howled with pain, but he wasn’t going down yet, not by a long shot.

  Will stood up as the creature rolled into the corner and yanked out the burning Flareblade. Will dove for his Megashocker but was caught off guard as the demon spit a stream of toxic puke, hitting Will on his temple. Will felt his flesh sizzling. The beast jumped on top of Will like a monstrous hound and was about to tear his head off when the tip of the Megashocker came crashing right through his skull. The demonteen froze in morbid realization of his fate, then dropped to the floor of the tunnel and shook, finally exploding into fiery demon dust.

  Loreli stood over Will holding the Megashocker. She’d just killed the beast and looked surprisingly composed after the experience. Will got up and took the weapon from her.

  “I think you just saved my life,” he said. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it,” said Loreli.

  “Of course, it was the least you could do after spiking my martini.”

  “You were bothering me.”

  Will stared at her for a second, then turned to examine the huge door. “This door. Where does it lead and why do you want to go there so bad?” he asked.

  “Again, none of your business.”

  But Will was just as relentless as she was. “It is my business. Look, that guy just morphed into a full-blown demon and you didn’t even flinch. So I’ve got a hunch that you know a lot. I want answers. Like about that drawing. And I’m not going to stop asking. Get it? I’m not going away.”

  “You’re going away sooner than you think,” she said. Her eyes narrowed into mean slits as the tunnel filled with a cacophony of shrieks.

  “They’re coming,” she said.

  “Who?” asked Will.

  “Them,” she said. “I think you met them before. In Gas Works Park? When they almost killed you?”

  Will turned toward the sound, which was growing louder.

  Will held the Megashocker in one hand and jacked a Flareblade into the other. “I’m not afraid.”

  “Well, Braveheart, this is a lousy place to make a stand. It’s too confined, for one thing, and it’s their turf. Who knows how many more will join the party?”

  “I told you, I’m not afraid,” said Will.

  “It’s not about fear, you idiot, it’s about having a tactical advantage. Now come on.” Loreli reached into her purse and pulled out a small porcelain ball that she threw to the ground. The tunnel erupted with a blinding flash, then filled with an orange gas as Loreli grabbed Will and yanked him down a long brick corridor and into a room. With shrieks and howls and coughing echoing behind them, Will and Loreli climbed a series of iron rungs until they reached the top, where Will shouldered open a heavy iron hatch. They climbed up through it and slammed it shut behind them. They stood up. They were in an alley. Loreli looked around.

  “Where’s your ride?” she asked. “We have got to get out of here, like, now.”

  Will wanted to stay and fight, but he was dying to know more about Loreli. He figured he’d learn more by going along with whatever she had in mind than by hunkering down and engaging in a splatterfest with the shedemons. But he was still wary.

  “You’re asking a lot, for me to trust you after you poisoned me.”

  She shrugged. “You wouldn’t leave me alone. And anyway, you seem to be fine now. So is your ride nearby or not?”

  Do-or-die time. Will made up his mind.

  “This way,” he said.

  They ran down the alley, across the street, and in ten more seconds they were on his Suzuki. Loreli held on tight as Will throttled the bike through Pioneer Square.

  “Up King Street!” she yelled.

  Will complied, and the Suzuki blasted through the night like a bullet on wheels. Loreli clung to Will as the wind and rain whipped her hair.

  “Where are we going?” he shouted.

  “My place,” she yelled back, her breath hot at his ear. Her body was jammed up against his and Will was puzzled by what he felt. She was muscular and had some heavy-duty core strength. He flashed on the thought that she might actually be a demon. If she was, he could be dead in two seconds. All she’d have to do was drive a fist through his back and claw out his heart. Oh well, thought Will, so much for enjoying the ride.

  They shot onto the freeway and headed north, exiting on 45th Street and cruising up to 35th, where Loreli told Will to take a left. They drove for several more blocks until she told him to pull over. They were right in front of the entrance to the Calvary Cemetery. It had a nice view of Mount Rainier on a clear day, but the night was anything but clear as thick fog from Puget Sound continued to roll in, crawling over the high walls that surrounded the burial grounds.

  “You live in a cemetery?” Will asked, turning with raised eyebrows. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Not in it, next to it. Right over there,” she said, pointing to a modest, three-bedroom, drab brick house. “But I know this place well. And if we’re going to fight, which is likely to happen any second now, I want it to be on my turf.”

  “You think they followed us?”

  “No ‘think’ about it,” she said.

  “Then go inside your house and lock the doors. It’s not going to be safe for you out here.”

  “I’ve got news for you, buddy,” Loreli said, rolling her eyes. “It’s never safe for me, no matter where I am. Feel free to take off.”

  “I’m not leaving,” Will said.

  “Well, if I can’t get rid of you, then come on, we’re gonna have to throw down pretty soon,” she said, getting off the bike and slipping through a hedge.

  “Wait!” called Will, but she didn’t turn around, and he had no choice but to hop off his bike and follow her. Ducking down, he slid through the hedge, and then through the narrow opening in the wall she’d passed through. Once inside, his eyes swept over the cemetery, and he saw, through the thickening fog, the jagged, uneven phalanx of headstones, box tombs, hatchments, spires, and crosses. Some were jutting out at odd angles, others leaning from time. Most were marble, but some were made of concrete or sandstone. Loreli was nowhere to be seen. Will read a nearby headstone.

  Behold and see as you pass by

  As you are now, so once was I

  As I am now, you soon must be

  Prepare to die and follow me.

  Not terribly comforting, thought Will. And I don’t intend to follow you just yet. He called out for Loreli. “Where are you?”

  “Here,” came her voice,
from a few feet away.

  He spotted her and walked over to a large ornate tomb where she was kneeling. The tomb was a ghastly thing, replete with gargoyles, in “honor” of the Maggeti family. Loreli was on her knees in the tomb, removing objects from beneath a slab of marble she’d displaced.

  “Planning on exhuming someone?” asked Will.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not a grave robber or anything,” she said, arranging the objects on a scarf. Will looked down at what she’d retrieved: a collection of vials of liquid and a half-dozen small porcelain balls. They were beautiful, like Christmas ornaments.

  “What are you, some kind of Wiccan?” asked Will.

  “A witch? Don’t be insulting. I am much, much more than some ordinary witch.”

  “Okay, then what are you?”

  Loreli’s lips formed a tight smile, and she was about to answer—until the night’s silence was abruptly cleaved by a shrill keening. “Here we go,” she said. “Party time.”

  Will grabbed her by the shoulders. He’d seen her go up against them before, but if these were her weapons, his chances—now that the drug had finished passing out of his system—were much better than hers. “Do what I said and go into your house. I’ll take care of them. That’s what I do.”

  “Good to know you have such a high opinion of yourself. It’s going to come in handy, because these bitches are nasty. We’ll have a better chance if we split up. If they happen to cut you open and rip your heart out, well, it was nice knowing you.”

  With that, she scooped up her accouterments and took off behind the tomb.

  The shedemons, led by Blue Streak, had just arrived in their van. After smoking crystal meth for half the night, their hearts were banging like Formula One pistons and they were jacked up and ready to kill. They leapt over the cemetery wall and landed soundlessly on the damp grass, the whites of their eyes glowing. Just as they had in Gas Works Park, they spread out, moving like ghosts as they slipped in and out of the thickening fog, ducking behind tombstones as they crept ever closer to Will and Loreli. Blue Streak whistled and chirped orders, hanging back and watching like a general overseeing the battle.