House of Skin (40 page)

Eddy smiled haughtily, his arrogance on display. “Definitely. Tonight we’ll do our last bit of work where my father did his—in the old house. I’ll have her meet us there.”

“It’s a trick,” Spider moaned. “I know it is. She’ll bring that cop and ruin everything.”

“He can come, too.”

“Leave her out of this,” Spider demanded.

“Why? The Sisters said they’d be more than happy to have her along. If she brings the cop, we’ll deal with him.”

Spider shook his flayed head. “You’re taking too many chances,” he said. “If that cop brings more, they could ruin everything. I have to go, can’t you see that? You can afford to play games, but I can’t. I won’t last another week in this damn place. I’m falling apart.”

“Trust me.”

“It’s not a matter of trust,” Spider told him. “It’s a matter of reality. If I don’t get through and soon, there might not be enough of me left to make the journey.”

“Don’t worry so.”

Spider attempted a laugh but it came out as a hiss. His face was hanging from the bone in flaking loops, his festering skin jumped with lice and vermin, a stink of dampness and decay oozing from him. “Easy for you to say.”

“Relax.”

“Yeah, right.” The Shadows crawled up and out of him, vacating his mouth, his nose, his innumerable wounds. Wherever they found an opening, they slipped free.

(we don’t want to take chances eddy we can’t afford to)

“I have everyone’s best interests in mind,” Eddy assured them.

(see that you do)

The voices died out and the Shadows filed back into their holes.

“Be careful,” was all Spider would say when they were quiet.

Eddy lit a cigarette and dropped him a wink. “The way will open tonight and there’s nothing the police can do to stop it.”

“I hope not. You have no idea what it’s like being this.” He rubbed his temples and strands of flesh rained down. “Or having them inside you all the time.”

“I know what that’s like very well. Soon everyone will be free.”

“I hope so.”

Eddy smiled. “Keep it together, old boy. You can’t be coming apart at the seams now.”

* * *

It was out of desperation that Lisa did what she did. She needed to take her mind off of the inevitable confrontation in which she would be forced to tell Fenn everything. So, it was with this in mind that she took out her calculator and a pad of paper and began to decipher the code of the Territories.

It had been years since she’d dabbled in any higher mathematics. Not since her trig and calculus classes in pre-med had she been confronted by anything like this and it all came back to her as she copied down the theorems from the crumbling book. It was good, she decided, doing this. It gave her something to focus on.

If nothing else now, she understood everything. She knew about William Zero. She knew about the Territories … or as much as she wanted to. She knew what happened to Fenn’s Jane Doe. She knew the dead could walk if it pleased them to do so. And most importantly, she knew that Eddy Zero was dead. That she’d been chasing a phantom for some time. Eddy was Cherry now and vise versa. Cassandra was right: the world was insane. Lisa was no stranger to guilt, but it was only now that she really understood what guilt was. And it had little to do with her personal life, this was totally professional. First off, after Cherry had escaped from prison, it was Lisa who hid her, studied her—all in direct violation to the professional principles and moral codes that went with being a physician. That was the first bad thing. Then she’d used HT on her, a more or less experimental drug. She’d gotten it from the prison infirmary where it was being used as part of a test group by the FDA. Countless other institutions were involved in the program. What it had done to Cherry wasn’t her fault … not totally. She blamed the FDA for that. But the fact still remained that she’d violated professional principles by helping and studying Cherry and by using the drug on her in the first place.

In her own way, Lisa had created this entire ugly scenario. HT was partly responsible, of course, but it was Lisa who administered it to Cherry. And after Cherry had fled from her house that night, she went on a murder spree with the real Eddy Zero that resulted in her taking his life in more ways than one. So, all things considered, Lisa knew what guilt was. If she hadn’t helped Cherry, if she hadn’t given her the drug to fulfill some twisted ambition of writing a book, a lot of people might now be alive. Everyone from those Cherry and Eddy had murdered on their little cross-state run, to Eddy himself, and all the other bodies that were piling up in the city now.

