The Irispire Portal

by Robinson Castillo

  The lights are brighter up here in Minneapolis/St.Paul's richest district. This is where the billionaires play patrons to the city's most daring and experimental architects and artists. The building designs and nighttime colors reflect this penchant, combining the luxurious with the avant-garde.

  I look at the center of the district.

  "Hmm. Club Rapture looks dead," I say. "Usually we'd see a bunch of cars circling it by now."

  "What? Where is it?" Lev asks, excitedly.

  "Up ahead," I say.

  In the center of our windshield, seven miles away, are The Lotus Buildings, District Eleven's crown jewel. The three towers, and the purple lotus blossoms crowning them, loom higher than the rest of District Eleven's skyscrapers, of which there are thousands.

  Club Rapture occupies the upper floors of the three buildings, each beginning at the hundredth floor. Each tower has a casino, dance club, patio, restaurant, drug den, sex den. You name it; it has it. Usually, it would be surrounded by a cloud of fancy cars, buzzing around it like a swarm of flies, but right now we have a clear path towards it.

  "I'm nervous," Lev says. "Is it right that I'm nervous? Do you think a lot of celebrities will be there? What am I saying, of course, there'll be celebrities there. Are you trying to say that all these celebrities are vampires, man? Whoa, now it all makes so much sense."

  "What? No. I didn't say any of that," I tell him. "And you're right to be nervous. Though, I think you're nervous for all the wrong reasons. You have to be ready. Remember we're not here to have fun."

  "Okay," he says, taking a deep breath to psych himself up.

  As we drive closer to The Lotus Buildings, Lev stirs in his seat. From afar, the three standing structures look normal in scope. But as we get closer, their immensity is clearer and more daunting.

  The three buildings are shaped like giant candlesticks. Wide at the base, curving thinner towards the middle of the towers, and then curving wider towards the top. The outer walls of the three towers are made of diamond-shaped panes of propylglass, with synthetic steel frames, shining like gold, swirling up like vines toward the tops. Each floor is fifty thousand square feet. Like all buildings in the Upper Districts of the city, each of the three Lotus Buildings functions like its separate city. Last I checked, each building held three hundred thousand residential spaces, over fifty-thousand businesses, with commercial sectors on each floor. There are parks of all kinds inside — theme parks, water parks, zoos. One of them even has a replica of a tropical rainforest.

  Three giant lotus flowers, in bloom, crown the tops of the buildings. At night, the flowers emit a haze of violet lights made up of waving laser patterns. Come the morning, these flowers close up with the sun, and become giant lotus bulbs.

  I fly the car so that it's hovering over the three purple lotus flowers, following protocol. On a normal night, there would have been thousands of other cars circling the tops of these buildings, looking down, and anticipating the joys that awaited below. Tonight there are maybe ten cars, including mine. The club below, though, is writhing with people. The horizontal lotus petals, five on each building, serves as dance and patio spaces, and all fifteen are teeming with crowds. They are dancing to music pumping through giant speakers, their eyes to the sky with faces relaxed, dazed, and smiling.

  "Wow, I thought you said this place was dead."

  "It is," I say. "I've seen it busier."

  "It seems busy enough for me," he says.

  "Trust me, Thaddeus is pissed."

  "Pissed? You gotta be kidding me. There are at least a hundred thousand people down there."

  "Economics, Lev," I say. "He only sees the opportunity costs. Any space down there is lost revenue. Even if there are a hundred thousand people down there, all he sees are the hundred fifty thousand that aren't."

  "That's messed up," he says.

  "That's business."

  "Well, we better find a place to land soon," Lev says. "I want to see this place up close."

  A service bot flies toward us. Its propylcast torso is painted black, with white lines indicating pockets, lapels, and buttons. It is made to look like it's wearing a tuxedo, and there is a painted bow tie at its neck. Its face is blank, white, and has two blue lights where the eyes on a human are supposed to be.

  "Welcome back, Nyyx Mara," greets the bot.

  "Well, hello," I say back. "This is my friend, Lev. He's new here."

  The bot looks in the car. A blue light then shines from its eyes and scans Lev's face.

  "Applicator, please," the bot says.

