>From [email protected] Thu Feb  3 11:47:04 1994

You have received a copy of perhaps the world's first shareware
story.  I have put a lot of work into this, and plan on putting some
more.  Feedback is welcome.  I feel it looks better on paper, but
that's probably just me.  Anyway, send me anything that you feel
appropriate, whether it be a postcard, a six of your favorite
beverage, a story of your own, money, or a thought provoking letter
(preferably with suggestions for improvement and corrections).
Feel free to send this story to whomever you feel would be interested.  I
freely give permission for anyone to do anything with this file as
long as it remains completely intact, along with this preface, and no
profit is gained.  This permission will remain valid until 5/19/94, at
which time I will hopefully send out the rewrite.

Christopher Jorgensen
c/o The Great Grendel-Khan
2929 West St.  Apt. #1
Ames, Ia.
       50010


please email [email protected] upon receipt.


                         The Dying Ritual



      They spread fire under him, and while fanning the flames they
      tightened the wheel further.  The wheel was completely smeared with
      blood, and the heap of coals was being quenched by the drippings of
      gore, and pieces of flesh were falling off the axles of the machine.
      Although the ligaments joining his bones were already severed, the
      courageous youth, worthy of Abraham, did not groan, but as though
      transformed by fire into immortality he nobly endured the rackings.

                             The Fourth Book of The Maccabees
                                                      9:19-20



                         Welcome To the
                         World of Pain



      Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no
      evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
      Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
      thou anointest my head with oil, my cup overflows.  Surely goodness
      and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I shall dwell
      in the house of the Lord for ever.

                         Psalm
                         23:4-6



                         The Dying Ritual
                             Part 1
                    Welcome to the World of Pain


Of Death and Dying
The Devil
Silhouette
The Beginning of the End
Willie Peat
Thief
Killing Time
Lisa
Confessions
The Night
Love
The Banquet
A Little Death
Leaving the Curse Behind
Eternally Undead
To Kill a Thief
Lessons Learned
A Second Crime
Oh, but to Die!
An End of Sorts



                         Of Death and Dying


       A hot August day, 1962, a seventeen year old young man sold his
soul for immortality and a two-headed American silver dollar.

       I looked at the intercom button, considered pressing it, but decided
instead to fidget with the silver dollar in my hand, a worn 1945, about
the only thing I treated as a luck charm.
       "What the hell?" I muttered to no one.
       There was no click as I pressed the button.  There was a buzz, then
entirely too much silence before an annoying nasal female voice spoke.
"Yes."
       "Any appointments?"
       "Two sir."
       Silence.
       I hate her.  I really do.
       "Yes?"
       "Yes what sir?"
       One, two, three...
       "Who the fuck are they?"
       "Oh, why didn't you ask?"
       ...four, five...
       "I just did."
       "Your daughter will be here in about an hour, and the Devil would
like to talk to you at your earliest convenience."
       "The Devil can wait, send Crime in when she arrives."
       I flipped the silver coin, caught it, slapped it down on the back of
my hand--Heads--and reached out to turn off the intercom.
       "Oh, and sir, you have a client waiting in the outer office."
       I set the silver coin on my desk top.
       "Why didn't--"
       "Didn't ask."
       ...six...
       I got Markham from Crime.  Markham was unsuccessful at her
chosen profession, but Crime felt sorry for her, and talked me into taking
her.
       "He didn't have an appointment?"
       "No."
       "Been checked?"
       "Of course.  What are you paying me for?"
       "Well?"
       "Well what sir?"
       "Is he carrying?"
       "Yes, .45, left shoulder holster."
       "Send him in."
       "Are you sure?"
       "Yes, I'm sure.  And quit fucking talking through your nose."
       I shut off the intercom.
       It didn't worry me too much having someone come in my office
with a gun.  Why should it?  My clothes all have a special bullet
resistant weave running through them.  Even my underwear.  It's the
layering of the weave that makes it effective.
       It was only a short wait before my door opened.  A nervous young
man walked in.  He was sweating, and his hand shook as he wiped his
forehead.  I could smell his fear.
       "Sit down," I said, motioning to the chair centered on the floor, in
front of my desk.
       I stood up as he sat down, and held out my hand.  I've got
manners.  As I shook his hand I didn't request that he give me his gun.
Bad etiquette to ask for someone's gun.  I know I wouldn't give mine up
for anything.  Besides, a known threat is usually harmless.  His hand
was hot and wet.  Mine dry.
       "My name's on the door.  What's yours?" Actually, there were two
names on the door, Bartok and Bobscobell, neither which were mine, but
he didn't need to know this.
       "Thomas, or ah Tom, if you like."
       I reseated myself, picked up my luck charm, and flipped it.  Heads.
       "What can I do for you Thomas?"
       "I'd a...."
       I waited.  He didn't finish.
       "Why don't you have a cigarette?  You look nervous."
       "Don't smoke.  I'd--like someone...."
       I hate people who don't finish sentences.  Guessing games suck.
What was bothering him?  Assassinations are commonplace, I wondered
if it was because I looked 17.  There's only one thing to make a guy as
nervous as he was, and that happens to be the opposite sex.  I knew he
wasn't here for that, so I decided to play with him.
       "A girl?  Sorry, that's not my department."  It was my daughter's,
but I somehow failed to mention this.  He laughed.  Well, not exactly
laughed, more like a dry chuckle.
       "No, not sex.  I'd like someone killed."
       Finally, a complete sentence--two even.  We were getting
somewhere.  Killing, now that was my department.  But why did he seem
frightened?
       "Who?"
       "Caine Adamsen."
       "What can you give me on him?"
       "Nothing."
       "Description?"
       "No."
       "Place of birth or where he lives now?"
       "No."
       I let out a sigh.  Just then there was a knock at the door.  My
daughter stepped in.  The room got darker, but then my daughter has a
way of doing that to rooms.  It's almost as if she's made of night.
       "Hello love."  It was then that I saw the size of her eyes.  I asked
her what was wrong.
       "Nothing.  I'll wait in the outer office.  Didn't realize you had a
client," she said over her shoulder.  She closed the door.
       My daughter is not one to easily lose composure.  When she is
disturbed, then there is reason.  I didn't know what to think of this.  I
didn't even look at Thomas for a bit, so I didn't get his reaction to Crime.
I did have the feeling that they knew each other though.
       But back to the business at hand.  "You want someone killed, and
all you can give me is a name?  I can't just order an assassination on a
name.  What happens if the wrong guy's taxed?  Have anything else?"
       "Yes.  I mean no.  I have a picture too."
       He handed me a white envelope.
       I flipped the coin.  Heads again.
       "Why do you want him done in?"
       I don't usually ask this, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to touch this
one.
       He started to turn gray, like he was about to be sick or commit
suicide or something.
       "I ah...."
       Incomplete sentences again.  Guessing game time.
       "Can't say?"
       "No"
       "Fine.  You know this is going to cost."
       "Yes.  Here's what I can afford to pay."
       He handed me a piece of paper.  I looked at it.  The number written
there was about four times what I was going to ask, and I was going to
ask a lot.
       "How much do you think--"
       He interrupted me.  Good thing too, or I might have actually told
him that I was willing to take less, and God forbid that I be honest.
       "That is what I can pay.  It's all yours when it's done."
       I handed him a Guild form and a pen.  "Fill this out.  Pay special
attention to blocks 12 and 23.  Make sure you spell all names correctly.
       He finished and looked up.
       "And sign here."
       He did.  Thomas Smith.  Smith was one of my best customers.  He
ranked right up there with Jones and that Doe fellow.  I didn't care who
he was, but Guild standards had to be met, this form was one of them.  I
guess it has to do with taxes and all, but anyone in my profession would
be stupid not to pay taxes.
       Let me explain a few things.  The government, or as it is more
often called, the Guild, requires licensing for any activity that would
otherwise be illegal, such as prostitution, drug selling, or well,
assassination is always a good example.  Anyone who operates certain
activities outside of the Guild, or without paying the full amount of
taxes, is considered to be rogue, and the Guild has its own ways of
dealing with this type of individual.  It has been a long time since I've
heard of a rogue assassin, since the beginning days of the Guild in fact.
The only assassin I know of who would be good enough to operate
without the Guild is Silhouette, and as far as I know even he pays taxes.
It's a little more common for other professions to have rogues, but even
this is rare.
       If an individual pays taxes, he is a Guild asset.  He is then
immune from any Guild assassin or assassin brokerage like mine.  He is
considered to be 'Protected.'  The only people who don't pay taxes, but
are still Protected, are politicians and Council members.  No one would
be stupid enough to kill a politician, and Council members are next to
ghosts.  They hide well.
       Any person who does not pay taxes is a Guild debit.  It is to the
benefit of the Guild if these people are removed.  It is upon these that I
make my money.  Your average citizens do not pay taxes, making them
fair game.  The funding of the Guild is carried out completely by licensing
of certain activities and taxes.
       But I forget myself.  I looked again to Thomas.
       "Payment to be received on completion," I said. "Have a nice day."
       Smith left my office rubbing his finger.
       Most assassins, or assassin brokers like myself, demand payment
up front.  I don't.  I don't like front money.  No, only payment for a job
well done.  I'm not worried about a client skipping town either.  My little
pen isn't just a pen.  It records DNA, blood-type and fingerprints.  I just
feed this information into the Guild computer, and anytime the person
in question uses a credit card or phone or tries to leave the city I'll find
out.  There's no way out of this city without my finding out in time to
stop it.
       Intercom button.  No buzz.  Button again.  Buzz.  Silence, then a
nasal, "Yes?"  Markham can turn the intercom on in her office and it
doesn't buzz in mine.  That way I need not be disturbed while I'm with a
client.  There was only one drawback to this.  If I had to press it more
than once it meant that Markham was eavesdropping.  She did this a lot.
       "Send in Crime."
       "She's gone sir.  Said she'd be back."
       "Very well."
       Intercom off.


                         The Devil


       "You may appear."
       Nothing happened.
       Ah right, the coin.  I picked it up and repeated myself.
       "I am here," the Devil said.
       "What is it You want?"
       "Immortality."
       "Oh really?  I thought You already had that."
       "I want yours back."
       "Cancel a contract? Ha!  Never.  You will have my soul, to do with
as you please, for eternity, on the day I die, but until that time I have
immortality for as long as I so choose."
       The Devil licked His lips.  His tongue was silver.  I wondered if He
made it that way as some kind of joke.  Nah, didn't really strike me as
the comedian type.
       I was curious as to why the Devil wanted me to give up
immortality.  I mean eventually I would get sick of life and consign
myself to Hell.  I knew this and He knew this, so what was His hurry?
       "What's Your hurry?" I asked.
       The Devil disappeared.  There was a bang as displaced air crashed
in upon itself, signaling His departure.
       A little piece of paper was laying on the ground.  I picked it up, and
read it.

                         "The contract reads that you only retain
                           Immortality as long as you have the coin."
                                       --Satan--

       How rude.  He didn't even answer my question.


                         Silhouette


       After I ran the name Caine Adamsen though the Guild computer,
and found out that he was taxable, I picked up the phone, and dialed the
number of the best assassin I know of (712-239-4295, in case you're
interested).  A large stylized 'S' appeared on my video screen.  It had the
head of a snake and a dagger for a tail.  Poison dripped off the snake's
fangs and the blade.  Showy pretentious bastard.
       I waited.
       The snake's head rotated to face the screen and slowly enlarged
until it filled it.  Its tongue slid out and flicked at the dripping poison.  A
voice spoke.  "Speak. I am receiving," it said.
       There are certain things one has to put up with when dealing with
the best, and Silhouette was the best.  I didn't have to like it, but I did
have to live with it.  I've never seen Silhouette, nor do I know his real
name.  I'd like to keep it this way.
       "Assignment."
       "Who?"
       "Caine Adamsen."
       "Fine.  Standard fee.  Send all subject information across the line."
       "You already have it."
       "Just a name?"
       "And a picture."
       "Double fee plus expenses, or forget it."
       "Fine."
       I was happy.  I'd still be making an insanely large profit.  Even
after assassin fees and Guild taxes.
       I took the envelope, opened it, and set the picture down on my
office's flatbed scanner.  I sent the picture.  I then burned it.
Assassinations, as I have explained, are not illegal, but then nothing is
stopping revenge by a grieving family member (except Guild policies on
rogue assassins, but these don't do you much good if you're dead).  I
have never liked to keep anything associated with my profession around
the office.  Even the forms I use can be read in more than one way.  They
say 'Order Form' at the top. You figure it out.
       A dagger stabbed down in front of the snake's head for a moment,
then the screen went black.  He would contact me for payment, when
done.
       I hit the intercom once again.  It buzzed.  I waited.  There was the
usual silence, and more silence.
       ...eight, nine, fine then, ten!
       Now I'm pissed.
       "Hello? Ms. Markham.  Yoo hoo, anyone out there?" sweetness and
light, that's me.
       No secretary.  This bothered me.  I was spooked.  She'd never leave
without telling me--never.  Adrenaline was pumping.  I started to sweat.
Bad sign.  I opened my desk drawer, and drew out a .38.  Not much, but
it was all I had in the office.  I preferred it to most larger things anyway.
       The door started to open.  I put four holes in it.  I heard a body
drop on the third shot, but I fired again anyway.  What can I say?  I was
nervous.
       I vaulted the desk, rolled across the floor, leaned against the wall,
and  cautiously opened the door.  My secretary was laying in a large pool
of her blood. She was a shitty whore, that's why Crime fired her, and she
was an even shittier secretary, but she hadn't deserved to die.  No, I
didn't shoot her.  Her throat was cut, nice clean incision too.  Whoever
had tried to open my office door would have had to step right over her.


                         The Beginning of the End


       My daughter was laying about five feet away.  She looked
unconscious.  I glanced at the monitors on Ms. Markham's desk.  We
were the only ones in any of the offices.
       I put my gun away, stood up, and walked over to Crime.  I took her
wrist, and checked her pulse.  I didn't get one.  No, she wasn't dead.  She
was still warm and breathing.  I'm just not a nurse.
       I reached out to slap her awake, but she opened her eyes just then.
A knife suddenly appeared in her hand.  There was already blood on it.
She thrust the knife for my throat.
       I caught her hand, drew my .38 once again, and politely planted it
between my Crime's eyes.
       "Drop it or I'll shoot you," I said.
       "You already did, you prick!" she spat.
       I love great family relationships.
       Crime wears the same protective weave that I do.  If I had shot her
then this was the only reason for her still being alive.  She wasn't even
bleeding.
       "Drop it Crime, now!"
       She did.
       I picked it up.  Six inches of blade, wet with blood.  I kept my gun
aimed at her head.
       "You kill Markham?"
       "She was eavesdropping.  I had to."
       That was why I had had to hit the intercom button twice.
       "So, she does--did that all the time. I only had a client."
       "Who?" she said as she got up, (I had decided to let her.  She
wouldn't actually try to kill me) and with a little difficulty, sat in
Markham's chair.
       "You know that's confidential."
       "Who?"
       I figured I owed it to her.  After all, it did appear as if I had just
shot her.  Even if she had deserved it.
       "Thomas Smith."
       "Wrong, that was an alias.  Before you say, 'I know, all my
customers use them,' let me ask this:  Who did he want killed?"
       "That's--" I started, but she interrupted.
       "Confidential?  Bullshit.  Look at that."
       She pointed to a folder on my dead secretary's desk.  I opened it.
       "Caine Adamsen," I read.  I lowered my gun.  The folder was thick.
       "That's why I killed Markham."
       "Where did you get this?"
       "I keep them on all my customers."
       I didn't know this.  I was curious.
       "Why?"
       "Efficiency.  It makes it easier to cater to my clients tastes.  I can
make sure what the client wants is available when he wants it.  I can
also keep tabs on clients who cause me problems"
       I gathered he was such a client.
       "What was his preference?"
       She scowled, and answered, "Biologically Enhanced."
       A 'Biologically Enhanced' is a creature that is created just for
pleasure.  It can have anything though, from an extra breast, to a vagina
in the middle of its face, or if you're female (or homosexual) you could
get a BE with two pounds of swinging meat.  You'd be surprised how
many people actually made use of the Biologically Enhanced's services.  I
knew that Crime didn't like dealing in these, but the profit margin was
too high not to.
       "Don't worry about Caine.  He's dead.  Silhouette," I said.
       The blood drained from Crime's face.  I'd never before seen her so
pale.  I thought for a moment that she was going to pass out again.
       She said, "You didn't."
       "What's wrong?"
       "Father, Thomas Smith is  Caine Adamsen."
       I sat down in one of the waiting chairs, opened the folder, and
looked at the picture there.
       "Oh shit."
       I hadn't looked at the one in my office, before I burned it.  I hadn't
really wanted to see it, but now I wished I still had it.  Caine had one of
those faces that as soon as you were done looking at it it seemed to fade
from memory.  I closed my eyes and tried to remember him.  I couldn't,
but when I looked at the picture I knew that she was right.
       "Father, have you ever hired Silhouette before?"
       "Yes."
       "Then I don't need to tell you about him.  What are you going to
do?  He always finishes a job.  I hired him once--a long time ago--and I
have no doubt that he will complete the job that I sent him on.  As soon
as the individual I want dead quits paying taxes, or goes rouge Silhouette
will kill him.  I'm willing to wait though.  You can't afford to."
       "Who did you hire him to--"
       "Sorry, I can't tell even you that."
       I was distracted.  I didn't know what all this meant.  I didn't press
Crime on her dealings with Silhouette.  I wished I had.
       Time for another explanation.
       Silhouette:  an unseen assassin who, as far as I know, hasn't
failed yet. Once contracted he disappears until the job is done, and there
is no way that he can be contacted after he accepts a job.  After he's
hired he goes underground for several days to several weeks before the
killing, and stays there for several days to several weeks before collecting.
He is unstoppable once put on the trail of anyone, no cancellation of the
contract by cowardly clients who've changed they're mind, no bribing to
let live by the intended target.  Silhouette had built the reputation of the
perfect assassin.
       The problem?  If Silhouette killed Caine I'd have to pay Silhouette,
but if Caine was dead, and if Caine was Thomas Smith then there would
be no way I could collect.
       Either Silhouette failed, and I wouldn't have to pay him, small
chance, or I paid him for a job well done out of my own funds.  I didn't
like this idea at all.  For one thing I didn't know if I could.  I did some
quick figuring.  Using all reserve finances I had I couldn't meet
Silhouette's fee, but I could probably raise it in time.
       Crime left me to my thoughts.  I wished she hadn't, because the
conclusion I came to required that I visit her shop.  It was time to visit
Crime on a professional level.  It could wait till later though.


                         Willie Peat


       I picked up Caine's folder, and started reading again.  It was
interesting, though it was mostly on his sexual preferences.  There was
very little actual useful information.  I read for about an hour, sifting
through for anything worth anything, and was just about to set the
folder down, when the door burst open.  I stood up, and found myself
facing a large caliber handgun.
       "I'll kill you!" a small time assassin by the name of Willie Peat
screamed.  Willie Peat was a minor character in the story of life.  He
couldn't even pay taxes.  I wished I could have just ignored him, but he
wouldn't let me.
       I made a mental note to get Ms. Markham replaced.  If I had had a
secretary this wouldn't have happened.  I also made a mental note to
make sure her body was removed.  A corpse in the appointment room
generally isn't good for business.  It's strange what goes through your
mind when you're under stress.
       "I'll kill you!" he yelled again, and as bad as his hand was shaking,
I was afraid he would, whether he meant to or not.  I started to sweat a
little--ah hell--I started to sweat a lot.  Sure, I was immortal, but I had
no desire to spend the rest of eternity contemplating how it felt to have
my brain dripping off a wall.
       "What do you want Willie?"
       "I need an assignment.  I need money. I need--"
       "Scream?"
       "Yeah."
       "You're an addict Willie.  You need help.  You've done good work
for me before.  Clean yourself up, then come talk to me about
assignments."
       He started to cry, big wet tears, and great wracking sobs that
looked like they were going to tear him apart.  Snot ran from his nose
too.  It almost made my heart break.
       "Don't patron--don't patron--no fucking speeches!"
       "Get out," I said.  My voice was calm.  I think it was anyway.
Wasn't shaking like Willie's at least.
       "I--I'll...."
       I figured he was going to shoot me sooner or later.  If I was to have
a chance at all I'd have to force his hand.
       "Do it then!  Fucking shoot!"
       I threw up my arm to protect my face.  He shot.  The round
smashed into my wrist.  The weave of my cuff stopped it, but I'm afraid
my wrist bone was shattered.  Not only that, but my hand flew back,
powered by that little piece of lead, and slammed into my face.  I fell back
into my chair.  It toppled.  My head struck the wall behind me, then the
floor in quick succession.  Ah, such abuse for my poor cranium.
       Can't say the lights flickered, then dimmed to blackness; no, they
just fucking went out.


                         Thief


       When I woke two hours later, Willie Peat was gone, my wallet too,
and all the standing operating cash in the office.  He even took my silver
dollar.
       I was mortal again, and I could already feel myself beginning to
age.  I looked at my left wrist.  The bones were fused together.  This was
probably due to accelerated aging.  I couldn't do anything with my hand
except grip.
       This was definitely a shitty day.
       There was only one way I could think of to find Willie, and that
was by using my best, but usually reluctant, informant.  I had to go talk
to Thief.
       I called a cleaning agency to have Markham removed, and left.

       I went to the sleaziest nightclub in the whole city. It didn't take
long to find Thief.  I knew he'd be here.  He came to this place almost
every night to conduct his parasitic activities..  This was why he was one
of my better informants.  He was always easy to find, and his
information was usually accurate.
       I wanted Willie Peat.  I decided to do this the easy way.  I offered
Thief money.  I didn't have any, so I was glad when he told me to fuck
off.
       Thief was a young black shit who tried to make his living in this
city by knowing everything that goes on in the city.  He made enough to
live by, but not enough to buy Protection.  He looked like a little monkey:
big ears, big lips, and he was always hunched over.  I don't think he
could have stood up straight if he'd wanted to.
       I grabbed him by the ear, with my bad hand, and pulled a little bit.
I was saving my right hand in case I had to draw my gun.  He had an
earring, and I'm sure it caused him more than a small amount of pain.
How was I sure?  He yelled, quite loudly too.  Music kept playing, smoke
stayed in the air, and people still danced.  No one cared.
       Okay, the hard way then.
       "My--my...."
       "Shut up!  I want to know where Willie Peat is.  Tell me."
       I pulled harder.  He swore.
       "I like earrings, Thief.  Got quite a few already.  Some still have
the lobe on it.  Tell me, now."
       "Fuck you!"
       "That's not nice."
       I had made up all that shit about collecting earrings, but I guess
there was always a time to start.  It ripped right through the lobe rather
nicely, thank you very much.
       He screamed again.  I expected him to.  I pulled out my gun, and
put it in his mouth.  Six bullets, and I wasn't planning on using any to
kill him with.  I didn't want Thief dead.  Dead men can't talk.  No, I
wasn't going to kill him, but he didn't have to know this.
       "Hhhk ag."
       "One chance, fuck it up, and you'll be dripping off this bar."
       I took the gun out of his mouth.  He told me where Willie was.  I
believed him.  I also shot him.  No, not in the head, the foot.  I might
want to talk to him again sometime, but right now I didn't want to have
to worry about him following me with petty thoughts of revenge.
       Oh, and by the way, gun smoke mingles pretty well in a bar.  As far
as I could tell no one missed a dance step.


                         Killing Time


       It was dark out and I was tired.  I wasn't at all in the mood to be
subtle.  I got right to it.
       "Spent it."
       "Fuck the money, Peat! Where's my coin?"
       I had him by the throat with my left hand.  This hand was so
fucked up that I could only squeeze with it, and I guess I must have been
doing this.
       "Gak! Crrrk," he answered.
       I let up pressure.
       "Say again?"
       "Spent it.  Subway fair."
       I put my .38 under his chin. I seldom killed in cold blood, and
when I did I never enjoyed it, but this time I found myself smiling as I
pulled the trigger over and over again.  Six shots and his face was
completely gone.  I laughed at the brain staring me in the face, and let go
of his throat.  He crumpled to the ground.
       Willie Peat was dead.  My best informant probably wasn't thinking
too highly of me right now.  I wasn't in a good mood, and I couldn't
comprehend someone, somewhere, in this city of 9 million, having my
soul in his hands.  I couldn't comprehend him flipping it.  Heads, and
heads over and over again.  I couldn't comprehend this, so I searched
Willie.
       I found my coin.
       I dropped to my knees in relief.  I was no longer mortal.  I wasn't
aging anymore, but now I was pissed.
       "Appear!"
       Thunder clapped.  Smoke filled the room, then collapsed in on
itself, forming a short pillar.  The Devil was sitting on this.
       "I choose to answer this summons."
       "Don't try that shit again!"
       "What Stryke?"
       "The coin is mine.  I paid for it.  We have an agreement.  I want
you to quit fucking with me."
       "If you care to read the contract you'll find that I 'may not
interfere with your life in any direct way.'  I have yet to take a direct
action against you."
       "Fuck you have!  What about Willie Peat?"
       "His decision, not mine."
       "Fuck--"
       "No Stryke, fuck you.  If you have nothing better, I'd ask you not to
bother Me.  I leave you this to think about--what can you do to Me if I do
decide to cancel your contract?"
       I opened my mouth to say something.  Nothing came out.  I closed
my mouth.  The Devil disappeared in a blinding flash of painful light.
       I looked at Willie Peat's corpse.  What could  I do if the Devil
canceled?  Even if He returned my soul to me, I had no doubt that He'd
still be getting it anyway.  Hadn't I already renounced God?  But if the
Devil could renege, why hadn't He?  Why wait?
       These were questions that I doubted Willie had the answers for,
but I had to find out.  As if I didn't already have enough to deal with
concerning Silhouette.  I didn't want this worry.  I searched the
apartment for my money, didn't find it, then left. It was time to see
Crime.  I couldn't put it off any longer. More than just my life was at
stake.


                         Lisa


       The Sex Shop was busy.  It always was at night and even most
days.  My daughter's Shop did good business.  She had carved out her
place in society with money I had lent her  She had seen a need to pay
me back, even though I had not.  I sat across her desk studying her, as
she did the same to me.  It was a game we seemed to be playing more
often lately.  Crime never told me why she changed her name, but it
seemed to fit, and I never questioned it.  Being immortal had let me be
more accepting.
       It did not seem abnormal to me that Crime now ran the second
most successful brothel.  Little has ever been able to shock me.  This was
a quality that Crime seemed to share.  She wasn't surprised that I had
aged over two years, since she had seen me last.  Either that, or she hid
it well.  I didn't want to talk about it, so I said nothing.
       "I need a girl."
       "Didn't you always say that you'd 'never pay for a roll in the hay'?"
       "No, I said I've never 'paid to get laid,' but that's not what I've
come for.  I need a bodyguard, someone I can trust."
       "You can't trust anyone, not even yourself.  You know that."
       "Right.  Give me someone."
       Crime picked up a book, and started going through it, page by
page.
       "No. No. No.  Ah, maybe.  What about...."
       She drew back a protective plastic covering, and slid a photo across
the desk.  I didn't look at it.
       "I don't want a maybe.  Give me someone else.  Markham was a
maybe, remember?"
       "Right."
       Several more pages, and a lot of 'nos' later, I got an excited
'perfect,' which I guess is better than a 'yes.'
       "Name?"
       "Lisa Crane.  She used to be a tax collector.  Good too.  She quit
when the Guild quit paying commissions.  Said straight wages just didn't
cut it.  She's a good girl.  Does business.  Never tries to cheat me.  Not
sure if she'll want to go with you though.  Says she likes prostitution,
the money and freedom and such."
       I picked up the picture.  Nice.
       "What can you give me for her?" Crime asked. "I know you don't
have funds right now."
       I wondered how she knew this.  If this was already common street
information I could be in trouble.  I took this as a warning.  I did have
an option left though.  One I knew Crime wouldn't expect.
       "Love."
       "Funny.  He's Protected."
       "Not anymore.  Guild computer says he didn't pay taxes this
month.  It seems he feels that he's powerful enough to hold his own
against any competitors.  He's gone rogue."
       She smiled.
       "Done?" I asked.
       "Done."
       "Call for her."
       My daughter picked up the phone on her desk, and spoke into it.
Shortly after there was a knock at the door.
       "Enter."
       A woman came into the room.  She looked about thirty.  She had
long blond hair that was pulled back.  She was wearing a white full
length dress.  There was a lacy black silk band about her neck.  On it, at
the center of her throat, was an ivory Cameo broach.  She looked like she
had just stepped from a Victorian romance novel.  I could see why she
did business.
       "Sit down."
       She did.
       "I have a trick waiting in my room."
       "I sent Libby to cover."
       "He won't like that.  He's one of my regulars."
       "I told Libby to tell him that it was on the house."
       "Lisa, this is my fa--" she broke off.  "He's a friend.  He'd like to
hire you as a bodyguard."
       She turned to me.
       "Is a woman bodyguard a fantasy of yours?  I don't think I'd be very
good at it.  I'm used to, 'O' please, my lord, don't abuse me so, I don't
know if mine heart can take it'."
       "Not fantasy, reality," I said.
       She turned to Crime.
       "Is this kid serious?"
       If only she knew how old I really was.
       "Completely," my daughter and I said in unison.
       Lisa didn't laugh, I had to give her that much.
       "And why not?" Crime asked. "You're qualified.  Hell, you took
money from the most dangerous people there are: thieves, killers, pimps,
Scream dealers, and you're still alive.
       "If money is what you want, I can only offer you the promise of
money.  Either, when this settles down, I can, and will, make you a very
rich person, or we'll both be dead, in which case you won't need money.
Until then, I'm broke"
       "You want me to go with him?"
       "It's your decision."
       "My place or yours?" she asked me.
       "Yours."


                         Confessions


       There was little furniture in her apartment.  In the living room was
an oil painting, a telephone, a stereo, and on the floor in front of a
fireplace was a thick round black plush rug.
       Lisa walked into the kitchen and disappeared.  I could see only
cupboards and counters from where I was standing, but there must've
been a refrigerator, because when she came back into view she had two
long stemmed glasses and a bottle of wine in an ice bucket.  She handed
me a glass and sat on the floor in front of the stereo.  I sat beside her.
She opened the wine, filled my glass, then her's.  She reached out and
turned the stereo on.
       The music that came out sounded like--well it was what Edgar
Allen Poe would've written had he been a composer.  It was hideous.  I
don't know if she picked it because she thought it was romantic or what.
It wasn't.
       Lisa drank some wine.  I followed her example.  A nice dry white.
       "I'm immortal," I said.  "I'm Crime's father."
       Crime was the only person besides myself that knew this, but I
figured that it was a good way to start a conversation.  It was.  I told my
story.

       Every Friday, during the summer after my Junior year of high
school, I went to the same place, (a romantic little spot overlooking the
city lights) in the same car, (a  flame red ' 57 Chevy)  and did the same
thing (sex, lots of it) with a different girl.
       One Friday, I was sitting and sweating with a very beautiful piece
of female flesh named Lori.  Lori had this thing about her blouse, she
wouldn't take it off.  This didn't bother me all that much, since I was
drunk, and she was naked from the waist down and straddling me.  It
was love, or as close as one can get in the back seat of a car.
       I looked past Lori (everything that would've normally distracted me
was covered up).  Sitting, with His legs crossed, on the hood of my car
was the Devil, and He had Lori's skirt in his hands.  How do I know it
was the Devil?  Well, for starters He had small pointy horns and a
barbed tail, eyes of flame, and a silver tongue.
       "Black, how nice," He said holding up the skirt.  It burst into
flames.  Glowing ash floated on the air.  Yep, it was the Devil alright.
       "Get thee behind me Satan," I said.  I know it was corny, but it
seemed like the thing to say at the time.
       Lori slapped me, and to my dismay stopped doing what she was
doing.  I guess, "Get thee behind me Satan," wasn't the most romantic
thing I could've said.
       "Where's my skirt?"
       "Gone.  Fire and smoke.  Nothing but ash now." I was more than a
little drunk.
       Lori quickly dressed, in what clothes she had left, while she yelled
about how it was me who was the one smoking.  This amounted to
putting her underwear back on.  She got out of the car and started
walking home, wearing only panties and a blouse.  I didn't care.  I let her
go.  There's an endless supply of girls.
       "Oh you poor sinner."
       "Fuck off."
       "My My My.  I came here with only the best of intentions and this
is what I get?  Such hostility.  Nevertheless, I do not mind.  In fact I
would have probably reacted in the same way if someone burned My
date's skirt."
       I was talking to the Devil Himself, and I was completely naked with
a wet erection, so forgive me if I couldn't think of anything original to
say.  I repeated my earlier swear oath.
       "Very good, but let Me ask you something.  Does not having the
Devil along on a date seem rather--how shall I say this--strange?"
       "I've been drinking.  Lori didn't see ya, so you're not for real."
       What an innocent I was.
       "Fine, I'm not real.  How would you like to sell your soul to a
nonexistent Devil then?"
       Once again, I told him what to do.  He held up a piece of paper,
and started to read.  Standard contract, my soul would be placed in a
coin, I'd live forever, or until I felt like buying my own little piece of
Hell for a dollar.
       "Think about it kid--life everlasting."
       "I know better than that.  You'll have me get in a fire, or fall off
of a building, or hit by a train, or something where I wouldn't want to go on."
       "No, fire would--never mind.  It's all in the contract.  I can't make
any direct actions against you, and if something does happen to make
your life unlivable, then you need only hold the coin, and summon Me.  I
will answer, and return you to your original condition.  It's all in the
contract.  Come, sign."
       My life up to this point hadn't meant anything really.  I mean
where was I headed?  Everything was starting to become predictable, like
masturbation.  There was nothing unforeseeable in my future.  Even if
the Devil was offering me a deal that favored Him (and I was sure that
He was) I still wanted it.  Nothing could be worse than continuing this
way, trying to hide from being aware.
       I signed.
       I woke in the morning, still in my car, with a bad taste in my
mouth, something in my hand, and I guess I must have had a wet dream,
because there was dried semen on my stomach and my legs.
       I opened my hand.  1945, the year I was born.

       "I'm immortal too."
       I laughed.  I guess it wasn't the most polite thing to do.  When I
finally regained control of myself I looked at Lisa and started laughing
again.
       "I don't believe you."
       "I believed you."
       "Yeah, if I thought you would've, I probably wouldn't have told
you."
       "I'm not exactly immortal.  I'm undead.  I'm a vampire."
       "I still don't believe you."
       "You don't have to believe me, but you laugh again and I'll kill
you."
       "You can't.  I'm immortal."
       We both laughed, then she kissed me.
       Somehow, when we kissed, I couldn't imagine her being some dead
(or undead if you prefer) creature out of my childhood nightmares.  She
was too warm--too soft.  It seemed impossible.
       She started to undo the buttons of my shirt.  I returned the favor.
We continued to undress each other until we were both completely
naked.  I looked at her.  She was beautiful.  Her body was perfect.
       My erection was becoming painful.  I wanted her bad, but I was
afraid to take her.  I knew I wouldn't last.  I couldn't last.  I felt like I
was some teenage nerd, about to score the best looking cheerleader in
school, while her parents were out of town for the weekend.
       "I can't."
       "Yes you can."
       She put her hands on my shoulders, and forced me to my knees,
and I do mean forced.  She was strong.  Far stronger than I.  She pushed
me back.  This time I did not resist.
       We made love until sunrise.  She bit me twice.  It was the perfect
romance scene, but only if you didn't stop to think about it.  I didn't
stop to think about it.
       She took me to her bedroom.  In it was a large stone coffin, in
which, together, we slept.


                         The Night


       The next night we woke.  Lisa went into the bathroom, "to get
ready," she had said.  I didn't ask what she was getting ready for.
       I was hungry, and decided that I needed to eat.  I went to the
kitchen.  I opened the fridge, but nothing looked good.  In fact nothing
even looked edible.  I guess when you're a vampire, like Lisa, you don't
have much need for food.  I decided to try something anyway.
       I took a bottle of the same white wine we had shared the night
before, poured some into a glass, and drank it.  I dropped both the bottle
and the glass, and threw up in the sink.  I then fell to my knees.  I was
dizzy, couldn't stand.  I was now having dry-heaves.  The convulsions
were ripping my insides out.  I felt like I was dying.  For all I knew I was,
except that I was supposed to be immortal.  I didn't know what was going
on.
       I called out for Lisa.  I must have called out rather loudly, because
she came quickly. She took one look at me, and a look of infinite horror
came over her face.
       "What have I done?" she yelled.
       Poisoned me maybe?  But I rejected this idea.  The wine had been
sealed, and poisons are too unreliable, unless delivered with a blade to
the heart.  That's usually a for sure thing.
       "Lisa."
       "What have I done?"
       "Lisa, talk to me.  What's happening?"
       I was shaking.  Sweat was starting to bead on my skin.
       She kneeled beside me and cradled my head in her arms.  She
stroked my hair.  She was crying.
       "Not happening, happened.  You're a vampire now.  It shouldn't
have happened, you were still alive.  I never meant for this.  You can
never know how sorry I am."
       She held me for a long time, and no matter what I said, trying to
comfort her, she kept crying, small whimpering little sobs.
       Finally, I regained control of myself, and when I could take no
more of this I disentangled myself from Lisa.  She let me go.  When the
tortuous pain in my insides had subsided enough, I stood up, and being
careful of all the broken glass, I washed my face in the sink.
       "Lisa, let's go."
       She was still sitting and holding her legs, rocking back and forth
like a sad cold child.
       I took her hands, and repeated myself.
       She looked up at me, but it was as if she couldn't see me.
       "Lisa."
       Still nothing.
       "Lisa!" I yelled this time, then slapped her.  I hit her a lot harder
than I expected, but it worked.  She looked at me again.  This time there
was understanding in her eyes.
       "Oh Michael, I'm so sorry."
       "It's okay.  You can't hurt me.  I'm immortal.  I'm fine."
       "I thought you were.  I believed you.  Otherwise I wouldn't have
drawn life from you twice.  I never draw more than once.  From all my
customers I only feed from each no more than once a month.  People are
addicted to death.  They keep coming back.  You were not immortal
Michael, but now you are undead."
       I spent another hour trying to convince her that I was fine, and
that nothing was wrong with me.  She wouldn't believe me, but then I
wasn't sure myself.  Had  the Devil canceled?  If so it didn't matter.  I
was now undead.  I could feel it.  I thirsted for blood, not wine.  Lisa
must have only pretended to drink the wine, or she knew something that
I didn't.
       The night was passing quickly.  I wanted to do something before
she was forced to sleep again.
       "Let's go," I said.
       "Where?"
       "I don't know.  You had something in mind before, didn't you?"
       A serious look came across her face.
       "I don't want to go there anymore.  Maybe tomorrow. I have
something I must show you now," she said.
       She led me, outside, by the hand, to her car.  It was a small black
sporty thing.  Hope that helps.  I have never really given a shit about
cars.  I knew as much about them as I did guns, which was nothing, but
I knew enough to know that it was expensive.
       "Where are we going?"
       "You'll see.  Get in."
       I did.  She did.  She started the car, and started driving.  We drove
for quite a ways.  I think I even fell asleep for a while.  It was at least an
hour before she pulled the car over.  She got out.  I did too.  She started
walking toward a small cottage.  I followed.
       "Where are we going?" I asked again.
       "Here."
       "Why?"
       "You'll see."
       She reached out and knocked.  The door sounded like wood.  It
looked like wood.  It was probably wood.  An old lady answered the
probably wooden door.  Her face was wrinkled.  She looked like she'd
been in a fire as a child.
       I was tired.  I yawned.
       No one said anything.  I stood there.  Lisa stood there.  The old
lady stood there.  Time did not stand.  It was marching to the same old
beat it always did, but only the old lady was getting any older.  I
shuddered.  I too could look like this.  I did not want this to happen.
       The old lady started to shut the door.  I started to turn away.
       "Wait," Lisa said.
       I didn't know if she was talking to me or the old lady.  We both
stopped.
       "Leave me in peace.  It's been years since you came here.  I'm going
to die soon.  I just want to die in peace."
       "You wouldn't have had to die, sister.  I made the offer sixty five
years ago.  You should have taken it.  You could have lived forever like
me."
       "You're not alive."
       I was the observer in this conversation.  I observed.
       "It's not like I chose this."
       "No, but you chose not to do anything about it."
       "What was I supposed to do?"
       Lisa was about to cry.  I could tell.  I was right. Twin tears made
their way down her lovely cold face.
       "I've told you before."
       "God? Ha!  He wouldn't help me."
       "Go to the house of God.  Repent."
       "I can't."
       "You can."
       "I've tried.  I burned.  I couldn't even touch the door.  I'd die if I
went inside.  I can't."
       "You're not living now.  You are dead, but the gift of heaven is not
yet denied.  Repent at the altar of God and you may yet be saved. Though
your flesh may die your soul can survive."
       The probably wooden door slammed shut.
       "Let's go Michael."
       I didn't say anything until we were back in the car.
       "What was that all about?"
       "She was my sister--my twin  sister.  That is what I would look like
today if I wasn't immortal.  If I wasn't undead."
       She started crying, such misery.  I couldn't understand.  People
would kill to be immortal.  I had sold my soul.  At first I didn't have
anything to say, so I didn't say anything, but then I started laughing.
       She slammed down the gas pedal.
       "It's not funny, damn it!"
       "No wait.  You don't understand.
       "There was this guy, and he was walking down a road.  He came
across this mirror.  'I'm God,' he said to the mirror.
       "'No, I'm God,' the mirror answered.
       "So the man broke the mirror and God died.
       "Get it?"
       "No.  Should I have?"
       I almost went into hysterics again, but she was still crying, and
the car was flying at almost a hundred, so I didn't.
       "No, guess not.  It's just that I've been alive for seventy five years
now, for fifty eight of them I've been immortal, and I never expected to
meet someone even remotely like me."
       She kissed me, and about killed us by running the car off the road.
       Daylight was still a ways away.  I was hungry--starved, and I had
someone I still wanted to see.


