Before Walter could object further, he was being wheeled into another spacious, plushly paneled and carpeted room. More candles guttered, an entire wall of them. It was in here that Walter saw the strangest scene.
“What... is this?” he asked, peering.
Long tables were arranged about the room and sitting at the tables were a dozen naked women. The women weren’t robust and attractive, though, not like Augustina. They all looked emaciated and straggly, dirty hair hanging before wan faces as they leaned over the tables. They were all writing very intently, almost frantic as they scribbled on yellow legal pads. The sound of their etching filled Walter’s ears like locusts.
“Welcome to my Scriptorium. Meet my holographers, my Unholy Transcribers.” Something smelled funny in the room, something burning.
Then Walter saw the burner in front of the tables, a crucible sort of thing sitting on top of it, and a large tank marked FLAMMABLE.
“Bones,” Colin said. “We’re burning bones, which takes a very high temperature, by the way. The girls inhale the smoke, and it puts them in a Conveyance Trance; it’s kind of like catalepsy, only they can move. Think of it as a phone line to that other world.”
Walter just kept looking at the row of girls as they sat scribbling away. They were all so skinny and slat-ribbed, their hands and fingers bony under parchment-white skin. Their eyes looked dead.
“Only the bones of murderers, rapists, and child molesters work, but in Florida?” Colin let out a modest laugh. “They were pretty easy to find. The girls are all junkies and crack whores from Tampa and St. Pete. The drugs corrupt their willpower. Weak-willed people are the easiest to turn over. They all work for me, or I should say for a greater glory. They’ll write till they die.”
At that, one girl on the end flopped over onto the floor, her tongue out, eyes opened staring at nothing. That’s when Walter noticed several other dead girls who’d been shoved out of the way under the tables.
“They’re pretty much done,” Colin continued. “They’re hooked up to someone downstairs, if you know what I mean, and they’re transcribing the Evocations
of Lucifuge
in their entirety, the first book to ever be published in Hell. Not the kind of thing you can pick up at Barnes & Noble, you know. That’s why I’m having it transcribed by the girls. It contains something very important, something that you’ll need to read right away—a chapter called ‘The Unsacred Edicts of Hellspace.’ It’s like a rule book.
Hell For Dummies.”
Colin chuckled again. “And there’s a sub-chapter, Walter. Please read it. It’s called ‘Etheresscs and Ethereans.’ ”
The incessant scribbling was sidetracking Walter’s ability to properly process the information.
He’s crazy,
came the eventual deduction. He’s
crazier than I am.
All
I wanted
to
do was kill myself...
Another girl toppled over. She twitched a few times on the carpet, urinated weakly, and died.
“I made a deal,” Colin said. “A you-scratch-my-back-I’ll-scratch-yours kind of deal. I got the hundred mil, and I’ve gotten to live like a king. But it’s over now. Something even better awaits.”
“You’re not making any sense at all,” Walter said.
“You’ll read the whole scoop later, but I’ll give you the short version. We’re a rarity, Buddy-bro. For one thing, we were born on May 18th. You probably don’t know this, but May 18th is a balls-to-the-the-wall occult celebration day.”
Walter frowned.
Occult celebration?
“What’s the big deal with May 18th?”
“On May 18th, 636 A.D., Pope Honorius the First sold his soul to the Devil. That was a big feather in Satan’s cap. Occult holidays are very important in the jazz you’ll read about later. And there are other things that make us important, too.”
“Like what?”
“We’re both identical twins, and we’re suicidal.”
“You’re not suicidal.” Walter felt sure. “You’ve always been the most confident, level-headed guy I’ve ever known.”