  I nudge Lev's elbow prompting Lev to expose his wrist applicator. The bot scans it.

  "Levinson Bur-Haskins," the bot says. "Welcome to Club Rapture."

  "It's a light crowd tonight, huh," I say.

  "We are pleased to have the guests we have in attendance," the bot says. "And I assure you, Nyyx Mara, the night will still be a memorable one."

  "I have no doubt," I say.

  "Follow me."

  I follow behind the bot. It leads us to the south-east tower, or Tower Two. As we draw closer to the action, Lev squirms closer to the window with eyes hypnotized by flashing purple lights, and the promise of pleasure. We pass by one of the horizontal flower petals, and get a close-up view of the people partying outdoors.

  Pretty people. Sweaty people. Drunk and laughing, kissing and exploring with tongues, hands, and hips. Bodies writhe to the thumping bass. They've forgotten their cares, and are living in a dream state. Asmodeus is pleased with this altar his most prized follower created in praise of his name. And that was just one petal. There are fourteen others.

  We pass beneath the petal and to propylglass panes of the floors beneath. Beneath the lotus blossom are elegant tables, booths, and bars, bathed in soft lighting. They are arranged around a giant, man-made waterfall inside the building as part of the tropical rainforest motif. The tables and booths are on platform sections that are connected by rope bridges weaving throughout the interior like an intricate spider web.

  The bot leads us below the restaurant and lounge levels towards the casino levels, where there are thousands of revelers chasing their wins, making wishes with every roll of the die, and every card dealt. Five floors beneath the casino levels, a propylglass pane at the side of the building opens up for us. The bot moves to the side of the opening. I turn the car around and fly backward into my parking spot.

  Twenty

  Lev and I step into an elevator. I've got The Destroying Angel sheathed at my hip and a silvered dagger in a vertical shoulder sheath. I'm also carrying a large black duffel bag. Inside are my silvered katanas, a bunch of guns — a couple of AKs, AR-15s, my Mossberg 500 shotgun, and plenty of ammo bags.

  "So they're gonna let us walk in with a bunch of guns, huh?" Lev says.

  "He knows I like to be prepared."

  Lev pats himself to make sure his guns are still there.

  The elevator comes to a stop. Then the doors slide open, and two stone-faced, giant men fill our view. They are both over six and a half feet tall, at least. And they're both wide as sewage tankers, wearing black turtlenecks, black suits, five-by-five inch black belt buckles, and black shoes. Behind them, I hear the sounds of ringing, cheers, and joyous conversation, but their bulk muffles the noises.

  "Mr. Berrett has been expecting you, Nyyx Mara," says one of the giants.

  "Then lead on, friends," I say. "I am happy to oblige your boss. Do you mind?"

  I hold out the bag full of weapons I am carrying. My body is in bad shape. I'm trying to keep as good a poker face as I can, but even raising the bag so they can carry it for me sends shooting pains up my arm.

  The henchman who addressed us curls his upper lip with a scoff. Then he grabs my bag like it was filled with pillows.

  "Follow us," he says.

  The two walk in front of us like a wall of muscle parting the crowd.

  "Are these guys vampires?" Lev whispers to me.

  "No," I whisper back.

/>   Then Lev points to two beautiful ladies, one blond with curls, and the other a brunette with straight black hair framing her pale face. The blond has bright blue eyes, and the brunette's are dark black. Both flash beautiful smiles in our direction.

  "Are those?" Lev asks.

  "No."

  "Are—" he begins to ask.

  "You're going to have to cool it," I say.

  "But I want to know if I'm around any vampires," he says.

  "Don't worry. When you're around vampires, you'll know."

  "How?" Lev asks.

  "Remember how you felt around Marchosias?"

  "You mean I'm gonna piss my pants again?" he says. "I don't want to do that!"

  "Relax! That's not what I meant,” I tell him. “You only felt that way because that's what Marchosias feeds on. She feeds on fear and despair. Vampires feed on lust, like their god, Asmodeus."

  "So you're saying I'm going to get horny?" he asks.

  "Pretty much."

  "Have you seen these people?" he says. "Everyone here is smoking hot. How am I going to tell the difference between normal horny and vampire horny?"