                         Love


       Love, as far as I was concerned, ran a far classier place than
Crime.  I mean where would you rather go for sex, the One Stop Sex
Shop or The Love Boutique?  That, and Love didn't deal in BEs.  In the
end it didn't matter though.  I wasn't there to get laid.
       Lisa and I walked past several girls on our way to Love.  None
propositioned me.  I was almost hurt.  We stopped before the mountain
of black flesh.  Love was the biggest person I'd ever seen.  He looked more
like a bulldog than a person.  His whole body rippled with muscle.  The
man standing next to him, his bodyguard, wasn't small either.
       Love wasn't stupid.  He had to know that I was there to kill him.
The only things I had going for me was the speed at which I could draw a
gun--fast, and the fact that nobody would have the audacity to do what I
was about to try.
       His bodyguard had a double barreled shotgun in his hands, and he
looked like he knew how to use it.  If I had said I wasn't scared I would
have been lying.  My testicles were in my throat.
       "Why did you come here, Strick?"
       "It's Stryke, like in to strike a match.  Got it?"
       "Whatever Stir-ick.  You here on business?"
       "Yes."
       "Yours or mine?"
       My mouth was dry, but I managed to speak.  "Mine," I said.  Now
he knew for sure.  I hoped he was sweating as much as I.  I couldn't
understand why he hadn't already had me shot.
       Speaking of which, the bodyguard slowly brought the shotgun up
and aimed it at my head.  He smiled.  He had a big old gold tooth, and
the rest of his teeth were nicotine stained to almost the same color.  It
wasn't a pleasant smile.
       "Then I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave, unless you'd like to
reconsider and sample some of what I have to offer?"
       I motioned to Lisa and said, "No thanks, I brought my own."
       "I see you have.  Take her with you when you go."
       Lisa just stood there like the good little vampire that she was.
       "Wait.  You don't think I'd just walk in here and shoot you?"  This
was exactly what I had planned, but I wasn't going to tell him that.  I
may be careless, but I'm not--well, maybe I was stupid.  Here I was
standing in Love's brothel about to kill him, in front of a bodyguard, who
was aiming a big gun at me, not exactly smart.  "I have something for
you."
       When I said earlier that I was quick with a gun, I wasn't
exaggerating.  I'm fast--damn fast.  The only thing is that I only hit
about half of what I shoot at.  This is why I have always tried to make
sure the range was such that I couldn't miss.
       I raised my left hand, palm open.  Goldtooth thrust the shotgun
into my face.  Only about a foot of air separated me from two barrels of
death.
       I raised my right hand, slowly, so as not to give Goldtooth a reason
to do some interior decorating with my gray matter.  I couldn't believe I
was about to try this.  I could only hope that they couldn't believe it
either.
       When my hand was only inches from my jacket, Love said, "That's
far enough."
       "Think so?" I hoped so.
       I took a deep breath, and grabbed a hold of the shotgun barrel with
my left hand, forcing it away from my face.  I drew my gun with my right.
There was an explosion, and a lot of pain from my hand, but I was still
alive.  Goldtooth's jaw dropped open in surprise.  I fired, and hit him
right in his precious tooth.  He crumpled to the ground at Love's feet.
       My wrist pumped a few quick jets of blood, but immediately slowed
to almost nothing.  My left hand had been through a lot lately.
       Love just sat there.
       "You're not natural.  Am I to die then?"
       I didn't answer.  I just smiled, and dropped the gun.  My left hand
had already stopped bleeding.  Vampirism has its advantages.
       It was quiet.  I looked around.  Everyone was staring at me.  They
must have been the whole time.  I ignored them, and stepped up to Love.
I reached out and grabbed him by the hair.  I then pulled his head back,
and sunk my teeth into his throat.  Love was strong, but there was no
way he could resist, even though he did try.  He was only mortal after all.
       Blood flowed into my mouth.  My senses started to swim.  Was it
like this every time I wondered?  I felt myself drop to my knees, taking
Love with me.  It was bliss.  I caressed Love's cheek with the stump of my
ruined hand as I sucked like a babe.  I didn't want it to end, but as big as
Love was eventually it did.  With my one hand, I broke his neck.
       When the blood stopped flowing I let my head fall back, and I
laughed.  I felt like God.  I was glutted.  I hadn't thought I could drink
that much.
       Lisa picked up my gun, held out her other hand.  I grasped her
smooth fingers.  We left.


                         The Banquet


       Last night I was worried about my hand.  Sure it had healed into a
scar covered stump in no time, but this wasn't what I wanted.  I guess I
should have been grateful that I was still alive.  I mentioned robotics to
Lisa, she just laughed, and told me that my hand would take care of
itself.  I didn't believe her.
       Before sunrise, we again bedded down, in her coffin, together.  I
was worried for a bit, that some one would come upon us as we slept.
Lisa told me to lift the coffin lid.  It was large, and stone, and it was
heavy.  I had no doubt that a mortal would have an impossible time
getting at whoever was within.
       When we woke, Lisa said that she had someplace that she wanted
to take me, and that I was to dress up for it. (Oh, by the way, my hand
had completely grown back.  I don't know how it happened exactly.)  I
hadn't been home in days, so I told her that I didn't have any dress
clothes.  She told me to look in the closet.  There was one  suit in there.
It was the only thing in the closet.  It was charcoal gray, with black
trimming, and I knew it would fit fine.  I was amazed.  I gave up on how
she had done it, when after the tenth time, she still refused to answer
me.

       Lisa knocked.  Little dents appeared in the door (or maybe I
imagined them).  A large fat man answered.  He looked powerful, like he
could beat the shit out of anyone.  He was dressed like an old fashioned
butler.  I took it that he was both bouncer and receptionist.
       "Lisa, it's been such a long time.  Will you be staying for the
banquet?" he asked in a hollow voice.
       "Yes."
       "Really?  What a surprise.  I've never known you to before."
       Lisa just looked at him.  She didn't answer.
       "Who is this?" he asked.
       "A friend."
       "You had better watch him carefully then.  No telling what can
happen at the Banquet."
       "I can take care of myself," I said.
       "Really?"
       "Really."
       I drew my .38, and I pointed it at him.
       He was a hell of a lot faster than I expected.  For as big as he was,
I only expected him to be able to move in slow-motion, but he reached
out with his right hand and grabbed my gun.  At least this was what I
assumed he did.  I didn't actually see him move.
       I tried to fire, but the damn gun wouldn't work.  He was squeezing
so hard that the chamber holding the rounds couldn't rotate, nor could
the hammer move back.  I heard, and felt, my trigger finger break.
       I fell to my knees.  I looked at Lisa.  She had taken out a cigarette,
lit it, and was now calmly smoking it.
       "So little man, you can take care of yourself huh?  Never threaten
me.  It isn't wise," he said.
       I looked up into his huge face.  He looked damn sure of himself.
He was so fucking smug.  With all my vampiric might, I punched him in
the testicles, with my newly rejuvenated hand.  He let go of me, and
dropped like a groaning rock.
       "You my friend, are a fuck," I said.
       I put my gun away, got up, and kicked him in the head for good
measure.
       I looked at my hand.  Two fingers were bent back at almost 90 degree
angles.  With a crack, and a yell, I straightened them.  I could tell that
the bones were already starting to knit.
       "If you're done playing with Morris, we have a dinner to attend."
       We left Morris, withering in agony on the floor, and walked hand
in hand down the hall.  There were no lights, but I found I could see fine.
We stopped in front of a set of large metal bound double doors.  These
doors looked like they were torn from some medieval castle.  They were
black, and probably could have withstood an attack by an army.
       "Thanks for your help back there."
       "You said you could handle it.  I figured it was better to let you
learn on someone gentle like Morris, than let you make a fool of yourself
later," she said as she open the doors. "Welcome to the Banquet."
       The sight that my eyes beheld confounded me.  In all my
considerably long life I had never seen anything such as its like.  There
were multilevel balconies, upon which people of much variety, were doing
such strange things:  ballroom dancing, drinking, having sex in hidden
little corners, and occasionally someone would fall from one of these into
a drunken heap of flesh and bone.  Unlike the hall, there were lights
everywhere here, but no one cast a shadow.
       I laughed.
       "Lisa, explain this."
       "This, Michael, is the Banquet."
       A small white man came up to me.  He wasn't an albino.  He was
such a uniform color that albinism was instantly ruled out.  His eyes
were white, and when he smiled I saw that even his tongue and gums
were the color of milk.  I wondered how he got this way.  He was dressed
in pale to complete his appearance.
       "Hello, my smiling friend," he said as he bowed to me.
       "Michael, this is Nemesis," said Lisa, and by the way she said it, I
could tell that she did not like this individual at all.
       "So, who's nemesis are you?"
       "Death's Michael, I am the nemesis of--myself."
       Lisa stepped between us, turned her back to him, took my hand,
and led me away.  I had little choice.  I followed.  She took me to another
room.  It had the appearance of a bar.  There were tables in this room,
with more unusual creatures (even though I was now a vampire, I still
had trouble calling vampires people) sitting about them.
       "Why did you pull me away from him?"
       "He is a vampire's vampire.  He only feeds off his own kind.  He
seldom leaves here.  He's only tolerated because he's too powerful to
stop.  He gets what he wants."
       "What's he want?"
       "Only he knows.  I just don't want him to take an interest in you."
       "It seems to me that there are enough vampires to destroy him."
       "It's been tried.  He killed so many, that it will never be tried
again."
       She was still holding my hand.  The music was soft.  We danced.  I
buried my mouth into the base of her throat.  She was soft.  I parted her
skin, and as we danced, I drank.  I didn't want to stop.  It felt too good,
but this was a cup that I had no right to drain.  I stopped.
       "I love you," she said.
       Did I love her?  Yes.  It felt so natural.  Here we were, two eternal
undead in love.
       "I love you too."
       I kissed her.  I wanted her.
       "Let's leave," I said.
       "We haven't eaten yet, and if we don't dine here, we'll have to stop
on the way home."
       She walked to the bar, said something to the bartender, and
received two glasses from him.  She then walked back to me, and handed
me one of them.  It was filled with a dark red liquid, and I knew that it
was blood.  I could tell by the smell.  I didn't drink.  I didn't know what
to do.
       What, you can't see my dilemma?  Picture this, you're at a party,
with some undead woman, to whom you just professed your love, so you
don't want to embarrass yourself in front of her, and you are given
something you have never experienced before.  What do you do?  I mean,
was this fine sipping blood, or was it like beer, where you just toss off a
glass, wipe your mouth on your sleeve, belch, and reach for another?
       Lisa must have sensed my confusion, because she laughed and told
me that it was blood.
       "I know that," I said. "How do you drink it?"
       "Slowly.  It's expensive.  It's the blood of year old white doves."
       I hadn't seen her pay anything for it.  I was going to ask her about
this, when she said, "Come, we dine."
       She led me again, to a set of 'army withstanding' double doors.
Hanging upon these doors were a pair of the deadest looking vampires I
had ever seen.  Each had a stake driven through its still heart.  It was by
these stakes that they were held in place.
       "This Michael, is the worst torture for a vampire."
       "Yeah, death sucks."
       "No, not death.  These two are far from dead, but not as far as they
probably hope to be.  They are only immobilized.  If the stakes were
pulled, then they would resume life as the vampires that they are."
       I didn't know what crime these two had committed to deserve such
a fate, but I also couldn't bring myself to feel for them.  It didn't seem to
me like there could be any life in them.  They were more like the kind of a
story told to scare a child.  Was Lisa trying to warn me against some
unknown danger that I could not understand?
       We opened these doors, and passed through to yet another room.
This was the true banquet hall.  There was a long wooden table that
dominated the room, and it was a large room.  It reminded me of a
church, for some reason, with its pews pulled out, and with the table
taking their place.
       We were not the first to arrive, there were already others sitting at
the table.  In fact there were very few seats left, just at one end.
Everyone was talking.  There were too many voices to pick out just any
one individual's speech.  I didn't care what any of them were saying.  We
joined them.  The table was large enough to seat hundreds, and was
doing so, but we ended up only about thirteen feet from Nemesis.  This
shows how well he was liked.  No one wanted to be near him.
       He was seated at its head, and was leaning back in his chair with
his feet on the table.  If anyone minded, no one said so.
       We sat.
       Someone who looked like, but was not, Morris came up to us.  He
had towels folded over his arm.  He offered each of us one, Lisa first,
then me.  We both accepted.
       "And do you know what you will be having this evening?" the man
who looked like, but was not, Morris asked.
       Before Lisa could answer, I asked, "What do you suggest?"
       "I, myself, sir, find that an Oriental is often pleasing."
       "Nah, with Chinese food you're hungry again in an hour.  What
else ya got?"
       "Michael, allow me to order."
       "Sure, fine."
       "We'll take the House Special."
       "Will you be sharing that?"
       "Yes."
       "Very well.  Thank you very much."
       He bowed and left.
       Lisa and I made small talk for about an hour.  The night was still
young, so I wasn't too worried about the time.  Lisa told me that the
man who looked like, but wasn't Morris, was Morris's brother, and
named Borris.  I'm serious.  I didn't name them, so don't blame me.  I
didn't much care for this place, neither did Lisa.  I could tell.  I think
that she only brought me there because it was something she thought I
might enjoy.  Either that, or she just wanted to show me off (male ego
there).
       Caligula introduced himself.  I found him rather interesting.  He
told me that the thing with the Senate was all contrived, and that he
had been innocent, that history had given him, as he says, "A bum rap."
I allowed as to how I was sorry.  He excused himself, and left.
       Lisa handed me something. "This is for you," she said.
       I took it.
       "What's this?"
       "A ring."
       "Oh, is that what they call little loops of metal?"
       I looked at it closely.  The ring was a gold dragon of the oriental
type.  It had four legs, was thin, and had no wings.  The workmanship
was superb.  It was worth much.
       I put it on.  At first I thought it was too small as I felt its claws
dig into my skin, but this  feeling eased and went away.  It was snug, but
comfortable.
       "There's a bond between us now.  We have matching rings.  They're
called lover's rings.  They're supposed to allow you to share your mate's
thoughts when you are forced to separate.  I got them from my sister as a
wedding present."
       "I'm sorry.  I didn't know you were married."
       "I was.  We were happy together until one night a vampire attacked
us.  She knocked me to the ground, fed from my husband, then broke his
neck.  She called herself Night, and she decided to make me into--you
know the rest."
       I didn't, but if she didn't want to talk about it, well, that was her
right.
       Borris came back up to us then.  He had a small child in his arms.
This he handed to Lisa.  She took him.  He was sleeping.
       "The House Special," said Borris. "Will you be requiring any other
service this evening?"
       "No," said Lisa.
       Borris left.  If he was displeased with what I had done to his
brother, he didn't show it.  In fact, he didn't show much of anything.
       "You're not going to drink from him."
       "Of course I am, Michael.  Why wouldn't I?"
       "He's just a child."
       "Yes, a pure child, raised exclusively for this reason.  He hasn't a
functional brain.  He's like a BE."
       She then leaned in, and drank.  I didn't stop her, but for some
reason, I wanted to.  I was disturbed by this little showing.
       "Now you."
       I turned away.  I wanted nothing to do with this.  I was hungry,
but it just didn't seem right.  I mean killing someone straight out, and
using them, to satisfy the thirst was one thing, but raising people to be
bled like cows was something else completely.
       Just then Nemesis stood up.
       "Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce one of the newest
members of our little race.  He stylizes himself as a killer, even though
he knows so little about killing, but he is  a vampire, even if only
reluctantly, so I'd like everyone to give a big round of applause for
Michael."
       He motioned to me in some imitation of a grand gesture.  Some
clapped feebly, as if they weren't sure of what was expected of them.
       "I said, clap!  Clap damn it.  Everyone clap!  Clap! Clap! Clap!" he
yelled.  Everyone rushed to obey this time.  Even Lisa.
       "Enough!" I said, as I stood up.
       "Michael--"
       "Shut up, Lisa."
       I looked at Nemesis.  He looked at me.  I don't know where
everyone else looked, but they made no sound as we stared at each other.
       "Are you going to be interesting?" he asked.
       I ignored his question, and asked one of my own, "Why does
everyone fear you?  You strike me as being petty.  A vampire who kills
only vampires.  Ha!  When was the last time you went among mortals?
When was the last time you even pretended to be alive?"
       I heard many gasps.  I guess no one ever questioned Nemesis like
this.  He laughed and walked around to the side of the table.  He put his
hands on the shoulders of the vampire that was sitting there.  The
vampire just sat there.  She did not resist.  Nemesis brought his hands
up and started to run them through her hair.
       "Why am I so feared you ask?" He gently kissed her flowing mane of
red hair. "Because I can do this."
       He then pulled the woman's head from her shoulders.  She looked
like a broken child's doll.  I wanted to get up and see if I could fix her,
but I couldn't just wave a magic wand and have anything I wanted.  She
was dead--obviously dead.  Her body lay broken and lost.
       Nemesis threw me the head.  I caught it.
       "You're sick."
       He smiled as I dropped the head.
       "Are you the cure?  I don't think so.  Why don't you shoot me?"
       I probably would have shot him, if I'd thought it would've done any
good, but I'd learned my lesson from Morris.
       He started walking toward me.  I reached in my pocket and palmed
my silver dollar.  I wanted to see if it would offer me any comfort in the
face of certain death.  It offered little.
       "Will no one stand up to him?" I asked.
       I heard Lisa whimper a little.  I knew she wanted to step between
Nemesis and I, but she thought it would be a waste.  She thought I was
going to die.  She was probably right.
       "Yes, beg for help.  Ask everyone to die, so that you may live.  Who
are you, the Antichrist?  I have decided that I want you."
       "Fuck off."
       By now he was directly in front of me.  I tried to back away, but he
was impossibly quick.  I still didn't have this vampire shit down.  I
underestimated him.  He had my face in his hands, and was squeezing
tightly.
       "Oh Michael...." I heard Lisa say.
       "Yes, 'oh Michael'." Nemesis imitated. "Time to die."
       He was applying pressure.  I could hear my skull starting to crack.
I didn't like this idea at all. There was little I could do about it.  I
didn't think that it would do much, but I punched him in the stomach with the
hand holding the two headed coin.
       Nemesis flew back.  The only thing was, he still had a hold of my
head.  My neck popped loudly several times, but did not break.  Nemesis
let go.  I fell to the ground.  It seemed like half my life was spent falling
to the ground.
       "How?  Who are you?"
       Nemesis was confused.  I didn't say anything.  I couldn't say
anything.  I was dizzy.  I couldn't think.  Had the coin done something to
him?  If so what, and how could I use it against him?  I didn't think that
I'd have the time to find out.  Already he had recovered and was again
coming at me.
       This time I concentrated on his movements, as best as I could.
When I thought that he was going to reach for me I moved.  It almost
worked.  At least this time I saw his hand, as it flew out and grabbed me
by the throat.  With one hand, he lifted me up.  I was glad I was taller
than him or I would have found myself dangling off the floor.
       "I asked you a question, worm.  How did you do that?  No one has
hurt me before.  Ever!"
       I kicked him as hard as I could.  It did nothing.  So it wasn't just
me.  It was the coin.  Only the hand holding the coin could cause him
any damage.  I swung my fist at him, but with his free hand he caught
my wrist.  He squeezed.
       Why is it always my hands?  I think someone, somewhere, was
playing some cosmic joke on me.  I could see God saying, "Have we
broken Michael Stryke's hands lately, oh let's see since--yesterday?  No?
Well have it done, and be quick about it."
       Well, whether there was some reason in the big picture of things or
not, Nemesis broke my hand.  I was amazed that I didn't scream, but I
did drop my coin.  The only thing that could save me dropped to the
floor.  I watched as it fell, and noted where it finally came to rest.
       Nemesis threw me.  I flew to the back of the banquet hall, and
crashed into the double doors there.  They exploded outwards, and flew
off their hinges.  They were completely destroyed.
       I looked up to the pitiful vampires that were impaled upon the
doors.  One was completely crushed, and I wonder if this meant that its
suffering was over.  The other was still stuck with wood into wood.  I
turned my gaze away from it, and I stood up.  I was fine, except my hand.
I think that this goes to show the strength of a vampire rather well.  I
hadn't even a cut on me.  My clothes were totaled though.  I was amazed
at the strength that it would take to damage me.  Morris had done it, but
how much force had it taken?  Was it like a diamond scratching a
diamond?
       I pulled out my .38, and looked at it.  The front (or if you're one of
those gun enthusiasts, the barrel) was bent down.  Not a lot, but enough
to make the gun worthless.  I threw it away.
       I pulled on my hand.  Bone ground against bone.  I waited for a
short while, to give my wrist time to set.  I had a feeling I was going to
need it.  Maybe five minutes passed.  Five minutes.  Lisa was still in
there.  How much did I love her?  I wasn't sure if I wanted to do this, but
I casually and calmly, (yeah, right, I was shitting my pants) walked back
inside.  Nemesis was yelling at everyone.  Several vampires lay dead at
his feet.  From their postures I could see that none had resisted.  Lisa
was sitting in a daze, but otherwise looked fine.
       Nemesis was still screaming.
       His voice was insanely clamorous.  Some of the weaker vampires
were holding their hands over their ears.  Occasionally glassware would
shatter.  My ears hurt also, but I ignored them.  Two could play at this
game.
       "Nemesis, I challenge you!" I screamed.  I know that I too was loud,
because some of those close to me also brought their hands to their
heads.
       Nemesis was all fury.  He stopped screaming, and decided to glare
at me instead.
       "You dare!  I will kill you.  I will slowly rend you limb from limb.
I will tear out your tongue.  I will castrate you.  I will--"
       "Come do it then, you fuck!"
       I had to be careful, if what I was planning had any chance of
working.  I waited until he started to rush me, I then crouched a little,
and at the last possible second I launched myself into the air.  He passed
below me, in a blur, and by the time he figured out that he had missed, I
was again on the ground.  I ran to where I knew the coin to be, picked it
up, and quickly turned around.
       Nemesis had only now stopped, and turned toward me.
       "Foolish fool, you cannot beat me.  I am Death himself.  I cannot
be beaten.  I've been around since the beginning of time, and I will be
here when time ends!  I have never lived, and I will die twice before I
cease to exist.  It is utter folly to think you can kill me."
       "'That is not dead, which can eternal lie, and in strange aeons even
Death may die.'  H. P. Lovecraft, mother-fucker.  Now come on."
       Let me set something straight.  I wasn't at all confident of my
ability to cause him any harm, even though I knew my coin improved my
chances by a hell of a lot.  I knew he wasn't just going to let Lisa and I
go, so I really couldn't see any other option but challenging him.  I didn't
have anything to loose.  That, and I was pissed.
       "You know you will die if you oppose me.  Set down the coin, and I
may yet let you live.  Who knows, I may even let your whore live."
       "Cunning?  I thought that was below you.  I thought you'd relish a
fight with someone who has a chance of winning, but maybe you don't
like fighting.  Maybe you only like killing your fellow vampires, because
they are weak, and can be treated like 'House Specials'."
       Nemesis scowled at me.  I had turned his pathetic world upside-
down.  He wanted me dead.  I knew this.
       "I am done with words.  Now it is time for you to die."
       He rushed me. I didn't move.  I watched.  I had tried this before,
without success, but this time I was hoping it would work.  I struck at
him, even before I thought I would be able to hit him.  This was almost
as bad as being blind, but it worked.  My fist collided with his head.
When I had thrown my fist, I hadn't thought of how hard or fast I
should've thrown it.  I just did it.  There were no human limitations
holding my hand back.
       I felt my skin split and tear.  Two of my knuckles disintegrated.  I
shuddered at the thought of what the blow, and my coin, did to his
skull.  He went sprawling.
       I would probably never get another chance to do anything against
him again.  He would be ready for me next time.  I didn't even pause.  I
jumped right on top of him, and started pummeling his face as hard as I
could.  I knew my right hand was probably the only one doing any
damage, but I hit him with both of them anyway.
       He must have been knocked unconscious by my first hit, because
he never struggled even once.  I stopped hitting him when my hands were
so torn up that I thought I would drop the coin.  I couldn't have that.
       Nemesis wasn't moving, but I knew that he wasn't dead.  His
wounds were already healing.  In seconds he would again be fine.  I
couldn't have this either.
       I bit into his neck vein and started sucking.  So much blood
gushed into me that I thought I wouldn't be able to drink it all.  This
wasn't ordinary blood though.  This blood had been distilled through the
centuries until there was nothing left of it that my vampiric shell didn't
crave.  I took it all, and screamed when no more came forth.
       I pocketed my coin, and then with a casual twist I tore what was
left of his  head from his shoulders.  No blood poured from his neck.  I
had drank it all.
       "No magic wands, fuck!  No magic wands."
       I gouged my fingers into his eyes and tore his skull in half.  His
brain fell to the floor.  Only then did I look around me.
       Everyone was on their knees.  They were looking at me like I was
some sort of god, and in a way I suppose I was, but I didn't want any of
this.
       "Come Lisa, we're going."


                         A Little Death


       "It was terrible.  He was making our kind touch your coin.  They
exploded into red mist and disappeared as soon as they did.  I thought he
was going to make me touch it.  He killed all those who refused.  I was so
scared."
       I was surprised that she wasn't crying like a Saturday night
suicide.  She was so good at it.  I wasn't in a mood to deal with a
sniveling vampire right now.  I had almost died.
       "It's alright, Lisa.  He can't hurt you now.  He's dead," I said this
only because I wanted to reassure her so she'd shut up.
       "Is he?  Oh Michael, he was right.  He can't be beat.  Look at your
hands."
       I did.  They were healed, but snow white.  I wished that I could see
myself in a mirror, but it's common knowledge that a vampire can't cast
a reflection.  Hell, I didn't even have a shadow.  I felt foolish as I stuck
out my tongue, and went cross-eyed, to see if too was white.  It was.
       "What's this mean, Lisa?"
       She didn't answer me.  She put her arms around me.  I held her
tightly.  We kissed.  We had less than half an hour of night left, but still
she started undressing me.  I didn't resist.  I didn't know why she was
doing this, but I did not question her.  She undressed, then pulled me to
the rug in front of the fireplace.  Still I did not resist.  I didn't know if
she was the one who wanted comfort, or if she was trying to comfort me.
We had sex, but there was no romance in it.  We didn't have time to be
gentle.  Our love was expressed through just straight fucking.
       "Lisa, the sun."
       "I know."
       She kissed my neck.  I felt her bite me.  She'd drank from me
before, also I'd done this to her, but for some reason, this time, I didn't
want her to do it.  If I allowed it, would she be able to stop?  Or would
Nemesis's blood call for her to take me?  And also, I didn't yet
understand why I was white.  I didn't want her to share this fate.
       I pushed her away.  I still didn't know how strong I was.  I used
only a little effort, she flew into the wall.  Several cracks appeared there,
but Lisa was fine.  She came at me, fingers extended into claws.  I
thought of my coin, but not only would it kill her, it was also still in my
pants, and I was naked.
       Why was she doing this?  Had she gotten me undressed just so I
wouldn't have the defense of my coin?  Did she think that Nemesis's
blood offered some power that she coveted?  So many questions.  No time
for answers.  I could already feel the sun.
       She was on top of me.  I fell back, into the fire.  Lisa was clawing
at my face, as the flames burned my hair.  I couldn't think.  What could I
do?  I didn't want to hurt her, but something had to be done.
       A voice spoke in my head, "Kill her!" it said. "Kill her!"
       I slammed my fist into her chin, hitting her away.  She again flew
back, but this time she crumpled into an unmoving heap.
       I got up off the floor, and went to Lisa.  We had only minutes
before we would be hit by the full force of the sun.  I didn't want either of
us to die.  I rolled her onto her back.
       "Kill her!"
       I was now starting to understand what was happening.  I didn't
have time to think on it though.  The room was beginning to become
light.  Lisa was beginning to stir.
       I had only one option.  Why do I never have choices?  If I was right,
we might both yet live.  If I was wrong we were dead for sure.
       I thought of what Lisa had said about the vampires that were
nailed to the banquet doors, and thrust my hand between Lisa's naked
breasts, and into her chest.  She came fully awake at that.  She grabbed
my hand, but there was no stopping me.  I was the strongest vampire to
ever exist.  Nemesis had given me the power to be king--god--of vampires.
As strong as Lisa was, she didn't have a chance of holding my hand back.
I tore her heart from her chest.  Great splashes of blood followed.  The
sight of the blood made the thirst come upon me, but I was strong
enough to ignore it.
       "Michael, I only wanted to take your place so that you could have
lived.  Now we both die.  When you sleep, you will become Nemesis."
       She closed her eyes, and died.  I shed no tear.
       I picked her up, and carried her to the bedroom, where I placed her,
and her heart, into her coffin.  The stone lid that I had found so heavy
before was not heavy anymore.  The casket that I had hated so much,
looked so inviting, but if Lisa was right, and I expected she was, if I
bedded down I would not wake as myself.  Nemesis would have my body.
       I shut the lid.  It closed with a bang that seemed to signal
something.  I didn't know what, but it seemed like it should have meant
something.  I wondered what the neighbors thought of all the noise when
Lisa and I had fought.  Were there people outside the apartment, ears to
the wall, trying to hear what was going on inside?
       I hoped not.
       I grabbed my silver dollar, left the apartment, and went to face the
sun.


                         Leaving the Curse Behind


       Lisa's blood covered me from my neck to my crotch.  I was still
naked, pure unclean white, and Nemesis was in me.  I could feel him.
There was this almost irresistible urge, dominating my mind, trying to
convince me to go back into the apartment and hide from the day.
       If I wasn't holding the coin, I no doubt would have been unable to
resist him, and I would not have been waiting to greet the sun.  Lisa had
said that vampires exploded when they made contact with my coin.  If it
was so powerful, why hadn't it kept Lisa from making a vampire out of
me?  Probably because I had allowed it.  I hadn't fought when she had bit
me the first time.  I had welcomed it.
       I knew one thing though, and that was that I couldn't allow
Nemesis to take my body, and have control of the coin.  He was next to
unstoppable before, if he had my silver dollar he would be impossible for
anything to destroy.  His power combined with the coin would probably
be enough to wrest control from even the Devil Himself.
       "Prepare to perish," I said.
       The sun was just peaking over the horizon.  I was burning.  Little
motes of light flickered on my body.  My skin split.  Several cracks went
clear to the bone.  I was white through and through, my muscle tissue
was white, even the blood that poured from me looked like milk.
       I concentrated on the coin.  It was my only chance.
       Nemesis screamed in my mind.  I thought my head was going to
split open.  I fell to the ground.  My plan had been to have the sun burn
him from me, as the coin kept me alive. I had bargained my soul for
immortality, had I not?  I had been promised life eternal, but I knew now
that I was wrong, and I was going to die.  Even the coin could not
prevent this horrid death.
       "Satan! Appear!"
       "I choose to answer this summons."
       The Devil was standing over me.  I was laying on my back, melting
into a milky puddle.  Well, maybe it wasn't that bad, but I felt like some
sponge being wrung out by an ancient god's hand.
       "Help me."
       "My My My.  Have not we gotten ourselves into a little trouble?
What will you give Me to help you out?  The coin?  There are others that
desire it.  I have not made a direct action against you.  This is not my
work, so you cannot blame Me."  He was nodding His head back and
forth, like He was my mother or something.
       "I'm just asking you to return me to the way I was before I ever
became a vampire."
       I didn't feel like bartering with Him.  I was hurting.  He was
obligated to return me to my original condition, if He was still bound by
the contract. I guess this was were I got to find out whether or not He
could renege.
       "Why should I?" He asked slowly.
       I could tell He liked this, and was dragging it out as long as He
could.
       "It's in the contract." I said through clenched teeth.  "Section
something or another subparagraph this or that, states that if at
anytime I find my physical appearance unacceptable I can have it
returned to the form I had when I originally made the bargain for
immortality.  So either turn me bac--"
       The only time I had heard this was when Satan had read me the
contract, and then I had been drunk.  I never  looked at my copy.  If the
Devil had told me that this wasn't in my contract, I probably would have
believed Him, and given Him the coin.  I didn't have to though.
       "Very well, very well, but you can only do so once."
       He motioned with his hand.  The pain was gone, so was He, and I
was myself again, as I was on the night I had fucked Lori, as I was the
night I had bartered for immortality.  Was I still immortal?
       I passed out.


                         Eternally Undead


       There was something I hadn't thought of before.  The coffin lid was
too heavy for me to lift.  I no longer had any vampire powers.  Give me a
break, okay?  I can't be expected to think of everything.
       I waited until night.  I then spent several hours trying to open the
lid.  I couldn't, so before the night wore away, I decided to go get some
one who could.  I went to the Banquet.  I made quite a splash as a
mortal.  Everyone still wanted to treat me like a god, so I took a little
advantage of it, and had them pay tribute.  I got so much cash that I
could afford to pay Silhouette's fee a thousand times over.
       It was time to retire, with Lisa, and live happily ever after--forever.
       I returned to the apartment with Caligula.  He lifted the top of the
casket without any effort.
       "Good enough?"
       "Yes."
       I looked at Lisa, she was all gray, and was covered with a fine film
of dust.  She was dried out.  Her face was wrinkled.  Her heart was in her
hand.  It  looked like a healthy organ though.  I thought of the two
vampires that had been staked to the doors at the banquette, and how
Lisa had said that they were merely being punished.  I hoped that she
would be able to be brought back.  I loved her.
       "Wow, man, what you do to her?  She's totaled."
       I ignored him.  He had served his purpose.
       I gently picked up Lisa's heart (broken doors and broken vampires)
and placed it again within her chest.  It started beating almost right
away.  Her body started to fill back out.  The lines disappeared from her
face.  Her eyes opened, and the hole in her chest closed.
       "Michael?"
       "Yes love, it's me."
       "You beat Nemesis."
       I didn't know if this was a question, or a statement, so I said
nothing, as she closed her eyes again.  I thought that she was going to
die even after my best efforts.
       "Do something, Caligula."
       "What, man."
       "Feed her some of you blood."
       "What?  No way dude.  No can do.  Like to help--"
       I held up my coin.  He leaned into the coffin.  Lisa drank, and
drank, and Caligula had to push her away, before she killed him.
       "I'm leaving now.  I thought you a cool dude, but I can see now
that you  should have been a senator."
       He left Lisa and me to ourselves.  We didn't mind much.
       We made love in the bathroom, under the shower.  This time we
had time to be as gentle as we wanted.  We were gentle several times.
Nothing like a close call to death to make one's passions flare.


                         To Kill a Thief


       Now that I had money to pay Silhouette I didn't care if he killed
Caine or not, but I did want to wrap up all of my loose business ends.  I
was going to retire.  I didn't want to have to make my living by being a
leech.  I also didn't want to kill anymore myself.  Well, at least not for
money anyway.
       By the way.  When we had finished our love making earlier, she
had me open the closet.  In it was another suit for me, and a dress for
her.  There was even a .38 caliber in the jacket pocket.  I think I
disappointed her when I acted like I had expected this.
       I took Lisa out with me.  I would have been a fool not too.  She
was  my bodyguard after all.

       Thief was not smart.  I found him in the exact same place.  The
nightclub.  This is not what I call intelligent.  He should have made it
harder for me, but like I said before, Thief was always easy to find.
       He had a bandage over his ear, and his foot in a cast.  I guess I
was about the last person that he wanted to see.  I think he opened his
mouth to say this, but I interrupted him.
       "Look at me, Thief.  I'm tired, and I'd just as soon kill you as fuck
with you.  So, just tell me what I want to know, and you get to live."
       "You look like someone beat the shit out of you, man."
       "Thanks, you look good too.  Now, what do you know about
Silhouette and a man named Caine?"
       I wanted to find out if Silhouette had made the hit yet, or if he was
still underground.
       "Nothing I believe, but I'll tell you anyhow.  I heard you hired the
big S to make a hit on some guy.  No shit?  Well, S didn't go
underground.  Seems he had an irresistible shot, almost right away, so
he went to take it, but someone stopped him.  The mombo bitch who told
me this story said that it was the Devil.  Can you believe that mombo
voodoo shit?"
       He paused to see if I was going to answer the question.  I didn't
feel like it so I waited till he continued.
       "Did you know that S uses blades--sword, and knives, and that
shit?"
       I did, but I still didn't feel like chatting.  After Thief realized
this he started talking again.
       "I heard that S had his knife or sword or whatever held right to
this guy's throat, when up comes this guy, the Devil, if you listen to Ms.
Mombo Bitch, and says, 'No, do not kill this one.  He is son of Adam."  S
just walked away.  That's why I don't believe it, S has never broken a
contract.  Never."
       I thought about his story for awhile.  I couldn't figure out what it
meant for me.  Did Silhouette really renege? or had he even tried yet?  If
street talk said he'd broken a contract then his perfect reputation was
shot, and he wouldn't be happy with this.  For all I knew, though, this
story was just that, a story.
       "What do you think, Lisa?"
       "How did this lady see this, and how reliable is she?"
       "She's this Caine fellows landlady.  Says she keeps an eye on him,
because 'he's got the mark about him'.  Says she saw it through the
keyhole.  As for reliability, she talks a lot of shit.  I already told you I
didn't believe it.  The Devil?  Come on!  You know what I think?"
       "No, Thief, what do you think?"
       "I think you fucked up, man.  I think you tried double-crossing the
S man, and things didn't go the way you planned.  He'll get you, man.
You're as good as dead.  That's what I think."
       I couldn't have talk like this on the streets.
       "No, Thief, you're as good as dead."
       I shot him.  No, not in the foot, in the head.  After he fell to the
ground I emptied the gun into his skull, and I'd had the best of
intentions too.  What can I say?  I was pissed.