Colin laughed heartily. “Every motherfuckin’ day, man. I wake up, take one gander at the dork looking back at me in the mirror, and I just wanna blow my head right the fuck off. People are shit, they’re schmucks, they’re liars who only care about themselves and they’ll walk on anybody, trash anybody, hurt anybody, just to get one more nickel out of life. They pretend to be your friend but shit all over you the minute your back’s turned. They write you off like you’re chalk on a fuckin’ blackboard. The whole world is full of ’em, Walter, full of phony backstabbing assholes who need people like you and me just to keep their self-esteem up. I’d had a belly full for
years.
I hate people, they all suck. They lead you on, lie to you, set you up, and tear you down. Why? Because they
can.
Because it’s
fun.
It’s the beautiful over the ugly, the powerful over the powerless, it’s the nice guys getting mowed down by the Black Hats simply because we’re standing there and can be mowed. It’s their power, Walter, and guys like me and you are their ego fodder. We’re the meat they eat for breakfast every day, and there’s nothing we can do about it. I guess the only reason I never really did blow my head off is because I was afraid some chump would curse my nerd corpse for making too much noise.”
Walter sat mortified. He was in utter shock by the revelation. “I ... never knew. You were always the one I looked up to when I was depressed. You never seemed depressed. You never seemed suicidal. You never seemed—”
“Things are
never
as they seem,” Colin cut in. “People are
never
as they seem. That’s why I joined the club, that’s why I went over to a belief system that knows what I’m all about. I’m an outcast, Walter, and I always have been. And who was the first person to
ever
be cast out? Ever?”
The silence chilled Walter to the bone.
“There’s one other thing, the most important thing that makes us special,” Colin continued. “We’re both virgins.”
Walter raised a brow, looked back at the sultry, grinning, and still very nude Augustina. “You’re telling me that you never—”
“Virgins in the Biblical sense, Walter. Hands and mouths don’t count, if you catch my drift. Augustina is very well-practiced. She kept me happy without breaking any of the Rules. And you haven’t broken the Rules, either, have you? I know you haven’t,
I saw
to it.”
Again, Walter said, “What are you talking about?”
Colin winked to Augustina, who then leaned over behind Walter and began to brazenly rub his crotch. Walter squirmed. Soon her hand slipped down into his pants ...
“Nothin’, huh?” Colin said with the same grin. “No life south of the belt, ain’t that right?”
It was true, as it had been for some time now. Even the few times he’d gotten a chance to be intimate with Candice, Walter’s erection had failed utterly. This he could only attribute to nervousness and performance anxiety.
“Those iron pills weren’t iron pills,” Colin informed.
“What?”
“And you’re not anemic.”
“But the doctor said I was!”
“The doctor said you were because I paid him to say that.
The pills are something called cholaxinol tartrate. It’s something the courts make sex-offenders take. Makes it impos . sible to get hard.”
Walter was instantly enraged. “I’m gonna kick your ass!” he shrieked, but it was more like a girl’s shriek, his voice cracking. He tried to push himself out of the chair but he was still too weak and light-headed.
“Relax. It had to be done. If you’d lost your virginity, everything would’ve been ruined. I couldn’t let that happen, Walter. I couldn’t let that blond bimbo jock-chasing tramp wreck my whole gig. Just one roll in the hay with her, and everything would’ve been lost. That’s one of the Rules. You have to stay a virgin, and so do I.”
I’ve been sabotaged! By my own brother!
Walter had never been so mad in his life, nor so confused. Why would Colin do such a thing? He knew how Walter felt about Candice!
“Your destiny is a million times more important than your jones for Candice.” Colin seemed to answer the thought. “So I fucked it all up for you. Sorry, but it had to be done.”
“When I get out of this chair, I’m gonna—”
“Save it. And listen.” Colin whipped his finger at Augustina, and then she was wheeling Walter back out to the big room off the balcony. The pendulum clock ticked on. It was a few minutes till midnight. “Not much time now. Faith is everything. Belief is the bedrock. You’ve got to give everything to your faith because our gods protect the faithful. They empower us. Do you believe that, Buddy-bro?”
“I’ll believe that you’re crazy!” Walter warbled back. “You’re some kind of crazy devil-worshiper!”