  One of our meat shields — the one carrying my bag — turns his head around and looks at us. We smile back at him. Then the meathead scoffs and turns away.

  "Trust me. You'll know."

  The two bodyguards lead us through the rainforest themed casino — through twinkling lights, and the ringing of thousands of machines singing together like a chorus of angels; through the shouts of joy, and the scent of different perfumes mingling in the air. Pheromones and dopamine abound.

  Then they lead us to a rope bridge. These rope bridges can stretch as long as a hundred feet, and serve as escalators, leading from one level to the next, or across one platform to the other. Each of the bridges travels only in one direction, and is meant to give those who are on it a breathtaking view of the mini-rain-forest Thaddeus has created. Imagine zip-lining over treetops, waterfalls, cliffs, and rivers. That's the sort of effect these bridges give. And there are hundreds of them, weaving throughout the interior.

  The surfaces of the rope-bridges are made up of connected rectangular panels, running on an electro-magnetic tread. Each panel is eight feet across and five and a half feet wide. It's enough so that four people can stand shoulder-to-shoulder across it comfortably. But the two giant goons in front of us fill up a panel on their own.

  God, what do these boys eat?

  The surface glides Lev and me behind our bodyguards to the end of the rope bridge and onto another platform, where there are more gaming tables and some dining areas. We do this a few more times, navigating the intricately woven network of rope bridges and platforms that connect the restaurant/lounge/casino of Club Rapture’s lower levels.

  This place is beautiful. The wide open-space concept of the building's interior gives Lev and me a full panoramic view of the hedonism within. Everyone here is living for his or her enjoyment, surrounded by booze, beautiful creatures, and money.

  We get to another section of Club Rapture, about twenty floors up from where we came in. Here is another bar, but it has a chill atmosphere, suffused by soft blue lighting. The smell of alcohol and lime hangs thick in the air. People mingle with smooth expressions and flawless countenances. This is a place for the coquettes and the rakes — those who live for the thrill of the chase and savor the build-up as well as the climax. Flirtatious tension is dense enough to cut. A pair of gorgeous green eyes finds Lev, and he shivers. The girl's full lips, dressed in dark lipstick, part a little, revealing two white teeth under the bottom curves of her upper lip. She runs her fingernail on the bare skin of her plunging neckline.

  "Whoa," he says.

  Lev staggers, and he swallows a gulp. Beads of sweat form at the top of his forehead, and he slows his step squirming and squeezing his thighs together as he walks.

  "Told ya," I tell him.

  Lev looks around. More eyes are making love to him. Men's, women's, blues, greens, browns, and hazels.

  "These are..."

  "Rein it in, buddy."

  The original girl. The girl with the green eyes, gracefully gets up from the couch she was reclined on and walks towards us.

  "Oh shit," he says.

  "Keep walking," I tell him.

  As the lady vamp gets closer, I link my arm with Lev's and rush his steps so we can catch up with our two big escorts. We fell a considerable distance behind when Lev got distracted. We almost bump into the backs of our guards as they open a set of double doors which opens to a room that completely kills the mood.

  The lighting changes. Bright, white, fluorescent lights attack our eyes, while water hitting synthesized steel sinks give off little clouds of steam and water vapor. The place is busy with bots, cooks, and porters shuffling and shouting. These are the cogs of the machine, hidden behind the curtain. Lev's muscles relax, and after a few seconds, he is back to normal.

  "That was messed up, man," he says.

  "That’s normal, dude," I say. "You did fine."

  We make it out of the kitchens into a hallway. We follow our ushers another twenty feet, and they lead us out of a door and into a rectangular antechamber with a coffered ceiling thirty feet above us. The floor is made of polished marble, and the walls are decorated with oil paintings — Renaissance, Pre-Raphaelite, Victorian, you name it; it is all there. At least one from each period. Here, and there are busts and artifacts behind propyl glass display cases. There are plush, red-cushioned chairs, and couches along the walls. On the right, there is a spiral staircase that disappears around a corner ten feet up.

