House Infernal by Edward Lee (45 page)

"Bashed her face in just for kicks," Moxey, the state
deputy chief, remarked.

"No, Dougie's smarter than that," Berns said. "No ID
on the body, and no face or fingerprints? He wants to bide
time. If we don't know who she is, we don't know the
make and model of the car he jacked. A DNA probe'll take
days, and she probably won't have it on file anyway. All
we can do now is hope somebody reports her missing."

"And by then he'll have switched cars anyway," " Moxey
said, sneering, "if this guy's as smart as you think."

A squad of uniforms were around front asking proprietors and customers if they'd seen someone matching
Dougie's description drive off at around the time of his
phone call to Berns.

Eventually some evidence section men bagged the body
and carried it off. "At least the damn phone company
didn't shuck and jive about giving us the location of the
phone," " Moxey commented. "The turnoff to the interstate
is just down the road. Jones could be in Ohio by now."

This guy's useless, Berns thought. They walked back
around to the front of the stores, where more cops and detectives milled about, eerie shapes in the throbbing red
and blue light. The medical examiner's van sat with its
back door yawning open. "My hunch is Dougie only
wants us to think that."

"What, that he left the state?"

"Sure."

Moxey's irate expression compressed. "There's the
body." He pointed to the van. "There's the pay phone he
called you from." He pointed to the phone. "And there's
the exit ramp to the highway." He pointed down the road.
"But you don't think he left the area? Come on, man, it's
right in front of your face."

Berns sat down on a bench in front of the pizza parlor.
His exhaustion made him feel hypnotized. "Freddie Johnson gave me the same jive-swore that his accomplices had left the state just like he did. Then I get the same bit
from Sue Maitland. It's the only thing they lied about."

Moxey's collar was digging into his neck. "So you think
Jones is still in town? Bullshit. I can't redirect a manhunt
when all these facts are right in front of us."

Berns sighed. "Then you're making a mistake."

"I'm the one calling the shots here, Captain," Moxey
snapped.

"Fine. Call them." Berns didn't want to argue. "Jones
escaped on my watch, so it's my fuck-up. But I know these
people-you don't. I talked to all of them. They acted like
there was still something going on-something important
to them. Dougie's still in town but he went out of his way
to make us think he's not. That's what I'm seeing here."

Moxey's cheeks pinkened with suppressed irritation.
"All right, we'll do it your way ... and I'll probably wind
up losing my job."

Berns laughed good-naturedly. "I'll be right behind you."

Moxey ground his teeth as he radioed in: "Central
Commo, this is D.C. Moxey. Order all available units into
Wammsport."

"Smart move," Berns said. The pizza smelled good but
after seeing the Jane Doe's face, forget it.

Moxey glared down. "All right, Captain Berns. Any
ideas where Jones might be right now? Like exactly?"

Berns stood up and looked out into the dim night.
"Yeah, I've got an idea...."

Venetia had never seen anything so macabre in her life.
The blood Dougie had dumped in the southeast comer
seemed to convulse the instant it hit the floor, while the
spoiled puddles in the other comers did the same.

Then the faintest crimson mist began to rise.

She felt it at once, a sensation-like static-prickly off
her skin. Several strands of her hair rose as if levitating,
and in her belly she noticed a distinct, unpleasant buzz.

Dougie's grin was exuberant. "Feel it?"

"Yes," she croaked.

"Freddie was right about everything, even the timing.
The Involution is charging now, the power's building."
He came forward with the pistol. "We'll have to go soon."
He grinned. "But not just yet ..

Venetia could imagine what was next on his agenda.
She stepped back into the shadows beneath the stair-hall,
hoping she'd gotten herself closer to where she'd seen the
razor. His hands were on her at once, spinning her
around. Nauseousness rose when he bent her over the end
of a couch that had been shoved aside; then he pulled her
dress up and her panties down. He grabbed her ponytail
and shoved down.

"I thought you needed a virgin," she choked.

"Oh, I do, but I'll be giving it to you in the back door, if
you know what I mean. Your virginity won't be busted."