                         Lessons Learned


       Lisa and I had our first real fight after we left Thief.  I didn't
want to go back to her apartment.  I was tired, but I couldn't bring myself to
sleep in her casket.  It was one thing, when I thought that she was just
being kinky, but now that I knew that she was a vampire, and I no longer
was, I just couldn't bring myself to come anywhere near her coffin.
Okay, I can see it now.  You're saying, "but she bit you.  You had to
know that she was a vampire," right?  Well in answer to that, I can only
say that her bite didn't hurt.  I can't describe how it felt though.  I guess
you'll just have to be bit by a vampire sometime if you're really curious.
       I didn't want anything to do with death.  I told her this.  She
called me a hypocrite.  I hate being called a hypocrite.  I'll admit to
anything; racism, sexism any 'ism' you want, but I am not a hypocrite.  I
confess to religious prejudice, or prejudice against fat people, but I will
not confess to hypocrisy.  I am only myself at the time that I am myself.
I cannot be expected to hold a belief permanently.  So what if I dealt in
death.  I didn't have to like it, and I no longer had to do it.
       In the end the sun settled the argument.  She laid down to rest.  I
went for a walk.
       I couldn't get myself to forget about her though.  She was my one
hope in life.  Lisa was the first person to enter my life that I could look
to having a future with.  Crime's mother was nice, and sometimes I loved
her a lot, but then I'd also catch myself looking at her in disgust,
because I knew that she was dying cell by cell, atom by atom.  How could
I truly love someone who didn't even have the potential to live as long as
I?
       I didn't have this problem with Lisa though.  We could live, in
happiness, forever, and would too, if only we could work out our
differences.  I already knew what was going to bother me.
       I don't think I could handle her devouring any 'House Specials',
and there was no way I could ever bring myself to sleep with her--in her
coffin I mean.  I loved her.  I knew I did, but I was human.  She wasn't.
If only I could've brought myself to have her make me a vampire again,
but my life was confusing enough.  I didn't need vampirism added to it.
Besides, I no longer desired to have to kill to maintain my life.  I was sick
of death.
       I looked up.  I had been walking for quite a ways.  I didn't even
really recognize the neighborhood I was in.  I could probably find my way
back though.
       Two leather jacketed punks were coming at me.  I wasn't worried.
I'd paid my taxes lately.  When I told them I was 'Protected', they'd have
to leave.  One pulled out two knives.  He set these to spinning around
his hands rather impressively.  It was almost a shame but....
       "I'm Protected."
       One looked at the other, and smiled.  The other ignored him, and
didn't smile.  He just kept working his knives.  Okay, then, Smiley and
Grim.
       "You can't touch me.  I'm not taxable."
       "We don't care.  Guild gone, man.  Hand your money over," said
Grim.
       I didn't want to talk nonsense with these.  I had some thinking I
wanted to do, and they were disturbing me.
       "Listen, I'm not used to killing children, for childish reasons.
Either leave, or prepare to die like adults."
       "Tough guy, talk tough," said Smiley.
       "Shut up," said Grim.
       I thought that they were still planning on mugging me, but just
lacked the courage.  This meant that they were just idiots.  Even if they
succeeded, they wouldn't be able to live long.  The Guild would hold an
investigation, find them, and slowly kill them publicly, as an example, to
others who would be so stupid.
       I knew that these punks were fair game.  There was no way that
they could afford to pay taxes if they were resorting to just petty
mugging.  If I was going to have to kill them, then I wanted to get it over,
and be done with it.  I pulled out my gun.
       "Step up to die then," I said softly.
       I was wishing that they'd just leave.  I really didn't want to have to
kill them.
       Grim threw one of his knives.  I dodged, or tried to.  It hit me high
on my left shoulder.  I ignored it, and shot Grim between the eyes.  He
dropped his other knife, and died.  Smiley ran.  I centered my sights on
him.
       I didn't shoot.  I let him go.  Don't call me "Soft," I probably
wouldn't have hit him anyway, and I got a good feeling from letting him
live.
       I pulled the knife from my body, and let it drop to the ground.  I
wasn't going to report this.  Smiley would be stupid to try something like
this again, and Grim wasn't going to be doing anything again, except
rotting in Hell.
       I went back to Lisa's apartment, went into the bathroom, took off
my shirt, cleaned my shoulder, bandaged it, put my shirt back on, went
to the living room, turned on the stereo, laid down, and passed out.
       Night came.  Lisa woke me.
       "I'm sorry," she said.
       "So am I.  I love you."
       "Michael."
       She must have just wanted to say my name, because she didn't
wait for me to answer.  She put her mouth on mine, and forcefully kissed
me.  I returned the kiss.  Lisa put her hands on my shoulders.
       I bit her lip as I said, "Fuck!"
       "What's the matter?"
       "My shoulder, I hurt it today."
       She removed my shirt, and my amateur bandage, and looked at the
puncture wound there.
       "How?" she asked.
       "Some punks."
       She put two of her fingers into her mouth, and bit.  She then
cupped her hands.  Blood began to flow from the cuts, and fill her hand.
She rubbed her blood into my wound.  I watched as it closed.
       "Neat," I said. "Thanks."
       Lisa licked her fingers clean.  Her cuts had also closed.
       "Oh, you haven't earned it yet."
       I grabbed her, helped her from her clothes, and by the time the
night was over, I was sure that I had paid her back.  In the morning I
slept on the floor outside her coffin in which she rested.  I was going to
have to get a bed, because when I woke the next night, I was stiff.  Lisa
was still asleep, so I went to the shower, and did what one does in a
shower.  When Lisa woke, she joined me there.
       I was glad we had made up.
       "What shall we do tonight?"
       "Let's go dancing."
       I didn't usually like dancing, but I said, "Fine."
       She pulled the closet trick, we dressed, and left.

       The nightclub we went to was rather nice.  At least no one was
naked, or dead.  Well, at least no one I could see.
       Lisa and I danced.  It was nice.  I held her to my body tightly.  I
could feel her breasts through our clothes.  She was moving her hips
against mine. I was getting aroused.  We had made love only a few hours
before, and she was completely nude then, but now, when she was
dressed, I wanted her even more.  The people around us disappeared.
Only Lisa and I existed, and I was starting to have doubts about myself.
       I felt Lisa stiffen, as someone brushed up against me, and I
wondered if my wallet was still there, but I didn't really care.  I didn't
even check.  I kept dancing.  Lisa kissed my neck, I thought she was
going to bite me again.  It was then that I realized she hadn't had blood
since Caligula fed her from himself.
       I looked at her carefully.  There were little lines about her eyes.
Easy to miss, but I was sure that they hadn't been there before.  I was
worried.  What was she doing?  She couldn't deny her nature, anymore
than I could mine.  I didn't know what to say.
       "Lisa."
       She kissed my ear.
       "Lisa."
       I stopped dancing.  She must have known my thoughts.  Maybe it
was something to do with the rings.  She turned away.  I put my hand on
her shoulder, and forced her to look at me.
       "Why, Lisa?"
       "For you, Michael.  I don't want you to hate me.  I couldn't live if
you did.  I love you."
       "I couldn't hate you for being what you are.  It's not your fault.  If
you want to find fault, then yell to God, but I'll tell you what good that
will do you--nothing."
       Just then Lisa touched my face.  I think she was going to say
something, but instead she pushed me.  I tumbled to the ground.  My
neck felt as though it had been broken.  It wasn't though.  I could still
move my hands and feet.
       Why had she pushed me?  I hadn't really seen it, but she had good
reason.  A dagger, and it had been heading right for my head.  Lisa was
now holding it.  She had plucked it right out of the air.  She was now
searching the crowd.  She didn't find what she was looking for.
       I got up.  I had forgotten how fast and strong vampires were.  I
thought back to a moment before, when I had 'forced' her to look at me.
Forced hell, if she hadn't let me, then there would have been nothing I
could have done about it.  She handed me the dagger.
       There was a stylized 'S' on the pommel.  No wonder she hadn't
seen anyone in the crowed.
       So, Silhouette wanted me now, and it appeared that he had gone
rogue, and didn't care that I was Protected.  Either that or the Guild had
collapsed like those thug kids had said.
       Well, if Silhouette did come after me, I always had Lisa to protect
me.
       We left.  Lisa fed on the way home.  I'll spare you the disgusting
details, but trust me when I say they were disgusting.
       I again slept at the foot of her casket.  At first it was not a
pleasant sleep, I kept thinking of Silhouette, and trying to figure out
what it all meant, but eventually I fell into a dreamless slumber.
       When I woke, there were still two hours of sunlight left.  I left Lisa
a note, and left myself.  I went to see Crime.


                         A Second Crime


       Her receptionist showed me in.  Crime must have gotten used to
my physical age changing, because now I was back to my seventeen year
old looking self, and she didn't even flinch.  I wondered what she thought
of having a father who was immortal.  Her mother had died in childbirth,
so I was the only family that she had.  I would outlive her.  She didn't
seem to care though, but then again she was only fourteen.  She
probably didn't yet feel mortal.
       "Hello, father.  Can I help you?"
       "No, just stopped over to chat."
       "Okay, then let's start with--you look awful."
       I suppose I probably did.  I had been through quite a lot lately.
       "Yeah, well you look good."
       She did too.  She always looked good.  I had heard that a lot of her
customers had propositioned her, instead of her girls, but she always
turned them down.  I don't really know why.  Maybe she actually had
some morals, as highly impossible as that was.
       "I killed Love."
       "I heard.  I also heard that it was under unusual  circumstances."
       "Yeah, I haven't been out in the daylight much lately, but hey,
don't believe everything you hear."
       "I know, you can't trust anyone these days."
       "Anything new?"
       "Atlantis-Prime was destroyed, but I bet you already new that."
       I hadn't, but I didn't tell her that.  This must have been what the
punks were talking about. I thought on this for a second.  Atlantis-Prime
was a city of politicians.  It was said that even the Council made their
home there.  It was off the coast of California somewhere.  It was almost
impossible to become a citizen there.  You had to have an income that
was measured by the tons.  I wondered how it was destroyed.  It was
supposed to be impregnable.  It was even completely underwater.
       Confused?  Okay, compare the Guild to a European feudal system.
The Council, which I believe only has six members, would then be the
top royalty.  The Guild, of which I am a member, would have been the
minor nobles.  The rest of the world would then be made up of
commoners, or peasants.
       If Atlantis-Prime was gone, and if the Council did live there, and
they were gone too, then people in my profession would soon start to feel
chaos falling down about there heads.  What would happen if there were
no longer any Guild regulations?  Was this why I had been attacked, and
Silhouette felt safe taking me with a signed blade?  Was the Guild falling
apart--going to shit?
       "What of the Council?"
       "It's rumored that there are now two seats open." Her eyes lit up as
she said this, but I dismissed this.  There was no way Crime could aspire
to the Council.
       "At least it wasn't completely--"
       I felt a little tug at my finger just then.  I looked down.  It was
the dragon ring.  I had almost forgotten it.  It was hot.  It also seemed
tighter than it usually was.
       "Father, what's wrong?" Crime asked.
       I must have looked confused.
       "Michael!"
       It was Lisa's voice.  I jumped up.
       "Did you hear that?"
       "What?"
       !He's opening it Michael  THE SUN!
       The ring constricted around my finger.  I yelled as it drew tight
enough to amputate the digit.  There was a crunch of bone, and blood
flowed freely.  I looked at my hand.  I was indeed missing my ring finger.
       I forgot it.  I ran from the office.  I wished I hadn't left her. I
had to get to Lisa.  I had to, even though I could feel that it was too late.


                         Oh, but to Die!


       I kicked open the door, and ran to the bedroom.
       The casket was open.  I don't know what I would have done if it
hadn't been.  It wasn't as if I could have opened it.  I was no vampire,
and the lid alone weighed at least half a ton.
       Lisa was in the coffin.  She lay dead.  Blood matted her beautiful
blond hair.  There was a look of blind terror on her face.  Her killer must
have taken his time.  The condition of the body proved that.  There was a
hole where her heart should have been.  Her head and both hands were
cut from her body.  The bastard had stolen her heart.
       How had he opened the coffin?  It was impossible.  Why hadn't I
just waited just two more hours for Lisa to rise?  Why?
       "No!" I screamed.  No one heard me.
       There was a little note clasped tightly in one of her amputated
hands.  I grabbed it.  I didn't want to open it.  If I did it would be an
ending of sorts.  I still didn't want to admit that Lisa could be anything
but alive.
       A poem I once read came to mind.
       "I know there's some cosmic deity
       up there fucking with me.
       He's no god of light.
       Every time things are going right
       He turns the tables and cuts the cables,
       and lets this poor puppet fall," I whispered, because this was what
I felt  like.
       The note was tied with a little piece of black ribbon.  I had to some
time or another.  Hesitantly, I opened it.

                         "You're next."
                                 --S--


       Fuck.  Just fuck.
       I couldn't bring myself to stay in the apartment.  I left Lisa where
she was.  What could I have done for her?  She was dead, and there was
absolutely nothing I could do.  Nothing.


                         An End of Sorts


       I knew where I was, but I felt lost.  I was wandering the streets.  As
I had been doing most of the day.  The only time I wasn't walking in a
daze was when I had again stopped off at Crime's.
       Why had he done it?  Lisa hadn't done anything, but love me.  She
didn't deserve death.  Why does bad haunt those who deserve it least?  I
wanted Silhouette.  I wanted him dead, even though I knew I wouldn't be
the one to kill him.  I wasn't good enough to do that, but I'd welcome the
chance if it came my way.
       This was how I found myself walking the night.  I wasn't hiding.  If
Silhouette had decided that he wanted me, then I wanted to make myself
easy to find.
       The sector of the city I was in was run down.  It used to house
welfare recipients, bums, and the parasites that always seemed to feed off
these; drugstores, liqueur stores, and lottery stands, but since the Guild
took over, it housed no one.  If you're not productive, well, then you
don't deserve to live.  If you don't deserve to live--you die.  Simple fact.
Most people today are productive, very productive.
       Why did I think Silhouette would be able to find me here?  Well, I
thought that if I was to go someplace where it might look like I had the
advantage, oh let's say the Banquet, then Silhouette would just wait
until I left.  I wanted him to feel like he could just take me.  If he wanted
me half as bad as I wanted him, then he had probably been following me
all day.
       If Thief was still alive I would have let myself be seen by him.  Then
the word would have gotten around quickly.  As it was I had only stopped
off to say good-bye to Crime, and ask her to "hold onto the money" I had
gotten from the Banquet.
       I bought a bottle of alcohol earlier.  I had no intention of drinking
it though.  I had only bought it as a diversion, like I was going to go hide
somewhere, and drink my sorrows away.  I had this in hand as it started
to rain.  I went into an old building to take shelter.  I found a light
switch.  I threw it for a kick.  I didn't think that there would be any
power.  Lights flooded the hallway.  I left the hall, entered a dark room,
and let the door close behind me.  It was dark.  I couldn't find anything
to change this with either, but that was okay, the lighting fit my mood
fine.  I felt like someone was watching me.  Paranoia?  Maybe, but if
anything, it was wishful thinking.  I wanted Silhouette.
       As they say, be careful what you wish for you just might....
       "Stryke."
       The voice came from nowhere.  I couldn't place the direction of the
speaker, but I could tell that he was far enough away for me to answer
safely.
       "What do you want with me?"
       "You set me up," said the same incorporeal voice.  It sounded
familiar.  I was hoping.  I wanted him.
       "Silhouette?"
       Out of the darkness came footsteps.  They were running.  I
flinched, dropped the liqueur bottle, spun as it crashed to the floor, and
drew my .38.  The footsteps were getting louder, but I couldn't tell where
they were coming from.
       I felt the blow to the back of my head at the same time I heard the
voice whisper, "Yes, Silhouette."  I fired into stars.
       Silhouette laughed.
       "I can kill you anytime I want.  Your gun means nothing."
       Staying low, I backed up until I hit a wall.  I began to move along
it.  I reached back and touched my head.  There was a lump and two
parallel gashes.  I was still seeing stars, though they were clearing.  I was
trying to be as quiet as possible, but I must have been making some
noise, enough to let Silhouette know where I was anyway.  I heard a
'think' next to my right ear.  I stopped and felt there.  I touched a dagger.
My hand came away sticky wet.  The wetness made my fingers numb, but
that was all.  I could only assume that it was a poisoned blade.  I had no
cuts on my hand, so I considered myself lucky.  I didn't want any devil's
brew entering into my system.
       "I didn't set you up.  I don't know what you're talking about."
       "Caine was unkillable.  I've never failed before.  Now it is time for
you to die."
       I thought about telling him that I too could not die, but I decided
on a different course of action instead.  I fired at Silhouette's voice, even
if I couldn't pinpoint it in the darkness.  I was sure I missed, but still I
hoped.
       I started moving again.  I knew Silhouette thought he could kill me
at any time, and he was probably right, but I wasn't going to just sit and
wait for him to do so.  In my search in the dark I came across a roll bar
door.  I pushed it open.  Bright light flooded my eyes.  I could hardly see.
I shielded my eyes and slid through the door.  It slammed shut behind
me.
       I ran till I came across another door.  This one was on the opposite
side of the hall than the door I'd just exited.  I opened it.  I entered it.
I closed it.  It was the entrance to the service-way where I now found
myself standing.  This was lit by an emergency light, that had probably
been on for years.  The landing I was on was wooden and littered with
cleaning materials.  There was a staircase going up and a staircase going
down.
       I grabbed a broom handle, and barred the door.  I knew that this
wouldn't stop a determined old lady, let alone Silhouette, but it made me
feel a little safer.  Next, I grabbed one of three five gallon buckets of
solvent.  It was difficult to handle with my missing finger.  I screwed off
the cap, poured it all over the landing, and climbed the stairs, dousing
them as I went.
       I hoped that if Silhouette found this service-way that he would
think I went down instead of up.  I hoped that the flames would make
him unable to follow me, even if he did decide that I went up.  I hoped
that there was a way out that I could take, that would lose Silhouette.  I
hoped a lot, and knowing Silhouette (which I didn't), and my luck (which
I seemed to have none of), I was in trouble.
       From the next landing I lit the stairs.  They went up faster than I
expected--a lot faster.  Smoke, heat, and a terrible solvent smell quickly
took over the air.
       I started up the steps.  I tried the first door I came across.  It was
locked.
       I tried the second door I came across.  It was locked.
       I was about to try the third door, when I heard twin explosions
from three stories down.  I looked down.  A sheet of flame was coming at
me.  I tried running faster.  I almost made it another story before the
flames engulfed me.  I had to close my eyes.  I couldn't see.  I couldn't
breathe. I could only feel my hair and my clothes burning.  I kept
climbing.  If I was going to die I didn't want it to be because of my own
stupidity.
       I don't know how long this continued.  I just remember running for
as long as I could.  I then crawled through my own personal Hell for
eternity.  I knocked into something at the same time that I had decided
that I could go no farther.  I groped, and found a roll bar.  I slammed it
open, and collapsed on cold wet hard stone.  I took great gasping breaths
of air.  I started to stand.  I passed out.
       When I came to the stone was warm.  I stood up.  I was on the
roof.  There was smoke coming out of the door I'd passed out through
earlier.  There was a skylight on the roof.  The skylight was glowing.
       It was still raining.  It was coming down warm and wet.  Rain has
a way of doing that.
       I heard an explosion.  I looked over my shoulder.  The skylight had
blown out, and glass was falling.  Flames were shooting high into the
air.  Heat was rising.  I gripped my pistol, trying for some sense of
security.  It didn't work.  It just made me realize that my hands were
sweating.  No surprise there.
       I ran to the edge of the roof, and looked down.  That was a
mistake.  There was too much damn smoke.  I couldn't see the ground.
It was too dark.  The only light came from the flames themselves.  I knew
how high I was, entirely too high, but I just wished I could have seen
something besides flame and gray smoke.
       "Stryke!"
       I turned and fired.  I missed.  He had his sword in one hand and a
dagger in the other.  I still had three rounds.  I didn't feel like I had any
advantage.  I kept my .38 pointed at his head.  There was another
explosion.  It wasn't from my gun.  Neither of us looked away.  To have
done so would have meant death.
       I didn't know how he made it up here, and at the time I didn't care.
The heat was becoming uncomfortable.  Even the stone I was standing
on was hot.
       "We're both going to die," I said.
       "Yes, but you first."
       A clock somewhere in the city struck midnight.  Everything always
happens at midnight.  I shot again.  My hand was shaking bad.  He fell
straight back, not because he wanted to, but because he had slipped on
the slick stone surface.  I knew I hadn't hit him though.  I saw the round
ricochet off the wide ledge surrounding the roof.  I quickly re-aimed and
fired.  This time I had the satisfaction of hearing a round impact with
soft flesh.  I shot him yet again with my last round.  Silhouette went
into convulsions, then became still.
       I couldn't believe it.  It felt anticlimactic.  It was.  The end of
Silhouette.  I couldn't bring myself to become too excited though.  It was
too hard to believe, and too hard to breathe, my eyes hurt, tears flowed
freely, I knew I was about to be burned beyond any hope of recognition,
so forgive me if I didn't immediately celebrate.
       I turned, and threw my gun away.  It wouldn't do me anymore
good.  I was sick of looking at it anyway.  I didn't want to see another
gun for a long time.  As I stood over Silhouette's dead body, wiping the
rain from my eyes,  I thought, "An eye for an eye, the score was even.  He
was the best.  He killed my love."  I killed him, but were we even?  Not
even close.  I hurt, and I was about to be consumed by flames.  I took a
staggering step, then another.
       Then I heard a moan.  I looked back in shock.  Silhouette was
standing.  I looked around for a weapon.  Nothing offered itself.  He still
had his sword and dagg.  I wished I had a gun.
       Silhouette's shirt was sticking wetly to his side, and he limped
badly when he tried to take a step forward, but he was still alive.  Fuck.
Shit.  I should have stomped his head, crushed his damn skull.  I
should've at least made sure he was dead.  Silhouette was  going to die
though.  If the bullets didn't kill him the fire would.
       This was little comfort.
       Silhouette reversed his grip on the dagger, brought it back even
with his cheek, smiled a silver tongued smile, and let it fly.  I felt it take
me in my right eye. I fell back.
       Two things stick out in my mind about these last few moments.
For a second, I actually considered praying, and I wished I had paid more
attention in Sunday school.  I also wondered, as the flames rose, how my
immortality would deal with this.

       The answer to the question was completely different than I
expected.  I thought, to my utter horror, that I would live through this.  I
thought I would be blind in one eye because of the dagger, and blind in
the other because of flame.  I thought I would be horribly disfigured; a
living tortured mass of scar tissue.  I didn't expect to be transported to
right outside of a church.
       I was no longer wet.  It was still night.  The rain had stopped, but I
was naked.  I thought maybe the flames had burned my clothes away,
but none of the hair was gone from my body.  In fact, even the hair that
had been singed in the stairway fire had been restored and was again
intact.
       Another strange thing--I had no wounds.  My eye was fine.  There
were no gashes on the back of my head.  Even my finger had regenerated.
This transportation and healing must have had something to do with the
coin that I still had.  It was clutched in my left hand.
       I still was unaware of all its powers.  I knew that my soul
supposedly resided within it, but I was starting to doubt this.  I don't
know why, but I just felt that my soul was mine (at least until I died)
and within me.  The coin had powers over undead, it made me immortal,
but this was all I really knew about it.  The healing and transportation
needed more study.  This was interesting but inconsequential  The
church, this was what I was thinking of right before the end there.  It
was what I had been thinking of since Lisa died.  I found myself actually
wanting to repent.  I wanted this to all be over.  Without Lisa, I would no
longer be living life because I enjoyed life, I would only be living because I
feared Hell--feared Hell a lot.
       I didn't think it would work.  Lisa had said she was unable to
enter.  Why should I be any different?  Not only had I once killed as a
vampire, I had also sold my soul.  No, I didn't think it would work, but I
had made up my mind to try.  I was going to place the coin in the
offering plate.
       I paced back and forth in front of the church.  I felt nothing
spectacular, nothing to inspire awe.  It felt safe.  I stopped, flipped the
coin for what I hoped to be the last time--Heads--and reached out and
touched the door.
       There was a white flash.  I could actually hear my flesh burn.  I
won't describe the pain.  I won't, because I can't.  Pain is impossible to
remember.  You can remember that something did hurt, but you can't
remember how it felt.
       I looked at my left hand.  The palm was the color of gray ash, but
here was no way that I could enter a closed door.  I reached out with the
same hand and grasped the handle.  There was the same bright flash.  I
ignored it, and pulled open the door.  Pure light poured forth.  I closed
my eyes.  I realized, to my anguish, that I was still holding the door.  I let
go and stepped forward.  I felt like I was walking through deep water.
There was resistance to my every move.
       I opened my eyes.  The light was coming from the altar, the stained
glass windows, and every cross.  I never before noticed how many crosses
there were in a church.
       I started down the aisle.  It was getting harder to move.  The light
was getting brighter, if that was possible.  I shut my eyes to slits.  I was
halfway to the altar when I found I was unable to go any farther.  It was
like I was pushing against clay.  There was a little give, but not enough
for any real forward movement.
       My whole body burned.  It was like when I went into sunlight as a
vampire.  I looked down at my skin.  Little wisps of fire were dancing on
my whole body.  There was much pain.
       I looked behind me.  The exit was so close.  The altar so far away.
       There was no turning back now.  I dropped to just my knees, and
started moving forward again.  This worked for a while, then I found
myself on my hands and knees, then I was completely prone, pushing
with my feet and pulling with the hand not holding the coin.
       My muscles screamed.  I couldn't lift my head.  I mention this
because I saw movement out of the corner of my right eye.  It was coming
closer.  I ignored it.  I kept crawling.  I made it another three whole
inches before I saw shoes.  They were black.  They were shiny.  They were
connected to black legs that went up higher than I could look.  I again
tried to lift my head.  I tried, but there was too much weight.  I only
raised it a few inches.  My head slammed into the floor.  I saw stars.
Stars and shiny black shoes.
       The loudest sound I ever heard came crashing in, crushing my
eardrums. I was amazed I didn't pass out.  For once I really wished to
die.  That was the whole point of this, wasn't it?  Save my soul and die.
The same sound came again.  It wasn't so bad this time though.  I could
hardly hear it.  I didn't have working eardrums.  I could only feel it as
small sharp waves of indescribable pain.
       I felt a hand on my shoulder.  It rolled me on my back.  I looked
up.  It was a priest.  His face was kind.  He was bald.  I realized, as he
spoke again, that the unbearable noise was his voice.  Wave after wave
crashed upon me with every word.
       He stopped talking when he figured out that his speaking was
hurting me.  I wondered how I looked.
       I was naked.  I was crawling up an aisle in a church.
       I wanted to laugh.  I tried.  I couldn't.
       I held out my left hand.  In it I had the coin.  I tried to hand the
two-headed silver American dollar to the priest, but I couldn't lift my
arm.
       Even when I wanted to get rid of the damn coin, I couldn't.  I
wanted to cry.  I tried.  I could.  I did.  I closed my eyes, and dropped the
coin six inches to the floor.  I heard no noise as it hit.  I laid there like
this for only a short while before the priest tapped me on the shoulder.  I
opened my eyes and looked at him.  He was holding my coin and
gesturing for me to take it.  I sat up.  I was amazed that I could.  I stood
up.  I looked again at the priest.  He was holding out the coin.  He must
have thought that I was a bum.  He didn't want to take my last dollar.
       The light was gone.  The priest's lips were moving, but no sound
came forth.  I walked to the altar rail, kneeled before it, and prayed.  I
told God of all the sins that I knew I had committed.  I asked forgiveness
for these.  I also asked him to have mercy on me for all the sins I had
forgotten.
       I felt forgiven.
       This may seem simple.  I don't know what else to say, other than it
was.  No profound revelation, no manifesting of some holy being, only a
simple lifting of my spirit.
       I got up, and walked to the holy water font.  My every move hurt.  I
was hunched over.  I could not stand up straight.  The holy water was by
the exit.  I went to dip my hand in the water when I saw what it looked
like; my hand that is.  It was gnarled and covered with large brown spots.
I held it up.  It was livid.  The skin was loose and wrinkled.  The hair was
light.  I looked at my other hand.  It too was wrinkled and old.  So this
was the price?  Age.  I was old.
       I found that this fact did not disturb me.  I was happy I was old.
When I finally died I would be saved.  I dipped my hand, made the sign of
the cross, and exited, into the night, a deaf old man.



                             Crime
                         And Punishment



I look into the mirror
in fear of what I'll see,
my twin in hate,
staring back at me.

I touch his cold fingertips,
and kiss his polished lips.
He mimics my every move,
mocking my very existence.

I laugh at him
in his glass prison,
and make him silently reflect my
cynical mirth.

I close my eyes, and pretend
      I don't exist,
forcing him to do the same.
It's a little game we play,
and I hope we both do play.

I know he wishes to be free--
free to become me,
but I wonder if I was in there,
and he was out here,
       would I even care?

Opening my eyes, this evil
        reflection of me
is all I can see.
I hang my head down and cry,
'cause my twin and I
         are nothing but a pathetic lie.

                          for Amy



                         The Dying Ritual
                              Part 2
                        Crime And Punishment



Revelations
Death and Damnation
Family
For the Love of Satan
The Church
Emperor Caligula
Once Again, the Church
Cord and Discord
Body Sweat
The Little Boy's Kiss
Spirit
Death of an Emperor
Closing of Options
The Council
All That Could Be Desired



                         Revelations


       Somewhere, a man took without permission, and he couldn't
understand why the woman cried, small warm tears.  He hadn't hurt her
had he?  He wouldn't have even torn her clothes if she hadn't tried to
resist.  He would remember, forever, the ripping sound as threads
snapped, and flesh was exposed.  The sound hadn't been loud at all, but
it would never escape his memory.
       Threads pull, tear, and become useless, and only the rape had
nothing to do with anything.

       I picked up my father's pale finger, and the dragon ring next to it,
and in a burning rage sat down at my desk.  Why was it that I always
seemed to come so close, yet never succeed?
       When my father's secretary had quit, I talked him into taking one
of my whores as a replacement.  I had hoped that she would have been
able to get it for me, but the bitch had tried to blackmail me instead.
Me!  I killed her, right outside my father's office.  When Markham was
dead I knew that I had to come up with a different plan.
       I hired Willie Peat.  He actually got the damn thing, but before I
was able to receive it, my father stepped into the scene, and blew his face
off.
       I even hired Silhouette and manipulated Satan, but still I did not
have the coin.
       I picked up the phone.
       "Send in Libby."
       I found myself playing with the finger as I waited.  I peeled back the
skin at the base.  I could see the bone, white like marble.  Blood was
coagulated and thick at the torn edges.  It was hard to believe that this
was my father's.  The ring was interesting too.  I put it on.  It clenched
tightly once, strange, then relaxed till it was a comfortable fit.  It looked
nice.
       There was a knock at the door.  I opened a desk drawer and placed
the finger within.
       "Enter."
       A plump older woman walked into my office.  Some considered her
voluptuous.  I thought she was fat and disgusting, but she was reliable,
and she did business, so I tolerated her.  She was never going to be
anything in life though.
       I was so much more than her.  Here I was, almost fourteen, and I
already owned and ran my own brothel.  I didn't consider myself a
Madam.  I hate that title.  No, I was a pimp.  Thanks to my father killing
my main rival, I now ran the largest House in the city.  I had over three
hundred girls, forty-some men or boys, and at least fifty Biologically
Enhanceds.  The only person who had ever had a bigger House than mine
was Love, and he was the one my father had killed.
       "Libby, I may be leaving soon, for a few days, on business.  I want
you to take over if I do.  Just keep things running."
       "Yes, Lyla."
       I calmly stood up, walked over to her, and slapped her across the
face.  A large red welt appeared.
       "Never call me that name.  You know better than that.  Next time
you will be laying on the floor.  Now get out of my office."
       She left, her fat ass sliding side to side as she did so.
       I couldn't figure out why my father had left so fast.  He asked me if
I could hear something, then stood up, and looked at his finger in terror,
and it just fell from his hand.  Blood ran, so did my father.  He left my
office in a dreadful hurry.
       Every time I thought of my father I thought of the way he's always
treated me.  To him I'm special.  I remind him of my mother, or at least
he's fond of telling me so.  Sometimes he treats me with so much love
that I hate him for it.  Everything I've ever got, I paid for in one way or
another.  My father probably felt like he had done a lot for me in his life,
but he had never given me anything.  I had earned it all.  He'd lent me
the money to start the Shop.  I paid him back, in full, with interest in
less than a year.  He killed Love for me.  This was about the best thing
he had ever done for me, but I paid him for this also.  I gave him one of
my girls.  A peculiar girl by the name of Lisa.  Lisa.  Now I had hoped
that I would find some way to exploit her, and maybe I still would, but if
Silhouette had accomplished what we had planned, then she was dead by
now.  Sure, my father gave me life, but it wasn't like he was the only one
involved.  There was also my mother, who paid that debt for me, with her
life.  She died giving birth to me.
       I can remember my father's face when I first told him that I wanted
to get into prostitution.  He always underestimated me.  I could see his
shock.  He'd thought that I'd wanted to become a whore.  I cannot even
imagine that.  Me a prostitute?  Never!  I've always earned what I've
gotten, but I wouldn't ever lie on my back for a living.
       I reopened the drawer containing the finger, drew it out, and also a
little charm I had bought from some voodoo lady.  She had guaranteed
that it was able to summon the Devil, and that He could not refuse.  It
was called simply the Talisman.  The voodoo lady had instructed me on
its use, and I had already tried it.
       I touched it in the way that I was supposed to, and said that which
was to be said, and looked up.  It was simple.  I had only to caress it,
and offer it the promise of blood.  He would come.
       "Give Me My due."
       I was again surprised when I summoned Him.  He was dressed
completely in black.  He was strangely attractive.  I threw Him my
father's wilted finger.  He caught it, and clenched it tightly.  He closed
His eyes.  A look of pleasure came about His face.  He opened His hand.
Ashes fluttered to the floor like snow.
       "Acceptable?" I asked.
       "Yes.  This one has thwarted Me too many times.  It was sweet just
to have this little taste.  What can I do for you?"
       "Kill him, kill my father."
       "It will be done."
       He faded until I wasn't sure if He was there any longer.  I blinked.
When I opened my eyes I was sure that He was gone.
       I kicked my feet up on my desk, closed my eyes, and tried to relax.
I fell into a dream troubled sleep.  I stood before a jury, and I was trying
to convince them why I should be allowed to continue my existence.  I
gave them one reason after another, but they kept asking, "But why?"  I
tried to tell them that I deserved to live.  Their verdict came back, and it
was a unanimous decision.  I was guilty of being,  therefore I should die.
This didn't really make sense to me, but it did scare me.  Just the
thought of someone having any control over my life made me shudder.
       I sat up suddenly, disturbing the balance of the chair in which I
sat, causing it to fall back into the wall behind me.  I did not crash to
the floor.  As it was I only made a little noise.  Not even enough to alarm
any of my guards.  No one came to investigate, which was just as well.
       I checked the time.  It was several hours since I had fallen asleep.
I didn't feel like it was though.  To me it was as if I had only blinked.
Were there other nightmares that had came to haunt me, ones the
remained forgotten and hidden?  I really needed sleep, but there was so
much I yet had to do if I was to attain my goal.  I still had to figure out a
way to--
       My father came into my office.  I hadn't expected to see him again,
except at his funeral, where I would spit on his dead self.  One of my
secretaries came in right after him.
       "I told him--"
       "It's all right, Angel, he's my father."
       She looked doubtfully at him, then left.
       "Crime."
       I could tell he was bothered greatly by something.  If I was right,
this told me that Lisa was dead.  I couldn't let him know I knew this
though.  I kept my face a blank mask.  If he found out that I had
anything to do with her death....
       "Yes."
       "I have something for you.  I'd a--like you to hold onto it for
awhile."
       He set a black box on my desk, but kept one hand on it, like he
wasn't sure if he trusted me with it.  I had seen him carrying it as he
came in, but didn't think to say anything about it.  I was more interested
in what had disturbed him.  Was Lisa dead?
       I looked at the hand holding the box.  It was missing the ring
finger.  How had his finger fallen off?  I was there when it happened, but
I still didn't know how.
       "What is it?"
       "Gold."
       He opened the lid.  Inside there was gold as he said.  It shone like
only gold can shine.  I had no doubt that it was real.  There was a lot
there.  More than I had ever seen.
       "I have to go."
       I was speechless, so I said nothing as he left.
       I don't know why, but I had expected Satan's retribution to be
instant.  I expected my father to already be dead.  I knew that Satan
would be able to do it.  My father led an amazing life, but even immortals
can die.  It was his time.  I wanted the coin.
       I had to possess the coin if I was to attain a seat on the Council.
Even with all the gold sitting on my desk, and I was sure that it was
more than ten years income for my Shop, I would still lack enough
money to make even a minor bid.  Seats were only open to the six richest
individuals in the world, and if I did happen to raise the money, then I
wouldn't want to give up my seat for something as mundane as dying.
       I wanted to be on the Council, and I wanted to be there forever.
       I picked up the Talisman, and fingered it.  It felt like an old habit
to do this, although I had only done so twice before.  I found myself
thinking of Him.
       I didn't know what to expect when I first summoned Him.  I
thought that He would be disgusting.  Brimstone smell, leathery wings,
barbed tail, horns, the whole bit.  He did have horns, but they were
small, and actually looked stylish.  They fit His look well.  If He had a
tail, well I couldn't see it, but then I hadn't really been looking.  Also, He
had no wings, and there wasn't a discernible scent.
       I was left to my thoughts.  I alternated between thinking of my
father's soon-to-hopefully-be death, and the powerful being that was
Satan.  It's amazing how much time one can spend doing absolutely
nothing.  I was unaware of how much had passed until Libby knocked at
my door and took me from my imagining.  I could hardly believe that I
had spent hours daydreaming of Satan, since my father had visited me
for the second time.  Libby knocked again.  How did I know it was her?  I
don't really know, but for some reason, I can tell people's knocks apart.
It's a gift.
       "Enter."
       "We're having a problem with one of the customers."
       "Who?"
       "Caine."
       I stood up.  Caine was a fool.  I'd had troubles with him before.  I
had threatened him with his life if he ever returned to the Shop.  Why
was he back?  I had thought that Silhouette was supposed to have killed
him.  Silhouette had been hired by my father after all.  It didn't seem
possible that the street rumors could have been true.  It was unbelievable
the Silhouette could have failed.  Today must just be the day for meeting
people that I thought should be deceased.
       I hated Caine.  He was like all the others that came here.
       I despised my clientele.
       Despised the bald business man who came in on Tuesdays,
demanded anal sex from one of my girls, then cried about how his wife
didn't love him, and it wasn't his fault if he beat his kids.
       Despised the fathers who took their sorry virgin sons out for a
good time.  I could never tell who got more excited, the sons, who
received the physical rewards of their father's wealth, or the fathers who
sadistically enjoyed the end of their offspring's innocence.
       Despised the old ladies who's husbands either no longer were alive,
or capable of passion, or desirable anymore--the old ladies that only
wanted to be held, and were willing to pay for this privilege.
       Despised the teenage boys that pooled their money, then drew lots
to find out who the 'lucky' one was going to be.
       Despised the violent drunks.
       Despised the husbands who paid to have their wives watch as they
fucked another woman or man.
       Despised the regulars.
       Despised all my customers, for what they were, and what they
stood for.
       "How did he get in?"
       "Angel let him in."
       "Damn. She should have known."
       I started pacing.  I didn't want to take the time to deal with this
personally.  I had better things to do.  Fuck!
       I let a knife drop into the hand not holding the Talisman.
       "Lyla!"
       I guess I must have startled her with the knife, but still that was
no excuse.  No one called me that!  Crime was my name.  It was all I
would allow anyone to call me by.  My father had named me Lyla, and
even he called me Crime.  I was Crime.
       I looked at the clock on my wall.  It was midnight.  I knew I
probably shouldn't do it, but no sense wasting her blood.  I slit her
throat, and summoned the Devil once more.
       "Give Me My due."
       I pushed Libby into Him.  He caught her, spun, as if in some
complicated dance step, and dropped her skeleton to the floor.
       He looked at me.  There was anger in His eyes.
       "Foolish daughter, you have killed My Shell.  You have summoned
Me, and may have caused Me to fail.  Silhouette must prevail.  I must go
back!"
       The Devil looked exhausted, like He'd been through Hell.  I
wondered what I had done.
       "What have I--"
       "Release Me, before it's too late!"
       "Go," I said.  He went, and I went to see about Caine.


