The Two Devils (5 page)

That was a funny thing. I didn't recall making any. But there was my little blue pot sitting on some coals. I knocked the dust from my spare cup and poured some.

She graciously accepted and took a sip. “This is terrible coffee."

"I know. It's all I got."

She invited herself to sit down on the log I was sitting on. “Miles, my name's Janus. I'm not from around here."

"Neither am I,” I pointed out.

"I'm an angel, Miles,” she explained. “You've heard of angels?"

"I never met an angel before,” I said, having my usual penchant for stating the obvious. “At least, not as I recall."

"Well, we don't get out much.” She took another dainty sip of coffee, then poured the rest out on the ground. She grimaced and shook her head. “Horrible."

"You're sure pretty enough to be an angel.” And that was the truth.

"Miles, I'm not what you may think, exactly.” she hesitated for just a moment. “I'm from hell. Most mortals, they don't realize there are angels in hell."

I again stated the obvious. “I did not know that."

"Back during the troubles, some of us left heaven. Anyway, I'm an angel from hell. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Heck no,” I replied. “Nick, he seemed to treat me fair enough. I give pert near everyone a chance."

She smiled. “That's sweet, Miles."

"Why does an angel from hell come all the way out here? Don't get me wrong. I'm glad you stopped by,” I said, “just a might bit curious."

"I understand.” She put her hand on my knee. “Nick wanted you to have a little reward."

"What kind of reward?"

She laughed. “Me, silly.” She stood up and snapped her fingers. The pretty blue dress vanished in a shower of sparks. She was not wearing any undergarments. “You can have me if you fancy me. Mind you, once you've had me, no mortal woman will ever satisfy you again."

Fancy her? I can't fully describe how beautiful she was. That guy who made the statue of Venus could've easily used her for a model. She kissed me and knocked me down onto the bedroll.

"Miles, I know you live in a sexually repressed time. Oh, I miss the Romans.” She started undoing my trousers. “Just relax. You might enjoy this."

Well, “enjoy this” was an understatement. I still don't know what they call what she did to me. But I sure did enjoy it. Eventually, I must've dozed off. When I woke, it was daylight. She was still lying next to me, stark naked. She was awake and seemed to have been watching me. Janus bent over and kissed me.

"You're sweet, Miles. I've gotta go now.” She stood up and whistled.

That mare came trotting up fast. She climbed on its back, still naked as a jaybird. “I'm going to flash some miners down the road, then head home.” She hesitated a second, “And Miles, when you get into Hangtown tomorrow, don't trust everyone, just because somebody might claim to be a preacher or clergyman is no reason to let your guard down.” Then, the horse ran off and she was gone.

I noticed Paul was also gazing off longingly. “Hey Paul, time to get going."

I'd decided to return to California and see if I could get fired at something other than mining for a while. Hangtown was probably going to incorporate and become Placerville, so the paper said. They'd have to tone down all their lynching and get more respectable, so the paper said. I rode into town and found a discount livery near the railroad tracks. I couldn't find an otel, so I settled on Mrs. Ray's Rooming House, just down the street from where I'd boarded Paul.

I promptly stretched out on the bed and drifted off to sleep. I wondered how long it would be before I stopped dreaming about Janus. It sure wasn't that night.

Bright and early, I set out in search of a new place to get fired from. I saw a crude sign for someone to do some painting. I had an uneasy feeling when I looked up and saw I was standing in front of a church, a church with one bad case of peeling paint. I'd been a little concerned about Janus’ warning. The place seemed harmless enough, though. In no time at all, I was hanging onto the side of a ladder scraping the old paint off the walls.

Paul took a liking to the plentiful grass growing on the grounds. I have no idea how he gets out of the stable, but he certainly seemed to enjoy watching me work. It was getting on toward summer and the work was hot and grimy, but I didn't mind. At least I didn't have to chop onions or lug ore out of a mineshaft.

The minister, Pastor Perkins, and his wife couldn't have been nicer to me. They frequently provided fresh tea or lemonade, and near constant praise about my progress. He was a tall man in his late forties, lean and balding. His wife was too, except for the man part.