Oh my God ...

She could hear him unzipping his pants, then felt the
tip of the gun barrel stroke her bare buttocks. She could
only hope that the excitement of anal rape would distract
him enough for her to grab the razor, turn, and cut him.
"Now that's what I call a great ass."

His hands parted her buttocks ... and she let her right
hand creep to the corner of the windowsill....

The razor wasn't there anymore.

She heard him expectorate, winced when she felt where
it landed, but when she expected this invasion of her
body to commence-

Nothing happened.

She heard a -gasp.

What ...

Venetia turned, bolted upright. Dougie stood behind
her, shivering, his back arched. His hands seemed desperate, at his throat as blood gushed between his fingers.

When Dougie collapsed, she saw another figure right
behind him.

Venetia froze in place.

The figure reached down, took Dougie's pistol-

Bam!

Venetia shrieked at the concussion. Dougie's shuddering ceased as half of his head fragmented.

Now the figure pointed to the -atrium....

Venetia followed with her gaze. The blood in the southeast comer was beginning to slowly follow the inlaid spiral, while the puddles in the other three corners were
lengthening toward the center.

"The Involution is charging," a solemn voice informed
her. The figure stepped into the light-Father Whitewood. "Follow me, child. It's time to go to the Lower
Chancel...."

"It's your destiny-a gift from God on High," he told her,
taking her across the moonlit backyard. "You are truly,
truly blessed."

Venetia followed, mainly because she felt compelled to,
by something in her heart. She oddly felt no fear, just
searing curiosity. "I thought they wanted to sacrifice me."

"No, no, child," Whitewood said. "Their success depends entirely on your staying alive ... as does our success. They both hinge on the same thing."

"What?"

"Your successful entrance into the Pith. But we infiltrated their motives long ago. We thought it best to let
Tessorio's sect commence with everything, and turn the
tables on them without them ever knowing. A Trojan
Horse. You."

"I don't understand, Father."

The old man smiled in the dim moonlight. "You don't
need to. You need only have faith in the Lord God, your
Protector and Redeemer."

I do, Venetia thought.

"It was Driscoll's job to re-bless the prior house after
my cowardice caused me to abandon my post. The building's defenses are down since the murders. A respite
home for reassigned priests was simply the cover story.
It's not a prior house and never was. It's a tomb."

"A tomb for who?"

Whitewood's tired voice creaked like old timbers. "For six angels who were debauched by Lucifer's confederates.
They were raped and impregnated, and then via Satan's
latest sorcerial sciences, sent here, to this house."

"Why here?"

Whitewood touched her shoulder. "Have patience and
strength." Then he took her into the storage shed in the
middle of the yard. What could possibly be here? Venetia
thought, but then saw the oblong floor panel taken up,
and the black maw leading down.

Stairs.

Whitewood snapped on a flashlight.

"Ann McGowen said that a ghost kept telling her to go
to the basement-but there is no basement at the prior
house," Venetia told him. "So this is what she meant."

The old man nodded. He led the way to the catacomb
beneath the house.

"It leads straight back to the point directly beneath the
center of the Involution," Whitewood informed. "There's
a similar catacomb in Hell. Both lead to the Pith."

Venetia's curiosity pulled her along. The walkway was
reinforced with cinder blocks but was very narrow.
Whitewood continued, "One of the few upper hands the
Lux Ferre has over God is the timelessness of Hell. He
means to bring something from Hell into the world, and
then take something from the world back to Hell. The
sorcery merges two points at once. That's what will happen when the Involutions here and there are charged. For
a few moments both Piths will occupy the same space. No
one in the Living World has ever witnessed what you are
about to."

Venetia shuffled along behind him; his crisp silhouette
led the way. "What were you saying ... about timelessness?"