                         Death and Damnation


       I had the knife in my hand.  The blade was still sticky with Libby's
blood.  How many have I killed with knives such as these?  How many
more will I kill?
       Caine looked towards me.  There was a dead male BE at his feet.  I
was pissed about that.  BEs not only brought good profits, they were also
expensive, and hard to get.  This represented a great loss of investment.
       Caine was naked, and covered with gore from the BE.  He didn't
seem to mind the fact that he was going to die.  He knew I was going to
kill him.  He had to.
       I stepped towards him.
       "You can't kill me.  I am Caine, son of Adam.  He who kills Caine
will have vengeance upon him sevenfold!  I have the mark."
       There was indeed a glowing sigill between his eyes.  So be it.
       I cut him from groin to throat.  His intestines fell from his body.
He staggered forward.  I stepped out of his way.  He joined his intestines
on the floor.  Caine's mark flashed brightly once, then flew from him to
burn itself on my forehead.  My head flew back from the force, but it did
not hurt, and I did not fall.
       I stood with warm bloody knife in hand.  I stood with glowing mark
upon my brow.  I stood with two corpses in front of me.  I was standing
like this when Angel walked into the room.  This wasn't anything that
she should have to see.
       "Leave."
       "Crime."
       "Leave."
       "But your--"
       "Leave!"
       She left.
       Angel was a year younger than me.  She was the true innocent, if
such a thing could exist.  I liked her.  She hadn't yet entered into the
profession.  I wanted to keep it that way.  I had a weak spot when it
came to her.  I'd never yelled at her before.  I was bothered that I had.  I
didn't want to be yelling at her.  Oh well, I guess it wasn't as if this day
was going as I wanted it to anyway.
       I found Caine's clothes in a heap in the corner.  On impulse I
decided to search them.  Nothing.  I cleaned my knife on his shirt.
       On the way to my office, I told someone to take care of the Caine
mess.  I don't remember who it was, but I knew I could be confident that
it was done. I had that much control in my House.  I made a command,
and it was obeyed.  There could be no other possibility.  Disobedience
and death are the same.


                         Family


       I sat at my desk.  It was morning.  I'd been up all night thinking.
Had I caused the Devil to fail?  Was He still able to kill my father?  I
didn't want to summon Him again to find out.
       My thoughts also wandered to Caine. What did the mark mean?  It
was a mark of damnation.  Kind of a joke if you ask me.  It wasn't as if I
already hadn't committed enough sins to be damned to Hell.  Did this
just make it official?
       How long had Caine been on this earth?  How long had he wanted
to die?  He struck me as being a coward.  He and I did have something in
common though.  We both wanted family members dead.
       My phone rang.  It was my private line.  Few people knew the
number.  I picked it up.
       "Yes?"
       "Crime?" a loud voice spoke.
       "Father?"  I was amazed.  Hadn't the Devil killed him yet?
       "Crime, I want to say that I'm sorry."
       He was almost yelling.
       "For what, father?"
       "For everything.  I just wish things could have been different
between us.  I want things the way they were, so long ago.  I want Lyla."
       "Don't call me that."
       "It's your name.  I gave it to you."
       "You gave me nothing!  Crime, father.  My name's Crime."
       "Lyla."
       "Where are you?  I want to see you."
       "Home.  I'd like that."
       I hung up.
       Caine had one thing right.  If you want something done, then you
have to do it yourself.  You can't trust anyone to do your work for you.

       I arrived at the house.  I hated the memories associated with this
place.  I was just glad that there were few of them.  We'd moved from the
country to the city while I was still young.  My father said the farm
reminded him of mother.  I never knew her.  It reminded me of boredom
and imprisonment.  He'd always refused to sell it.
       I didn't stop to knock.  I walked in.
       I found what was left of my father in one of the back bedrooms.
He was obviously no longer immortal.  He was old.  It was amazing that
he was still able to draw breath.  He was so weak.
       "Father, wake up."
       He opened his eyes.  A smile came to his face.
       "I have something I want to tell you."
       I sighed.  I hadn't come here for confessions, and this was what he
sounded like he wanted.
       "What?"
       "I love you."
       I laughed.  Love?  Ha!
       "Crime, I really do."
       Confession he wants, confession he'll get.
       "I never loved you.  You have no idea.  I hate you.  I've hated you
for such a long time now that it is only a dull emptiness of emotion.
Willie, Markham, Lisa, Silhouette, they were all because of me.  I did it."
       "Lyla--"
       "Don't call me that.  I talked you into taking Markham, just so she
would be able to steal me your coin.  She double-crossed me.  I killed
her, not because she knew about Caine--you were fucked there--what did
I care?  I killed her because the bitch wanted to take money from me.  I
hired Willie to steal the coin.  I'd promised him that I'd get him as much
Scream as he wanted, if he only got me the coin. I--"
       "Lyla--"
       "Shut up, father.  I'm not finished.  I've done so much more that I
want you to know about.  When you came to me for a bodyguard, I was
going to give you a whore that I knew I could control, but no, you had to
have someone else.  I gave you Lisa."
       "Lisa?"
       "Yes, Lisa.  I hired Silhouette to kill you.  He said he wanted to
anyway, and that he was willing to go rogue, just to get you, but we
weren't stupid about it.  Silhouette destroyed Atlantis-Prime first.  We
knew by the time the political upset of Council members and politicians
dying was settled that you would already be dead, and a seat would be
opened on the Council for me to take.  Then that little bitch, Lisa, had
to step in and save you.  I hadn't thought she would be able to.  She was
weak.  She let her customers beat her.  Did she like it rough?  Silhouette
found out that she was a vampire.  He knew then that there was no way
he would be able to get at you as long as she was alive, so he did what
had to be done.  He killed her."
       "Don't tell me these things."
       "Oh there's more.  I even summoned the Devil Himself.  I wanted
the coin, but you wouldn't give it up.  I had to make sure that you were
killed.  I hate you.  You've always had so much, but I've never had
anything.  You would have died last night if I hadn't been impatient."
       "Oh child," he was crying.  Wet tears ran down his wrinkled face.
"What have I done?  How did I raise you to such hate?  Not the Devil.
Please, tell me not the Devil."
       "Yes father, the Devil.  He's Silhouette, you know that don't you?
You've always dealt with the Devil father.  You just didn't know how
often."
       "You lie.  The Devil could take no direct actions against me."
       "You know I speak the truth.  The Devil needed Silhouette.  If the
Devil became Silhouette completely, and was no longer Satan, then He
could do whatever He wanted to you, and it would no longer be direct, it
would be indirect.  All's fair in damnation. I don't even know if
Silhouette's a real person, or if he's a construction like a BE.  I do not
lie, father.  You can feel it.  You know I'm telling the truth."
       "The smile.  It was silver."
       I didn't know what he spoke of.  I didn't care either.  He was a
confused old man, and he deserved to die.  Caine knew the truth.
       "Where's the coin, father?"
       "I'm old.  I'm going to die soon."
       "I know.  Where's the coin?"
       "A priest.  I gave it to a priest.  I don't remember where.  The coin
is lost.  Forget it.  Forget the Devil.  Repent."
       God, what a hypocrite.  I added one body more to the corpse count
of my knife.  It was sweet.

       I searched the house.  I didn't find any coin, but I did find my
father's journal.  I pocketed the small black book, and left the house of
hated memories.


                         For the Love of Satan


       I read the book from cover to cover.  There was so much I hadn't
known.  I almost found myself wishing that I had gotten to know my
father a little bit better, but then I remembered how much of an asshole
he was.  I was glad that we only had a business relationship.  I don't
think I could have handled anything else.
       I found two things in his journal that were of interest.  The
location of the object of my desire was one.  He'd copied the address of
the church where he had gone with the coin.  The whole story was there.
I only hoped the priest still had it when I got there.  He also spoke of
vampires.  When I hired Silhouette to kill my father he had told me that
Lisa was one, but I didn't really believe him.  I thought it an excuse to
raise his price.  I couldn't fear the unknown, and I did want to go to this
Banquet that my father wrote of.  I wanted to meet this Caligula that
talked like a drugged surfer.  I would have to go.
       I resolved to get the coin, and go to the Banquet, but first I had
something else I had to do.  I picked up the Talisman, and examined it.
It was small, gray and wrinkled.  It reminded me of a hairless rabbit's
foot.
       "Come to me.  Appear."
       There was a wait, before Satan appeared.  It wasn't long, but I
hadn't expected any.  Was it losing its power to summon Him?
       "Give Me My due."
       I had forgotten.  I started to sweat.  I picked up the phone.
       The Devil laughed, and snapped His fingers.  The phone turned
into a snake.  I dropped it.
       "Let me--"
       "Oh, were you not warned, that you must have My due ready when
you called Me forth?" He asked, as the snake slithered away.
       "Yes, but--"
       "Oh, sweet child, what I will now take you will not be able to
refuse."
       In fear I turned from Him.  Was He going to drag me off to Hell?
Was my soul now forfeit?  I thought I was already damned.  What would
He ask for?  My life?  My soul?  I didn't fear death, but I would have liked
to have made the Council before I died.  I feared the Devil.  I didn't want
to spend any time in Hell.
       "Sweetness, Daughter of the Damned."
       I tried to turn around, but I couldn't.  I felt a hand touch my
shoulder.  It was gentle.  It slowly slid down my back.  I shivered.  Lips
touched my neck.  They burned, and I could hear the searing of flesh.  I
winced, but did not cry out.  His other hand reached around my body
and grasped the front of my blouse.  Buttons flew.  My breasts were
exposed.  I was proud of my body.  Everything was tight--firm.  I did
nothing to hide myself.  I would not act like a shamed whore.
       "You will be Mine," He said.
       He pushed me onto my bed.  I had my suspicions--I wasn't stupid--
but I still wasn't sure I knew what He wanted from me.
       I was finally able to bring myself to move.  I turned, so that I was
on my back, facing Him.  He was no longer dressed all in black.  He was
naked.  He was almost pretty.  Strange thought, but it was true.  He
stood there in His magnificence, with an erection.  I wanted Him.  This
was what I had been saving myself my whole life for.  I wanted Him from
the first time I'd summoned Him.  There was a craving inside me.  I
wanted Him to satisfy me.
       "Take me."
       "You have no idea what it will be like."
       He was right.  He ravaged me--mind, body, and soul.  I wrapped my
legs about Him as He thrust within me.  This went on forever.  Time does
not exist when it comes to something like this.  I arched my back as He
came into me.
       I had given Him my virginity, and I had bled for it, His blood
sacrifice.
       "I love you," I said, and it was true.
       "Yes--yes you do."
       He left me alone in the night with blood and sweat stained sheets.


                         The Church


       I'd almost expected to be denied entrance.  I was the bearer of the
mark of Caine, and I also had been the lover of Satan.  I had another
mark to prove this.  My father had written that Lisa had been unable to
enter, and my father himself had found if difficult.  Had Lisa just not
tried hard enough?
       For me the door opened easily.
       The church was obviously Catholic in design.  There were crucifixes
and confessionals.  Gold gilded almost everything.  I shuddered to think
how much money had gone into the creation of the church.  It seemed
like a waste.
       I walked down the aisle.  I ran my hand along the pew ends as I
walked.  If there was the presence of God anywhere here, well, I couldn't
feel it.
       "Hello, is anyone around?"
       My voice came echoing back.  It made the most delightful noise.  I
laughed.  This also came reverberating back.  I so seldom found anything
pleasant anymore.  I didn't know why the acoustics amused me.  I called
out again, more to hear my voice than for any real want of an answer.
       "God, are you here?  I'd like to talk to you.  You have some
explaining to do."  As I said this I paused after every word just to hear
the way the sound resounded.  God chose not to answer.
       I sat down in one of the pews.  I wasn't in any big hurry.  I decided
that I would wait for the priest.  He had to show up soon.  Wealth, such
as that which was displayed, seldom's left unguarded.
       I contemplated lifting a golden chalice or two from the altar, but
decided that I didn't really want to get caught.  It could get awkward, and
I'd probably end up introducing someone to death.  While I was  in a
church this fact did not bother me at all, but I didn't feel like committing
a rogue assassination, and anyone that I ran into in here would most
likely have paid guild taxes.  Religion was only for the rich--the poor
could never afford to believe.
       I don't see how a person can believe in God and heaven, and still
live.  If these existed wouldn't this person want to get there fast, and do
something like Caine did?  If the believer was one of those who
considered suicide a sin, an assassin could be hired, and the person
doing the hiring would have time to repent before death came calling.  I
guess God grants patience.
       I was getting tired of waiting.  I was just about ready to leave when
a priest came out of a door, next to the altar, that I hadn't noticed
before.  I didn't think that he saw me.  He knelt before the crucifix, made
the sign of the cross, and bowed his head in prayer.  I hoped he was the
one that I wanted.
       "He won't answer, you know."
       I'd startled him.  He stood, turned towards me, took a step back,
and almost tripped over the altar rail.  It was almost comical.  I didn't
even grin.
       "Why do you say such a thing?" he asked.
       "Because it is true."
       I had no doubt that God had existed.  If the Devil was for real then
God probably wasn't a total myth.  I just felt that God had lost the right
to be considered supreme in 1945, the year man took his own fate in
hand by detonating the first nuclear bomb.  Man became man's god in
the year my father was born.
       The priest looked at me with pity, and I almost killed him for it.
He had no right.  I was someone to be feared and respected, not someone
to be looked down upon.  I put away the knife I'd unconsciously drawn.
Maybe I'd kill him later, ignoring the assassination rules, but I wanted
something from him first.
       "A naked man came in here, and probably collapsed right about
there."  I gestured.  "He gave you something.  I want it."
       "The coin?"
       "Yes."
       "Why should I give it to you?"
       "If you don't you'll meet your God."
       He must have been able to detect that I was serious.  He walked
through the door he'd entered from earlier.  I followed.  I found myself in
a small book-lined office.  There was a small writing desk in its center.
The priest circled this until he was behind it.  He then opened a drawer.
He drew out a small velvet box.
       The coin.  In seconds it would be mine.  I would be immortal.
Soon I would have everything I had ever desired.
       The priest opened the box and took out--a gun.  It was very small.
It looked like a lady's gun.  Damn!  Always so close.  I should have
known that it wouldn't be easy.  Things were going too good for him to
just hand me the coin.  I hoped for his sake that he knew how to use the
gun.  If he didn't he was dead.  I'd come too far to be stopped now.
       "You will leave this church, and never come back.  If you do, you
will die."
       "Very forgiving, Father."
       I considered summoning the Devil, but I wasn't sure if the
Talisman would work in a church.  That, and I felt that I was relying on
Satan too often.
       "Leave," he said. "I haven't had to use this in over twenty years,
don't make me kill a child."
       I sat down in an office chair.
       He didn't shoot.  I was glad of that.  Dying just wasn't something
that I wanted to do.  Not now--not ever.
       "Look, I can give you anything you want.  Just give me the coin.  It
was my father's.  It would mean much to me."  This was the truth, even
if it was a little twisted.
       "I have everything I need.  God provides.  There is nothing you
could offer me.  I do not plan on letting the coin go.  I watched as a man
crawled through Hell to offer me the coin, and when I took it he aged
fifty years as I watched.  It was a miracle.  I was meant to have the coin,
and I will keep it.  Now, leave or I will shoot you."
       "What kind of priest are you?"
       "Practical."
       I left.  I couldn't see anything else to do.  I would return later.
Later--there was always later.  Now it was time to go to the Banquet.


                         Emperor Caligula


       The door slowly opened.  It would be simple to say I was scared.  I
could even describe my physiological reactions.  I mean, there was
adrenaline screaming in my brain, I was breathing fast, I could hear my
heartbeat.  It would be simple, but it would also not be quite right to say
"scared".  I was, but I was also excited.  I felt like I did when, for the
first time, I took a life.  I wondered if it was the right address.  It was
dim inside.
       "Yes, do come in."
       The man fit my father's description of Morris.  He was huge.  I felt
fragile next to him, but I walked right past, ignoring him, affirming my
superiority over a mere servant.  I didn't look at him.
       "Take me to the Banquet," I said haughtily.
       "Oh, but of course.  I am sorry for my lack of manners.  I forget
myself.  May I escort you, my Lady?"
       He was obviously humoring me.  His voice dripped with sarcasm.
He offered me his arm.  Still not looking at him, I took it.  I came to a
little past his waist.  I was a tenth of his size.  He led me down the hall.
It became darker as we went until we were walking through black.
       We stopped.  I became even more afraid.  I couldn't see.  Was he
going to kill me?  I was beginning to panic.  I wondered how often
mortals came here.  Was I the first?  Would I be able to leave, once I
entered?
       "Why have we stopped?"
       "The Banquet, my Lady."
       A door open, and Morris bowed.
       Light flooded my eyes.  It took me a moment to be able to see.
When I could, I saw a man in a powdered wig dancing.  He was dressed
as a French aristocrat.  His face was painted all white, except for two
bright red dots on his cheeks.  He looked like a large puppet.  He danced
up to me, smiled, and laughed.
       "I know where you want to go," he said, as he held out his hand.
       "Where?"
       "Caligula sits upon throne, holding scepter of Nemesis bone.  It is
he that you seek, to him that you would speak."
       I took his hand.  He lightly brushed my knuckles with his lips.  He
then looked down, like he had just been caught doing something wrong.
I smiled.  He smiled.  He started to skip.  I walked.  We came to another
set of doors.  A child opened these so that we might pass through.  We
did.
       The room held a giant table.  On it was a king-type throne.  Upon
this was Caligula, and he was indeed holding a scepter in his right hand.
There were stairs allowing one to climb onto the tabletop, three feet off
the floor.  We made use of them.  We walked until we were before
Caligula.  We bowed.
       "What have you here, Clarion?  Something to amuse me perhaps?"
       I assumed my escort was named Clarion.  He was silent.
Caligula's speech was not as my father had described.  I wondered at
this.
       "Caligula--"
       "My Lord, Caligula, if you will.  After all, I am Emperor."
       "I'm sorry, my Lord, I didn't know."
       "Very well, just don't allow it to happen again.  I'll be unable to
overlook it a second time."
       He wasn't very subtle with his threats.  I hoped he would feel some
debt to my father that I could exploit.  I was glad that I had made it this
far.  I had thought that maybe Morris would have killed me, even before I
was able to talk with Caligula.  I wasn't about to blow it on some point
of honor.  If he wanted to be a Lord, then Lord he was.  This was
probably why he no longer talked like a surfer.  I wished I had the
reputed powers of protection that the coin was supposed to offer.  I
would have felt much safer had I possessed the coin.
       "My Lord, Caligula, I have come here to ask a favor of you in my
father's name."
       "And who might your father be?"
       "My Lord, his name was Michael Stryke.  I believe you knew him."
       I could feel tension in the air.
       "Such a greedy one.  We already paid him tribute.  Tell him if he
wants anything else he must come here to petition for it himself."
       "My Lord, he cannot.  He is dead."
       Caligula looked at me, and I could tell that he didn't believe me.
My father had been a god to these.
       "How?"
       "By my hand.  I slew my father."
       "Clarion, kill her."
       I hadn't expected this.  I thought that they would give me whatever
I asked for out of respect and fear for my father.  I thought I could
frighten them into submission.  I mean, if I could kill my father then it
would only be logical that I could kill any one of these.  I didn't think
that they were going to see it that way.  I looked at Clarion.  He stepped
back, so that I was between him and Caligula.
       "Caligula, I have the mark," I said with fear shaking my voice.  I
was referring to the mark of Caine.  I had forgotten about Satan's kiss.
       "Little mortal, so bold, comes to take vampire gold, but now will
die, and when life has fled, will stilly lie."
       I looked back at Caligula.  He was my only hope, but I wasn't going
to beg him.  My life wasn't worth that much.  I had taken a risk, and
lost.
       Clarion circled around me twice, stopped before me, and put his
hands up to my face, like an artist trying to imagine how a scene would
look framed as a picture.
       "I'll take your head whole, place it upon a pole, and your pretty
little face will decorate this dark place."
       Caligula changed positions upon his throne, and yawned.  No help
there.  He didn't care that I had the mark of Caine.  Apparently it was
true that vampires were already damned.
       Clarion leaned in and kissed my cheek.  I stared straight forward,
and let him.  It wasn't as if I could've stopped him.  He became still.  I
heard many gasps.  I looked at Clarion, the subject of everyone's
surprise.
       He was still and gray.  He was stone.
       Brightness was coming from my neck.  I knew that the mark of
Satan's kiss was glowing.  I didn't think that it had any special powers.  I
had expected to die when Caligula had ordered Clarion to kill me.
       Caligula still looked bored.
       "Caligula," I said.
       "My Lord--"
       "No, just Caligula.  Enough of these games."
       "Games?  You want to see games?  Your Emperor demands
entertainment.  Entertain me!"
       I watched as a young looking-female vampire jumped upon the
table, walked to Caligula, and bowed before him.  Music started to play.
It was an obnoxious tune.  I couldn't see any musicians, nor any speaker
system.  She started to dance.  Her movements became faster and more
complicated as she went until she danced a dance that no mortal could
have ever hoped to imitate.  It was beautiful.
       "Stop!" Caligula roared.
       She did too, but in mid-movement.  She was unbalanced and fell
to the tabletop.  She looked up at Caligula, through long black hair that
had fallen about her face.
       "What is your name?  I'm so very bad with names, but then I've
only had a thousand years or so to learn it."
       "Rose, my Lord."
       "Are you a flower then?"
       "If my Lord wishes?"
       "Shall I pluck you then?"
       "If my Lord wishes?"
       She brushed her hair out of her eyes, and licked her lips.
       Caligula stood, stretched out his arms, and said, "I want you to do
a different dance for me, something slow, sensual, seductive, and just for
my pleasure.  Can you do that?"
       "I can but try, my Lord."
       Everyone in the hall became silent as the music slowed until it
was just a soothing drone.  Rose stood, and smoothed the wrinkles from
her dress.  She then ran her tongue over her lips and stated to move to
the music.  She swayed from side to side like a snake in a charmer's
basket.  It was almost hypnotic.  Rose reached up and unfastened the
clasp at her throat.  She continued to tremble to the music in slow
movements.  She undid several buttons, exposing her breasts.  They were
milk white, and perfectly formed.  The nipples were tinted a slight pink.
She looked at Caligula.
       He was still standing with his arms held wide, scepter in one hand.
He smiled as Rose finished stripping her clothes from her body.
       "How sublime.  Come here my pet."
       Rose walked to him, completely naked.  I ached for her.  I found
myself wanting to take her, and be held by her.  I wanted to touch her in
ways that I knew would bring her pleasure.  She was beautiful.  She was
perfection.  I could see why she had been made into an undead.
Something as beautiful as she should be forever.  Beauty was meant to
be eternal.
       Caligula embraced her, clasping her luscious body to his tightly.  I
wondered if he had an erection or if he was even capable.  I detested
having to be made a witness of this spectacle, but I found myself drawn
to this morbidly exotic scene.  What would happen next?
       Caligula drew his cloak from his shoulder, and let it flutter to the
floor.  It was the only thing he had been wearing, and he was  capable.
He then set the Nemesis staff on the seat of the throne.
       "Lay down," he commanded.
       She obeyed.
       "I shall make you my Queen.  Would you like that?"
       Rose was silent.  Caligula again embraced her, but this time it was
much more--how shall I say it?--personal. Rose winced as he entered her.
Caligula thrust into her hard.  I had no doubt, that had she been mortal,
she would have been ruptured and perished from his actions.
       The music was soft, so I heard, "My Lord," as Rose gasped.
Caligula ignored her, and continued to complete his lust upon her with a
rage.  Caligula pulled her head back, exposing her throat.  He bit into
her neck, and drank as he came into her.  He took without permission.
       Caligula stood got to his feet, picked up his scepter, and stood over
her.
       "Rise, Rose."
       Weakly Rose did as she was bidden.  Blood was on her neck and
the inside of her legs.  It stuck out against her white skin like thick red
ink on ancient vellum.  I felt for her, but it was not my place to interfere.
       "What have we here?  Blood?  She bleeds.  Everyone, she bleeds!'
       Caligula reached out and placed his hands between her legs.  His
fingers came away colored crimson.
       "A virgin vampire?  What a novel idea.  Luscious, do you still wish
to be my Queen?"
       Rose laced her fingers behind her back, and looked down.  This
caused her breasts to stick out in a most alluring manner.  She was the
perfect vision of shame.
       "If it is my Lord's desire, then I wish to be Queen."
       Caligula cocked his head to one side as if in considering whether
or not she was worthy of him.  He then smiled.  A shiver ran up my back.
I hated his smile.
       "You are nothing like Drusilla.  I think I shall wait for her."
       Caligula struck Rose with the scepter.  A dent appeared in the side
of her head.  The scepter moaned in pleasure as she crumpled to the
table.  A pool of blood welled forth, and formed a circle about her pretty
head.
       "The Queen is dead!" Caligula shouted.
       I could no longer remain silent, "You bastard,"
       I had not realized I'd spoken until Caligula turned to face me with
fire in his eyes.  He looked as though he was going to bound from the
table and tear my heart from my chest.
       "Do you  wish to be my Queen?"
       I was shocked.  Did he mean for me to join Rose in death?  I felt if
I showed weakness, if I was submissive, then he would kill me as he had
her.  So I said, "Yes, I wish to be your Queen.  Come take me."
       Caligula looked confused for a second, but then again smiled, and
hopped from the table.  He approached me, naked.
       "Shall you strip for me, or shall I tear your clothes from you?"
       I held out my left hand.  It was only shaking a little.  He took it.
I then leaned in, kissed him, and let a knife drop into my other hand.  If
he had seen it, then there was no way I could make it hit.  Vampires were
just too damn fast.  Our tongues touched, and I could taste a hint of
Rose's blood.  My throat filled with bile, and I knew that I had to do this.
       The knife entered at the base of his chin.  The point exited through
the top of his skull.  Blood flowed into my mouth.  I flinched back, and
spit out the warm salty liquid.
       "Thwat wasn'th nice," he said as he threw me to the ground.
"Whath isth it thath you wanth?"
       I tried not to become distracted by the blood that was running
down his throat and chin and onto his bare chest.  It was disconcerting
that he still had my knife sunk into his skull.  He didn't seem to mind.
He acted as if it were not there, and continued to talk, even though it
was barely possible to understand him.
       "Money," I said in as sure of a voice as I could.
       "How muchth?"
       I told him.  He looked amused.  He laughed, but he gave it to me.  I
didn't ask why.  I had gambled, and it paid off.  More gold than I could
carry.  A thousand times what my father had taken.  I had to call for an
armored car to transport it.  Every coin had Caligula's face minted on it.
I only hoped that it would be enough to make my bid.


                         Once Again, the Church


       I wasn't about to let some priest get the better of me.  Once I had
the silver coin I'd probably kill him.  He'd threatened my life.  For that
alone he'd earned my hate.
       I was undetected as I slipped into the dark church, and unless God
chose to turn tattletale, I planned to stay that way.  As silently as I
could I made my way to the office.  It was empty.
       I tried opening the desk drawers.  All were locked.  I took out a
knife.  It was a long one, almost a foot of blade alone.  I didn't have time
to be subtle.  I just inserted the knife into the crack at the top of one of
the drawers, and pulled, forcing the lock with a crack.  It popped open
with little effort, and little noise.
       Inside were many papers.  There wasn't anything I was interested
in though.  I broke into a second drawer.  I found the velvet  box the
priest had taken the gun from.  The gun was inside it again.  I took it out
and set the pistol on the desk top.  I had three drawers left to try.  I was
starting to wonder if I'd ever find the coin this way.
       The third drawer opened harder than the first two.  I made a lot of
noise getting it, but there was little that I could do about it.  This drawer
held ledgers, writing utensils, and some minor gold coins, but no silver
ones.
       I was about to try the fourth drawer when the door opened.  I guess
someone heard me after all.  It was pretty dark in the room.  I hadn't
turned on any lights, and I was dressed all in black, so hopefully I
wouldn't be spotted right away.  I did have the knife.  Even though this
one wasn't made for throwing I still felt safer for having it.
       The priest walked in, reached out, turned on a light, and looked at
me in shock.  He then noticed the gun.  I rather liked his facial
expression then.
       "Hello," I said, with a honeyed voice.
       I smiled.  I knew that I had the upper hand.  What could he do to
me?  He only had a candle snuffer in his hand.  A poor weapon if you ask
me.  He obviously thought to confront a common burglar, not me.  He
just stood there dumbly.  What could he say?
       "Why don't you save us both some time and tell me where what I
want is at?  If you do, I might let you live.  I doubt it, but anything's
possible."
       "It's in the bottom left hand drawer."
       Now that was more like it.  Cooperation, that was what I wanted.
I gauged the distance between he and I, and decided that it was safe to
pry open the drawer he'd spoken of.  I looked down, slid the knife in,
looked back at the priest, and while keeping my eyes on him, popped the
lock.  He didn't even try to move.
       Sitting alone was an American silver dollar.  I'd seen it in my
dreams a thousand times.  I was sure that if I turned it over that I would
find that it was two-headed.  I picked it up.  I was right.  It was the coin.
There could be no mistaking it.  I could just feel that it was the one.  It
felt so right.
       "God meant for me to have that.  Take it at your own peril."
       "Oh I will," I said.
       I did.  I placed it in one of my pockets.  I set my knife next to the
gun.  The gun I picked up, and pointed at the priest.  Poetic justice.
       "I'd like to know your name before I kill you."
       The color drained from his face.  I took pleasure in making him feel
powerless.  Let God save him.
       "Mercy."
       I'd fired guns before.  It wasn't hard.  Just point and pull.  Death
made easy.  I just didn't like them.
       "Mercy is a name that will look good carved in marble."
       "No, have--"
       I fired.  The gun exploded in my hand.  My hand went numb, which
was good.  I don't think I wanted to feel the pain of all the blood that
was welling forth.  I dropped what was left of the gun.  Piece of shit!  My
hand was cut open rather badly.  I knew there had to be a reason I never
used guns.
       Mercy (if that was his name) stepped forward and struck me in the
head with the goddamn candle snuffer.  The bell shaped end cracked into
my temple.  I fell out of the chair.  My vision tunneled and the priest was
on top of me.  He'd dropped his makeshift weapon in favor of his bare
hands.  He was hitting me with these.  I fought back as well as I could.
Which wasn't very well.  A shelf got knocked over during our struggle.
Large heavy hard-bound books fell about us.  We were both struck by
several.  I caught one in the face.  My nose collapsed, and started
bleeding.  I wondered if it had been broken.
       Mercy reached back, and grabbed my knife from the desk.  He
raised it above his head, but instead of killing me, he hesitated to gloat.
That was a mistake on his part.  He just reminded me that I was far from
helpless.
       I palmed two knives of my own.  One I got from a cross body draw.
The other, I'm not exactly sure where it came from.  One moment I held
nothing, the next I was holding death in my hand.  I did not hesitate,
not even for an instant.  I inserted one in his chest, below the sternum.
It slid up at an angle that I was sure took him in the heart.  The other
knife passed though his throat.  I felt it crunch into his spine.  I was
showered in blood.
       He looked at me in disbelief.  I don't think he thought anyone
could move that fast.  He still had the knife in his hands.  I thought
maybe he would still be able to make a strike.  He wasn't.  His life faded,
and he fell forward onto me.  Mercy wasn't that large of a man, but I was
exhausted, and lacked the strength to push him off.  I passed out.
       It is not advisable to wake covered in thick half-dried sticky wet
blood with a dead priest on top of you.  It is not a pleasant experience.  I
crawled out from under him when I came to.  It wasn't easy, but I
couldn't stand to be that close to someone who was dead.  I stood.
       I assessed the damage that was done to me.  My hand was swollen
and an ugly purple color, but I could almost make a fist with no undue
pain.  I had several gashes that would probably need stitches, but no
bones felt broken.  That brought to mind my nose.  I didn't know for
sure, but it seemed to only be puffy and tender.  I had several lumps
about my head, and my teeth wouldn't line up right when I clenched
them together.  I was sure that I wasn't a pretty sight.  I'd live though.
       I took off my shirt.  It was heavy with clotted blood.  I left the
office.  I found a baptismal font at the front of the church.  I splashed
water from it onto my face.  I got as cleaned up as I could, as fast as I
could.  I didn't want to have to explain Mercy's corpse.  I grabbed an
acolyte's robe, and put it on to cover my nakedness.
       I left.


                         Cord and Discord


       I woke, stiff and sore.  The House physician had fixed my hand as
best as she could.  Her work was superb, but my cuts itched terribly and
my stitches burned.  At least I was clean.  This did little to lighten my
mood though.
       I felt frustrated.  I didn't know my next step.  I had enough gold.  I
had the coin.  Now, all I had yet to acquire would be a seat on the
Council.  I didn't know how to do this.
       When I had hired Silhouette to clear a seat on the Council, he
destroyed Atlantis-Prime on a hunch.  The only way we knew we had
been right was the political upset that followed.  Silhouette took
advantage of this time to make an assassination attempt on my father.
It mattered little now that he had failed.  The Council recovered, and
Guild policies once again came into effect.  The Council remained elusive
though.  There was no way that I could just walk up to some unknown
building, enter, and say, "Which way to the Council chamber?"  It just
wasn't going to happen.  I needed a way to contact someone connected to
the Council. I needed to make my bid, and I needed to prove that I was
worthy to hold a Council position.
       I just didn't know how to go about this.  I couldn't figure out a way
to get what I wanted.  I didn't know what to do, so I decided to rest, and
fell into much needed sleep, but almost immediately I was startled out of
this by the phone.  I reached out to answer it.  In the dark I knocked it
from its stand.  It hit the floor, and made a last attempt to ring, then,
except for the voice on the other end, fell silent.  I picked up the phone.
       "Hello," I, and the voice, said at the same time.
       Have you ever walked down a hallway, and come upon someone
who was walking in the opposite direction?  You blocked each other's
way for a moment.  You moved to get out of his way, at the same time as
he moved to do the same for you, and you found yourself facing him once
again.  I hate when this happens to me.  Oftentimes I leave the
individual laying on the ground.  Dead people are easier to walk over
than fence around.
       I didn't want to verbally collide with whomever was calling.  I
remained silent --as did he.  I hung up.  Whoever it was didn't call back.
       I got up from the bed, and looked into the mirror.  I wasn't shocked
by what I saw there.  My appearance was bad, but it wasn't any worse
than I expected.  My nose was bruised.  My eyes were blackened.  Little
cuts decorated my whole face, and I looked as though I was wearing a
mask of sorts.
       I held my hand up in front of my face.  It was swollen  The House
physician had given me 18 stitches.  They were tight and pulled at the
skin uncomfortably, but I could still clasp items, even though it hurt to
do so.  The cuts itched terribly.  I knew that this meant the healing had
already started.
       I dropped my hand, and looked again to the mirror.  I was in a lot
of pain, and it showed.  The damn priest had hit me several times.  I
could still feel almost every blow.  I felt so alive.  I smiled.  It was the
very obvious smile of a meat eater.
       I found it convenient that my apartment occupied a room of the
shop.  It often made things easy.  I went to my office and sat in my chair.
I pulled out profit and loss sheets, but they didn't really interest me.  I
didn't need to know how much I had down to the last once of gold.  I
knew I was making a lot of money, and that was good enough for me.
       Then I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.  I didn't
flinch.  I just looked up.  I hadn't noticed the door opening, so I was
surprised that someone had been able to enter my office undetected.  I
tried to keep my amazement off my face.  I mostly succeeded.
       "And who might you be?" I asked.
       "I might be God, but last time I checked I was only a minor
messenger of His."
       I smiled a very cynical smile.  I was not amused.  I hate surprises.
       "Answer my question.  Who are you?"
       "My name is Cord, and I am  from God."
       He placed his hands on my desk-top, and fanned his fingers out
until his palms were flat against the smooth wooden surface.
       "What is it that you want?"
       "To offer you salvation."
       "What makes you think that I deserve that?  I don't even want it."
       I reached for the phone, but noticed that it had yet to be replaced.
No illusion that snake.  Very well, I didn't know how he'd gotten in here,
and when I found out someone was going to pay dearly, but I wasn't
going to take this shit.  I opened my mouth to yell, but before I could--
       "I wouldn't do that."
       Fine then, I'll deal with this one myself.  I drew two daggers from
my thigh sheathes.  One for each hand--his that is.  I slammed both
blades though the skin and fragile bones of his hands.  There was no
resistance as the steel sank into the wood about half the length of the
blades.  Cord just pulled his hands back.  The knives slid from him as if
he were a ghost.  No blood, no tearing of flesh.  He rubbed his hands
together.  They were unmarked.
       I stood, reached out, and with two hands tugged one of the knives
free.  Some of my stitches tore as I did so.  This only made me more
angry. I then threw the knife at Cord's head.  It passed through him and
became embedded into the door behind him.
       "Are you done?  Would you like to try again?"
       "What is it that you want?"
       "You will bear Satan's son.  You will be the mother of the
Antichrist."
       "Bullshit!  I'm not even pregnant."
       "Oh, but you are.  It's too late for the child.  His path is
foreordained.  I want you.  Give yourself to the Spirit, come away from
Satan, and you could yet be saved.  Satan would be nice too--there has
always been a place reserved in the kingdom for Him--but I doubt if that
will happen though.  I think even God is starting to give up hope."
       This man was amusing.  He looked so frail.  I had no doubt that if
he was a natural creature that I could kill him with my bare hands, and
he thought he was going to conquer Satan.
       "You can't kill Him."
       "Kill?  Who said anything about killing?  I want to redeem Him.
Even though I think it is too late."
       Now I laughed.  He'd obviously never met Satan before.  I wanted
Cord gone.  I didn't want to deal with him anymore.  I did not like to
hear what he was saying.
       "Guards!"
       I was proud of the fact that the door opened almost immediate.  I'd
have to remember this when it came to delivering out punishment for
allowing Cord in here in the first place.  My security officer almost filled
the door.  He was huge.
       "Crime," he said.
       "Rowan, remove this man from my presence."
       "Excuse me?"
       "Take him away, and be quick about it."
       "But Crime, you're alone."
       Cord sat down in an office chair.
       "He can't see me."
       If this was true, then I still had a way to deal with this problem.  I
put my hand in my pocket.
       "Satan, I command thee, appear!"
       A look of horror came about Cord's face.  He mouthed the word no.
Sorry, but yes.
       "Give Me My due."
       I pointed past Satan at Cord.
       Satan turned, and started forward.  He walked right through Cord
and the chair he was sitting in.  Satan raised His hand, held it out to my
guard.
       "Come.  It is easier if you do not struggle."
       My guard couldn't resist.  He started to take His hand.  This
wasn't possible.  I couldn't just let this happen.
       "No, Satan, not that one!"
       Satan clasped hands with my security officer.  Their fingers
interlaced.  The guard sank to his knees.  Rowan!  A look of peace came
across his eyes.  The guard smiled, and softly whispered, "Lord."  Satan
let go, and my guard fell to the floor dead.
       "What is it that you want?"
       What is it that you want?  These were the words that I'd spoken to
Cord only moments ago.  These were the words that Satan was now
speaking to me.  Everybody always wanted something.  I wanted my
guard to still be alive.  He had been one of my own.  He was mine damn
it!  Satan had had no right.  I wanted revenge.  I wanted Cord dead.
       "Kill Cord."
       "Cord?  Where?  That one has been a thorn in my side for some
time.  Where is he?"
       "Sitting right there."  I pointed.  "Can't you see him?"
       "No, He cannot.  I told you I was a messenger from God.  That
man's death was totally unnecessary."
       "You can't see him?"
       The Devil looked at me with an expression that I didn't expect to
see from Him.  It was pity or annoyance, I couldn't tell which.  I just
knew that I didn't like it at all.  I wasn't crazy.  I didn't deserve this.
       "Crime--"
       "No, listen to me.  There's a man sitting right there.  He says he's
from God.  Look at me.  I am not lying!"
       "Indeed you are not.  Interesting.  Ask him what he wants."
       I looked at Cord.  I repeated the Devil's query.  Cord just shrugged
his shoulders.
       "I'm not talking to Him.  The death of the guard causes me pain.  I
feel responsible.  If I had left, then you wouldn't have had to summon
Him.  I could have told you that He wouldn't be able to see me.  He can't
touch me.  I'm immune from Him."
       I turned to Satan.
       "He came here to tell me that I was pregnant.  He says you can't
hurt him."
       "I didn't say that." Cord said exactly at the same time as Satan
said, "We will see about that."
       Satan snapped His fingers.  A mirror image of Cord appeared.  The
new arrival was standing to the left of Cord.  He grabbed Cord by the
throat, and pushed.  Cord's chair tipped.  The two beings started
wrestling.  I quickly lost track of which was which.  They were that
identical.  They were worse than twins.  One quickly gained advantage
over the other, and pinned the weaker one to the floor.  They looked like
they were going to break, they were so thin and fragile in appearance.
       I looked at my hand, where the stitches had come loose.  It had
bled, but now seemed fine.  I would have to remember to have the House
physician again look at it.
       "It's been a long time, brother," said the one on top.
       "Release me, Discord."
       I was confused.  I still wasn't sure which was Cord.  I figured that
it was the loser of the little fight.  I also gathered that the winner was
named Discord.  As to whether or not he was literally Cord's brother, I
didn't know.  They looked too identical to have been real flesh and blood.
Every wrinkle, even every hair was exactly the same.  Perhaps they had
been crafted by the same genetic engineer.
       The one I assumed was Discord looked up at Satan.  He still held
Cord's arms against the floor.
       "My Lord, I have bested him.  I may give him one command that he
may not refuse.  What is Your desire?"
       "Tell him not to manifest before Crime again."
       I watched as Discord commanded Cord to do as Satan had said.
Cord blinked from existence.  I could no longer see him.  Discord stood
up and dusted himself off.  Satan again snapped His fingers.  We were
alone then, or at least I couldn't see anyone else.  Cord and Discord were
gone.
       "Did You send him to Hell?"
       "No, that one would not serve Me nearly so well if I confined him
to My domain."
       "Satan, am I carrying Your child?"
       The Devil looked at me, tilted His head to the side, and said, "Yes."
       I went to Him.  I fell into His embrace.  He kissed my forehead,
where the mark of Caine still glowed.  I felt so small.  I felt completely
encompassed by His arms.  I was glad He was holding me.  I did not want
to be alone.


