Come Into Darkness (19 page)

“Drink, sir?” asked one of the barmen, a young man in a dapper shirt and bowtie.

Mario gave a dismissive wave, and the barman chuckled.

The crowd had spread from the centre, through each row of stone columns and to the fringes of the room. A dancer, skinny with wild dreadlocks, bounced out of the mob, colliding with Mario. He staggered back a few steps.

“Sorry, dude,” said the guy and grinned. A skull design had been painted over his skin, and his teeth were filed to needle-points.

“It’s fine,” Mario replied and looked away.

The dancer snorted and jumped back into the depths.

Mario closed his eyes for a second of needed composure. Metus House had swallowed him to its darkest reaches, and yet he’d crawled back, kicking and screaming to the end. Beyond this room lay the door, the street, London, freedom. Like a cat toying with its prey, he expected the building to throw out a few more surprises to keep him in its clutches. Would Worth really just let him walk out of here? He cursed himself for the distraction of the band and strode into the dynamic throng, eager to be lost and hidden by the bodies.

The partygoers closed in behind him the moment he entered their midst. Two girls, twins he presumed, snaked their bare arms around his shoulders. He stepped away quickly. They flashed their black swollen tongues at him, giggled and vanished into the crowd. Mario circled, trying to spy them. A hand pushed his shoulder, sending him sprawling forwards. He turned, fury hot as the clinging, humid air. The people around danced on, mesmerised by the music.

“Damn this,” Mario mumbled, and headed for the exit.

For a sickening instant, Mario realised he had no idea which way the exit lay. The crowd had warped his sense of direction, and clammy bodies pressed in on each side with baking breath and damp hair. The dancers closed in tighter, and Mario held his breath, struggling to inhale in the confined, sweltering space. Frantic movement drew near, and he saw arms up in the air. A figure drifted near, carried by the sudden sea of hands. The laughing teenager was naked to the waist and grossly overweight. Only the sheer number of hands kept him aloft, poking into his fleshy, layered gut. Rather assist than be crushed beneath the grinning bulk, Mario also held up his hands, anticipating the slimy feel of the boy.

A spotlight dazzled him as the cold, slick body bobbed over. Skin parted, and Mario’s hands slipped inside, swallowed by chilly, mushed innards. Mario cried out and snatched his hands back. The laughing boy continued on his journey.

Mario glanced at the thick, green decay that coated his hand. Catching a smell of it, he retched and wiped on his jeans. Clean hand holding his lips closed, he barged a path through the crowd.

Faces smiled at him, cheeks rotted away revealing skeleton grins. Eyes lay empty, the lids tattered and gnawed. One huge man, with the appearance of a biker, stepped in front of Mario and blocked the way. Half his thick ginger beard had been torn from his face, leaving tortured, flayed flesh beneath. A horrific slash had nearly cut through his neck, and his bald head hung at an odd angle. His hands and arms were blackened and crusty, stinking of petrol.

Mario screamed and ran past, pushing the dancing corpses aside.

“Fuckin’ freak,” said the biker. “What shit’s he been takin’?”

Like a drowning man fighting the tide, Mario lowered his head and pumped his arms, sweeping the dead horde aside. Feeling only air, he fell forwards and landed in a skid on his knees.

With the music still blaring, the revellers ignored him, choosing to watch the band.

Free from them, Mario jumped to his feet and unhindered, darted away. He’d reached the far side of the room, and the heavy worn doors of the exit stood before him.

Mario edged forwards, keen to feel the smooth wood to test its existence.

“Stop!”

The voice boomed out, and the music abruptly stopped. Murmurs swept through the crowd, and the hairs on the back of Mario’s neck tingled. Once again, he felt like the centre of attention, stares piercing his back.

“Leaving us so soon, sir? We can’t be having that. The management still require your company before you leave the building.” Worth’s voice rang out clear from the speakers.

Mario collapsed at the door, pushing his weight against it. As he’d predicted, the door was locked. Metus House had no intention of allowing him to leave so easily.

“No,” he cried, fists pounding the exit. He glanced over his shoulder to find the occupants of the hall watching him in silence. He intensified his attack of the door, scratching at the join to prise them open.