  There is a set of heavy wooden double doors on the opposite wall of where we came. There are ornate carvings of cherubs and plant life on the heavy door, marked by deep, intricate grooves and precise detail. It's a beautiful door. I think it's a representation of the original Paradise — the Adam and Eve stuff.

  Our two escorts take their places by the big door — one on each side. Mounted on the walls are pulse cannons. The one carrying my bag holds it out to me. As I reach for my bag, he lets go of the straps, letting it fall to the floor with a loud thud and clatter. He looks to his pal across the door. They share a glance before chuckling together.

  "Ah comedians, huh?" I say. "Well, don't quit your day jobs."

  I groan on the way down to pick up my bag. Then I groan with equal intensity as I stand up with it. The goon looks at me strangely.

  "Hard day at the gym," I say, flexing a bicep.

  He laughs, and so does his friend. "Go on in. He's waiting for you."

  I take a deep breath and turn to Lev.

  "You ready?" I ask him.

  Lev nods his answer. Then I put my hand on the door handle and open the door.

  Twenty-One

  We walk into the room, and there Thaddeus is, sitting back in his chair like a relaxed, elegant king. He's wearing a blood red, silk, collared shirt, with the top three buttons unfastened. His jet black hair is long, ending below his shoulders. He has a square, chiseled face with high cheekbones, and unblemished skin. He smiles at us, warm, and inviting. I have to admit; his presence causes something to stir inside me: my breathing quickens and my heart races. I have to work double time to get my hormones in check around an incubus as strong as him. But then again none can evoke such emotions with Thaddeus' level of potency.

  "Oh god," says Lev with a breath. "It's happening again."

  Lev squirms as he walks. His mouth is open. His breathing is quick and shallow.

  "Nyyx Mara, my good friend," Thaddeus says. His voice is human but with a hint of the celestial, Dracul, inside him. "It is so good to see you looking so well."

  "You can lay off the charm,” I say. “I came here to talk seriously with you."

  "You assume I can control it," Thaddeus says.

  "Well, try."

  "Ah, but can one truly fight their nature?” says Thaddeus. “Now we both know you can handle yourself well under the pressure of my charms. But why would you br
ing someone so fresh and innocent into my presence? Am I to assume that this one is a gift?"

  "Trust me, you don't want any part of this guy," I say to him. "He'd just as soon shoot you in the face."

  Thaddeus tilts his head, looking intrigued.

  "Mmm, interesting," Thaddeus says. "Is what he is saying true, innocent one? Are you as dangerous as he claims?"

  Lev gulps and swallows some spit before stuttering his response. "Uhh...yup....mhmm."

  Thaddeus smiles and stands up from his chair. He gracefully walks around his large desk made of heavy wood. Thaddeus is wearing sleek, black pants, creased perfectly, a brown belt, and black Bolvaints on his feet. He wears a big belt buckle. The buckle is a square chunk of solid metal depicting the demonic face of Asmodeus: two curved horns, sharp face, with a lascivious smile, and pointed tongue.

  He walks to Lev and runs his hand on Lev's chest, shoulders, and arms. Lev tenses up.

  "Ooh he's fighting it," Thaddeus says. "Or perhaps you have different tastes."

  Thaddeus looks up to the north wall on our right, twenty feet up, halfway between the floor and ceiling. There is a stone balcony overlooking the room we're in. On the balcony are two ladies. Both of them are beautiful — one with blue hair, and one platinum blond. Both are almost naked, covered up by diaphanous sheets of soft clothing. They wrap themselves in each other's arms on a chaise lounge. They break their kiss and look down at Lev, with desire in their eyes. Lev returns their stare, hypnotized.

  "Ah, yes," Thaddeus says. "There it is. Temptation. Desire. The power of—"

  Click-click!

  I look beside me. Thaddeus' face is frozen. He takes a step back with his hands raised, and the muzzle of Lev's Glock-17 under his chin.

  I laugh a little. "I told you so."

  Thaddeus smiles. He takes another step back, lifting his chin from the handgun's muzzle. Lev, however, with the steadiest hand I've ever seen, keeps the gun pointed at Thaddeus' face.

  "You can put that away, not-so-innocent one. Let's all calm down, shall we," Thaddeus says.