                         Body Sweat


       I didn't know what else to do.  I started spending each night in a
different bar, not drinking, looking.  Sometimes, I went alone, other
times I brought along a set of escorts.  Rich nightclub one night, sleazy
lower sector bar the next.
       Take for example the bar called, 'Body Sweat'.  This place measured
how good the night was by how many people died during the course of
the evening.  Alcohol flowed, and I did not feel safe.  This is a feeling that
I trust whenever it decides to visit me.
       My guards did not partake of any food or drink.  Neither did I.  I
wanted every advantage if a fight came my way.
       People swirled in an unnatural, complicated dance.  I didn't think
that half of them even realized that they danced.  It could almost be
called life.  Music overwhelmed the air, so that communication was
almost impossible.  I saw little reason to talk.
       A young girl about my age, broke away from the dancing throng,
and stepped towards me.  Her eyes were large with drugs.  I doubted if
she knew that I existed.  She brought her face up to mine.  Less than an
inch separated us, and I thought that she was going to kiss me.  Both of
the guards that were protecting me drew very large automatic pistols, and
aimed them at the girl, but I motioned for them to hold off.
       The girl had long straight blonde hair that fell about her shoulders
like an exotic waterfall of light.  She wore only an abundance of white
silk scarves that hid nothing.  Her hair and the drug sparkle in her eyes
made her seem very otherworldly.  She glowed.
       "Gossamer," I thought.
       "Love me," she said softly, but I was able to hear her over the
music.  Voice, fine ring of crystal.
       My eyesight was becoming filled with her.  She seemed to be the
only person in the whole bar.  I wanted her to kiss me, take me to the
dance and love  me.
       She took one of her silk scarves and threw it about my neck.  I had
the eerie feeling of a spider web being drawn across my flesh.  With this
scarf she pulled me into her.
       The girl touched my breasts, ran her hands down my sides, and
behind my back.  She pulled me tightly into her.  I allowed this.  I was
confused.  My head was spinning.  I was glad I was being held, or I would
have fallen to the floor in a swoon.
       "Beautiful One," she whispered, none but I heard her.  Water
flowing over smooth stones.
       My knees were becoming weak.  I wanted only to continue these
personal gyrations with this girl of light.  I forgot my knives.  I forgot my
guards.  I was blissfully helpless, like a drunk innocent schoolgirl who
finds herself in the arms of another for the first time.
       She started to draw the silk line tight.  It pressed into my throat
most cruelly.  Dark splotches began to obscure my vision.
Strangulation, and I couldn't bring myself to feel that this was out of the
ordinary in any way, even though this was a sure trip to death for
anyone else.  The coin would most likely keep me alive, but I had no
desire to test it.
       "Brrap!  Brrap!" screamed two flaming weapons, one on each side
of me.  Large gruesome holes were ripped into the dazzling blond beauty.
Her white silk ran crimson.  She coughed.  Blood poured from her lips.
       She looked at me, and it was as if she was seeing me for the first
time.  She let go of the cord around my neck.  A single tear ran from one
of her eyes, the only mourning that she would most likely receive.  She
fell before me, as if she was begging me for life.
       I was gasping air, great sweet lung fulls.  The girl was still staring
at me.  She had large sad eyes, like a doe that had just been taken by the
hunters arrow.  I touched the side of her face.  Her chin was wet with the
end of her life.  I had been so close to dying.
       I pushed her back, she fell dead to the floor, and all sparkle, both
natural and not, faded from her eyes.
       I walked past her dull corpse.  My guards stayed close to me.  They
still had their guns out and ready, and I could almost imagine that the
barrels were still issuing little wisps of ominous gray smoke.
       I took the scarf that was still about my neck, and tied it into a bow
there.  I went to the bar.  No one else confronted me or my guards before
I arrived there.
       The man behind the counter wore a gray cloth turban and a
matching gray robe.  He had a wiry beard that went to his waist, and
blended in with his outfit.  He was levitating in a full lotus position.  It
was as though he was a mystic mountain guru.
       This man floated from customer to customer, serving them drinks.
He spoke with each for a moment.  No one seemed to be impatient to be
served.  He and most of the people sitting around the bar seemed to be
out of time and place.  Most seemed as if they had just came from some
oriental opium den.
       "Excuse me!" I yelled against the loud music.  My voice cracked,
and my throat hurt with wet pain.  It was as if I had swallowed a needle.
       If anyone noticed me, they didn't show it.  The guru bartender
continued to talk and serve drinks, ignoring me.
       I was standing there contemplating my next move, when the guard
to my right was downed by a huge club wielding man.  My other guard
brought his pistol around, but before he could bring it to bear, the huge
man struck it with his heavy club.  The gun went spinning from my
guard's grasp.  The huge man hit my guard alongside the head, and he
too collapsed beside his associate.
       "You killed her.  I can't make her move," the huge man said.  I
barely heard him though he had yelled.  The music was entirely too loud.
       He brought the club back behind his head, then brought it down in
a vicious quick swing.  I ducked under the rod, stepped behind the man,
drawing two sharp knives as I did so, and buried both into him, one in
each of his kidneys.  This should have dropped him.  The trauma of
ruptured organs should have sent him into helpless shock.  This did not
happen.
       The man figured out the source of his pain, and again attacked me.
He must have been on drugs.  Scream perhaps.  He didn't even act as if
he'd been stuck already.  He swung his club once again, and again I
moved away, but not fast enough.  It smashed into my shoulder.  I
slammed back into the bar.  My wind was knocked out of me, and I found
my whole arm had become numb.  I couldn't move it.
       With my arm like this it would be awkward for me to draw any
more than five more of my blades.  I drew another one though.  This I
threw.  It was a hasty shot, and took the man in the upper thigh.  I took
out yet one more, this one became buried to the hilt in his stomach.  He
came at me again.
       I backed away from him.  I now only had to keep away from him
until he lost enough blood to slow him down.  If only he would figure out
that he was already dead.  As I said, I backed away, but I had forgotten
my prone guards.  I stumbled over one, but did not fall.  I staggered.
       My opponent saw this as an opportunity to do me in.  His rod
arced towards my head.  He miscalculated and missed, but not by far
enough to make me happy.  He should have been slower than he was.
The drugs he was on must have had something to do with his speed.
       I recovered my balance, and sent another knife flashing his way.
He laughingly hit this with his club.  It went flying into the dancers.  I
heard no death cry, but then again I didn't care if it killed an unintended
victim anyway.  I had another worry.
       "I'm going to crush you, then I will rape your dead body!"  This I
heard all too clearly.  I would not let this happen.
       I stood my ground, and waited as he advanced.  I wanted to let him
attack again.  I planned to go with what worked, ducking under his
intended blow, and sticking him with the knife that I had just now let
drop into my hand.  I had to stab with this one, for it was not balanced
for throwing.  I wanted to go for a spine shot this time.  If I could only
make my blade bite through his bone, and sever his spinal cord, well,
then it would be over.
       He came at me as expected, in exactly the way I expected.  I
ducked, went to slip behind him, but then my world unexpectedly
exploded into large stars.  I looked up from the bar floor were I found
myself.  Had he actually hit me?  He stood over me with his club.  He
now held it two-handed, and I could tell that he meant to brain me with
it.
       I knew I couldn't get to my Talisman in time.  I prepared to put my
faith and hope into the coin that had been my father's, but then the
most wondrous and welcome thing happened.
       "Brrap!  Brrap!  Brrap!"
       The drugged man's head just seemed to explode.  I was grateful,
but it was not a sight that I would be disappointed if I never saw again.
       I didn't think that I would pass out, but I didn't trust myself to
stand.  I looked to my savior.  It was the guard that had been struck
first.  He had shot my would be killer.  I smiled at my guard.  He got up
from where he had fallen.  A trickle of thick dark liquid ran from his
temple.  He went to my other guard, bent, and touched his neck.
       "Dead, Crime."
       My world overran red.  My blood burned.  This would not have
happened had I been more fully aware.  I hadn't expected an attack, but
this was no excuse.  No excuse at all.  I still had the knife that I had
drawn.
       I stood.  I was not steady on my feet, but I did not fall.  I walked
as best as I could to the counsel that poured forth the music.  I was sick of
this noise.  I reversed my grip on the blade, and smashed it, hilt first,
into the counsel.  Nothing happened, so I struck it yet again, and again.
Sparks flew, and it became deadly silent.  I looked to the dancers to
gauge their reaction.  They had stopped all movement, but none seemed
as if they really cared.  They just stood there.
       I then crossed the bar in anger.  I had lost another one of my
people, and I had almost lost my own life.  Someone else would die to
feed my rage.  Someone would have to pay for all that I had lost.  I
dropped the knife that I had smashed the control counsel with.  It was
not what I wanted.  I came at the gray guru, no weapon drawn, although
I knew I could get at one in less than seconds, even with my arm the way
that it was.
       "You!" I yelled, and it sounded rather foolish as the whole bar was
deadly quiet.  I didn't care.
       The guru looked up at me, and said, "If you progress on your bitter
path of malice you will acquire all that you ever wanted, but it will not
be sufficient to content your avaricious greed."
       This one would do, I brought my hand within my shirt, and pulled
out a small finely crafted knife.  It was almost more of a dart, and it cut
through the air rather well.  It slid into the mountain mystic's solar
plexus.  His turban came undone as he fell from the air into a heap of
gray rags.  I still wanted to cause more death for what had been done to
me, but I chose to leave alive, with my guard, instead.  There was always
another night, another bar.


                         The Little Boy's Kiss


       I didn't know why, but for some reason I believed the guru.  Maybe
because he had told me what I had wanted to hear, maybe because I had
killed him, but I decided to follow his advice and continue searching
nightclubs.  Another night, another bar, and this place was nice.  The
clientele were all dressed as if they were ready to go to a funeral--somber,
dark, gray and black, but nice.  I wore a floor length dress made of a dead
black cloth, cut down from the shoulders to the small of my back.  I had
to sacrifice a few of my normal places for keeping weapons, but I still had
enough to insure that I survived any chance encounter (I hoped).
       I had decided not to take any of my guards, but I did have one of
my employees with me, a cute boy (he was four years older than I) by the
name of Tony.  Tony was no innocent.  He had a customer file that was
very impressive, and I even heard that he sometimes did work away from
the Shop on his free time.
       I could tell that Tony felt a little lost in the crowd that we were
now in.  The rich and the royal.  Ha!  The lost and the lonely would be
more correct.  These were the people that kept me in business.  The same
people that Tony fucked for a living.
       Tony held my arm securely, as if he needed the reassurance that he
was allowed here.  I wanted to tell him to act like an adult, but I figured
coming from someone younger, his feelings would be hurt, so I let him
hang on me as if we were lovers.
       This place reminded me of the Banquet.  Half the people seemed
more dead than alive.  There were no tables in this nightclub, no music
played, but alcohol was served in abundance.  I told Tony that he could
drink, but when he found out that I wasn't planning on doing so, he
refused.
       A strange very drunk woman stumbled by us, but she wasn't in any
condition to take notice of anyone.  Tony smiled at her.  She ignored
him.  A man dressed differently than everyone else--obviously a servant--
came up to us and offered a plate of appetizers.  Again Tony and I
refused.
       "Crime, what are we doing here, if they don't dance, and we're not
going to drink?  What else is there here?"
       "I'm looking."
       "For what?"
       "The same thing as everyone else really.  I just want a few answers
to life.  That's all."
       "Oh," he said with a confused look about him.
       I could tell that I had done nothing to answer his question.  I
decided that we were going to have to leave soon.  Tony was
uncomfortable here, and I didn't want to have to spend the night
reassuring him.  I liked him, but that didn't mean I wanted to hold his
hand and pamper to him.
       "Come on."
       I headed to a group standing in the corner, with Tony in tow.  All
conversation stopped as my escort and I joined the group of well dressed
men.  I recognized one as being a customer at the Shop, but I didn't
acknowledge him in any way.  If he wanted it known, that he visited
whores, then it was up to him to make that fact known, not me.  This
was a rule of protocol in most brothels.  Tony made no indication of
knowing him either, but this could have been because he didn't.
       I didn't like this silence.  It unnerved me.  It was as if they were
treating me as if I were inferior.  I got the feeling that as soon as I left,
the conversation would take off right where I had interrupted it, as if I
had never been there.  I didn't even think that I would be mentioned if I
left.
       I looked at one of the men (there were four).  He was dressed in a
crimson colored suit.  He wasn't at all an attractive man.  His hair was
slicked straight back, but for some reason this didn't look intentional.
There were no comb marks in it.  His hair looked more like it grew that
way, and was never washed.  It glistened with oil, and I imagined that I
could smell the shining locks.  This wasn't all that pleasant of an idea.  I
tried to suppress my repulsion.
       "My name's Crime, and I was--"
       "Fuck off, you whore," the man in crimson said.
       With great control on my part, I let this insult pass.  The man that
was a customer of my Shop's walked away.  Wise of him.  Tony started to
fidget.  He was shifting his weight from foot to foot.  He wasn't used to
dealing with people such as these.  I hoped this wouldn't become a
problem.  I don't like having too much to deal with at one time.
       "Actually, I'm a pimp, not a whore.  Any problems with that?"
       "Yes."
       "Then if I were you, I would keep them to myself."
       He sneered at me, and brought his hand up by his cheek.  At first I
thought he was going to make a weapon appear, but then he snapped his
fingers, and a man a few paces away stepped closer to him.  I recognized
the type as a bodyguard.  I was surprised that I hadn't noticed him
before.  I sized up his abilities as best as I could.  I didn't notice if he had
anything other than his hands to defend his employer.  If this was true,
then I could take him easily.  Even without any of my knives I still would
have a good chance.
       "Be very careful in what you do or say to me, unless you and your
bodyguard want to die," I said.
       The man smiled, but his chaperon seemed to take me seriously.
Either he was a professional, or he knew me somehow.  I nodded my
head towards him out of respect.  He did the same to me.
       "Do you two know each other?" the crimson dressed man asked his
bodyguard in a shaky voice.
       The guard never took his eyes off of me--definitely professional.
       "No, but I know who she is.  I'm not up to taking her."
       "Are you saying that you can't beat this little bitch?" the man
asked incredulously.
       "Yes, I guess that is what I am saying.  Sorry."
       "You're fired!"
       This wasn't the best move that could have been made.  If the guard
was as competent as I expected, then he would have fought me to the
death to insure that his employer escaped, as it was the guard just
nodded and walked away.
       I handed one of my business cards to Tony.
       "Go give this to him.  Tell him that if he accepts a position on my
staff that he will receive a 10% raise over whatever he's getting now."
       I didn't know what the guard was being paid, and actually I didn't
even care if he came to work for me.  I had plenty of good help.  I only
wanted to get rid of Tony for a bit without hurting his feelings.  Tony
went after him.  One less thing to worry about.
       "What is your name?" I asked.
       The man sneered again.  He was actually pretty good at it.  He
probably practiced in front of a mirror.  It was too perfect.  I stepped up,
and kneed him in the testicles.  He fell to the floor in a withering ball of
pain.  I felt no sympathy for him.  In fact I ignored him, and looked
instead to his friends.
       "What is his name?"
       One looked at the ground, and pretended not to have heard.  The
other, who looked like an old fashioned gentleman, just said, "He's called
Squeak."
       "Thank you."
       "Crime.  It is Crime, right?"
       "Yes."
       "Do you know where you are at?"
       "'The Little Boy's Kiss'."
       "Correct and true, but--um--how shall I say this?  This nightclub
is a men's  club.  See that woman over there?"  He pointed to the drunk
woman that I had observed earlier.  "She's not a she."
       This explained why I had thought her strange when I had first seen
her.  I felt stupid for not having figured this out sooner.
       "My--" I started to say, but that was all that came out.  I tried
again, but with no luck.  Inspiration failed me.  I didn't know what my
reaction should be.  I have never been homophobic.  Certain services at
the Shop cater expressly to homosexuals.  I felt awkward only because I
hadn't realized the nature of the establishment, not out of any false
sense of moral wrong.
       "If there's something that I can help you with, just tell me.
Otherwise I would ask that you leave, before you experience any other
altercations.  That is not a threat.  I am only asking a favor."
       I didn't think that I was going to get what I wanted from these
people.  Homosexuals generally lack a drive for power, most just want to
be left alone, and those few that do have such a desire, are driven down
by a society that refuses to accept them.  And how was I to bring up the
question of the Council now?  There was no real way for me to come
right out and ask anything about the Council.  I had planned on
bringing it up in casual conversation, but suddenly I wanted to be out of
here--out of the place that I was not welcome in.
       Squeak was still laying on the floor.  I thought of apologizing to
him, but decided against it.  Instead I turned my back on the three men,
and walked to and through the exit.
       Tony was talking to the man I had sent him after.  They were
standing under a street light about a half grid away.  I went up to them.
       "Find what you were looking for?" asked Tony.
       If I had thought that he was trying to be a smart-ass I would have
killed him, but as it was I could tell that he was asking out of genuine
curiosity.  I wasn't about to hold that against him.
       "No."
       "That's too bad."
       I fixed my attention now on the guard.
       "So, did you decide to join my staff?"
       "Yeah, I think I could handle working for you."
       "Name?"
       "Stern."
       "Fine, you start tomorrow."  I said this just fine.  I didn't sound at
all bothered by what had happened earlier.
       My veins still ran with adrenaline.  My whole body tingled like I'd
been in the same position for hours, and was only now able to move, or
like I'd taken some cheap drug.  It wasn't an unenjoyable experience, but
I can't say that I really liked it either.  It's funny, I can kill someone
without any strong emotions, except maybe anger, (and that usually
comes after) but if I come close to killing a person but don't, I feel
nervous and sick.  It doesn't really make sense, but that's how it has
been for as long as I can remember.
       I opened my mouth to say good-bye to Stern, but then someone
dropped out of nowhere, and I do mean nowhere.  We were standing
under a goddamn street light, where could someone come from?
Nonetheless, there he was.  Or she rather, because I could tell that it
was a girl right away.  She was dressed in a tight fitting black costume.
She had her face covered, and there was something in her hand.  I
noticed all this in an instant.
       Even as I made a knife appear in my hand I knew it would be too
late.  The setup was too perfect.  I only had time to think of whether or
not Stern was in on it before the bitch shot me in the throat.  I guess
that told me what she had in her hand.  I never even heard the gunshot.
I was knocked down onto my back.
       I looked to Stern, from where I fell.  He had a hold of Tony's shirt,
and was hitting him.  Tony's face was torn and bloody, and I watched as
he went limp in Stern's grasp.  Stern let him slide to the cold pavement.
       Why was it taking so long?  I couldn't move.  Only my eyes.  I
could see the warm blood--my blood--running from me in an ever
widening circle.  I felt no pain.  I didn't know why.  I had always thought
that being shot would hurt bad.  I waited for the light to fade from my
eyes.  I waited to lose consciousness.  I waited to die, but it did not
happen.
       Then it came to me.  The coin.  It was working.  I hadn't wanted to
rely on its power, but I started to feel excited that is was actually
working.  I was living.  My blood quit running, probably due to the fact
that I had no more left to pour forth onto the unfeeling cement.
       The girl--my assassin--stepped up to me, leveled her gun at my
head, and fired again.  The round entered my cheek, a little in front of
my ear.  It exited the same place on the other side of my head.  My head
bounced from the pavement, and bone fragments sprayed everywhere.
       I was detached from everything that was happening to me, as if I
was watching these occurrences in a second rate movie.  I kept expecting
to pass out, but I didn't.  I still felt no pain, and was glad for it.  I
closed my eyes.
       I felt one of them, either Stern or the girl, lift me up.  I was taken
to my car.  I know this, because once I was inside I risked opening my
eyes to slits, and had enough time to think that I was staining my seat.
Stern turned on the car radio, and said something to me.  I heard neither
of them.  Stern thought that I was already dead.  He didn't know that I
was still aware.  I wondered what he was doing.
       I knew why this had been done to me.  I was a rogue.  I had dared
to kill those that were Protected by the Council.  I had dared even to kill
Council members themselves, even if only indirectly.  I wanted to laugh.
It was so stupid.  I had thought that I was different, that I could do as I
wanted.
       Stern got out of the car, but he didn't leave.  I could still sense
him doing something around the car.  Was he alone now?  Did my killer
stay for this part?  What was this part?
       The sun came up, and it became daylight out.  It was so quick and
bright that I was entirely blinded momentarily.  I had lost all track of
time.  I had thought that it was still early.  It was then that I realized
what was happening.  My car was engulfed in flames.  It was meant to be
my funeral pyre.  Smoke rolled in, and filled the inside of the car, but it
wasn't too thick to see through.  I watched as the dress that I wore so
seldom, and would never wear again, melted and ran in burning streams
down my body.  I watched as my skin blistered and peeled away from the
pink flesh underneath.  I watched as this blackened and split into large
cracks that went to the bone.
       The car exploded.  I thought again of the seat.  No doubt about it.
It was ruined now.  My eyes swelled, and exploded from my skull.  I could
see no more.  Darkness came.  I hadn't felt anything for some time, nor
could I hear.  My senses were no more.  It became impossible for me to
make cynical observations on what was happening.
       I wished I had stayed at home.  It is true--if you're in the mood for
a cliche--sometimes it doesn't pay to get out of bed.  Bed, soft bed, place
where I had made love with Satan.  Bed, soft bed, place where I crawled
to heal from my fight with Mercy.  Bed, soft bed--
       I don't know how much time passed as I burned.  It probably
stopped as soon as I thought of a place where I'd rather be.  I opened my
eyes--yes I had them--and found myself where I had wanted to be.  Bed,
soft bed.  I touched my face.  It felt so good.  I looked at my hand.  I still
had my dragon ring, and even the scar from where Mercy's pistol had
exploded was gone.  Relief flooded me.  I relaxed.
       I held the coin.  It and the ring were all that had come with me.  I
was naked.  My black, cut down the back, dress was gone.  I pulled the
covers up to my neck and settled down.  There's only so much a person's
mind can handle before it has to shut down.  I'd surpassed this point a
long time ago.  I passed out.


                         Spirit


       Another night, another bar.  It just works that way.
       I had found out from one of my employees that Tony hadn't came
back to work.  He'd been gone for a week now, with no sign of him.  I
didn't even know if he was still alive.  I tried to forget this, but his face
danced at the back of my mind.  When I let my guard down, he came
forward, and let me know that he wasn't pleased with the way that our
date went.  I was trying to lose myself in conversation, so I wouldn't have
to think of Tony.  I looked at the man that was helping me do this, and
concentrated on his questions.
       "Is it so easy then?  The killing I mean?"
       "Easy?"
       I took out a knife, and held it out, handle first, to him.  He took
it.  He weighed it in his hand as if he was considering whether or not it was
valuable.
       "It is never easy," I told him.
       He gave back my knife.  I put it away.
       I don't know why I found myself talking to this man.  It wasn't
alcohol.  I hadn't had enough for that, only a few sips.  I was far from
drunk, and I refused to get that way.  I didn't drink to get drunk, but
bars sometimes helped me think.  Maybe this was why I was here
answering every question that this stranger asked.
       "How old were you when you first killed?"
       "Are you writing a book?"
       He laughed.  "Someday maybe."
       "It was only two years ago, so I was eleven."
       This man was strange.  I'd been talking to him for almost an hour
now, and I still hadn't seen his eyes.  He had a black with white trim hat
pulled down hiding them.  He was dressed well.  He looked as if he was
about twenty, maybe a little older, but not much.
       "Why?"
       "Why what?"
       "Why did you kill?  What made you take the life of another?"
       "I run a brothel.  There was a customer, he got violent with one of
my girls.  I'd just started then, so maybe I overreacted, but I'm very
protective of that which is mine.  The girl hadn't been hurt very badly.  If
I was to have it to do over again I don't think I'd kill him.  It's not like
killing's illegal, but dead clients are just bad for business.
       "I learned early on that there was always someone wanting to take
everything I owned away.  I never gave in on anything.  I laid out my
claims, and paid my taxes.  I was talented enough in violence to insure
that I remained unbothered by those that sought my success.
       "I'm willing to give my life to keep that which is mine.
       "My father had trained himself with a gun until he could draw it in
a blur.  He used to delight me as a child with the way he could handle a
gun.  He could make it appear in his hand, and disappear back where it
came from in the blink of an eye.  As I watched in envy, as he did his
tricks, I knew that one day I wanted to be as good.
       "I'd tried with guns, but I never could find one that was
comfortable.  All were clumsy, nor did I like the noise when they were
fired.  I was never fast, and I knew that no matter how hard I tried, I
wouldn't become fast, so I took up knives.
       "Almost from the beginning, knives seemed to be extensions of my
hands.  I was good with these."  I let one fall into my hand.  "They
became reflex for me.  I could have one out and in a person before he
knew that he'd been stuck."
       "How many do you carry?"
       "I don't know.  Every time I think that I'm carrying all that I can I
find a new place for a new knife.  Around thirteen though.  I consider
myself to be like a knife--quick, sharp, silent and deadly."
       I gave him one of my business cards.  He read it and grinned.

                          **************************************
                          *                                    *
                          *                                    *
                          *            Cum in for a            *
                          *            great pop at            *
                          *        The One Stop Sex Shop       *
                          *                                    *
                          *                                    *
                          **************************************

       "Stop in sometime," I said.
       "I just might."
       I felt no urge to ask him any questions of my own.  I was curious
about him, but I was content to wait and see if he offered anything on
himself.  So far he hadn't.  I didn't even know his name.
       He didn't seem afraid of me.  Maybe he hadn't believed me when I
had told him I was a person who killed to get what I wanted.  He was
relaxed in my presence.  I liked him.  He took my drink from me, and
tossed back what was left of the shot.  I didn't mind.
       "I was tired of watching you pretend to drink."
       "I don't."
       "Why?"
       "Is it always 'why' with you?"
       "No, sometimes it's 'who' or 'how'."
       I very seldom met someone who impressed me.  Usually it was
someone who was strong.  I'm always attracted to power, but every so
often a person comes along, and for no reason I find myself interested.
This man was one to interest me.
       "I don't drink because I always want to be in control.  If you can't
think, you can't make decisions.  Besides, I'm pregnant."
       "Really?  You don't--"
       "Show it?  It's been less than two months.  I might not show for
awhile yet."
       "Time for a 'who' question--who's the father?"
       "I can't say."
       "You don't know?"
       "Oh, I know, I just can't say.  Leave it at that, okay?"
       "Fine."
       He motioned to the bartender, who in turn brought him another
drink.  He didn't pay for it, and the bartender didn't seem concerned with
this.  The bartender went back to work.
       "What is your name?"
       "I was wondering when you would ask."
       "Well?"
       "It's--"
       Right then gunfire broke out.  A glass that was sitting on the bar,
between us, exploded.  I dropped to the floor, pulling my new found
friend along with me.  Another burst of gunfire sounded.  The area where
we had been sitting seconds before became riddled with bullets.  I didn't
know if I was the intended target or not.  I didn't want to find out the
hard way.
       I looked at my hand.  It held a knife.  It was situations like this
that made me feel inadequate.  Even if I'd had a gun it wouldn't have
helped.  I still didn't know where the gunman was.  I hated feeling
helpless.  I was not helpless.
       "Is there a way out of here?" I asked when the bullets stopped
flying.  I hoped he knew of one, because I didn't.
       We crawled on the floor along the bar.  Apparently the assassin
didn't have a shot, because the only noise came from the jukebox.  Other
than that it was silent.  Every person in the place was on the floor.  No
one was making a sound.  We came to a wall.  My escort opened a door
that I'd seen before but had not taken any notice of.  It had the look of a
door that led to a supply room, but when it was opened it led into a back
office.  There was a glowing light on a small desk.
       The gunman fired again.  I hate machine-guns.  I really do.
Everything around us was being tore up.  We darted into the office.  As
far as I knew this room was a countdown room for the bar.  I slammed
the door shut.  Holes immediately appeared in it.  Wood splinters came
showering down about us.
       The gunfire ceased.  I knew we were most likely safe now.  If I'd
bungled an assassination like that, I wouldn't stay around.  Guns are
too common, and there are always people who'd like to see you dead for
interrupting their drinks with a machine-gun.
       "So, what did you say your name was?" I asked, making a sad
attempt at humor.
       I wanted to calm down.  I could feel adrenaline just coursing
through my body.  I felt like I could run for days, and still be able to
fight.  I stood up, and took a deep breath.  It was then that I saw the
blood.
       I rushed to his side.  His eyes were closed and his breathing was
shallow.  He was laying in a small pool of blood.  I tore his shirt open.
He had two wounds.  A little one in his side, and a larger one to the left
of his navel.  The bullet must have gone completely through.  I tore more
of his shirt apart into rags.  I then wadded them up, and pressed them
against his wounds.  I held the rags there, and looked around to see if
he'd been hit anywhere else.  He hadn't.
       He'd lost his hat somewhere.  I could now see his face completely.
He would have been handsome had not he been so ashen in color.  He
was not bleeding fast, but it was continuous, and didn't show any sign of
stopping.
       I secured the rags, got up, went to the desk, and hit the phone
monitor button.  The face of a bored operator appeared.
       "A man's been shot.  I need help."
       "So what do you want me to do about it?"
       "Listen, you bitch, connect me with someone who can help, or I'll
come there and kill you."
       I didn't know where 'there' was, so there wasn't much of anything I
could do if she chose not to help.  The screen went black.  I thought for a
despairing moment that she'd hung-up, but then a bald man with wire
glasses showed on the monitor.
       "Are you a doctor?"
       "Yes, how can I help you?"
       "A friend's been shot.  I don't know what to do.  I need help."
       "Where are you?"
       I told him.
       "Yes, I could be there in just minutes.  Can you pay me?"
       "Anything you ask."
       "I can ask a lot.  More than your friend's probably worth."
       I didn't want to stand here and haggle with this doctor while a
man died less than five feet away.
       "How much."
       He named a huge amount, more than he thought I could pay.  I
could see it in his eyes.
       "Done," I said.
       He broke contact.  I wasn't sure if he'd even come.  I went back to
my fallen comrade, and did the only thing I could.  I held the shirt rags
tighter to the bullet openings, trying to stop the bleeding.
       Five minutes or so passed, and the door opened.  I spun, and
almost let a dagger fly, but I noticed that it was the doctor.  I motioned
to the covered holes in the flesh of my friend.
       "Those are his only wounds," I said.
       "Get out of my way."
       I did.
       The doctor pulled several things out of a bag he'd brought in with
him.  He went to work.  I quickly saw that I couldn't help, so I left the
office.
       The bar was empty.  Even the bartender had left.  I thought about
leaving too.  That way I wouldn't have to pay anything, but I found I
couldn't just walk away, not knowing whether or not the first person I'd
met in a long time, that I liked, lived or died.  I wondered why the doctor
had let me out of his sight.  Maybe he had some sense of trust.  After all,
he hadn't made me prove that I could pay him.
       I went behind the bar, and poured myself a shot of straight
alcohol.  I then downed it.  I doubted if this one drink would harm the
child I carried, and I knew that it would do wonders for my nerves.
       I sat down on a stool behind the bar and waited.  It was only
twenty minutes exactly (I was watching a clock) before the doctor came
out.  He looked happy, so I doubted that he had bad news.
       "He wants to talk to you."
       I followed the doctor back into the office.  The man with whom I'd
confided so much was laying in the same place as before, but now he was
awake.  He looked at me like I was a gift from above.
       "Crime?"
       "Yes?"
       "My name's Spirit."
       I shook my head.  I knew that he was worth saving.
       "Your friend's lucky.  If he'd lost anymore blood I wouldn't have
been able to save him--not here anyway.  He'll need to rest for several
days.  Now, pay me."
       I pulled a business card from out of my pocket.  He looked at it.
       "Go to the address on the back of the card tomorrow, and I'll make
sure you get your money."
       "Now wait a minute.  We had a deal."
       I made a knife appear in my hand.  I pointed it at his right eye.  I
wasn't going to kill him.  He'd done me a favor, and I don't repay favors
with death.
       "And I still intend to keep our bargain.  My name is Crime, and I
always pay my debts."
       "How much did you say you'd pay him?" Spirit asked.
       The doctor named the figure I'd promised him.
       "In the desk, in the top right hand drawer, you'll find a black
pouch.  There should be twice that amount in it.  Crime, give it to him.
My life's worth it."
       I did as he told me.  The doctor opened the pouch, looked inside,
but did not count its contents, and left.
       I again made a monitor call.
       "Hello Crime."
       "Hello Angel.  I need a car sent to 'The Slick Whistle,' and also
send two men with it."
       "Sure.  Anything else?"
       "No, that will be all.  Just do that right away."
       Angel didn't ask why I needed a car.  I'd driven my motorcycle here,
so it probably seemed like a strange request, but I've always demanded
unquestioning loyalty from my people.  I usually get it too, and when I
don't heads roll.  I ended the monitor transmission.
       "How did you know that there was money in there?" I asked Spirit.
       "I own this place."
       That explained why he hadn't paid for his drink earlier, but I still
wondered about something.  The bar looked successful, but not like it
could afford to leave around the kind of money that the doctor had
taken.
       "How did you have that much standing  cash?  That was almost
what I make in a whole year."
       "I have other sources of income.  I'm tired."
       Spirit closed his eyes.  His breathing slowed and became regular.  I
knew that he was asleep.  I sat down at the desk.  I was curious, so I
went through a few of the drawers.  None were locked.  None contained
anything of interest.
       I went and checked to see if the car had arrived yet.  It had.  I
hadn't told anyone to come in and get me, so I don't know why I had
expected them to.  Maybe because I had almost been hit with a hell of a
lot of bullets.  They should have been able to detect that the bar had
been fired upon.  There was no one inside.  This is not usual for a
nightclub. They should have investigated.  I'd have to punish them later.
       I waved at the car.  Two men got out.  Both were the large type
that I used as bodyguards, not the good-looking wimpy ones that I
sometimes went out in public with.  It amazed me that Angel had known
what to send.  All three of us went into 'The Slick Whistle,' and I
watched as they carried Spirit to the car.  I'd told them that they would
die if they hurt him.  They knew I wasn't bluffing.  Spirit didn't even
wake up.
       "To the Shop?" asked one.
       "Yes."
       I was in the back seat with Spirit.  The two guards took the front.
It was an uneventful ride.