“Now now,” said Worth, unseen, “there’s no need for such hysterics. If you wish the exit to open, that can be remedied quite easily.”

A small click sounded within the door, and they swung away from Mario. He gasped, nearly falling forward.

The electric torches still burned with fake fire on either side of the tiny porch. The outer doors had been left open, and rain had soaked the carpet, turning the worn orange to the brown of thick, wet mud. A cold breeze stung Mario’s eyes, and his fringe tickled his forehead. He breathed in, and the air refreshed like a cold drink on a hot day, clearing his throat and lungs of the heat of the room, the dank of the building. Rain pelted the gloomy, grey street and beyond, the lights of London glittered. Mario lurched forwards. The lights beckoned him. The life he knew, and the sheer…reality and boredom of it, lay before him. Almost drunken from the sensations, he staggered through the porch and onto the street. Panting, he spread his arms and tilted his face up into the downpour. Freezing water cascaded down his skin.

“I like a man who appreciates what lies at his very fingertips,” said Worth from the speakers. The voice echoed around the great hall like the god of Metus House. “From great leaders to street beggars. We are all kings and should survey our kingdoms once in a while. Mr. Fulcinni, I do believe you have rediscovered yours.”

Mario stepped forwards, away from the front doors.

“But alas, you know how we do things around here by now,” Worth continued. “Decisions have to be made. Beyond the reaches of this house lies your life. Do you choose to go back to that? Knowing that the very same life drove you here in the first place?”

Mario shivered. The cold clarified his thoughts a little, and he replied through trembling lips.

“F-Fuck you, Worth. I’m gone, you h-hear me?” He ran, leaping from the pavement and cutting across the road.

“Sir!” Worth boomed from the building. “You would leave without a farewell to the delightful Miss Foster? Frankly, I find that quite rude…”

Kerry?

Mario’s frantic footsteps slowed.

They can’t do this. I’m out!

Breathing deep, and clothes already saturated, he stopped and turned to face the house.

“I beg you, Mr. Fulcinni,” said Worth. “Think!”

Mario could barely see inside the hall now; distance hiding those gathered inside. With the porch in darkness and a thin, empty window on either side, the building itself appeared to have a face, and spoke:

“Welcome to your future.” Worth sighed. “You must decide. Return to your old life? Or save the girl?”

Mario sighed and closed his eyes.

So stupid. After everything, I thought they’d let me leave?

He clenched his fists. His head bowed.

Maybe I…maybe I should go back for her?

“I thought so,” Worth growled. “So be it.”

Faint tremors ran through the pavement, and Mario stared down as the flagstones beneath his feet cracked and splintered. He stumbled backwards, avoiding a cloud of dust that blew out the ground through a jagged fissure. The gap widened and seemed to snake along the ground towards him, forming forked lightning of broken concrete and gusts of shattered stone. The remaining flagstones jerked, and he toppled, landing hard on his back. Destruction rampaged, creeping up buildings and splitting the brick, crumbling the pavement and tearing up the road. The ground beneath his body wobbled, and the flagstones suddenly fell away, tumbling into a dark abyss.

Mario twisted in time to clutch the edge of the spreading hole. His fingertips dug into the disintegrating pavement, which crumpled to dust between his shaking digits.

“So be it!” Worth shouted again and laughed.

The edge of the hole collapsed, and Mario plummeted into the waiting darkness.

17

Mario screeched and jerked up in his seat. His flailing hand collided with a champagne glass, and the narrow crystal fell and rolled off the table. It shattered on the floor, echoing in the empty hall.

Screaming again from the sudden noise, Mario gasped in a long breath. Dizziness clouded his head in a whirling storm, remnants from his freefall. He leaned back in his seat, clutching the edge of the table.

Did I fall? How can I…

He glanced around the room.

What the fuck is going on?