I’m responsible, Lisa thought, for nearly all of this mess and maybe for
all
of it. But I’m going to make amends. I’m going to take care of Eddy and Cherry and William Zero at the same time. If this goes right, they’re all going to be taking a trip somewhere they’ll never return from.

With the help of the book and Cassandra, she was determined to do just that.

When Fenn came, things would get ugly. He probably despised her by now and, although this pained her, she knew his hatred would multiply geometrically once the truth was out. But he would demand to be told. And she would tell him and leave nothing out. And for the first time in his life, she knew, he’d curse his policeman’s curiosity for all and everything. His image of her as an innocent dove would change dramatically. Oh, she was tarnished in his eyes right now, but it was nothing compared to what was coming. And when she told him, what then? Would he just walk out disgusted, or would he throw her in jail as an accessory? Or, was she misjudging the man completely? Would he want to help her after all?

It was no simple feat trying to make sense of the equations and symbols in the book. They were written in no particular order and she’d copied them down as such. First, it was a matter of forming them into some logical order, if that was even possible. She spent the better part of an hour trying one combination after another and all to no avail. Her background in math was too limited to make sense of these jumbled configurations. William Zero understood them and maybe you had to be insane like him to understand any of it. The idea of a mathematical system of logic only lunatics could solve was amusing. But it didn’t seem too far off the mark.

She kept at it out of lack of anything better to do. After a time, whether it was her jangled nerves or simply exhaustion, it all started to make sense. Once she’d linked two or three equations together, the rest seemed to fall into place. She likened herself to an ignorant savage who, although he can press the keys of a computer and make it work, has no true idea of what he’s doing. And she definitely had no idea. Zero had arranged the equations in random order on purpose, she supposed, so that even if someone found them, they’d never glean his secrets. Everything seemed to fit now, yet she was certain there was still an error somewhere. On a whim she began rearranging everything and finally reversing the very order of what she saw as the logic of the equation.

And that’s when she heard the sobbing from the other room.

She was alone; she knew that much. Yet, she heard a sustained, muted crying from the next room. She rose slightly on the bed and peered through the doorway. The room was dimming as if the sun had slipped behind a cloud. But it was more than that. If blankets had been thrust over the windows, it wouldn’t have explained what was coming down. The light was being chased away, the room becoming enveloped in murky gloom. She could see the shadows, black, swirling clouds of coal dust, swimming out of the corners and blackening the air like ink dropped in water. She knew then what was happening. She knew what was coming from the antique mirror in the living room.

The Territories.

She thought:
I’ve done it. Jesus Christ, I’ve opened the chasm.

And she had.

Beyond the doorway, the living room was a fathomless, dark abyss. Fingers of ebony shadow were creeping into the bedroom. A pungent, hot wind with a texture like ash blew the sheets up around her. The sobbing was louder now and she could hear screams and whispers. A singular bleak desolation settled in her heart.

William Zero came walking through the mist, looking every bit Dr. Blood-and-Bones. He was stitched and scarred and wasted, his clothing hanging in fluttering rags … or was it his flesh? It was hard to say where one ended and the other began. He was a walking hide, a sutured human pelt, a stuffed and stitched monstrosity barely holding his shape.

“I’m very much impressed,” he told her with envy in his voice. “It isn’t just anyone who can solve the mystery of the equation.”

Behind him, there seemed to be other maimed and skullish faces flitting in the mists, anxious to cross over, but not daring.

“It was an accident,” she found herself saying.

“Nonetheless, through accident comes revelation. You called me and I am here.” His sutured face attempted a smile. It was horrible, a cadaver’s grin. “Now, the book. Give it to me along with your calculations. You have no idea how dangerous they can be in the hands of the ignorant.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Your cooperation isn’t necessary,” he promised her. “I’ll have it one way or another. There’s nowhere to run this time.”

She stuffed her pages of work into the book and threw it to him. It was an awkward toss, yet it landed in his seamed palm, driven there by the stinking wind. He slid it into his pocket.

“Very good of you,” he said, taking a step forward. “And now how should I reward the trouble you’ve caused me?”

“Just leave,” she said. “I won’t tell anyone.”

