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Three floors above the fire, Mike Donnelly sat up in bed and
frowned.
“Do you smell smoke?”
Cindy VanTur yawned and stretched next to him.
“Oh, there’s a smokehouse in the cellars. The Madame told
me. It makes the most delicious sausages. French and German.”
Mike shrugged, but the frown crept back to his face. Cindy
moaned. Mike began massaging Cindy’s shoulder with one hand and both lips
when the demon popped out of the TriV.
“Master, mistress,” he cried, bowing and farting green
fire. “Most gracious horrors of true loving justice--“
Two pillows hit the TriV, and the demon screamed. He disappeared
in a cloud of sulfur yellow lights, and the unit snapped into the wall.
Squatting in the hall, the driver, James, was staring at the
door. He reached under his jacket to pull a pistol from a holster and aimed
it at the door.
“Friggin bitch,” he said, his voice a cold whisper. “Cut
my balls off and laughed when I cried. I’ll cut his off and then your fat
titties.”
The collar on his neck burned. James shrieked apologies but it
closed down as he clutched it. Eyes and tongue protruding, he stumbled to
the floor. A little blood seeped out around one eye.
“Get dressed.”
Cindy sighed. When he glanced at her, she was sleeping. Her
face was gentle, angelic. He pulled the sheet from her and slapped her
bottom.
“Up, woman. Get dressed.”
Cindy yelped. She rubbed her bottom but slid into a body sock
and sandals. Grinning, Mike threw on his clothes and opened the door. He
stilled, pulling the pistol from the shoulder holster. The driver was
sprawled on the rug. Other than that, the hall was empty. Glancing over him,
Mike saw the collar had shrank enough to kill. He kicked in Creel’s door.
Creel sat up in bed with a gun in one hand.
“Mike?”
“Something’s going on. We got a body in the hall. I’m
leaving.”
“The boss?”
Mike shrugged.
Creel dressed and went with him to Mike’s room.
Cindy was gone.
Under his breath, Mike started singing.
Creel nudged him.
“Don’t. You’ll get reported.”
“For what?”
“Singing that song.”
Mike scowled. He glanced away but the child’s song, Yes,
Jesus Love Me, kept running through his head.
There was a note on the bed. Mike glanced over it.
“The boss said she’s going back to DC.”
They went up to the roof with Creel calling for a taxi.
Mike frowned. “Do you hear screams?”
Head cocked, Creel shrugged. “They probably got a sadism show
going on. For the theater.” He grinned. “I told this was a hot spot. Best
one on the East Coast. The old Master would have loved it.”
The car dropped, and they climbed in. The roof sagged and the taxi
shot away as tar began to melt.
Behind them, the roof collapsed and the screams ceased
Piled against the rear window, Creel moaned.
Mike closed his eyes and yawned. Around and round in his head the
song kept drifting. He glanced south, in the direction of his parents’ home.
©2004 StoriesByEmail.com
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