On Sunday, I had to go to church. Pastor Perkins’ service proved to be about as dull and unimaginative as the mine owners I'd worked for. After two hours of his rattling on, it was finally over, and I was free for the rest of the day. I saddled up Paul, and we were heading out of town when we passed a beautiful woman in a saffron dress carrying a matching parasol.

And I do mean beautiful, as in Janus beautiful—except she was a blonde.

Odd thing was, Paul was looking at her too. “You know her, don't you?” I whispered.

He snorted.

I hopped off the horse and raced over to her. “Hi, I'm Miles.” I'd just assumed, if Paul knew her, she worked for Nick. “Can we go somewhere?"

She slapped me; hit me so hard I nearly went down. “Sir, we have not even been introduced."

I tried to get my bearings. “Sorry Miss, I thought you were someone else."

As I stood there, bewildered, she turned and walked across the street. She stopped and patted Paul's snout, then continued on. I went over, and he started snorting. “You enjoyed that, didn't you.” The rest of our ride was spent in silence.

By Monday afternoon, I'd made considerable progress on the church. It was looking very nice with its new coat of paint. I only had about a day's worth of trim left. Then Pastor Perkins just walked up to me, handed me some money, and told me I was fired. Now, I'm about as used to getting the boot as any man alive, but this sort of rankled me. I'd been doing a pretty darn good job. “What'd I do?"

"Just get out. We don't need your kind around here,” he insisted.

"My kind?"

He pointed at the road. “Get out."

I went back to the boarding house. My stuff was all packed on the front porch. “We don't need your kind,” Mrs. Ray screamed through the front door.

I loaded up what I had, then noticed something that shouldn't be in my travel bag. There was sepia photograph of a girl, a really young girl, as naked as a jaybird. I figured her for barely thirteen. And she wasn't just naked, she was posed provocatively. This was not right at all. I climbed on Paul and decided to get out of town and make camp until I could get things figured out.

The first thing I did was burn that picture in my campfire. I figured I didn't need that if some lynch mob posse came a calling. I knew I'd been set up. I just didn't know why. When it was dark, I strapped on my sixgun, checked the rifle, then started back for town. Paul, when he wants to, moves really quietly. His being totally black came in handy, too. No one seemed to hear or notice us as we snuck back into town.

We headed for the church. I was surprised to find it dark and quiet. Then Paul found a trail, and we headed down a steep embankment that wound its way down to a small creek.

Near the water was a group of people in red robes, surrounding a campfire. I counted eight—two more than my six-gun could handle. And there was someone else, a female strapped buck naked out on top of a rock altar.

The one closest to her was reciting some mumbo jumbo as the others stood on and watched. Then, the guy started waving a jagged knife around in the air. At that moment, I realized this was some sort of human sacrifice. Then, I realized something else. The female on the altar was the same one whose picture had been planted in my belongings.

About that time, all the hoods came off their scarlet robes. Mrs. Perkins was there, as was Mrs. Ray, my former landlady. I'd seen some of the others in town, though I could not place a name to them. “Hail Satan!” they all chimed. This was not good. “Hail our lord!” Then Pastor Perkins raised that knife high above his head. “We offer you this virgin, young and pure, as token of our love and devotion for you."

This definitely was not good. It looked like he was going to stab that girl any second. I fired. The knife went flying and the clergyman bent over, clutching his arm. These guns Nick had given me seemed to hit whatever I aimed at. Paul moved me closer to the group. “I take it you were going to tell the sheriff I did this."

"Hell no.” A man was pointing a revolver at me. “I'm the sheriff. That was a ruse for the newspaper. Drop that rifle, son."

I'd been wondering a lot about just what sort of horse Paul was. He kicked his hind legs up and sent the sheriff flying. I drew my six-gun just as another man drew his out from underneath his robe. I shot him in the shoulder, and he dropped his gun. The rest scattered out into the darkness.

As we were right in the middle of town, I wasn't surprised to hear people approaching, with the shooting and all. Paul and I high-tailed it into the darkness.