       Spirit slept in my bed for over a day.  When he woke I was there.  I
had watched over him as he had slept.  He asked me if I could get him
something to eat.  I called for food, and when it came I fed it to him
myself.  I suppose he could have done it himself, but I enjoyed doing it.
       "How can I repay you?"
       I sighed. There was only one thing that I wanted now, and that
was--
       "Get me an audience with the Council."
       "I can do that."
       I decided to humor him.  He was obviously delirious, or trying to be
funny.
       "How?"
       "I'm on it."
       "You can't be serious."
       "Seldom.  It keeps me sane."
       I didn't get mad at Spirit, I was too tired.  I had not slept since I
had brought him back to the Shop.  I laid down beside him.  My eyes
were watering, I wanted rest so bad.  I did not believe Spirit.  It could not
have been true.  Things were never that easy.  Never.  Mercy had proved
that at gun point.
       Spirit put his arm around me.  I thought of objecting, but sleep
came to claim me, and I welcomed its coming.
       I was in a chamber so vast that I could not see the walls or the
ceiling.  I could only feel  that I was enclosed.  I was holding a white
candle.  I was lighting other white candles with it.  I already had
hundreds lit, but I still had hundreds of thousands left.  I knew that
before I was finished many would be completely consumed by flame.
       I was dreaming.  I had no control over my actions.  One candle
after another.  It was getting brighter.  The flames were also making it
become hot.  I wanted to stop, but I started one wick after another
burning.  The light was now brilliant in the chamber.  I must have lit
thousands by now.  I could still not see the confines of the chamber.
       Most candles were now melting before I could get to them.  The
wax formed pools.  These ran together until the stone floor was covered
and slick.  I could hardly maintain my footing.  Still I continued to light
candles.  Their stands were now in flames.  Fire was everywhere.  It was
rising about me.  I could see my clothes in flame.  I myself was a walking
inferno.  Wax was flowing about my knees.  I felt as if I was a wick in a
large wet taper.
       There was no pain.  In fact I felt exhilarated.  The fire was purging
me.  I felt as if I was being purified.  I could take this for eternity.  If
this was Hell, then I wanted more than ever to be His queen.
       I felt lips touching me then, banishing the river of melted wax.  I
felt that I was still dreaming.  I kissed back.  It was a gentle, very
personal caress.  I rose to the hazy awake, but not really awake period of
slumber.  I responded more and more to the kiss.  It filled my whole
world until there was nothing else that mattered.
       I opened my eyes then and looked at Spirit.  He was the one
kissing my lips.  I almost drew a knife.  I slapped him instead, and
jumped from the bed.
       "Get out of here," I said, my voice ice, deadly.
       "But Crime...."
       I just stared at him.  My eyes were drawn to slits.  I felt dangerous,
like I was going to snap at any second.  I had liked this one.  Shame he
had disappointed me.  He was lucky I hadn't made him bleed.
       Spirit rose up, and got fully dressed.  He limped over to the end-
table, (his wound must have still been bothering him) and scrawled
something on a piece of paper.  He did not show it to me.  I wouldn't
have looked at it anyway.
       Spirit shrugged his shoulders, and winced as he did so.  This did
not seem to be a calculated move to get sympathy, nor did it work.
       "Crime, I'm sorry.  Really I am.  I just couldn't resist."
       "I'd really rather not have to kill you," I said.
       He left.
       I tried to go back to bed then, but his warmth was still in the
covers, and I found my self thinking of him.  Give yourself to the Spirit.
Was it so bad that he had kissed me?  I mean what had it hurt?  If only
he had asked.  I have always hated when people take from me without
permission.  What's mine is mine.
       If only I had met Spirit before Satan, then maybe there could have
been something between us, but as it was I had no right.  No right at all.
       I got up and went to my office.  I had neglected the business for a
long time now.  I wanted to lose myself in the books.  Everything seemed
to be working against me though.  My staff was too efficient.  They had
kept everything up to date, from profit and loss sheets, to the hiring of
new employees.  I had nothing to take my thoughts away.
       Just when I was becoming frustrated, at the fact that nothing ever
happened the way that I would have it happen, there was a knock at my
door.  This wasn't the knock of any of my employees.  This was not
usual, and I did not like it.  I was still shaken up by the last time
someone I didn't know had came into my office.  The event with Cord
still made me question myself.  I hate unexpected visitors.


                         Death of an Emperor


       I yelled, "Enter," and in walked Caligula proudly holding his toy
bone scepter.  This did nothing to make me happy, and I was already in a
mood to crush skulls.
       "What do you want?"
       "What else would one such as I come to a place such as this for?  I
want sex.  Nice hot raw juicy sex.  What say you?"
       "I say, 'Get fucked'."
       "That's the plan.  That's the plan."
       He walked over, picked up my black book, and started flipping
pages.  He started out turning them slowly, but quickly gave up on that,
and flew through the book.  He looked up in disgust.
       "None were worthy."
       "Fine, leave then."
       He smiled.  I really hate when he does that.  Something bad had
always happened in the past, and I was sure that it didn't mean anything
good now.
       "How about you?  Come on, I'll make it great or my money back.
I'll make your head spin.  I'll make you--"
       "Sorry, I'm pregnant."
       His smile disappeared.  I wasn't too far along in my pregnancy to
be prevented from having sex, but Caligula didn't need to know this.
Males are so ignorant of the opposite sex.
       "Really?  How did that happen?"
       "Very fun--"
       Just then the door opened, and Angel walked in.  She had a habit
of entering unannounced, and at the wrong time.  I looked at Caligula
again.  His face was lit up, and I could just see his mind at work.  I knew
what he wanted.  There was no way.
       "No."
       "Yes."
       "Angel, leave."
       Caligula crossed the room to her.  She stood there in awe of him.
Why didn't she leave?  I didn't want her to be exposed to one such as
Caligula.  I didn't know how well I could protect her.  I was afraid that it
would be not very.  Caligula reached out and touched her cheek.  He
pulled his hand away quickly.
       "What is this, some kind of joke?  She burns."
       Was she secure against him?  Did her faith and innocence offer
some kind of protection?  I wanted her safe.
       "Angel, leave."
       She turned, like she was going to, but Caligula grabbed her.  Fire
surrounded the hand he was holding her with.  He screamed, and let go.
Angel was fine.  Even her clothing was unharmed.
       Caligula giggled.
       "Well, if I can't have her, then no one will."
       In horror I watched as he smashed Angel with the scepter as he
had Rose, but this time it sank into her face at least six inches instead
of causing just a small dent.  Blood flowed down its length.  Caligula
held Angel up with the Nemesis bone.
       I heard a groan.  Caligula tried to pull the staff free, but it was
lodged within her head.  Angel was turning gray.  Her hair was falling
out.
       I vowed to kill Caligula.  Someone like him should never have been
allowed to exist.  It was past time for him to die.
       The staff was glowing.
       "What is happening?" Caligula cried.
       The bone lengthened, and seemed to splinter, with loud bangs and
cracks like fireworks, into other white bones until it became a complete
skeleton.  Angel's head swelled and burst.  Gray matter and flesh chunks
fell to the floor.  Caligula pulled his hand away from the whole bloody
mess, and backed away in disgust.
       "What is happening?" he repeated.
       I was afraid we were about to find out.  The skeleton filled out and
began to take on the shape of a person.  It pulled Angel to it and
absorbed her body.  She slid into it as if she was made out of a liquid.
Every scrap of Angel became a part of this being.  There was no trace of
her left.  It was as if she had never existed.  Caligula would pay.
       The creature stood and looked at Caligula and me.  Caligula fell to
his knees and bowed his head.  I just stood there.
       "Master, I am your faithful servant."
       "And why do you  not also bow in abject terror before the might of
that which is Nemesis?" the creature of white asked me.
       "Because I am not afraid."
       I pulled out the coin.  If this was truly Nemesis, then he would fear
it, if it had indeed been the cause of his demise.  I hoped I was right.
       "How?" Nemesis asked.
       I chose not to answer.
       "Kill this one." I pointed at Caligula.  "Do it or I will kill you.
He deserves death.  Do as I say."
       Nemesis's hand flew out and grabbed Caligula by the throat.
Nemesis lifted him from the ground, and held him in the air.  Caligula's
feet were at least three feet from the floor.  He was kicking, and I could
tell he wanted to scream, but Nemesis's tight fisted grasp prevented him
from doing so.
       With the hand, not holding Caligula, Nemesis thrust into his
victim's body and pulled his heart from him.  I had read that Lisa had
once been killed this way by my father, and she had been able to come
back.  It had only put her in a helpless state until her heart was restored
to her body.  Blood gushed from the hole where Caligula's heart had
been.  I wonder what caused it to do so.  There was nothing pumping it.
Nemesis held Caligula in an embrace of death, and drank as much of the
blood as he could, but a lot of it just seemed to wash over him.  He
didn't seem to mind, but I bet Caligula wasn't too happy about it.
       Why was I always forced to face death?  I know I played the game,
and I did understand its rules, but it did not seem fair that Angel had to
die.  Every time I turned someone died, and not always by my own hand.
I had killed Markham.  I had killed my father.  I had killed Libby.  I had
killed Caine.  I had killed the priest--the guru.  The list went on and on,
and I didn't even know how far. I had slain far too many people to
remember them all.  Some I hadn't known.  If I was to count all the
death's I had been responsible for the list would probably go on forever,
spiraling through eternity--Love, Willie, Rowan, Lisa, that Gossamer
bitch, all because of me.
       Caligula was dead, and I was glad.  I intended to make sure he
stayed that way.
       "Give me his heart."
       Nemesis let the body of the creature, that had been emperor twice,
fall to the wooden floor of my office.  He held the heart up.  It was still
beating, as if it did not intend to give up on life.  He gave it to me with a
flourish and a bow.  I took it from him.  I set it on my desk.  I still held
the coin.  I was not going to set it down for anything.  I put my hand in
my pocket, made contact with the Talisman, and did what I had to do to
summon Satan.
       "Give Me My due."
       I set the Talisman on the desk, next to the heart.  The crimson
muscle I picked up, and gave to the Devil.  Satan looked at it in
curiosity, but accepted it as a proper blood sacrifice.  It disappeared.
       "Crime, is there something you desire, or did you only call Me here
to offer Me gifts?"
       Nemesis wasn't sure of what was going on.  He looked like a
cornered rabbit--no, a rat.  He was staring at the Devil with a look of
awe on his face.  Nemesis went to his knees before Satan, as Caligula
had done before him.  Satan did not even look at him.
       "I want only to give you gifts.  Take this one also."
       Now Satan took notice of the being that was cowering at His feet.
He seemed to consider what I had spoken.  I had expected him to do as I
said.  He had always in the past.  Was the Talisman not as powerful as I
had thought?  It did not seem to be compelling Him to take Nemesis.
Why?  Even if the Talisman was not functioning, I felt that He owed me.
I was going to mother His son.
       "Crime, this is one of My servants.  He is on this world for a
reason, but your sacrifice demands that I take him, I must obey if you
desire it, but without this one your world would be overran with the likes
of Caligula.  I ask you to spare him."
       I thought of the vampires.  I thought of Clarion.  I thought of
Morris, Rose, and the child that had opened the door to the Banquet for
me.  I owed them nothing.  Then I thought of Rowan, and I had a flash of
hatred for Satan.  I wanted to hurt Him for taking my guard, but this
feeling only lasted for a moment.  Nothing could even come close to
paying the debt of Rowan's life, so why even try?  No, I would do as
Satan asked, but only because of who He was.
       "Let him live, but command him to the Banquet.  Command him
to live there for the rest of eternity."
       Satan snapped his fingers, and Nemesis disappeared.  I gestured at
Caligula's body.  This too He caused to be no more.
       "It is done Crime.  Our child will soon be born, but it is early yet.
Come, let us prove our passion."
       We had violent sex on the desk in my office.  I forgot about Angel.
I forgot about Rowan.  I forgot about death.  I forgot everything that
mattered.  It was great.


                         Closing of Options


       When I finally was able to bring myself to read the note that Spirit
had written, I almost tore it up, but I couldn't bring myself to do that.
What was written there had to be a lie.  It said:

             If you wish to speak with the Council, then
               come to The Slick Whistle tomorrow night.
                                        --Spirit--

       Even if it was a lie, I couldn't ignore the note.  I had to act on it
as if it were the truth.  I didn't know how I would get a chance any other
way.  I'd been thinking of the Council for a long time.  I wanted it.  I just
did not know how to get what I wanted.  I'd tried the bars, threatening
where I had to, bribing where I thought that would work better.  Nothing
had worked.  If Spirit had told the truth, then this was something that I
could not pass up.  I had to go.  There was no other option left.
       I figured with the impossibly vast resources of the Council, that
there would be no way that I could hide the fact that it was I who had
arranged to have a third of them killed.  I knew they could, and would
find out, so I knew what my first words to the Council would be.  I just
wondered if I would be able to bring myself to say them.
       I interviewed all my new employees.  I did this more to take up time
than for any real desire to meet those that worked for me.  All seemed
pleasant enough, and the girl I was talking with now really stuck out.
       She called herself Desire, and the name seemed to fit.  I pulled her
sheet, and was pleasantly surprised by what I saw there.  She had been
doing business.  More than was required in fact, and she had given over
the proper cut each time.
       "Are you in any trouble?" I asked.  This girl seemed to be too
perfect.  She could have found a rich drug lord, or assassin, and been set
for life.  She had the body that made men want it.  I was interested in
why she had decided to become a mere whore.
       "Why do you ask?"
       "Because it's my business.  I run everything here at the Shop.  I
hate surprises.  I don't want someone showing up unexpectedly for any
reason.  Now answer my question."
       "I'm not in any trouble."
       "Debts?"
       "No."
       "Hiding from anyone?"
       "No."
       I was satisfied.  If she had lied to me in any way, then I would find
out.  I felt that she had been honest with me though, so I wasn't
expecting anything.  I was about to let her go, but then I thought of
something else.
       "There's one question I never ask any of my workers, and that is
why they enter into prostitution.  That's none of my business.  This next
question isn't either, but I'm going to ask it anyway.  Why do you work
so much?  You don't have to answer."
       "I like it."
       I hadn't thought of this.  I guess you might as well get paid for
doing that which you would probably be doing anyway.  Fine.  I had a
feeling that she would work out.  I told her that I was done with her, and
she went back to work.  How did I know she went back to work?  I have
cameras in all of my employee's working rooms.  It has nothing to do
with kinky perversion.  Safety was my only consideration when I installed
them.  I have a guard watching a similar monitor for all rooms at all
times.  I've seldom had problems.  I shut down the monitor.


                         The Council


       When I arrived at the Slick Whistle I was escorted into the
countdown room where the doctor had operated on Spirit.  The
individual who led me there searched me and took away every knife that
he could find.  He unknowingly left me with two.  When he was satisfied
that I was harmless he pushed a button, and a bookshelf opened into a
door.  I thought that this was kind of childish.  Secret doors just don't
amuse me.
       I walked through.  The servant did not come with.  The door shut
behind me.  I was standing in darkness.  I had no idea how large of a
room I was in, but then lights flooded the room.  After my eyes adjusted I
saw that there were four individuals sitting upon at a table on a dais.
Three were dressed in black robes, one white.  I had to look up at them.  I
knew that it was designed this way.  I didn't care, games have never
bothered me.  I play them well.
       "I destroyed Atlantis-Prime!  This killed two of your members.  I did
this to create an opening on the Council.  I want to fill one of those
seats."  These were the words that I had feared I wouldn't be able to bring
myself to say, but they came easily, and I said them before anyone else
could comment.  I wanted to get certain things established as soon as I
could.
       One of the black robed men jumped to his feet.  His face was still
hidden.  I knew that he was going to be my opposition.  Very well.
       "You dare!  By what right--"
       I interrupted.  Best to start this off right.
       "No, I dared.  It is done.  There is nothing you can do about it.
Accept it.  Forget it.  As to my right--it was by my right of being able to
do so.  Now, take that silly hood away from your face, so I can see you."
       "Ha! You impudent little bitch shit-eater!  You fucking cock
sucking whoremonger.  You cum guzzling gutter guppy, syphilis spitting
cunt.  Suck my left nut, right nut buttfuck!  You sleazy slime ridden
slug.  You daughter of a thousand--"
       I really wanted to see how far he could have gone, but I interrupted
yet again.
       "When you're done with your childish ranting, maybe you'll see
that I have something to offer, beside my goodwill."
       "You will die!"
       He jumped from the platform.  I wasn't expecting a direct attack,
but I took quick aim, and threw a dagger where I thought his eye should
be.  He landed in a dead heap, and his hood fell away from his face.  I
had been right.  Six inches of blade buried into his little brain.  He was
old.  I was shocked at this. I wondered how he had made it this far, being
so stupid.
       I looked up at the three remaining Council members.  It was hard
to believe that I had caused the death of half their number already.
Some prices have to be paid.
       I only had one knife left.  I thought about retrieving my other one
from the corpse, but decided upon taste instead.  It's the little things
that make life great. I hoped I wouldn't have to use my last knife.
       "What do you have to offer?" one in black asked.
       I thought of this.  I had all the wealth that the vampires had given
me, and I could easily get more from them.  I held the coin, there would
be no way any of the undead could resist me.  Gold, a flowing river giving
to me anything that I could want, enough for the Council, but this
wasn't the answer.  I realized this now.  If it only had to do with gold,
then the Council would be worthless.  The Council was power, and could
have whatever gold it desired.  My small contribution would mean
nothing.  I had to give something else.
       "No deals until you show your faces."
       The one in white, he pulled back his hood.  He hadn't lied.
       It was Spirit.
       "I offer my skills, and my goodwill."
       "No money?"
       "Money?  What need do you have for money?  Gold is petty.
Everybody has to pay taxes one way or another.  This gives the Council
more money than I could ever raise.  How could I ever hope to even come
close to enough gold  to buy a seat on this Council?  They have never
been for sale really, have they?  That has always been just a rumor, to
make people think that someday they could actually hope to rise this
far."
       "This is not the first time that the Council has had to consider
whether or not to accept a new member.  We have been forced to accept
individuals in the past.  The Council must live on.  What would happen
if it fell completely?"
       I didn't know if he was playing with me, or if he was even actually
considering me as a replacement for one of those that I had been
responsible for the death of.  This had always been my greatest ambition,
but even as I was living it I realized that it would not meet my
expectations.  Nothing ever did.
       I remained silent.  Spirit looked at me as if he was studying my
every detail.
       "Would you offer yourself as my consort to gain your desire?"
       "No."
       Spirit turned to the two living black robed council members.
       "Vote."
       "I say no," said one.
       "Abstain," said the other.
       "I say yes, it looks like a tie."
       "But I haven't voted," I said.
       Spirit nodded his head, and that was that.  I was now a Council
member


                         All That Could Be Desired


       Threads pulling, all twisted and tangled, weaving their way through
existence.  Can the flaws of a garment be traced to one single thread?
Lost, drawn taut, a tight little line running on and on unseen, but which
can never escape.  There is no such thing as coincidence.
       I stood there, and tried to think profound thought, but only came
up with obscurity.  It was not my fault though.
       All my life I'd set goals for myself--impossible goals which I took
great satisfaction in accomplishing.  My Shop.  The death of Love, and
my father.  I now had so much.  The coin and immortality, more money
than I could ever want, the Council, and I was to be a mother.  I could
not think of anything else that I wanted.  What more was there?
       I had everything.  Everything, but happiness, and I wasn't sure if I
even wanted that.  I didn't even know what would make me happy.  True
love?  I've always laughed at that idea.  I have yet to meet a man with
whom I could share love.  Satan?  I scoff at that idea.  I loved him, but
He could never love me.  It was enough for Him that I would bear His
child.  Spirit?  He had nothing more to offer me.  He had already given
me the Council.  What else did he have?  There was no one for me.
       Why did everything always work out so neat?  My whole life had a
fairy-tale quality to it.  I only wanted to know if this princess would live
happily ever after.  It seemed such an impossibility.
       I was cynical.  I knew that.  It was a quality I had inherited from
my father.  If there was nothing in the world that would make me feel
complete, then I hoped that I truly carried the Antichrist.  I could live
forever, (and now I probably would) but things would always be the same.
I had all the powers of the Council now, but even they were too small to
effect anything.  This money hungry, death seeking society that had
spawned me should perish.  I could then rise up, being a survivor of the
holocaust.  I wanted it to end, and I wanted to be a part of its
destruction.  Even if it meant only being the mother of the Antichrist.  It
was time for change, and I wanted to come out on top.  Queen of all that
is left of this world.  An impossible goal.
       Threads fray, rip, and fall into rags.  Somewhere someone was
laughing at the trite obscurity of it all.



                         The Glory of Satan



You consider me the young apprentice
Caught between the Scylla and Charibdis,
Hypnotized by you if I should linger
Staring at the ring around your finger
I have only come here seeking knowledge
Things they wouldn't teach me of in college
I can see the destiny you sold
Turned into a shining band of gold

I'll be wrapped around your finger

Mephistopheles is not your name
But I know what you're up to just the same
I will listen hard to your tuition
And you will see it come to its fruition

I'll be wrapped around your finger

Devil and the deep blue sea behind me
Vanish in the air you'll never find me
I will turn your face to alabaster
Then you will find your servant is your master.

And you'll be wrapped around my finger.........

c 1983 Magnetic Publishing Ltd., represented by Reggatta Music.
used without permission of Virgin Music, Inc.



                         The Dying Ritual
                              Part 3
                      The Glory of Satan





To Him a Child is Born
Hell
Rancor
To Hell With Everyone
Why, oh Why?
The Rage of Satan
Like Father Like Son
The Antichrist
Confrontation
Surprises
Defile
Punishment Due
The Afterlife
The Rebuilding
Doubts



                         To Him a Child is Born


       "Give Me My due."
       "You'll get Your due!" she said, through a dagger held tightly
clenched between teeth.
       She wanted to scream in agony, but she did not want to give Me
the pleasure of seeing her acknowledge discomfort.  Sweat shone on her
forehead.  She pushed the covers from her.  It was time.  She bit down on
the dagger handle even harder.  I could imagine her teeth making little
depressions.  I squeezed her hand.  Her pain came in waves, each worse
than the last. Tears were running down her cheeks.
       "Fuck You!" she spat.  Then another contraction overtook her,
wracking her whole body in uncontrollable spasms.  She leaned over and
threw up.  Some splashed in My direction.  Not that I would allow such a
human thing as vomit touch Me.  Any that would have I just made
disappear into nothing.
       Crime's vision started to become unfocused.  She looked as though
she was going to pass out, but she fought to hold on.  She stared at the
light, trying to bring it into focus.  I wondered if she was going into
shock.  She pushed with all her strength.  She still did not scream.
Wetness splashed out onto her legs.  It was brutal.  It was gross and
base.  It was My son.  It was--
       "Behold the Antichrist," I proclaimed.
       I pulled My child from Crime's body.  It was a grizzly affair.  I held
her baby in My hands.  It--I could see that it was a boy, very well then--
he was small.  I do not know what I had expected.  I looked at Crime.  I
allowed softness to show in My eyes.  Crime meant more to Me than I
had ever meant to allow.
       Crime took the blade out of her mouth.  The umbilical cord was
still connected between them.  She had fed this baby with hate.  She cut
the cord, and blackness came.  She fainted.
       Birth, among them, mortals make much of this event.  It inspired
almost as much awe as death.  They were still worshipping the birth of
one man more than two thousand years after its occurrence.
       I set our child on the bed next to her.  I caused Crime to become
clean and dressed in a soft black robe.  I picked up the baby, (he was still
bloody and covered in mucus) and sat with him not far from her in an
overstuffed chair.  I cleaned the baby, causing the gore that covered it to
just disappear.  Our child in My hands was beautiful.
       "What shall we name him?"
       I looked up at that.  I had not realized that she had woke.
       "He shall be called Despair, for he shall bring despair to this
world."
       "Wrong."
       "You have no say in the matter."
       "Wrong."
       I cradled the child, so that he was being held by only one of My
arms.  With My free hand I touched the baby behind his ear.  There was a
hiss.  My child screamed.
       "What are You doing?" Crime yelled.
       "That which is expected."
       I could smell flesh burning.  Crime tried to rise, but lacked the
strength to do so.  She held out her arms.  I gave the baby to her.
Desperation colored her features.  The number 666 was burned behind
his right ear.  The number of the beast, branded upon My child.  He had
cried out, but no tears marred his faced.
       "He shall be named Rancor.  For in hate he was brought into this
world, and hate it he will."
       "A fitting name.  And the world shall hate and fear him.  Care for
him.  I must go."
       She began to feed him of the warm milk of her breast.  I left her
with Rancor.


                         Hell


       Hell: the absence of God.  The Abyss.  A place of eternal damnation
and punishment for many.  For Me it was like a mirror, reflecting My
every desire or thought.  This was a hell of My own.
       Crime's face floated before Me.  Her eyes were blackened.  I did not
know if this portrayed the past, present, or if it was just an image
conjured by My own mind to torture Me.  I waved My hand and banished
the Crime image.  I then shifted until I was safely within My castle.
Defile was like My whole domain, it was impossible to enclose with mere
words.  There was no way to describe Defile.  Language was never meant
to do so.
       I sat upon My throne, and looked at those assembled before Me.
To My left a minor demon was bowing toward Me.  It had been there for a
century or two.  I could not remember exactly, nor did I even really care.
To My right hundreds of naked women danced, upon a large platform,
with bare knives in each hand.  Occasionally they cut each other, but
just as often they opened their own flesh.  They danced upon a lake of
their own blood.  As I watched one wearied of the dance and fell.  She
sank into the crimson liquid and was absorbed by it.  Another woman's
middle swelled, and through blood she gave birth to replace the fallen
one, but she did not pause in her movements to do so.  The baby fell into
the thick blood, where she floated until she aged to where she too was
old enough to join the dance.  This happened quickly.  She then reached
into the liquid under her feet, and drew forth two knives.  I stared at her
until I lost her among the throng.  When had I created this?  And did it
still please Me?
       I tore My eyes from it and looked straight ahead.  A minor devil
with big ears stood there.  He held two scrolls.  He must have just
shifted in, as he had not been there moments before.
       "Yes?"
       "My Lord--"
       "You did not bow before Me," I said.
       I did not like this one, and his name eluded Me at the moment.
He corrected his mistake.  I was irritated.  In a gesture calculated to
bestow great insult I turned to the demon at My right, placing it before
the devil.
       "You there, what is it that You want?  How is it that you find
yourself in My court?"
       "My Lord Satan, I am at Your service.  I am too low a creature to
ask for that which I aspire to."
       "How long have you been standing there?"
       "Six thousand seven hundred years, two hundred seventy three
days, fourteen ho--"
       "Enough.  You have earned My ear.  Name your favor."
       The demon did not look nervous.  I was a little surprised at this.
As far as I knew this was the first time I had ever granted an audience to
a demon.  I could sense that it had only the greatest of respect for Me,
but there was no fear.  Even the scroll bearer was afraid of Me and he
was a devil.  I considered annihilating the demon.
       "I wish to be more.  Make me a devil.  Let me stand at Your left
hand."
       "Why not My right?"
       "That honor is reserved for another.  I could never be that great."
       "I grant your request.  Take your new form."
       The demon seemed to melt and grow at the same time.  It rapidly
shuffled through several form changes until it settled into a shape that
was that of a woman.  She was dressed in slick black leather.  A soft red
cloth half cloak hung about her shoulders.  She carried a long thin
sword.  She had the appearance of a Nordic Valkyrie.  I nodded My
approval of her.
       "I have only granted this because you dared to ask.  What is it that
you shall be called?"
       "Silenthia."
       "You will be My herald.  Go now, and proclaim the birth of My son
before all of Hell.  His name is Rancor.  Make sure all know of him."
       "Thank You my Lord."
       My new herald went to the base of the blood bath.  She jumped
forty feet and joined in.  She had never sheathed her sword.  She laid
about her with much abandon, and heads and limbs were cut away from
their host's.  The dancers did not seem to notice the addition to their
ranks.  As Silenthia slew, the level of the blood rose until it started
flowing from the pedestal like a fountain.  Silenthia became slick and
crimson with blood.  She was completely covered.  She did not stop
killing until there were only forty dancers left.  She then sheathed her
sword and pointed at the women that were left, and with her new powers
as a devil, caused them to rise from the pedestal.  Silenthia directed
them through the air to the courtyard.  She then shifted,  and joined
them there.
       "You will be my servants.  Come, we have a duty to perform."
       She shifted from the hall.  Every naked knife wielding blood
covered woman followed.  She would make a good herald.
       "My Lord, you're going to just let her go?  She destroyed Your scu--
"
       "You dare to question Me?"
       I let fire dance within My eyes.  Lightning crackled about My body.
I rose up from My throne.
       "Please," the devil said as it cowered to the floor.
       "What you came here for had better be important or you will find
yourself as a minor demon--or less!  Now speak!"
       He held up one of his scrolls.
       "My Lord, I have here a petition from one of Your past consorts.
She wishes and asks for Your presence."
       "Denied.  I have no desire for any past concubine.  It is My decree
that if any show themselves within My Defile they shall forfeit their
existence on sight.  Is this understood?"
       The devil nodded.
       "I also have an outstanding contract.  A certain Michael Stryke is
now dead, and we do not have his soul."
       I thought of Silhouette.  When I first had possessed him he had
been a young man.  He was already a gifted assassin, but it was I who
made him great.  I gave him everything he had wanted.  In return I
occasionally used him for My own aims.
       But every game has its own rules and its own price to pay for
breaking them.  When I had made the contract with Stryke I had agreed
never to directly interfere with his life.  I always kept My word.  This was
why I had to use Silhouette.  When Crime had called Me away from My
host--My shell--Stryke shot Silhouette.  I was not able to be there to
prevent it.  My shell died, but I came back and broke the rules, I
animated Silhouette though he was already dead.  I made a direct action
against Stryke.  I did something I had never done before.  I broke a
contract.  Me!  I had let My hate get the best of Me, and according to the
contract I had to release My hold on Stryke's soul.  I no longer had a
claim to it.
       So many seek Me to give them what they feel will fulfill their lives,
not knowing that it is not I who has that ability.  I lay no claims to
salvation.  It is not for Me to give.  I can grant anything that the human
heart can comprehend:  money, health, success, immortality, but most
often love.
       I can almost understand why a human mortal would be willing to
trade his soul for money.  After all mortals have always viewed money as
the solution to all the world's problems.  Health is an easy one.  There
are few mothers that would not give themselves to Me for even a chance
of a miracle cure to save a dying child.  Success?  All men want to be
seen as better than their equals.
       Why die if one does not have to?  This is the obvious appeal behind
immortality.  This, and also one would never have to give up payment if
the mortal lives forever.  They never do.  Eventually all sicken of life.
There is only so much that can be done.
       So many have sold their souls for love.  This is the most foolish
reason of them all.  Love received this way is empty.  Without the
knowledge that love is earned and given freely, it is worthless.
       So many, and I ask so little.  Only a soul to do with as I please.  I
make the pacts with all who properly petition Me even though I know
that the ceremonies themselves damn the petitioner.
       I am always fair, and give for what I take.  Oftentimes it is I that
seeks to purchase a mortal's soul.  The rituals are mostly forgotten, and
seldom invoked.  I come.  I suggest.  I give.  I buy, and other than
collecting this should be the end, but too often it is not.
       All men face death.  This is a fact of mortality, but few men face
death with the knowledge that Hell awaits.  This is more than some can
bear, and when they tire of life they seek to renege before they die.
       None have ever been successful.  A mortal can genuflect until his
knees bleed, but My contract will still bind.  I always collect, taking great
pleasure when I do.  None have ever been successful--until Stryke!
       When I used Silhouette as a cipher I was forced to abide by rules of
My own devising.  I had no choice but to be the assassin.  I could only
work within the margins imposed by confining Myself to mortal flesh.
       Crime had hired Silhouette to kill her father long before I had ever
decided to make use of Silhouette to do the same.  I learned this when I
possessed Silhouette.  Stryke's death was something that I wished.  I
gave aid to this end whenever possible, even though I knew it was futile.
I had to pursue Stryke's death.  Crime had requested it with an Item.
       Then Stryke contracted Silhouette to slay Caine.  Silhouette
accepted.  I had given Silhouette the freewill to do as he wanted when I
was not within him.  A messenger of God spoke to him, preventing the
completion of the contract.  Silhouette failed to do as he was hired to,
and sought retribution for his failure.  This should have been the end of
it.  Crime wanted it.  Silhouette wanted it.  I wanted it.  An envenomed
blade should have danced its way into Stryke's heart.  I should have then
been able to appear and convince Stryke with all My princely charm that
living was not an option that he wanted to pursue.  I should have been
able to collect.  This is how it should have happened.
       Stryke's luck was enough to fill one with fury.  So many time he
should have died.  Willie Peat.  Goldtooth.  Silhouette twice.  It should
not have gone so far.  No one other than Caine had ever  survived an
encounter with Silhouette before.  He had lived through the first attack
only by the skill of his bodyguard.  When it looked as though Silhouette
would fail a second time, even though he had a portion of My power to
draw upon, I could not bear it.  The idea of being frustrated of ending his
life, as Crime requested, and attaining his soul as was My allotment, was
too much for Me.  I broke the rules by animating Silhouette after he had
died, violating our contract.
       I had to let him go.  The coin acted as it was designed to do.  As
flames rose about My shell and Stryke, the coin sent one into the arms
of salvation, the other was consumed.  Stryke!  I lost him.  I hate losing.
       "Give Me the contract."
       He did.
       It filled My mouth with rancid bile to do so, but I caused it to
become ash.  This fell into a pile at the devil's taloned feet.
       "Why did--"
       "Questioning Me again?  Fool, I will cause you to slowly die."
       I waved My fingers.  The devil I cast into the blood on the pedestal.
I then caused an impregnable shield to become erected, in the shape of a
dome, about him.  With another movement of My hand flames burst out
on the surface of the blood.  The devil's mouth opened in a scream, but
no sound penetrated the shield.
       He was a true devil, though only a minor one, so the flames would
only cause him pain, but if he thought he was hurting now then he had
no idea what true pain was.  I would cause the temperature to slowly rise
for thousands of years until his resistance could no longer take it, and
he would be consumed.  His death would take aeons.
       Since no other business presented itself I shifted back to Earth.


                         Rancor


       She proudly held out Rancor for My approval.  I took My son from
Crime.  He weighed little.  I had what I came for.  I saw no reason to stay.
       "We are going now."
       "Where?"
       Crime's composure was crumbling.  She was on the verge of panic.
I did not want to cause her pain.  I did not love her, yet I was far from
indifferent to her needs and feelings.
       "Crime, you did not think I would let you keep him?  He cannot be
raised as a mortal.  Rancor is to be much more than that."
       "You're not taking my child!"
       "I already have."
       A knife flew at My head as I shifted directly to Defile.

       Silenthia was waiting for Me.  Her minions were arrayed behind
her in ten ranks of four.  They were now cleaned and dressed in black
leather, their knives sheathed at their waists.
       "How long have you been standing there?"
       "Two years my Lord."
       "Has all of Hell been told of the coming of My son, Rancor?"
       "Yes, My Lord."
       "Take Rancor.  Protect him, raise him in good health, and educate
him.  Bring him to Me when he is old enough to understand his legacy."
       "Yes, My Lord."
       Silenthia gently accepted My child, and cradled him in her arms.  I
knew that she would care for him.  Rancor would be safe.  Silenthia left
court with Rancor and her troops.
       I felt a pulling then.  This one I could not refuse.  Damn her!  I
knew that she would not have just let Me take Rancor.  I tried to resist,
but it was futile.  She held the one true Item.  The only one which I had
no power against.  I felt the familiar twist, and I was facing her.  She was
sitting at a couch, and she looked furious.  She held the Talisman and
also a knife.
       "Give Me My due."
       "Fuck Your due!  Give me my son!  I want my child.  Where's my
baby?"  She was hysterical.
       It was My choice to demand a sacrifice now or not, without one,
she could not hold Me here against My will.  I chose to stay.
       "Crime, you cannot understand.  Rancor has a destiny to fulfill.
He is safe.  He is being trained to do that which he must do."
       Crime was crying.  Tears ran down her face.  I had seen this only
one time before, and that was during the birth of Rancor.  I had not
thought that anything could get to her.  I did not think that she would
have ever broken down and cried.  She was so strong.  She was most
special to Me among mortals.  She dropped the weapon that she had
been holding.  I felt a stirring within Me at the sight of her pain, and I
did not understand it.  I wanted to take her into My arms.  I wanted to
kiss and comfort her.
       Time in Hell flows differently than on Earth.  Eternity takes more
than forever.  A soul can be tortured for a century in Hell while only a
year passes on Earth.  Even now Rancor had probably aged a year or
more.  I thought of telling this to Crime, but she would never understand
why I would choose to bring My son to such a place.
       I had waited for the Antichrist to come.  I had mated with demons.
I had mated with devils, but there had never before been any issue.  Not
until Crime had I been able to sire a son.  I had not thought My seed
could take hold in weak mortal flesh.  Crime was not the first mortal
that I had mated, but she was the only one to ever become gravid and
bear Me a child.
       I sat on the couch next to Crime.  She let Me take her hands.  I
squeezed them to reassure her.  I sensed a relaxation in her.  Had she
accepted the fact, even if she could not forgive Me for it?
       "Take me to him," she said.
       "You would not want to go there."
       "Do not tell me what I want."
       I kissed her, and let the shift take effect.


                         To Hell With Everyone


       "Where are we?"
       "This is the throne room of My domain--of Hell."
       I watched as Crime looked around.  She was fascinated by the
vastness of the court.  From My throne the doors that allowed entrance
to the courtyard appeared as small dots, (no one ever used the doors,
except for damned souls that could not shift)  and the ceiling was so
high overhead that it looked as though it were a stone sky.  Only the
wall directly behind us gave away the fact that we were even in a room at
all.
       "What do you think?"
       "Did You build this?"
       "A long time ago, maybe.  I do not remember."
       "Aren't You all powerful?  All remembering?"
       "No."
       "Who is he?"
       She pointed at the devil that I was punishing for its arrogance.  He
was withering and screaming silently in agony.  He was swaying in time
with the blood fire.  He looked as though he were dancing, which was
good.  That was what I had intended the pedestal for--to hold dancers.
       "Only a fool that has earned My displeasure."
       Crime said nothing, but I could tell that she was disturbed.  This
bothered Me.  I thought of why I had put him there.  It was more because
I had been angered with the way I had handled Stryke, than any real
slight against My honor, but still he had questioned My decisions.  This
was not permissible.  I would not allow it.  His fate had been earned.
       "Let him go."
       "Maybe in a thousand years or so.  He has a lesson to learn."
       "Let him go now."
       "No, Crime.  You do not know what you ask.  Do you wish to see
Rancor now?"
       "Very much."
       I reached out and felt for Silenthia.  I let her image dance in My
mind.  I thought of her essence.
       /Yes, Lord/
       /I command your presence/
       /Yes, Lord/
       "He will not be as you expect.  He will be older.  He will--"
       Just then Silenthia appeared.  She only brought two dancers with
her.  At her right stood Rancor.  He was still a child, and only came to
My waist, but he was no longer a baby to suckle at his mother's breast.
He was dressed in full silver battle armor, and carried a sword sheathed
on his back.  He was holding a shield, and a helmet was cradled in the
crook of his arm.  The helmet was crafted in the image of its owner, and
held the appearance of Rancor's face in every detail, except that like the
armor it too was silver.  His whole outfit shone like a mirror.  Rancor
had no Hellish features.  No horns, wings, tails, extra appendages,
nothing to set him apart from any mortal, but he looked too perfectly
human to be human.  He had no flaws.  Like his armor he shone.
       "Crime, this is Rancor."
       "Hello Father.  Hello mother," he said.
       Crime looked at him, and doubt crossed her shadowy features, but
with the bond that connected mother and child she recognized him.  She
fell to the floor unconscious.
       I looked at Rancor.  He looked at Me.  There was an uncanny
intelligence shining in his eyes.  I could detect that he was sizing Me up,
calculating My power.
       "It will be long before you can even hope to contest Me, so do not
even think it."
       "Do You not think we should help Mother?"
       "Of course."
       Rancor bent down, placed his palm upon Crime's eyes, and when
he pulled his hands away, her eyes opened.  She looked up at him, and
he smiled at her.
       "Mother."
       "Rancor?"
       "Yes, it is me.  It's not so bad as you think.  I actually like it here,
and it is  necessary.  Silenthia says I have to cause the end of the world
soon.  If I was raised on Earth my power would not be great enough in
time.  I need to be older."
       "I can't accept that.  Listen to yourself."
       "You do not need to.  It is not your destiny."
       "How long have I been gone?" I asked Silenthia.
       "Six years, seven months, three--"
       "That's close enough."
       Silenthia fell silent.  I dismissed her.  She and her dancers left,
but Rancor stayed.  Crime got up.
       I grabbed a goblet of wine from the air.  It had not been there
before, but My will was absolute in this domain.  I sipped from it.  It was
light and sweet, but it did not taste weak and flowery.  Sometimes I loved
wine.
       "Rancor, see that devil there?"
       "Yes Father."
       "He insulted Me.  He questioned My authority, and he just plain
irritated Me.  Do you think his punishment is fitting?  Your mother
would have Me let him go."
       I paused.  Rancor said nothing.  He was considering every word
that I had said.
       "Well?"
       "No."
       "No, what?"
       "His punishment is not fitting.  He should have perished utterly.
You show him mercy by allowing him life at all."
       I stepped forward and struck Rancor.
       "Do not make the same mistake as he.  Never question My
decisions."
       Rancor put on his helmet and drew his sword.  He pointed this at
Me.
       "You cannot win."
       "Are You certain?" he asked, and for a moment I was not.
       His sword was still facing Me.  I did not know his power.  Perhaps
he could slay Me, but this was very doubtful.  I was unafraid.  In Hell I
was King, and nothing could hope to defeat Me here.  I was next to
invincible, and not even flesh of My blood could cause Me any real harm.
       Rancor defiantly walked to the immense pedestal where the devil
was imprisoned.  Rancor swung his sliver blade at the base of the great
structure.  It connected with much force, and with a resounding crack,
the huge stone sculpture shattered.  My son was buried under tons of
fallen rock and boiling blood.  I could not see him.
       "Rancor!" Crime screamed, and with this one word she accepted
Rancor for what he truly was.
       She ran to the mess, but before she got there Rancor had already
climbed out from under the heavy slick stones.  His armor was
unscratched, undented and still completely clean.  He was holding his
sword in one hand and with the other he was dragging the minor devil by
the back of his neck like a cat.  Rancor cast the devil to the ground
before Crime.
       "A present for you, mother."
       "Thank you, Rancor.  Let him go."
       Rancor addressed the devil.  "You who are called Tzz't, are hereby
banished from Defile castle and all lands surrounding it for six hundred
and sixty six miles.  Go now, never return."
       The devil faded from view.  I thought of following it, and destroying
it, as Rancor had said I should have done, but I decided that it was not
worth it.  What damage could one devil cause?
       "Shall we dine?"
       "That would be nice, Father," Rancor said as he sheathed his
sword and again took off his helmet.
       I felt I should chastise him for freeing the devil, but I found that I
was actually proud of his actions.  He had defied Me, true, but he had
done so with cause.  Instead of teaching My son a lesson, I caused a food
laden table to come into existence.  We ate together, in Hell, one happy
family.