“Augustina?” Colin beckoned. “Show my brother the power of your faith.”
The nude woman traipsed around the chair, walked elegantly as a runway model out to the balcony, then jumped over the rail in total silence.
“See?” Colin said.
Walter gulped.
“It has to be you, it can’t be me.” Colin grabbed a can of Milwaukee’s Best from the bar fridge, popped it open, and swigged. “Ah, now
that
I can drink. But where was I? Oh, yeah. I’ll get my own reward, so don’t worry about me. Shit, I wish it
could
be me, but that’s not how the cards fell. That’s why I shit a brick when the college called me and said you’d tried to kill yourself. Walter, it’s very important that you understand something. You can’t be the one who kills himself
You’re
the one who is destined to be the Etherean.” More candlelight flickered on Colin’s face. “The Prince of Lies wants you, brother. I’m just the pawn. We all play our little part.” He chugged the last of his beer, shot a glance to the clock, and then said, “It’s almost time.”
“Time for what, Colin?”
“First, your present!” Colin presented Walter with an fancy, intricately carved mahogany box. “Open it, brother.”
Walter did—and screamed till the whites of his eyes turned red. Looking back up at him from the box was Candice’s severed head. “What did you do!”
“I killed the hose-bag,” Colin said. “I never liked her anyway, but the reason I killed her is to motivate you. Look in the box. There’s a page from her diary...”
Walter was close to having a hemorrhagic stroke when he fumbled out the piece of paper. It was lined, pretty paper, the softest pink. It smelled like Candice’s perfume, and sure enough, it was filled with her familiar florid script. The last entry on the page, dated yesterday, read:
I know it’s just a phase with these other guys anyway, and that phase of my life is finished. It’s time to get serious. Those moron jocks don’t love me, Walter loves me. And I love him. And tomorrow I’m going to tell him...
Walter shrieked again, this time so hard it felt like razors were tearing his throat up from the inside out. Nothing mattered now, did it? Questions didn’t matter, explanations could no longer serve any purpose. Walter threw himself out of the chair. He was still too dizzy to walk but he could sure as hell crawl.
He began to crawl toward the open sliding doors. There was no doubt. Once he got out to the balcony, he’d drag himself up the rail and throw himself off.
Colin chuckled coyly. “Where are you going?” A switch clicked and the doors slid closed on their own. “Can’t have you doing that either. You didn’t let me finish what I was saying. I was saying that I killed Candice to motivate you.” He held up her severed head by a rope of long blond hair. “She’s dead in this world, sure. But she’s alive and well in another. She’s waiting for you, Walter. And she loves you. You can go and see her, and you’ll know how once you read all those papers in the other room.”
Walter scarcely heard him. He bawled like a baby on the floor, his puny fists clenched in the carpet.
“Now I gotta fulfill my part of the deal,” Colin went on. He tossed Candice’s head into the hot tub where it bobbed around in bubbles.
The pendulum clock began to chime, signaling midnight.
“My glory awaits, and so does yours...” Colin’s voice grew darker and darker, as most of the candles in the room began to sputter out. Walter craned his neck to look up. Did his brother’s barely visible shadow have horns sprouting from its head? “I know it all sounds crazy, but, believe me, Lucifer’s plan is totally sane. You can’t be the one who commits suicide. It’s got to be me.” Colin looked down. “We’re both geeks, Walter. But in the place we’re going, we’ll be kings. Your destiny awaits. Embrace your destiny.”
Walter’s eyes felt pulled open by fingers as he watched. He didn’t want to watch but something seemed to be making him.
From behind the bar, Colin grabbed the Remington shotgun and racked a round one-handed into the chamber, a slick move like Linda Hamilton in
T2
:
CLACK!
“Now
this,
Buddy-bro, is how you kill yourself with a pumpkin-ball!” He put the end of the barrel into his mouth, at an upward angle, and instantly pulled the trigger.