He laughed. “Tell anyone you like. But first, we started something the other day. It’s high time we finished it.”

Her lips trembled, trying to speak, but words of supplication were beyond her. His appetite made her bowels turn to ice. “Don’t touch me,” she finally said. “Please don’t touch me.”

“Now, now, quit your squirming,” he said. “We have places to go, things to see.” He held out his hand to her. “Come with me. You’ll find the journey painful, but the rewards are beyond words.”

She crawled away until her back was against the headboard. “Why me? Why do you have to take me? What we had was a lifetime ago.”

He came alongside the bed with a straight razor in his hand, its blade stained brown. His stink made bile squirt into her mouth. He was grinning … if you could call it that … the abundant scar tissue and stitched seams of his face pulling up the corner of his lips into a toothy cadaveric grimace.

“Why don’t you take your son?” she gasped, barely able to breathe.

This stopped him. “My son?”

“Yes, Eddy. Your boy.”

“Is he near?”

“No, but I can bring him to you,” she bartered. “It won’t take long. Tonight maybe.”

“I had almost forgotten the boy.”

“He never forgot you. He’s recreating your crimes in detail.”

“Really?”

“Yes! He and another are trying to get into the Territories to see you. The Sisters have told them it will be soon.”

“I had no idea. Communication is lacking in the chasm.”

“Just take him instead of me. He’d be better company.”

Dr. Blood-and-Bones was grinding his yellowed, pitted teeth in indecision. “But it’s you I’ve dreamed of, my love. It’s you I wanted to spend eternity with.”

“You wouldn’t enjoy me. I’d scream and cry. I’d hate it.”

He grinned. “You’re teasing me.” He rolled his eyes in ecstasy. “How I’ve longed to see you in blissful torment.”

“But Eddy … he’s your flesh and blood …”

“The Sisters will be bringing him over anyway. I’ll see him soon enough.”

Her mind was racing, trying to think of something. “The Sisters brought you through, didn’t they? Wouldn’t you rather bring your son through personally?”

He cackled dryly. “It would be delicious, cheating them of him …”

“I can arrange it. He wants me to go with him. I can get him to the old house and you can take him there.”

“No tricks?”

“None. I promise. He’s just like you. You’ll be proud.” She opened her robe, exposing her bruises and cuts. “He raped me.”

Zero practically beamed with pride. “My, my, what a mischievous thing he is.”

“I’ll get him for you.”

“Very well. Bring Eddy to me and make it soon.”

“It will be.”

“If I’m pleased, I’ll let you stay in this depressing place,” he promised her. “If not, your picked bones will warm our marriage bed on the other side.”

He stepped back through the door, humming something under his breath. The darkness and mist followed in his wake and disappeared completely. There was something like a sigh as the chasm closed back up and a great wind raced through the suite, pulling pictures from their hooks and scattering newspapers.

Then she was alone again.

* * *

Fenn let himself in around six. He fixed himself a drink and waited for the woman he loved to begin. And as he did, he wondered silently what he’d get from her. Would it be the truth or just more lies? Or even a clever mix of both? Love could be a blinding thing and maybe he’d been deceiving himself for too long. She never said she’d loved him; she never even pretended such. Yet, he’d been certain that she had in her own way. But maybe it was all just a dream and nothing more. The possibility was ominous. All the nights he’d whiled away dreaming of their lives. The times he’d watched her sleeping beside him and thought it would never end. Had it all been just a delusion? He’d never been an emotional man nor a compassionate one. Love didn’t come easy to him as it did to some. But when it came, it took him completely and there was no going back. And if this all turned out to be nothing more than a delusive dream, he knew it would destroy him.

Watching her now, sitting across from him like a stranger, it was hard to remember not having doubts. Everything she did—flicking a strand of hair from her eyes or meeting his gaze and then looking away—seemed to be a confession from her that they’d shared nothing but a few amusing sexual interludes.

The possibility was frightening.

There was nothing about her that suggested there was anything more between them. There was no electricity in her eyes, no magic in her face when her eyes found his, only something that might have been guilt or indifference.