       I felt the pulling.  This was a call that I could resist if I wanted
to, but this servant often was very helpful to My work.  I touched Crime,
shifted her back to her brothel by herself, bade My farewells to Rancor,
and I let the call take effect.  Light shimmered for a moment.  Images
overlapped and with a twist I was torn from Hell.  Reality snapped back
in a flash.
       A shrunken old lady stood before Me.  Her name was Witch, and I
had used her often in the past, and I was sure that she would have her
uses in the future.  Age was My hold over her.  Whenever close to death
she became very receptive to My desire.  Her soul was  Mine.  She had
forfeited it the fist time she had called Me from Hell.
       "Give Me My due."
       She threw something to Me.  I caught it from out of the air, and
consumed its very essence.
       "A toad?  Is that supposed to be an insult?"
       "No, my Lord."
       "What is it that you wish?" I asked.
       She was deathly afraid of Me.  I always manifested Myself before
her in My fiercest aspect.  It was what she expected, and far be it from
Me to disappoint her.  I flapped My wings a few times, and brought My
tail over My shoulder.  I reached up and scratched it as though it were a
pet snake with a will of its own.  Fog swirled about My feet, so she could
not see My cloven hooves, but she knew  that they were there.
       "What is it that you wish?  Do not make Me ask again."
       "I gave it to her like You asked."
       "Commanded.  Remember who the servant is."
       "You owe me."
       "Yes--yes I do."
       I snapped My fingers.  I had not needed to.  It was purely
theatrical.  Time slowed until it no longer existed for the mortal before
Me.  I stepped from the protective circle she had drawn on the floor,
(completely ineffectual, but it made her feel safer) and touched her
wrinkled face.  Like clay I manipulated her flesh this way and that.  I
erased lines and took away years.  I burned her clothes from her.  This
would cause her pain, but no real harm.  I laid My hands upon her aged
body.  Everywhere I touched became young--firm.  Skin tightened.
Muscle became hard, and like the artist I was I could not but improve
upon the original.  I made her better every time I rewarded her.
       I stepped back within the circle and scrutinized My work.  She was
perfect.  She was Witch, and she had given Crime the Talisman on My
instruction.  I had owed her, but this fulfilled My debt.
       I shifted Myself from mortal view, and allowed time to resume.
Witch screamed, and collapsed to the floor.  She looked at herself and
started crying.  Her tears were a mix of joy, shame, and relief that she
was still alive.  Her nakedness was beautiful.  I had done well, and I
could not help but to marvel at My work, but now I had another place to
be.  I let Myself fall through time and space until I found Myself back in
Hell.


                         Why, oh Why?


       ?Rancor?
       "Yes Silenthia?"
       /No Rancor, with your mind   Think of me   Concentrate   Project
your thoughts   Project them to me/
       Rancor closed his eyes.  At first there was a relaxed look on his
face.  I could see that he was trying hard to do as Silenthia wanted, but
he was quickly becoming frustrated, and it showed.
       "I can't," he said through clenched teeth.
       "Fine, we'll go on.  Give me your dagger."
       Silenthia took Rancor's dagger, held it out before her, and let it go.
It did not fall.  She held it in place with the powers that were her
creation-right.  Even a minor demon could do this trick.  There were
probably even some damned souls that had mastered levitation.
       "It is easy.  Here, now you try."
       Rancor reached out and plucked the dagger from the air.  He had
an aura of confidence about him.  He was sure he could do this.  I could
see by his very manner, by the way he held his shoulders, by the way his
head was back, chin up, that he felt he could do this.  Rancor thrust the
knife straight out, held it there for a moment, and opened his hand.  The
knife clattered to the floor.  I knew all of Hell was laughing at the sound
as it hit.
       The simplest of tricks--and he could not perform them!  He had
already failed at shifting.  There was no way he would get to Earth,
unless I took him there.  I was not even going to try and teach him to
change his shape.  Silenthia probably had a better chance of learning
than he did.  I was disappointed.
       I knew he was not completely mortal.  I could see it in his eyes.  He
had  power.  He had revived Crime after she had fainted.  He had lived
even after tons of rock had fallen on him.  His impervious armor was of
Hellish creation and design, but that was not enough to explain that
feat of survival.  There was just no way he could be mortal.  The mind of
a six year old was incapable of comprehending Hell, let alone thriving
there.  Rancor was My son.  This by itself made him special.
       I just did not know what to do.  His power seemed to be only
reflexive.  He needed to have full control of his faculties before he could
even hope to conquer Earth and challenge the hordes of heaven.
       "Take him from Me."
       "Yes, My Lord."
       Silenthia placed her hand upon Rancor's shoulder, and shifted
with him, from the hall.  When I was alone I looked at the dagger that
still lay on the stone floor of Defile.  If only he had been able to hold it
in the air.  Was I wrong?  Was Rancor not the Antichrist?  Would
another come after him?  With My will I caused the dagger of shame to
no longer be.


                         The Rage of Satan


       I was in full fury.  I took the form of Dragon, and flew straight up
at a phenomenal speed.  All seven of My eyes watered as the wind roared
by, and I could not hear anything but blood rushing in My veins.  The
ceiling of Defile quickly tried to block My path of flight, but I did not
recognize it as existing, so therefor it did not.  I passed through it as
though it was a projection of some cracked mind.
       I was pushing against all limits.  I gained altitude, and in seconds
all Hell was only a small speck in a sea of madness, but this was not
high enough, or far enough away from the failures of My son.  I could not
abide by failure!
       I shifted.  I wanted nothing to do with My domain.  I found Myself
in a familiar setting.  One that often comforted Me when I needed such
comfort.  Earth.  I was circling the planet.  I thought about going there,
and slaying many mortals, or convincing one to sell Me its soul just for
amusement.
       I decided against it.  I did not feel like recreating the myth of the
dragon.  I turned from the planet.  I decided to go to the place of My real
discontent.  Heaven itself.  I would fly there and throw God from his
petty throne, then I would slay every angel that thought to stand against
Me.
       I caused distance to twist until the speed at which I had been
traveling was nothing.  Stars exploded or collapsed in on themselves as I
passed through them.  My rage knew no bounds.  I was going to defeat
God.  Defeat him and cast him from paradise as he had done to Me.  I
would make him live in Hell.  I would do all of this, but not before he
bowed to My greatness.
       The demons and devils of Hell were ignorant.  They thought that I
needed them to challenge heaven.  They were wrong.  I had thought that I
needed only the Antichrist by My side, but if he was not going to ever
have enough power to slay God, then I would have to fight him Myself.  I
knew that I had power.
       I came upon a legion of angels.  They tried to stop Me from
continuing on My course of action.  I hardly paused to kill them all.  I
breathed one impossibly large column of flame that engulfed them all.
They fell from the skies like wonderfully burning wounded birds.  So shall
all that stand against Me in My outrage.  I was Satan.  Nothing could
stop Me.
       I soared past the fallen angels, and resumed My flight to heaven.
The Kingdom--white, pure, gilded and glowing in gold, shade and pure
water to quench the thirst of a dying man, peaceful, paradise--came into
sight.  I pushed Myself even harder, but before I could gain heaven I
crashed into an invisible shield.
       My monstrous head cracked back at a sharp angle, and My neck
broke with a crunch.  My massive body crashed forward.  Blood splashed
from Me everywhere.  I became little more than a thought of excruciating
pain.  I had never before suffered such damage.
       I changed My shape to the form that I held most often, but I made
sure that I had wings--large leathery ones.  I would have to heal the
Dragon later.  If it could be done.
       /Come out and face Me/
       A little speck of light broke away from heaven and came at Me.  It
passed through the shield unharmed.  This dot of brilliance was not God.
I did not expect God to come.
       "Satan, he will not fight You."
       I knew that I could not break God's shield anymore than he could
break Mine.  Out of spite I incinerated God's bright little messenger, and
banked away from the place that I was no longer welcome in.
       If God would not fight Me, then God was not worth fighting.  I
would take his domain from him some day.  I would regain all the glory
that was Mine.  I would do this!  I had to help Rancor become the
Antichrist.


                         Like Father Like Son


       Shifting.  Shape changing.  Manipulating elements.  Levitation.
Possession.  Rancor still failed at them all.  He was fourteen years old
now.  He had aged while I had gone to challenge heaven.  He had been
under Silenthia's instruction all of those years, and other than
unnatural intelligence he had only two skills that set him apart from
mortal children his age, and they were his combative skills and his
ability to dominate other's with his will.
       I did not blame Silenthia.  She had tried, but she was inhibited by
the fact that he was My son.  She was afraid that if she hurt him I would
destroy her, or change her back to the minor demon that she had been.
       I had been patient.  I had said nothing when I had recovered from
my rage, but now was the time for a more radical teaching.  I watched, as
in failure, Rancor once again tried to shift.  His image did not even
waver.  I was sick of this.  Much time had passed since I had made an
attack at heaven.  I had done little in this time, other than heal the
Dragon, and watch my son commit failure after failure.  I watched as his
image still remained the same, and I had was sick of it.  Enough.
       "Enough!"
       Both Silenthia and Rancor turned to Me in astonishment.  I had
been silently observing Rancor's exercises everyday for two years.  This
was the first time I had ever spoken during his training.
       "My Lord Sa--"
       "Shut up Silenthia."
       "Fa--"
       "You too Rancor.  Listen to Me.  If you could only unlock one
power the others would surface.  It is like there is a dam holding you
back.  Once it is broken all may flow through."
       "What of my will?"
       "That comes from within.  You need to learn to project that which
is within you.  I am going to take over your teaching."
       I turned to Silenthia.  I was not displeased with the job she had
done, it was not her fault, but still she had failed.  There was always a
price for failure.
       "Silenthia, you have failed Me, but I am merciful.  I truly am, so I
will allow you to name your own punishment.  What will it be?"
       "Fa--"
       "Shut up Rancor," Silenthia said.  Rancor fell silent.  "If I have
failed my Lord, then I only deserve death."
       She was right, but this sentence left a bad taste.  I did not want
her to die.  True, she was a devil, and death only meant becoming a
demon of the lowest stature, but it would be millions of years before she
again attained the position of devil, even minor.  If Rancor was  the
Antichrist then that meant if I commanded her to die she would have to
face Armageddon as a demon.  No, this would not do.
       "That fate is too good for you.  I command that you shall be
punished, but not by My hand.  You will be disciplined by Rancor.  You
will be his to do with as he pleases."
       "Yes, Lord."
       "I won't," Rancor said in horror.
       Over the years he had grown quite fond of his mentor.  It was
possible that he even loved her.  It would be next to impossible for him
to harm her in any way.
       "Oh, you will find a suiting torment or she will indeed die.  You are
dismissed for now Silenthia.  I will call you when you are needed again."
       "Yes my Lord."
       Rancor held out his hand for Silenthia to take, so that when she
shifted, she might take him along.  Silenthia shifted without him.  Wise
of her.
       "Come My son.  We must begin your lessons."
       "No."
       He glared at Me.  I felt a shock run through Me, and I almost yelled
out in pain.  I had never been challenged before, and Rancor had taken
Me by surprise.  Anguish ripped through Me.  I felt an overwhelming urge
to bow before Rancor.  I would not submit.  I fought back.  I sent a wave
of pure power to him that would have ravaged a minor devil.  Rancor did
not even respond.  He looked at Me with contempt, and redoubled his
efforts.  Sweat broke out all over My body, and I felt Myself losing control
of My shape.  I unfurled wings I had not had only seconds before.  My
feet turned to hooves.  I would not submit!  I would not.  I had made the
mistake of holding back.  He would not win.  I would not let him.
       I blasted him with all I had.  Lightning and fire engulfed him.  He
screamed, but otherwise did not react.  He could only fight Me on one
level, but I had so much more.  I shifted behind Rancor, and struck him
with My fist.  He went sprawling.  He quickly recovered, and looked up at
Me from the stone courtyard.
       With a wave of his hand the ground I was standing on cracked
under Me.  I lost My balance, but instead of falling, I took to the air.
This was a mistake.  I had again underestimated My son.  Not only had
he affected the floor, but also the ceiling.  One single fraction of a stone
block the size of a small house smashed Me from My flight into the
courtyard.
       I caused the block to disintegrate and be no more.  I glanced at
Myself.  My clothes were hanging about Me in shreds, but I was
unmarked.  I shape-changed back to My favored form.
       "Rancor, cease this vain folly or I will surely slay you."
       /I do not think so Father/
       He drew his sword, so I caused one to appear in My hand.  I had
never been defeated with a blade.  I knew I had him out-matched.  I only
planned to humiliate him.   I stepped up to disarm him.
       After a few blows and parries I realized that he was a far better
opponent than I had expected, but he was still no match for Me.  He left
a stupid opening.  I caught his wrist where there was a break behind his
gauntlet.  His flesh was opened.  Now, I had only to wear him down.
Blood loss would weaken him.  It was as I thought this, that I felt the
point of his weapon take Me in the side of the neck.  My throat was laid
open.  It took all My concentration to keep My blood from spurting like
twin jets.  Rancor had left his wrist exposed in order to lead Me, and I
had fallen for it.  Now I was paying the price.
       I had to stop and heal Myself.  Rancor took advantage of this by
sending My blade spinning from My grasp.  He dropped the point of his
bright silver sword to My heart level.
       "Surrender or die."
       "Sorry, it is never that easy."
       I sent  his blade away.  Rancor looked at his empty gauntlet, then
in hate, at Me.  He charged Me.  I changed My form to that of the
Dragon, and let Rancor crash into Me with all his puny might.  The
chamber within which I stood was barely large enough to hold Me.
       "Fight me, damn it!"
       I picked him up between taloned claws.  I brought him before one
of My eyes, and squeezed until I felt his armor start to give.  I could see
him struggling not to yell out.  He thought he was to die.  He wanted to
die as a man, not by being killed by a beast.
       I shifted.  I was now flying above an endless ocean of glowing lava.
I still had Rancor held tightly, but not for long.  I dropped him.  He hit
with a splash and sank.  His silver armor dragged him under.  The armor
and his heritage would keep him alive, but if he did not consciously
unlock his powers he would spend an eternity of suffering.
       I waited, flying lazy circles of worry over the area where I had let
him fall.  Days passed, and still he did not surface.  What if I had been
wrong?  I was concerned.  I did not know doubt very often.  I had been
sure that I was right.  I would not have done it otherwise.  He was My
son.  I did not want him dead.
       Relief flooded Me as I found I was correct in My faith.  Rancor's
head broke the surface of the molten liquid.  He was still wearing his
helmet and plate armor.  It was still silver, but now it shone with an
intensity that was almost painful to the eye.
       My son flew from the lava, and like a small brilliant star hovered
before Me.
       "Come Father, we must return.  I have Silenthia to punish."
       Rancor too took the shape of a dragon, although it was silver and
not as large as Mine.  His scales were mirrored as his armor.  We flew,
the Antichrist and I, together to Defile, My beloved castle.


                         The Antichrist


       Rancor summoned a thousand daggers.  These he not only kept in
the air, but he set them to spinning like the blades of a fan.
       ?Rancor?
       /Yes Father/
       The blades kept their place.
       /Create a demon for Me/
       ?Can I do that?
       /I do not know  Before now I have been the only One to do so/
       A dismal colored statue of a gargoyle appeared between us.  Not
very imaginative, but his creative skills were not the ones being tested.
The gargoyle turned red then blue then green.  It started to quickly shift
through all colors.  It started to move.  He had done it--or so I thought,
but then it just disappeared.
       ?What do You think?
       /Nice try/
       ?Try?  /I've created a demon that can only be seen when I choose
for it to be seen   Behold/
       The gargoyle again appeared.  I wanted to test its power.  I caused
all of the floating daggers to fly into it.  A thousand blades thrust and bit
into the newly created creature.  It just shifted to its right, leaving the
cutlery behind.  The demon had made itself whole as it had shifted.  The
demon was unharmed.
       I challenged it.  It locked gazes with Me for a second, but then
looked down, submitting, and I did not like it.
       /Rancor you have done a dangerous thing/
       Rancor did not respond.  Something had blocked My message.  I
did not think that this was possible.  The demon looked back at Me with
a smug expression on its ugly face, and then, as I watched, it started to
change.  Its form melted and flowed until it was as the creature desired.
       It became the mirror image of Rancor, but without his bright
armor.  It should not have been able to do this!  This was no demon.  It
was a full fledged devil, and no minor one at that.  What had Rancor
done?
       ?Father why do You look at me like that?  two 'voices' hit Me at
the same time.
       Rancor charged the creature he had made from nothing.  They
clashed, and began to struggle, but then the newly created devil
disappeared.  Rancor--in armor stood--looking unstable.  He seemed to
have no balance.  He staggered.
       /Father he's in me/
       I slid My vision, and for a moment I thought I saw something, but
then it was gone.  It was as if Rancor was possessed--with himself.
Without the devil's name there was little that I could do without hurting
My son.
       Rancor fell, but then rose again.
       /I have beaten him Father   Give me back my sword/
       I pulled his sword back from where I had sent  it.  Rancor grasped
its hilt, and with the shining sword struck through My neck.  This was
not a deathblow for Me.  I willed Myself to remain whole, and thought of
what I had to do.
       "Devil, do not make Me annihilate you," I said.
       "I will not give him up."
       I stepped towards the devil that held My son's body.  He ran Me
through with Rancor's sword.  I felt it exit between My shoulder blades.  I
was becoming tired of being stabbed with that damn weapon.  I ignored it
and grasped Rancor's visor.  I then shifted.  I tried to leave the devil
behind.
       /Nice try/  it said mocking Me.
       We were on a barren plane, just another infinite reflection of My
mind, and the devil was still with us.  Fine then, I would go where this
devil could not go without an invitation.  I heard a yell of frustration as I
shifted to Earth.

       I had no time to be precise as to where I appeared.  I found Myself
holding an unconscious Rancor, and we were seven feet or so from the
floor of Crime's bedroom.  She was there with another that I did not
recognize.  They were sitting at a table playing a card game.  Neither had
noticed Rancor or I yet.  People so seldom looked for the unexpected.
       I levitated to the floor.
       "Hello Crime."
       Both were startled.  The man did nothing, but Crime came at Me,
knives flashing, until she realized that it was I.
       "Satan!  What has happened?  I didn't summon You."
       "Did you think that I could only come at your bidding?  I come or
go as I please," I said as I slid Rancor's evil blade from My chest.
"Rancor needs help."
       I probably could have caused him to regain consciousness in an
instant, but this might have shocked his system.  I did not want to cause
him any more injury than which he had already suffered.
       "Place him on my bed."
       I was impressed in that the mortal male said nothing as I laid My
child on the bed as Crime had indicated.  I shifted his armor from him,
to beside the bed, so that he was able to rest comfortably.
       "What's going on?" Crime asked, concern and confusion coloring
her voice.
       "Do you not think that you should make introductions first?"
       "If You insist.  Satan, this is Spirit.  Spirit, this is Satan, Lord
of Hell, and God of this World.  On the bed lays our child."
       I presented My hand to the mortal sitting at the table, he took it,
grasped it tightly, and shook it.  He had courage to do that.  Either that
or he did not believe I was who I was.
       "Nice to meet You.  You look like shit."
       I let go of our grasp, and went to the mirror.  It was as he had said,
I looked very bad.  My head was still severed from My body, and I had a
hole in My chest large enough to view My spine.
       "Forgive Me, Rancor and I have been through a lot."
       "Would You care to explain?" Spirit asked from across the room.
       "No."
       Crime went to Rancor.  She touched his throat.
       "As far as I can tell, he's only sleeping, but I'll call the house
physician, just in case."
       Crime picked up the phone, she must have had it replaced, and
spoke into it.  As she held her conversation, I decide to speak with Spirit.
I walked to the table, and joined him there.
       "What is the nature of your friendship with Crime?"
       "Friends and friendly business.  And You?"
       "Parent of the one laying there and lovers.  Does this surprise
you?"
       "Yes," he said, and by all appearances he spoke the truth.  "Is
Rancor really her son?"
       "Yes, as I said, and Mine also."
       "But--"
       "But he is too old?  Older than her in fact.  He was raised in Hell.
Time differs there."
       Apparently I had given him enough to think about.  He asked Me
no more questions.  I took the time this offered to heal and clean Myself.
I even changed My clothes.  I now wore a sky-blue robe.  This I had drawn
at the waist with a white cord.  I looked rather like a monk of sorts.
       Crime hung up the phone.
       "She'll be here presently.  You look nice; much better than before."
       "Thank you," I said.
       The doctor entered without knocking, and if she was surprised that
I was here, well she did not show it.  She examined My son.  Crime
watched as she did so.
       I picked up the cards, shuffled them, and dealt five to Spirit and
five to Myself.  I looked at My hand.  I had all four aces and a deuce.
       "Do you wish to trade any cards?"
       "No, I'll stay.  What are the stakes?"
       "Your soul of course, against anything you wish."
       "I don't think so."
       "What do you suggest?"
       "Crime?"
       "She is not Mine to give."
       "For nothing then."
       "Fine."
       He laid down his hand.  He had a royal flush.  I smirked.  This was
not possible.  He had cheated.  I had all of the aces.  I threw My cards,
face up,  onto the table.
       "Five of a kind."
       Between his cards and Mine there were six cards of the same
number value sitting on the table.
       "Thank you for a fine game."
       "No, thank You."
       This mortal was unique.  If he would have accused Me of
dishonesty I would have killed him.  I found it entertaining that he was
brave enough to try and cheat Me.  It was refreshing to not be feared by
everyone I met.  Quivering mortals will always have their place, but the
ones that have truly amused Me, throughout time, are the ones that feel
I do not exist, or that if I do, then I am as a human.  I am nothing like
human.  I stood and walked to Crime and our child.  It was strange
seeing them together.  They appeared to be about the same age.  I knew
this bothered Crime.  She had not been able to raise Rancor as her own
child.  She had been hurt by this, but she said nothing.  She understood,
or at least accepted it as best as she could.
       "How is he?"
       "Fine," the doctor said.  "I can wake him if you like."
       The doctor did not react to Me.  She treated Me as if I were just
another mortal.  I wondered if I should be insulted by this.  I was not.
       "No," Crime said.  "Let him sleep."
       "Yes, let him sleep."
       The physician left.  Crime hugged Me.  I returned her embrace, and
kissed her.
       "Do You love me?" she asked.
       "I cannot."
       I was unable to.  I loved only Myself.  I was the center of My
universe.  There was no room for anyone else.  I could not have it any
other way, even if I had desired it.  I had not wanted to tell her this, but I
would not lie, and say that I loved her when I was incapable.
       Crime turned her back to Me and walked to Spirit.  He was staring
at the cards.  He was probably still adjusting to all he had learned.  He
looked up at Crime.  I closed My eyes, and possessed him.  He did not
resist, not that it would have done him any good.  He could not have
beaten Me, and he knew it.
       "I love you," I made him say.
       "Don't say that."
       I pulled out of him, and opened My eyes.  He was free of Me and My
influence.  He could do as he chose now.
       "It's true.  I do."
       "Don't say that--just don't."
       I felt a lesser Item trying to summon Me.  I knew I was no longer
wanted here, so I chose to answer it.

       I found Myself again standing within a harmless protective circle.
       "Give Me My due."
       A bird was thrown in My direction.  It tried to fly away.  I sucked
its life energies from it, and it flew for yet another ten feet, even though
it was little more than a skeleton.  The bird then crashed into a wall
where it shattered.
       "My Lord, I am afraid."
       "With good cause.  You have summoned the Lord of Hell.  I hope
you have a reason for doing so."
       "Dreams, my Lord.  I have been contacted by a devil.  He begged me
to release him.  He has promised me much if I do."
       It was possible for a devil to be summoned to the Earth without
My permission, but only if a mortal knew its true name.  Contact
through dreams--a devil could tell a mortal its name this way, but it
would have to be a receptive mortal, and one who possessed the power to
summon.
       "Did this devil tell you its name?"
       "Yes, Lord it's--"
       "No, do not speak it.  I can read it in your mind.  Thank you, you
have done well.  How shall I reward you?"
       "I do not know, Lord.  I am already young and beautiful, what more
can I ask?"
       "What were you promised by the other?"
       "Immortality, Lord."
       "That is not his to grant, but you shall have it.  From now on you
shall live forever.  Make no deals with the other, or you will burn in Hell
for My pleasure, I promise you this.
       I shifted back to those I had just left.
       Rancor was again dressed in full battle armor, except that his
helm rested on the table where Crime and Spirit sat.  Spirit was holding
Crime's hand.  He was caressing the snake ring that she wore.  This was
what I had hoped for.  Crime deserved more than I could ever give her.
She wanted love, (even if she would not admit that to herself) and she
should have it.
       "Come Rancor, we must go."
       "But Father, we were--"
       "I do not care.  We have a creation to destroy."
       "Yes Father."
       Rancor placed his silver helmet upon his head.  It was uncanny
how exactly the face on it matched his.  There was in Rancor no doubt in
his abilities as he shifted us to Defile.


                         Confrontation


       ?Silenthia?
       "Yes my Lord."
       Silenthia now stood before Rancor.  She had shifted in as soon as
I had called upon her.  She had chosen to bring all forty of her blood
demons.  They stood behind her in disciplined ranks.
       "What has passed?"
       "Much Lord.  Three years have gone by since You have last been at
Defile.  We have been under siege, but no attack has been forthcoming.
We are threatened by the Arch-devil--"
       "Wait, Arch-devil?"
       "Yes, Lord, that is what he calls himself."
       "Continue."
       "Yes, Lord.  The Arch-devil, Bettacrasnakka is never seen.  Some
even say that he does not exist.  Many feel that Tzz't made him up as a
threat."
       "Oh he is real alright."
       I thought on this.  There had not been a war in Hell for thousands
of years, and never before had I been the target of attack.  Always before
it had been devil against devil, never Me.  No devil would be so stupid.  I
had the power to send.  If I did so to any demon or devil they would in
effect cease to exist.  This would be worse than death.
       The only way an attack against Me had any chance of working was
if I was forced to exhaust enough of My energy that I no longer had the
ability to send.  I thought of what this would take.  I felt safe.  There
were not enough demons or devils in Hell to do this.  Even I did not
know the limits of My powers.  Maybe, if I was forced to fight every devil
one at a time....
       "Have you amassed an army for Me?"
       "I've tried Lord, but all in Hell are with Tzz't and Bettacrasnakka.
The devils fear You, Lord.  They think You will lead them to destruction
now that Rancor is at Your right, they feel You will challenge Your
eternal rival.  They do not want Armageddon."
       "It is well that they fear Me.  How long till they attack?"
       As Silenthia and I spoke, Rancor had stood by silently, but
suddenly he drew his shinning weapon.  I moved back.  I did not want to
risk that blade again.
       "Father, he tries to enter Me, but I resist."
       /Good   You are ready this time   Do not give in   Tell him if he
wants us that we are ready/
       "He's stopped.  I did make contact though.  He says, 'I'm coming.'
I believe him.  He's waited for our return."
       I set up a shield around Defile that would prevent any from
shifting  in without permission, although it would not prevent direct
physical entry.  I then walked to behind My throne.  There was a door
that only I knew about, and through it was a tower that only I knew.  I
opened it, and passed through.  Silenthia and Rancor followed.  Stairs
spiraled up and up forever.
       "Would it not be easier to shift to the top?"
       "Try."
       He did, and a look of hopelessness came across his countenance.
He thought that he had failed yet again.  Past experiences were too fresh
for Rancor to face and deal with.  He needed a victory to savor.  He tried
to shift again.
       "I can't."
       "I know."
       "Why?"
       "I do not know, but even I cannot."
       We continued to climb.  The forty dancing demons had stayed
behind.  I would not have let them come anyway.  I was not even sure if I
wanted to reveal the secrets of this tower to Silenthia.  I could always
erase it from her memory later.
       "My Lord, how many stairs must we climb?"
       "Ten.  A hundred.  A million.  It is never the same.  It is best not
to think about it."
       We climbed the rest of the way in silence.  It took a short eternity
to get there.  I hoped that it was worth it.  I walked to a tower window.
There were three.  This was not a coincidence.  Rancor and Silenthia
looked out the other two.
       Defile castle was built into a mountain that occurred unnaturally
in the middle of a large flat stone plane.  Spread out on this plane
surrounding Defile far unto the horizon was Bettacrasnakka's army.  The
plain was black with all the gathered hosts of Hell.
       I concentrated.  I caused heavy storm clouds to roll in, and
completely block the sky.  If today was to be a day of death, then I
wanted the weather to fit the mood.  I opened the clouds to rain.  Rain
was not enough though.  I caused great winds to blow, and large pillars
of lightning to strike.  I could not see the damage I was doing, but I could
sense that many had already been destroyed by these simple actions.  I
could do far more than this.
       I raised one hand and, with a rushing rolling wave of bitter
blackness I terribly tore the land asunder.  I could feel it within My being
as wide cruel crevasse split My Hell.  My domain shook itself apart.  I
was not able to detect how many casualties this unmaking had caused
the horde of idiots to incur.  I did not care.
       "It is your turn Rancor."
       I did not take My gaze from the window.  I stared at the creatures
that thought to kill Me, their Lord.  The rain I had brought changed.  It
still fell, but now the drops were black rock, not water.  These would tear
into the army like bullets from a machine-gun, but Rancor did not stop
there.  He lit the stones to burning.  At first only fire and rock fell, but
soon it changed to lava.  See what Bettacrasnakka thought of that.
       "Can I try?" asked Silenthia.
       "If you like."
       A hundred flaming swords suddenly hovered in the dark sky.  I was
not sure if it was Silenthia's doing or Rancor's.  The swords headed into
the hosts.  I did not know how much damage they would do, but it did
not really matter.  The storm was doing its work well.  I could feel this.
       Silenthia staggered back from the window.  She put a leather
gloved hand to her forehead.  She then fell back, but Rancor caught her
before she was able to hit the tower's rock tile.  He laid her gently down.
       "My guard, they fight for their lives.  Defile has been breached,"
Silenthia gasped.
       "Come Rancor," I commanded, and I left no choice in My voice.
       Rancor and I had just started upon the stairs, when we came to
the door to My throne room.  We ran through into confusion.
       Minor demons fought side by side with greater devils.  Some were
flying through the air, others were swimming in the stone floor as if it
were as much water.  They were fighting the dancing blood demons of
Silenthia's.  It was a massacre.  Only two of her demon guard still stood.
       Rancor and I both put a shield about the two survivors, and for
now they were safe.  They had accounted for many demons and even a
few devils.  By putting up the protection over the two blood dancers, we
had gotten the attention of the hordes of the damned.
       A demon rushed Me.  With utter contempt I sent  it.  I searched for
the next threat.  It came as a surprise.  My eyes locked with a minor
devil.  She challenged Me.  I had not expected such a creature to be so
daring.  I showed no mercy.  I crushed her with all My power.  I held back
nothing.  I tore her apart.  She had not a chance against the might of
Satan, but while I was dealing with her, a greater demon came at Rancor
and I from behind.
       This demon placed a dagger in My spine, and hacked into My side
with a curved sword.  I turned to it.  I sent  it also.
       A random arrow slid through My left eye into My brain.  A
sensation to be avoided if at all possible.  I reached up and plucked it
from My head.  My eye went with the arrow.  I would have to repair the
socket later.  I was making too many mistakes.  All of this could have
been avoided if only I had erected a personal shield.  I did so now.  I saw
a dagger bounce off it.  Yes, it was in effect.
       ?Rancor can you feel him?
       /No Father   He is not here/
       I knew that the storm still raged outside.  That was the nature of
the tower.  It sustained magics.  The storm would rain terror and death
until someone willed it to cease from within.
       Another devil stepped in front of Me and challenged.   This one
would not be so easy to defeat.  He took almost all My concentration.  I
was able to only sustain the shield around Defile, and the one around
the dancing demons.  Mine dropped.  Once again I was open to physical
attacks.  The devil before Me made a powerful thrust with its will.  If that
was all that it could hit Me with, then he would be no match for Me.  I
resisted its first wave of power, but did not fight back.
       "You are nothing," I told it.  "Leave.  You are hereby banished from
Defile and the--"
       "Save the speech, Old Man.  Your time has come.  If I cannot beat
You, then my death will pave the way for the new order!"
       I sighed, and let him try to kill Me once again.  When he did so, I
started to draw his energies into Me.  I sucked.  He had forgotten that
which ruled his very existence, that in Hell power was Mine to give or
take, and take I did.  Blue lights flew between us from him.  These I drew
into myself.  There was a scream, and the 'greater devil' ran towards the
doors that opened to Defile.  He was barely worthy to be called a demon
now.  He had so little power left, that I doubted if even a damned soul
would fear him.
       I turned to Rancor.  He was engaged in hand to hand combat with
an eight armed devil, that hovered a few feet from the floor.  The devil
had a sword in each hand.  Rancor had only his shield and sword, but
seemed to be doing fine.  He blocked every blow that the devil made.  I
would have watched him fight, but I was attacked then.
       I had not brought My shield back up, so when the ax hit Me, it
split My cheekbone, and became lodged there.  There were thirty identical
greater demons, and they mobbed Me.  I was buried under them.  All
carried an ax, which they used with great abandon effectively.  Axes rose
and fell.  My skin split and tore under their blows, and divots of flesh
flew from Me.  I quickly became a bloody mass.
       I caused a sword to appear in My hand.  With this I swept half
from Me, but My grip was too slick with My own blood to maintain a
hold on the weapon.  I dropped it.  I was once again covered in demons.
This was ridicules.  I shifted a little to My right, and with a wave of My
will I sent  every last demon that had just attacked Me.
       Two different demons faced Me now.  I thought of raising My
shield, but I was not going to pretend to fear these.  They thought they
were to be the instruments of My downfall.  They were only minor
demons though, so their stupidity could almost be understood.  One
demon held a large hammer.  The other seemed to think that only a
dagger would be sufficient.  I was amused.
       I reached up and tore lose the ax that was buried in My face.  It
came free with a sucking crunch.  Now I was ready to fight again.  These
two demons deserved to die together.  I erected yet another shield, but
this time around them, not Me.  I then willed it to slowly start shrinking.
Soon they would be crushed into each other.  They would die a very
humiliating death.
       There were still hundreds in the courtyard.  This was taking
entirely too long.  I had to think of something.
       ?Rancor?
       /One moment/  there was a pause, then, /Yes/
       ?Are we losing?
       /No/
       ?But are we winning?
       /No/
       ?What should we do?
       Rancor said nothing, but he placed an image within My mind.
Yes!  It just might work.  He had done it before, but on a much smaller
scale.
       I dropped the protective shield from about Silenthia's blood
demons.  I then shifted with them to Earth.


                         Surprises


       "Hello Crime.  Hello Spirit."
       "Satan.  Who are these two?"
       Crime no longer seemed surprised to see Me.  I was not very
presentable either.  I was drenched in blood, and a lot of Me was showing
that was never meant to be seen.
       "Two demons of Silenthia's"
       She did not answer.  It probably was not important to her.
       "Man, You really need to find a different way to travel," Spirit said
to Me.
       "Why is that?"
       "However You do it now just rips the Hell out of You."
       I tried not to smile.  I tried not to laugh.  I probably would have
had to try and not go into hysterics, and fail at this too, but Rancor
materialized just then.
       "Father."
       ?Did it work?
       /I dropped Defile on them as planned   All within were slain as it
collapsed   Only one tower still stands   The storm still rages   We must
go back/
       "I have to heal Myself."
       I caused My wounds to close one by one.  There were many.  My
flesh flowed like water.  The damage to My body was more extensive than
I had thought.  It took Me some time to close all cuts and knit all
shattered bones, longer than it had taken to heal the Dragon.
       /Father we have to go   Silenthia is still there/
       "Good-bye Crime.  Good-bye Spirit."
       "Mother."
       I wondered what she thought of our popping in like that.  I had not
been in that good of shape when I had arrived, and there had been two
demons with Me.  When Rancor showed up, he looked pretty bad also.
His armor was scratched, and actually had a few dents.  I also wondered
how her and Spirit's relationship was progressing.
       Rancor and I shifted.


                         Defile


       Defile Castle was indeed ruins.  It was as Rancor had said, only
one tower still stood, but he was wrong about the storm.  It was gone.
       I looked at the carnage around Defile.  Millions of damned souls,
demons, and devils lay dead and rotting.  The souls were the saddest part
of this war.  Not even one had made it to the castle.  They were
needlessly slaughtered.  They would spend the rest of eternity decaying
into nothing, and they would be aware of themselves and what was
happening to them.  This would happen, unless I had mercy on them and
granted them life in death once again, but I am the one true evil.  I am
not a merciful Devil.  I would only do this for amusement.
       Rancor and I shifted again, with Silenthia's guards, to the tower
base.  Rancor and I started climbing the stairs.  We ran up them taking
two or three at a time.  Ten minutes or a year passed before we entered
the room at the top of the tower.
       Silenthia's red half cloak was neatly folded on the floor.  On the
cloak was an envelope.  Rancor picked this up, opened it, and read its
contents.  It held a piece of paper and a lock of hair.  Rancor handed Me
the paper.