The crowd had vacated the cavernous hall, and the stage stood empty; instruments lay propped against silent amplifiers, and a sheet had been draped over the drums. The bars on either side of the room were dark, neons switched off for the night. Chairs were placed upended on the smattering of tables around the dance floor. Only one table, the one at which Mario sat, contained signs of occupancy. A second glass, half full, sat next to a champagne bottle. The label on the emerald glass was so old and tattered that Mario failed to read the elaborate calligraphy.

He frowned at the bottle, and rubbed the ache at the base of his neck. His head throbbed.

Wait
, he thought.
Just wait a goddamn minute. The champagne!

He remembered relishing a glass of the sweet, dry nectar on his arrival to Metus House. Maybe his original theory was true; the weird visions, the murders, everything that had transpired since entering the building…

I’ve been drugged. Those bastards have laced this champagne!

He grabbed the bottle and threw it through the air. It spun and exploded at the centre of the dance floor, scattering shards of glass across the worn wood.

“What was it, Worth? Bit of LSD? Some other deliriant?” He laughed. “Big, big mistake, old boy. I think someone of my…experience can get over this quite quick. Hell, I’ve been through much worse and I’m still here. But no one spikes me, you sneaky fuck.”

Worth sighed, and Mario flinched. The guide had been sitting beside him the whole time.

“You know, Mr. Fulcinni, I’d never met an adult film star before you. And I have to say, I’m quite disappointed. I wanted to be surprised and discover a hidden class and intellect. It’s a common conception that those in that…line of work are nothing but, and pardon my French, harlots, sir. Both the ladies
and
the gentlemen. I wished to be proven wrong.”

Mario smirked. “Well I’m so sorry to have let you down. But you know what, Worth? I
have
learned something through all this.”

The guide smiled. “Excellent, sir. That was the purpose of the evening.”

“Yeah,” said Mario. “I’ve learned that although I have a shallow life, past drug addiction and fucking unchristian job, I’m still better then a lowlife like you. I expect my money, in full, back in my account first thing on Monday, with a little extra for the inconvenience. Should the amount fail to satisfy,
sir
, then you can deal with my lawyer, you cowardly spiking
fuck
.” He stood to leave.

“Try and redeem yourself,” said Worth. “Please sit down.”

In his mind, Mario grinned.
He wants to settle this now
, he thought. The events of the night flickered through his head like the contents of a photo album. Laurie, his father, the pleasure room, Kerry…

Kerry!

Mario stroked his chin in thought.

Was she real?
he pondered.
She’s been part of this nightmare from the very beginning. Another part of the nightmare?

He settled back down.

“Make this good. Make it quick,” he ordered.

Worth picked up the remaining glass and sipped.

“Ah,” he said, licking his dry lips. His tongue skirted the strands of his moustache. “Delicious. Now, Mr. Fulcinni. I appreciate your desire to return home. It has after all been quite an eventful night. I imagine you’re quite tired.” He replaced the glass on the table. “I’m not going to talk financial settlement with you. To even consider the matter is irrelevant and vulgar in my opinion. The fact of the matter is, you’re still here in Metus House. All because of the decision you made. To be honest, sir, I was actually delighted by your choice. It shows our methods are working, and the management will be very pleased with my efforts…”

Mario held up a hand. “Whoa. Slow down. We
will
be discussing financial settlement, either right now or in my lawyer’s office. You can’t just drug me and get away with it. And as for this decision, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. How can I make a decision when I’ve been passed out here all night?”

Worth shook his head, tufts of hair swaying.

“I thought by now you’d have an idea of how this place works.” He sighed again. “I guess not. However, we did, albeit temporarily, release you, and you made a conscious decision. You came back, sir. You wanted to come back for the girl. So here we are.”

Kerry…

“And this is why I’m so excited,” Worth continued. “One of the conditions of the contract was to make you think of others before yourself. This is a wonderful result!”

Mario frowned. “Contract? I didn’t enter into any contract!”

Worth winked. “Indeed. Who said the contract was with you?”

Mario closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. The guide confused him again. Why the hell hadn’t he just got up and left already?

“I can see you’re quite baffled,” said Worth. “Mayhap the delayed meeting with our manager may alleviate matters for you, Mr. Fulcinni.”

As if on cue, the sound of a door sliding open sounded from the corner of the room.