I don't know who they all were, but the headline on the next day's
Sentinel
screamed about the sex scandal behind the church. “Sheriff held by U.S. Marshal in planned sacrifice of virgin girl—others sought.” That was good enough for me. There was no mention of me, so I headed for other lodgings and hoped I was not one of the others being sought. I didn't stop until I came to Stockton.

It was almost like coming home. Stockton was where I first got fired. I checked Paul into a livery and then was looking for a place for me, when I noticed the Oriental Bath House and Massage Parlor. I decided I'd spend some of Pastor Perkins’ money and went right in.

A matronly woman looked me over. She was no more oriental than I was. I noticed a bevy of Chinese girls giggling, off in a nearby hallway. I was instructed to go to room three and get undressed. I did as told, after parting with a whole quarter.

Two Chinese women poured hot water down my back. After three such dowsings, they left me to soak by myself. I was debating whether to pay more and get a massage when the door opened and a woman entered.

She was behind me, so it wasn't until she moved around to my front that I realized it was the same woman who'd clobbered me in Hangtown. I tried to cover my privates as best I could.

"So you're Miles,” she said.

"That's what they call me,” I said. “You have the advantage."

She was stunning, every bit as pretty as Janus, with soft blonde hair and eyes that were bluer than blue, like little pieces of a cobalt jar. “Miles, I guess you already suspect, I'm an angel. Your horse gave me away the other day."

"They say you can only see an angel if it wants you to,” I said.

"And, once you've seen us, we can't conceal ourselves from you,” she added. “So, you know what I am.” She pulled up a chair. “My name's Buffy."

"What kind of name is that?” I asked, then regretted it.

"A very old one,” she said with a cross tone.

"Miles, when someone like Nick takes a personal interest in a mortal, we do get a bit concerned,” Buffy explained. “That's why I'm here."

"Who's we?” I asked. A certain sense of unease filled my innards.

She looked at me like she thought I was an idiot. “Miles, I'm from heaven. That's where angels come from, but for a few exceptions."

"Oh. It's just that I met one of those exceptions a few days back."

"Sending you to intervene with a ritual like that depravity last night. It's not like Nick. It's not like him at all,” she said.

"Well, he didn't rightly send me, exactly,” I pointed out.

"He didn't?"

"No. But they sure knew I was heading for Hangtown. And Janus gave me some strange warning about clergymen."

"Interesting.” She stood and put the chair back where it had been.

"I'm concerned about you, Miles. That bunch from hell, they're not to be trusted, or taken lightly."

"Well, I don't trust ‘em, exactly. I don't know what to make of things. I'm just a simple clod from Kansas,” I argued.

"A simple clod who has a first name relationship with angels and Nick Mephistopheles. And I don't even want to think what sort of depravity Janus is leading you into.” She started for the door, then looked back at me. “I'll see you, Miles."

"Hey, Buffy?"

She stopped. “Yes?"

"Paul seemed to know you, the other day. What kind of horse is he?” I asked.

"Miles,” she paused for just a beat, “he's a stallion.” And she was gone.

I finished my bath and got dressed. I found my horse being petted by a very pretty woman dressed in one of those Parisian dresses, this one was green and black. She had the prettiest eyes I'd ever seen, even prettier than Buffy or Janus. This redhead was stunning. She smiled. “His name's Paul,” I said.

She patted him again. “I know that."

I was really wondering why I was so popular with the angels all of a sudden. “I'm Miles."

"I know that.” She finally turned toward me. “What did Buffy want?"

"Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that I feel I already know you. I've heard so much about you,” she explained. She extended a dainty hand. She was a little smaller than Janus, but she reminded me of her with the same sort of sassy look. “I'm an angel, Miles. And I'm not from heaven."

I gladly took her hand. “How many angels are there in hell?"

"Just a few of us. And those silly demons are so jealous.” She seemed to regret that admission. “Is Buffy trying to woo you back to their side?"

"I ain't on anyone's side,” I pointed out.

"Did she give you a peck on the cheek, or just a crummy handshake?” she asked.

"I still don't know your name,” I said, trying to change the subject. I was rather impressed with Buffy and didn't like where things were going.

"Mabel.” She was not going to give up easily. “Well?"

"Neither. She never touched me.” I decided not to count the previous day when she'd clobbered me.