"It's the most perplexing element of all-which is perfect logic from our enemy's standpoint. See, when the two
Piths become one, some of that same timelessness will
carry over to here. That's how it works. Here time is a constant, there it is nonexistent-therefore, when time's con stancy on Earth mingles with the timelessness of Hell,
time turns into a disproportion, and is therefore manipulable. You will see twenty years pass in one second, and in
that second, you'll witness everything that occurred. Lucifer's sorcery will then be mincing time up into bits and
mixing the bits around like dice in a cup."

"But what's his motive?" she asked.

"His motive is to transfer something hideous into our
realm, and then take something blessed from us into his
domain. It's something that he could forge into a great
weapon." The old man slowed and looked back at her.

"This something is me, isn't it?"

"Yes."

They scuffled through the catacomb; spiderwebs
snagged at Venetia's face. When she looked again, she
saw that Whitewood was holding the pistol forward.

"What's ... that for, Father?"

A hollow pause. "There may be a detractor waiting for
us. Just remember to take one of the bones and hide it on
your person."

At once Venetia remembered the insane voice. "But
that's what I don't understand! What bones?"

"Shhh. We're here."

The Lower Chancel bloomed before them, a crude circular room walled by more blocks. Something glowed
faintly--something with a red tinge-in the center. It
looked like an irregular slab of stone.

"The Pith," Whitewood said. "When the blood in the
atrium has fully wound its course to the center of the Involution, the Pith will be fully charged, and then ... they
will arrive."

"They...," Venetia murmured. "These angels you
mentioned?"

The old man nodded, then led Venetia into a small anteroom to the right. His flashlight froze on something in
the corner.

Venetia's mouth fell open.

"When they arrived, they knew that mutual death was their only resort," Whitewood's voice echoed in the
chamber.

There they hung by their necks, the entire group of
them. They hadn't decomposed as humans would, but
had instead become mummified, their skin browning like
leather. Hanging behind them, off bony webworks, were
their once grand wings. Venetia could tell, by the remnants of their genitals, that they were all female.

"Suicide," Venetia muttered.

"Not quite. They knew we couldn't kill themHumans can't kill Angels-so as they were hanging, they
pulled each other's hearts out. It's the only way. They
killed one another."

Closer inspection showed Venetia the rents in each of
the being's chests, and each held in a desiccated hand a
malformed lump that could only be a heart.

Utter confusion made her plead to Whitewood, "How
can we be waiting for them to arrive when ... they're already here?"

"Remember what I said about time and its inconstancy
once the Piths are charged. Satan's ploy can only work in
two stages. He is now going back in time to implement
the second stage. Only then can he reclaim what was born
here all those years ago."

Venetia felt more and more static prickling her skin.
"What was born here?"

"It's time you saw for yourself." Then he took her into
another brick anteroom off to the left. His flashlight
pushed aside the shadows to reveal ...

Boxes?

Concrete boxes-six of them-sat in a row, each a yard
long, two feet wide, and two deep. Coffins. The word
snapped into her head.

And atop of each sat a yellowed bone.

"The bones of St. Ignatius," she whispered.

"Yes, the most potent Power Relics that we could come
up with. Once the Vatican realized what Tessorio had done,
it was too late, so we entombed them. The bones keep the crossbreeds inside paralyzed. They've continued to grow,
of course, but they can't escape as long as the Power Relics
are present. Nothing evil can touch such a Relic." The old
man stepped to the first coffin. "Help me, child....

The grating rasped in her ears as she helped push the
first lid-half off the box.

Venetia almost keeled over when she got a look at the
thing inside: a grooved face and warped bald head with
flesh the color of mucus. The abomination filled the confines of the cement coffin, clearly growing from infancy
until the coffin's walls prohibited further development.
Venetia noticed breasts but also what appeared to be a
hairless penis.

Senses reeling, she pushed back the lid.

"It's the offspring of an angel raped by a demon,"
Whitewood said in his lowest tone. "Each one is different,
a variant abomination."

In the second box was a lithe, crushed thing as pale as
butter with crystalline orbs for eyes. Between the broken
spokes of its wings were folds of carnation pink skin. Lips
the color of liver trembled, and between them sprouted
disarrayed fangs.