                              I have her.
                                --TZZ'T

       "We will get her back," I said.
       Rancor went to one of the two windows.
       /I'm going to kill them   I'm going to kill them both/
       He drew his sword.  It started to glow with a light the likes of
which I had seen only once before.  The light climbed Rancor's blade
until it engulfed his armor.  It then grew in brilliance until it was as if he
had just climbed from the lava ocean.  Rancor pointed his sword out the
window.  A beam burst from the blade and lit the sky.  It only lasted
seconds, but it seemed to go on forever.  An effect of the tower perhaps,
or maybe My imagination.
       "I want them to know I come."
       Rancor picked up Silenthia's cloak.  This he draped over his shield.
Although I could feel his heat, from where I stood, the cloak did not
burn.  I was disturbed with how well it covered his shield.  It fit, and it
looked as though it was meant to stay there.
       Rancor then did something I had never thought to do.  He stepped
up to the window and jumped.  It immediately disappeared as he passed
through.  I ran to the window that was meant for Me, and looked out
just in time to see him strike the ground.  He had to have fallen at least
a mile.  I could just barely see him from the tower window.  Either he
had lived, or he had died.  This was an obvious and almost stupid
observation, but not for one who was thinking of doing the same.  I
decided to follow.  I even went to do so, but there was a shield blocking
My way.  Rancor did not want Me following.  Damn him!
       I tried taking down the block, but as long as he was maintaining it
this would be impossible.  He had to still be alive to keep the shield up.
I would not wait!  I took the only way left to Me--the stairs.
       I ran as fast as I could down them.  I even fell a few times.  I tried
to shift,  but it did not work.  I had not expected it to.  The stairs seemed
to work against Me.  There was nothing I could do but continue.  I ran,
but the door was nowhere in sight.  I again tried shifting.  It was as
successful as the first time.
       When the door did finally come I was drenched in sweat, and I was
afraid to touch the wood, lest it be an illusion.  Touch it I did though.  I
pushed it open with all My strength.  The door flew open, and was almost
torn from its hinges as it slammed into the wall behind it with a crash.
       I circled the tower until I came to the place where Rancor had hit.
It was not hard to find.  There was a large melted depression, like a
meteor crater, where Rancor had landed.  Silenthia's blood demons stood
there.  Boot marks led away from the depression.  Rancor's steel-shod
boots must have melted the stone with their heat.
       This would be an easy trail to follow, as long as the Antichrist's
rage held out until I caught up with him.  If he no longer left footprints,
then he would be harder to find.  As I walked, I thought of shifting.
Rancor seemed to be going in one direction.  I wondered why he had not
shifted.  Footstep by footstep, he was taking the distance, savoring the
anticipation of the dying to come.  He had to be.  I looked at the boot
melted stone, and decided to try.
       Things turned inside out, became a photo negative, and I was
maybe half a mile farther along Rancor's tail.  The marred stone still
bore clear marks for Me to follow.  If only I knew how far behind him I
was.  Damn that tower!
       I again shifted.  A mile this time, but I only let Myself materialize
long enough to make sure that I was going in the right direction.  I kept
repeating this process, increasing the distance between each jump until I
found Myself in the midst of a bright battle.  I looked down.  There were
no longer any marks upon the smooth surface of the plain.
       I squinted My eyes against the blinding light.  I almost missed
seeing a three-headed demon as it ran past Me.  He looked as though he
had once had five heads, but now two of his necks were spraying thick
sticky black blood high into the air.  I let the demon go.
       Was Rancor here?  Devil clashed with devil.  The sky was fouled
with fighting creatures.  Many fell to the ground.  Why were they
fighting?  Already there were many dead, but there were no damned souls
to be seen.  They had all died during the siege on Defile.  Every last
tortured soul dead.  There would always be more.  Man has never
disappointed Me.
       /Rancor/
       ?Father?
       I got a feeling for where he was, and headed in that direction.  It
was the direction of the light that lit this demon and devil war.  I was
not stopped.  Not one creature ever interfered with My way.  They were
too busy killing each other to even consider Me.
       I would have seen Rancor earlier if I had thought that he too
would have chosen the air to battle in.  He was hovering about twelve
feet above where every other land creature fought.  All the beasts of the
air were allowing Rancor much space.  None of those that surrounded
him were very close, but every so often Rancor would slay one of these,
with an explosion of power, and it would fall to the ground, were it
would be ripped apart by its brothers.  He had his sword and shield in
hand, and he shone like a blazing star.  Occasionally an arrow, spear, or
colored blast of energy went his direction, but they always missed, fell
short, or were absorbed.
       ?Rancor?
       /Father  He's here   I can feel him  but I haven't found him yet/
       ?Silenthia?
       /If she's here  she's not answering/
       I looked around.  I could not see Tzz't or Bettacrasnakka.  I
grabbed a minor demon as it tried to run past.  It had the shape of a
salamander that walked upright.  I changed My shape until I was
immense.  I then lifted the demon high off the ground.
       "Do you know Me?"
       "Yes, Lord!"
       "Please be smart, tell Me what I want to know.  You may yet live.
Why are they fighting?"
       "So many were slain when we attacked Defile that some thought
that we would have a better chance at Armageddon.  Arguments started.
Some tried to dissent, and fighting broke out.  It's been going on for
years.  Then the Shining One came.  Please let me live."
       "Where are Tzz't and Bettacrasnakka?"
       The demon pointed.  I crushed its head like a pulpy fruit.  I had
made him no promises.  Gurgling sounds bubbled from his throat.  I
dropped him.  His body made a dull thud as it hit.  I started to where the
demon had indicated.
       I found Tzz't, but Bettacrasnakka was no where to be seen.  Not
surprising, considering his abilities.  I glared at Tzz't.  I knew he saw Me,
but he seemed unafraid.  I was still a giant.  I saw no reason to change.
Tzz't was going to be Mine.  Rancor was right when he had said that I
should have killed him quickly.  Well, now was the time to correct that.
I held up My hand and sent a continuous blast of power at Tzz't.  He was
shielded.  I had thought he would be.  I raised My other hand and caused
another beam to strike his shield.  I sustained both.
       His shield would slowly wear down.  It took will and concentration
to keep one up, and he was  only a demon.  He might be able to protect
himself for a thousand years, but when his protection finally failed, I
would be there.  I did not plan on waiting that long however.
       /Rancor  I have found Tzz't   He is shielded/
       Rancor chose to come to Me, rather than answering.  He dropped
from the air and set foot on the ground.  His boots immediately began to
sink into the stone, as though it were soft clay.  Rancor stepped forward.
He left behind glowing prints as he walked to Tzz't.
       I still kept a constant barrage on Tzz't's shield with all My power.
I could not feel him weakening, but I was patient.  Rancor walked between
My two beams.  He drew his sword back, and with all his strength he
struck the field.  It shattered like a stressed egg.  Tzz't's eyes widened,
more in surprise than in pain, as the blade took him in the heart, and
My power hit him full force.  Between Rancor and I, we left no trace of
Tzz't.  It was as if he had never existed.
       /He's here/
       Bettacrasnakka appeared then with Silenthia.  I had the feeling
that he had been there all the time though.  I had not sensed the minor
disturbances that signal something shifting.  Bettacrasnakka held
Silenthia by her hair with his left hand.  With his right he was pressing
a dagger into the soft flesh of her throat.  Bettacrasnakka still wore
Rancor's body and face.
       "Both of you shift out now, or she dies permanently!  This blade
can do it!"
       I altered My perceptions.  A jolt of recognition went through Me.
He spoke the truth!  The knife he held had been created expressly for the
use that he threatened to put it to now.  There could have been only one
way that he could have gotten it.  It was not of Hell.  It was of Earth.
Witch!  The bitch!  He must have promised her that he would kill Me!
She had better hope that he did.
       /Rancor  he is right   We must shift/
       I reached down, and placed My large hand on Rancor's shoulder.
The metal armor seared My flesh, but I did not pull back.  I had to take
him with Me if we were to defeat Bettacrasnakka.
       Spinning.  Falling.  A sensation of speed and--snap!
       Rancor and I came into existence right behind Bettacrasnakka.  If
he was shielded, then this would not work at all, and Silenthia would die
a horrible death.  I only hoped that he would leave himself open.
       I grabbed Bettacrasnakka's wrist, the one holding the devil slaying
knife.  He turned in shock.  He had not protected himself.  Rancor seized
the opportunity to cut Bettacrasnakka's arm from his shoulder.  He
stepped back in horror.  Rancor swung his blade into his creation.  The
sword sliced into Bettacrasnakka.  It cut through flesh and bone.
Bettacrasnakka was almost cleaved in two.  Rancor's sword became
lodged within the devil's body.  Rancor let go of it.
       "I made you.  I am your god," Rancor said.
       Bettacrasnakka was confused.  He had a sword running through
him.  He was missing an arm, and he knew that he was about to die.  I
felt him trying to phase out, but Rancor kept him in place with his will.
I pulled Bettacrasnakka's knife from the hand that he no longer
controlled, and I threw the blade to Rancor.  He caught it and buried it
in Bettacrasnakka's heart.  Bettacrasnakka fell to his knees, then back,
dead.
       Rancor took no time to savor his victory but pulled the dagger and
his sword from the corpse.  These he wiped clean on Bettacrasnakka's
robe.  He then sheathed the sword in its customary place.  The dagger he
replaced his own with.  He dropped his usual powerless mundane blade.
       "Remember son, daggers cut both ways."
       /Yes Father/
       Rancor pulled Silenthia's cloak from his shield.  I did not know
how the cloth had survived the blast heat that Rancor had emanated,
nor did I care.  Rancor's rage had subsided.  His armor no longer burned,
and he no longer melted stone by merely touching it.
       Silenthia had stood by obediently.  I was well pleased with her.
She had always done that which was expected of her.  She and My son
embraced.  I took the form of the Dragon.  I gently picked the kissing
couple up, and placed them on the flat shelf-like ridge behind My eyes.
In slow lazy circles I rose to the sky.
       The fighting still had not stopped.  There had been many surprises
in Hell lately.  I did not like surprises.
       "/Cease your quarreling, or I shall slay you all!  So say I, Lord of
all Hell!/" I both projected this and yelled it with Dragon scream.  Half of
the combatants fell to their knees in fear or respect.  I did not stay to see
if the rest obeyed.  I knew  that they would.  Instead, I turned, and flew
to Defile.


                         Punishment Due


       I sat, on My Throne, in My favored shape, and stared out at the
ruins of Defile.  It would take much to restore it to its former shape.  I
did not know if it would be worth while.  Or if I even would.  If the end
was truly coming, did it even matter?  I thought of heaven.  This was not
the first time that I had done so since the Casting out.  I often thought
of regaining My position of honor.  But now I was thinking of all that
heaven meant.
       Heaven:  Peace.  Comfort and God.  Rapture and bliss.  All the
answers to all the questions, both known and unknown.  Love.  Light.
The blessing of God.  Everything that I had given up.  Everything that I
could not escape.
       I summoned a flawless crystal, and stared within it.  Images
swirled and collided.  I picked the one that I wanted and brought it into
focus.  I willed sound to project from the crystal.
       "Much time has passed since you were to be punished."
       "Rancor--"
       "You will address me as master.  Is this understood?"
       "Yes, master."
       "Take off your clothes.  All of them."
       "Yes, master."
       I watched through the crystal as she did so.  He must have been
giving her silent commands also, because without being told to Silenthia
turned, and placed her hands behind her head.  She interlaced her
fingers.  Rancor came up behind her with two lengths of black cloth.  He
blindfolded her with one and bound her wrists, at the back of her neck,
with the other.
       "Now, get on your knees."
       Silenthia obeyed.  Rancor too dropped to his knees.  He then
kissed her shoulder, and I heard her gasp as he, with his hand, reached
around and opened her like a flower.  He ran his other hand over her
breasts.  These her softly caressed.  A fitting punishment.  Yes, a most
fitting punishment indeed.
       There are some things that a Father should not watch his son do.
I shattered the orb.


                         The Afterlife


       Almost immediately after I shattered the crystal orb I detected the
fact that My son had deceived Me, or at least he thought he had.  He
went to Earth, but no one leaves Hell without My permission.
Occasionally something slips in undetected, but never does anything or
anyone leave unnoticed.  This way no soul can escape My wrath.  There
can be no hope in My domain.
       I let My son depart.  It would be interesting to see what he had
planned.  I could always stop him later if I so chose.  Seconds after
Rancor found himself on the planet of his conception and birth a certain
soul unwillingly entered Hell.  So, this was his plan?  Revenge.
       I enacted a pulling, so that this soul would come to me.  She was
as I had made her.  Painfully beautiful.  I was unmoved.
       "Witch, you failed Me, but I am most merciful," I lied.  It is an
occasional failing of Mine.  "Name your own punishment.  I would advise
you to be creative.  Eternity is a long time to spend experiencing one
sensation."
       "My Lord," she wailed.
       Usually when a soul comes to Hell that is all that happens to it.
Hell is an evil enough torture, what with all the sadistic devils, demons,
and powerful damned souls, and the infinite reflections of My mind, but
every now and then there is a certain soul that I want dearly, and when
it arrives I cause it to appear before Me to be personally administered to.
This one would be exquisite.  I could still remember being denied Stryke's
soul.  I would make up for that with this one.
       I had granted her immortality, and if she had kept faith with Me
then I would have no choice but to return her to life.  She had not done
so though.  Once she had given the knife, meant for My destruction, to
Bettacrasnakka, she had forfeited any claim to life eternal.  I had her
now, and I would enjoy Myself.
       "What is it to be, Witch?"
       "My Lord," sobbing mumble this time.
       This would indeed be satisfying.
       "Allow Me to help you.  I will give you three choices, and allow you
to chose between them.  I will even go so far as to make one so light as
to hardly be considered painful.  What do you think of that?  No, do not
answer.  I do not want to hear another 'My Lord.'  I am so tiring of that.
       "One, I will age you a million years, so that you are little more
than dried bone and ash, and everywhere you go there will be an ever-
present mirror to reflect your aged countenance back at you.  You would
be forced to see yourself as your soul really is.
       "Two, I will cut your pretty head from your shoulders, skin your
body, and wear you as a living aware  cloak.
       "Three, you will be able to keep your beauty, but you will be made
to pleasure any  devil that finds My favor.
       "Now chose, before I lose My infinite patience."
       A hopeless breath of air escaped Witch's throat.  Tears were
pouring from her eyes.  She tore open the front of her dress.  Yes, I had
done well.
       "The third--give me three.  I'll fuck any devil that You command.
I'll do anything, but let me stay as I am.  Please.  I've given up too much
to have my looks taken from me.  They're all I have left.  Please."
       I stood then, and took on a different shape.  Skin was torn by
sprouting horn.  My size increased.  Muscle pushed tightly against flesh.
Thick gray hair appeared on My body.  Talons grew from My hands and
feet.  My jaw became elongated, and My teeth changed.  Now it was more
like I had the maw of a huge canine.  I thought of giving Myself a pair of
wings, but decided that after a certain point anything that I did would
cease to have an effect on Witch.  Best to keep it simple.
       "You have chosen well." I growled from deep within My throat.
"Seldom is it that any devil finds My favor, but know that you will  be ill
used.  I had hoped that you would select to be afflicted with this
particular agony.  I did not want to see a masterpiece of flesh such as
you go to waste."
       When I was finished speaking I set forth a immense blast of flame.
This surrounded Witch in a conflagration that incinerated her clothes
from her.  She screamed in anguish.  Witch remained physically whole.
It was not My will that she be harmed by this fire.  She tried to escape
Me.  She ran from Me, but to no avail.  I continued to torment her with
an unbearable blaze that seared her soul.
       Witch tripped on some of the fallen ruble of Defile, and fell to the
stone ground in a tortured pitiful heap.  I ceased breathing flame, but I
was far from being done with her.  She lay as though she had no
strength to rise from where she had fallen.  Her bare skin shone with
wetness.  There was no blemish about her.  She was perfect in every way.
She was how I would have created all of her kind had I been the One to
do so.
       I stepped toward her, and picked her up in one clawed hand.  My
fingers wrapped around her slender waist.  It was not hard for Me to
cause her pain.  I squeezed until I felt her ribs crack and puncture her
lungs.  Blood flowed from her mouth.  I brought her to My face and with
My long rasping tongue I licked at the warm liquid of her soul.  It had a
delightful taste, not unlike that of the wine I so enjoyed.
       I dropped her.  She fell to the stones for the second time.  One of
her legs twisted under her and became positioned in an unnatural angle.
It was obviously broken.  Witch tried to yell out, but found that she
could not draw the breath to do so.
       "Is it painful?   Would you beg for Me to stop?  You betrayed Me!
Me Who treated you so well.  I gave you everything that you asked of Me.
Yet you chose to give Mine enemy a device intended to destroy Me.  This
is intolerable.  I was actually threatened in My  own domain.  You have
not yet began to suffer.  There is so much more waiting for you.
       "Perhaps I will eat your eyes, so that you will be blind to that
which causes you pain.  You would then feel the hurt, but not know
what caused it.  Come to Me!  Do as I command."
       Witch crawled to Me, dragging her broken leg behind her like a
lame animal.  I cupped her fragile chin--it was wet with her sorrow and
regret-- in My hand, and lifted her to her feet.  I glared at her.  She
wanted to cower from Me, but this was not possible.
       I gripped her head in My jaws, and bit through the hard bones of
her skull with a crunch.  Soft brain tissue gushed into My mouth.  I took
another bite, then spit out all that had found its way into My mouth.
Bone chips, blood, and gray matter hit the floor with a juicy sound.
Witch became limp, but I did not let go of her.  Witch was now as all the
souls that had thought to storm Defile.  She was helpless, unable to
move or even whimper.  I started to laugh.
       "So, My precious one, would you say something?  Would you beg
My forgiveness?  How does it feel to be aware, but to be unable to express
your existence?  Do you feel remorse?  So many questions, and you are
unable to answer.  It is such a tragedy that you cannot speak.  I so much
want to know why you chose to aid Bettacrasnakka."
       While still holding her chin I placed one of My talons to the base
of her throat.  I pushed.  It parted her skin.  I slid My talon down to her
navel, opening her.  Blood and intestines splashed forward about her
feet.
       "You are trying My creative powers.  I am running out of things to
do to you.  What do you suggest?  What?  I cannot hear you.  Too bad
you cannot talk."
       I looked Witch in the eyes.  There was still the horrid light of
intelligence there.  She knew what was happening to her.  She could feel
every delight that I chose to visit upon her.
       "You were such a painful beauty.  Men would have fought wars for
you.  Did you ever grace them with your gifts?  No, I can see that you
were much too much arrogant for such trysts.  Do not worry, I have
made My promise.  You will slowly heal and shine as you did when you
came here.  I will then amuse Myself once again. "
       I motioned to the floor, and a thin pillar of stone rose up out of it.
I placed Witch's wrists against the cold surface of the stone.  Her hands
became encased in the rock.  Let her hang until I invented some other
amusements.  For now I was bored with her.


                         The Rebuilding


       I left Witch hanging from her stone bindings, and left Defile.  I
wanted to walk through My Domain to see if Hell was worth rebuilding.
I had not yet decided if I wanted to restore all the damned souls to the
semblance of life that they had come to know here.  Things had changed,
and they were not yet done doing so.
       I set forth upon the plane of desolation and destruction.  There
was nothing but small craters for miles around Defile.  I think I traveled
for days before I found even one  soul.  I picked him up by his neck.  The
soul had a hole where his heart would have been, and I could see right
through his chest.  Had something eaten his heart, or had one of My or
Rancor's creations done this?  He could have just as easily been killed by
a flaming stone.  This soul knew that it was being held.  It knew that all
hope was gone, and this was how it would remain until Armageddon.
       I caused a spring of clear water to come into existence.  The waters
of it bubbled forth and flowed out onto the plain, and I let it do so until
it became a circle large enough to throw the soul into.  This I did, but
not to destroy it.  This was not what I intended.  The waters continued to
bubble as if they had never been disturbed.
       I reached within the spring, and withdrew the soul.  It was whole,
and no longer unmoving.  It looked at Me with fear.  I still held the shape
that I had when I played with Witch.  The soul did not struggle.  It was
as if it knew that it was powerless before My might.  There was absolutely
nothing it could have done to cause Me harm.  I was immune from
anything as pitiful as this.
       I concentrated for a moment and drew what I wanted into My
mind.
       "You are Caine, are you not, son of Adam, most cursed of all God's
creations?  Is this not you?"
       "Yes, My Lord."
       "Do you have anything you wish to say to Me?"
       "Yes, My Lord.
       "Then do so."
       "This is Hell.  I know that.  I'd long given up on heaven.  It was
denied to me long ago.  I grew to no longer even want it.  I had even
started to give up hope of finding myself here.  I did not think that it was
possible for me to die, and I wanted so badly to do so.  God had
proclaimed that no one would be able to kill me without being damned
worse than I, and no punishment could be worse than mine.  I could not
be accepted by anyone.  I could not know a woman, in any way, other
than the mad couplings that drove me further into insanity.  I could not
prosper.  I was forced to wander without knowing where I was going or
where I had come from."  His voice began to take on a monotonous tone,
as if he had prepared this speech thousands of years before and had
practiced it over and over again.  I was not interested in anything he had
to say, but I listened anyway on the chance that a soul that had been
damned by God would have something original on his mind.  He fell to
the ground and groveled before Me.
       I was unimpressed with his shame.  It was nothing.  What was his
suffering compared to Mine?  He had never known anything but torture,
while I had lived within the Kingdom of God.  What of Me?  I felt no pity
for Caine.  I even considered amusing Myself with him as I had Witch,
but decided against it, for it would serve no purpose.
       Caine was sobbing into the cold stone ground, searching for what
comfort he could find.
       "I offer you a deal.  It is far better than you deserve.  I do this
only because I am weary, and there is much to be done if I am to restore My
domain."
       Caine was in such an agitated state that I could read his thoughts
without trying to.  It was as if he was projecting them to Me.  I started to
laugh.  Caine was more original than I had expected.  Here he was in
Hell for eternity, and he was wondering if he had any choice in any deal
that I proposed.  He was also wondering what he could get out of Me.
Caine cringed from My mirth.  This, too, I found humor in.
       "Caine, poor pitiful Caine, with every deal there is a choice, I
would have it no other way.  I offer you a promise that you will go
unmolested as long as you perform a job for Me.  You must do it well, or
you will face My displeasure.  It is My desire that Hell once again regain
its glory.  I wish for it to be a place of refuge for those that find the
light just a little too bright.  To this end you will gather up slain souls
and bring them here, to the fountain, where you will bring water into their
mouths, so that they too will know some semblance of life again.  You
will then charge them with the same mission, but as where you are to
insure that all  souls are brought here, any you bring that are brought
are required to do the same to only one other.  Is this understood?"
       "How shall I cause the souls to listen to me?  Why will they obey?"
       "Tell any who question that if they do not bring another to this
well, then its effects will wear off, and they will again find themselves
painfully aware of their state as they slowly decay into nothing.  They
will listen."
       "You said I had a choice?"
       I cruelly reached into his mind, and drew forth that which Caine
feared most.  I was not careful as I did so.  I violated his thoughts, and
showed him a vision of himself searching, and never knowing what he
was searching for.  He would be lost, and never encounter another soul.
The vision even tortured him with the possibility that he would be
overlooked after the final conflict.  He would then be doomed to never
have any hope of release.  The loss of hope would be too much for him to
bear.  He would go insane, and there would be no release in insanity.
This I showed him.
       He screamed.
       "Do you understand?" I asked.
       "I'll do anything.  Please, I'll do anything.  I don't want to be
alone.  I only want someone to love me.  Is this too much to ask for?
Everything I've ever done I've done for love.  I raised my hand up, and struck
my brother for the love of God.  I--"
       "Never speak of God again.  You have given up any claim to his
grace.  You are Mine now.  Do not forget it.  You are forevermore My
slave and servant.  Do not seek to displease Me.  Now go, do as I
command.  It is My will."

       I sat on My throne and looked out at the ruin that had once been
Defile.  I felt nothing, and I was bothered by this.  Everything
demolished, except the tower of magic, and My stone throne.  The tower
had protected this from devastation.  It was all that had survived.  I was
unmoved.  The rubble meant nothing to Me.  Had I ever been proud of
Defile?  Did it once inspire Me with awe?  I could not remember.  I was
contemplating if Defile was worth rebuilding.  Did I want to exert the
effort, or was it time for a change?
       I felt a shimmer in the fabric of reality that defined Hell.  This was
strange and had never happened before.  I reached out with my will and
softly pushed against this anomaly.  I explored it, probing and testing,
trying to decide how it had come into existence.  I did not like this.
       I decided to destroy it.  I sent a crushing wave at it.  It held.  It
should not have.  What was it?  My will was absolute in this domain.  It
should have collapsed to nothingness.  I became the Dragon, and took
flight to the unnatural sphere surrounding Hell.
       It appeared as a pink cast swirling wall.  I exhaled a blazing
conflagration with the intent of burning through it.  A hole started to
appear, so I intensified My efforts.  I sent another wave of pure will at
this shield wall.  The hole enlarged a little.
       /I cannot allow that Father/
       ?Rancor  what is it that you are doing?
       /What must be done   Fate Father/
       The hole I had created crashed.
       My son sought to confine Me.  The idea of anyone defying Me,
without suffering instant retribution, was so alien to Me that I was
uncertain how to react.  Defiance to Satan always met the same fate.
Death.  This was one of the primal laws that governed My domain.  At
first I stormed against his shield, but it was useless.  I was effectively
imprisoned in My own domain.
       I was far from powerless though.  I could not allow this.  I did not
mind when Rancor fled Hell, but when he erected his shield, keeping Me
held here, it became intolerable.  I still had minions to do my bidding.  I
clenched My mind like a fist, thrust out, and searched for what I needed.
I pushed against the shield as hard as I could.  I needed little..  A
minuscule puncture, as if though a needle were tearing the membrane of
an egg, was all.  This appeared.  I was able to slip some nominal part of
my power through this hole.
       I opened my mind, and presently I had contact.
       When one thinks of a succubus--if one does--an exquisitely built
female is imagined.  In all aspects she is perfection, but usually when
depicted in stories or pictures something gives away the creatures
demonic nature.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  The depraved
individual that would sexually interact with a succubus that had horns,
wings, fangs, and such, would already be Mine for the taking.  I would
need no succubi.
       The purpose for the succubi is to lure men into damning
themselves by giving up everything for tender ministrations that only
demons are capable of.  A wretched thing of ugliness cannot serve this
purpose.
       My most successful succubi look like young poor innocent lost
street rabble.  They are inevitably "picked up" by some would be savior of
humanity.  At first the succubus expresses a need for comfort, and when
such is given the candy-mouthed delight shows gratitude the good
Samaritan could only refuse with regret.  Refusals seldom happen, but
even they serve My need.  Guilt is great for sin.
       A man who finds himself in the embrace of a succubus is doomed.
At first he feels that he has finally found all that he was looking for in
his life.  He becomes truly happy.  After a certain point there is nothing
he will not do for his loving succubus.  At this time it only takes a slight
suggestion or two to cause him to become Mine.  A "You would get the
same pleasure from your daughter.  Try it," or "Your wife is trying to
come between us.  Kill her," is all it usually takes, and works rather well.
Once a man has completely given himself over to Me the succubus kills
him, then goes hunting for new prey.
       A sin in thought works as well as the deed.  One only has to decide
to commit evil in order to be Mine. The act of damnation is usually
allowed to be completed though.  I enjoy it more when the fall is
complete.  It is detestable when a soul in My domain feels that it is there
by some God-awful mistake--some damn trick.  I want every soul in Hell
to know that it gave itself over to Me willingly.  The despair is absolute
this way, with no hope of hope.
       It was such a creature that I now called upon.  Thoughts of refusal
did not enter her mind.  She was incapable of anything but complete
obedience to Me.
       ?Absinthe?
       /Yes, My Lord/
       /Allow Me to see through your eyes/
       Instantly a dark room came into view.  Absinthe was in the process
of seduction, as was her lot.  The mortal was not the typical mortal that
fell for the promises of bliss that Absinthe offered.  He was young, and
looked too pure for Absinthe to get a corrupting hold.
       ?My Lord?
       /Finish  I will wait/
       She responded with silence, then stepped forward and kissed the
male mortal.  He returned the kiss, and his body responded predictably.
He stiffened against the succubus.  She noticed this with a professional
detached expectancy.  She had done this a million times, and she would
do it a million more.  It was always the same.  Both she and the mortal
were fully clothed.  Absinthe rubbed her crotch against him.  Her touch,
and the heat of friction caused him to draw in a sudden gasp of air.
       "Here, put this on," Absinthe said, as she gave the mortal a
condom.
       "Do I have to?"
       She stepped away from him, and undid the front of her tight pants.
"Only if you want this," she said, as she fingered herself.  Her fingers
came away wet.  She reached out, and touched the mortal's lips,
dampening them.  It was a hint of what would come.
       "I'll--I'll do it--wear it I mean."
       He ripped open the plastic package, undid his pants, then put the
condom to the end of his penis.  His breathing increased as he rolled the
rubber condom down over his erection.  I wondered what Absinthe was
doing.  It was not possible for her to become pregnant by a mortal, nor
could she become infected by any venereal disease.  The condom was
unnecessary.
       I saw a strange look on the man's face then, and I realized that it
was embarrassment.  He thought that this act of contraception was
foolish.  To add the final touch of utter humiliation Absinthe lightly
touched his mind, and with a whisper caused him to prematurely
ejaculate.  He looked on in horror while in spasms semen filled the
condom, and blood began to drain from his engorged penis.  No pleasure.
No paradise.
       Absinthe pushed him back until he lay on the floor of the
blackened room of his damnation.  She straddled him
       "Don't worry.  I'm sure we can make it hard again."
       She caressed the muscles under his thin hairless chest.  Her
fingers kneaded his flesh.  She pinched one of his nipples mercilessly
with her long razor fingernails..  The man winced as Absinthe's nails
drew blood.  I grew impatient.  I could wait no longer.  She would have to
let this one go free.  I had need of her.
       /Absinthe, you are done here   This one will have to be saved for
another day   I require your services/
       /Yes  My Lord/
       I could detect a reluctance in her, even though I knew she would
not hesitate to serve Me in any capacity that I commanded.  Of this
reluctance I was curious.
       ?Absinthe  what is it that you would do?
       /Master  my work here is done   Only one thing remains/
       /Do it/
       The mortal's eyes were closed, so he did not see as Absinthe caused
her hand to become insubstantial and enter his chest.  She surrounded
his heart, and once again made her hand real as she delivered him to
death with an irresistible grip.  He did not scream, or even look
surprised.  He only closed his eyes and died.
       ?You have slain him before he was fully ready  have you not?
       /He was completely Yours Master/
       ?I know  but what memory will haunt him for eternity?
       /That he couldn't hold himself back long enough to claim me   He
was Yours before I ever came into his pathetic life   I only made his
misery complete/
       /You have done well, but now I have another use for you/
       I explained what I had planned for her.  She nodded once in
acknowledgment of my commands.  I hoped that she would be able to
succeed, even though I doubted that she would.  Rancor was too strong.
She could not hope to distract him long enough for Me to come through
his shield physically, but she could try.  Nor was she My only hope.  I
had other minions
       I let My concentration fuzz into a haze of white noise.  I was not
yet through.  After a brief moment of searching I found the other that I
wanted.
       /Discord, I have use of you/
       I explained My needs.
       /I will try/
       I broke contact, and started to reach out for yet another minion.
The more I could send after my son the greater the chance of his
concentration slipping, and Me getting through.  I expanded My
awareness, searching, but something grabbed My thoughts then, and was
forcing them back at Me.
       /Rancor/
       /The game is set Father   I only play as planned   I must do my
part   You must do Yours  but it would be better if You did not try to
stop me/
       A twist, and I collapsed exhausted.  I knew that I would be unable
to again reach any of My servants.


                         Doubts


       I had set things in motion.  Hell would begin to restore itself.  I
thought of rebuilding Defile, but decided I had more enjoyable pursuits
with which to occupy Myself.
       Witch was still held firmly in place.  I stood in front of her, and
tried to see if I could detect any healing.  There was none.  This would
not do.  I made an arcane gesture with My hands, and instantly all her
wounds were closed.  She raised her head, and looked Me in the eyes.
Her face held no fear.
       "I have come to take away your memory I believe.  Do not worry, it
will not hurt.  You will still have your beauty.  You will have no past,
nor future.  You will only live in the few seconds that are the present.
Each pain I present to you will be a new torture, even if I visit upon you
a thousand times."
       "Please!"
       "Please what?  Would you have Me  show mercy?  I am in the mood
for a change.  Tell Me, what delight shall I visit on you instead?"
       "Please!"
       "I grow weary of your whining.  I feel like screams.  Scream for Me.
Scream!"
       She filled her lungs, and let out a yell that seemed to be genuine
anguish, but her heart was not in it.  I decided to help her overcome her
inhibitions.  I caused a clay vase to come into existence above her fair
head.  The container was filled with a bubbling liquid.  This ate through
the vase until a dripping hole appeared in it.  An acid like liquid dribbled
forth onto Witch's face and chest.  It seemed as if her flesh was turned
into melting wax.  I had promised Witch her beauty, so I would have to
return her to the inspiration of poets.
       I had thought that the liquid would bring Witch's discomfort to an
increased level of pain.  She did continue to scream, but it was the same.
Torture only works to a certain extent.  A victim becomes conditioned to
it.  I could do as I said and remove her memory, making each torture as
the first, but this was an empty threat.  It was something that I would
not do.  I would become too quickly bored.  I enjoy creativity.
       Just then the air besides Witch shimmered for a short moment,
and a young man stepped forward.  He looked at Me.  I was wearing My
most favored form.  I did not look threatening, though I extruded power.
       "Where am I?"
       "Hell," I said simply with a yawn.
       "Oh."
       "Oh?  This does not impress you?
       "Not really."
       I realized then that I still had a pulling for every new soul.  I
decided that I would quickly become weary of this if I left it functioning.
I am not a welcoming greeter.  It is so much more effective for a soul to
wander in Hell for a few centuries before meeting Me.  With a negligent
thought I made it so that all other new arrivals would appear randomly
throughout My infinite domain.  I did not want any more unannounced
visitors.
       "And why, pray tell, are you not impressed?"  I said with the
inflection of an English gentleman.  It was a habit I sometimes fell into.
       "I've lived in Hell my whole life.  I've never had anything.  I'm
ready for this.  What can Satan do to me?  He can't take anything from me.  I
have nothing."
       He did not understand the nature of this place, nor did he
recognize who I truly was.  I knew him though.  He was the mortal that
Absinthe had slain.
       "Mortal, turn around and look upon one small punishment for sin."
       He did as I commanded.  He looked to Witch who was still trying
to scream, but her throat was ripped open and exposed.  No sound came
forth.
       The mortal that Absinthe had sent Me started to laugh.  Tears ran
down his face, his chin quivered, and the tears dripped to the floor.  He
looked as if he were trying to compose himself to speak, but was failing
miserably.
       "What is it that amuses you so?"
       "I can take that," he said in all seriousness, not as a man trying to
convince himself that it was true.
       Witch looked pretty horrid by now.  Her face was gone, her breasts
were dissolved to barely discernible lumps, and one of her arms had
become completely disconnected and hung from the stone in which it
was encased.
       The vat still dripped.  That was its nature.  It would be forever
overflowing until I willed it to cease.  It had by now stopped its
deterioration.  The liquid corrosive now flowed onto Witch's back.  Soon
she would be nothing other than two hanging arms and a living liquid
puddle.
       The mortal turned back to Me.  "How are you punished?" he asked,
his voice lacking any of the proper respect.
       "I do not think you understand.  I am He Who Punishes.  I am not
punished, unless My very existence qualifies."
       "Oh, You're Him."
       "Forever unimpressed?"
       "Pretty much."
       I changed aspects.  My nostrils flared, My fingers elongated, grew
venom tipped claws, and I became of a colossal size.  Needle sharp horns
sprouted from My skull.  My eyes became of flame.  I growled.
       The mortal took a step back in dread, but then an image of a
woman came into his mind.  I recognized her instantly.  It was not
Absinthe as I had expected.  This was not the memory to haunt him.
Crime.  I saw everything he knew about her, and the whole story of his
involvement with her.  I felt his failure as his mistress burned to ash in
the fuel fed fire of a flaming car.
       Then realization hit Me.  Crime being engulfed in a blazing inferno
of burning gas.  I immediately tried to shift, but of course this did not
succeed.  I was trapped.  I cursed My son then.  I cast out My mind
thinking of her.  Driven.  Dark.  Deadly.  Dead?  I banished this last
thought, and tried again.  I had to make contact!  Compact.  Confident.
Soft.  Sharp.  Smart.  Open your mind to Me Crime.  Open!
       I focused on Hell.  No, she was not here.  Either she was in
heaven, and if she was I would again storm it to get her back (I had
already lost too much) or she yet lived.  I had to know.  Passionate.
Quick.  Silent.
       ?Yes?
       ?Crime  how are you?
       /I'm fine/
       I let the images of her burning pass through the link.  I could feel
her confusion and her anger.  This was pain that she wanted to forget.
       ?Did You have anything to do with that?
       /Of course not/
       For a moment I thought her anger was aimed at Me, but then I
realized that she was the object.  She was mad at herself for allowing
such an attack to succeed.
       ?I meant  was it You who saved me?
       /No/
       /Then it was the coin/
       This was something I had not known.  Crime now possessed the
coin.  With it she had a chance to defeat Rancor.  She could not die.
Rancor would be loathe to cause his mother harm, but I was not sure
how far he would go to meet fate.
       /Satan--/
       /No Crime  I need what time there is left with this link   I cannot
explain  but Rancor intends to destroy all of creation   This must not
happen   You have to find him  and stop him   Do this Crime   Do this
for Me/
       I severed the link.  It had exhausted Me to hold it open.  I reverted
to my usual form, and I staggered forward.  I might have actually fallen,
but then I saw the mortal that I now knew to be named Tony Bennet.  I
would not show weakness in front of this mortal.
       "Tony Bennet, you say you can endure anything I give you.  This
may be true, but know this, that by failing Crime, you have failed Me!  I
renounce you and any claim I have on you.  You are not welcome in the
lands of Hell.  Now go from Me, and abide where you will."
       His eyes widened as he realized that I knew who he was, but then a
smug look came about him when he thought it could not matter.  Tony
flashed and was no more.  I knew that he was too tainted for God to
accept.  He would forever be alone.  He had thought that I had lessened
his punishment, but without Hell he could never purge himself.  He
would become as a ghost, but one that could be observed by none.
       I thought then again of Crime.  I did not know if she would be able
to do as I wished, or even if she would want to.  From the beginning I felt
in Crime a need to strike back--to kill--to destroy.  Would she be loyal to
Me, or would she be as all others, and betray Me?
       Betrayal.  Stryke.  Bettacrasnakka leading the devils in rebellion.
My son.  Enough!  How many more can fail Me?  Silenthia had remained
with Me during the rebellion, but with a word from Rancor she would
have tried to slay Me.  Crime I no longer had a claim on.  I had given her
up to Spirit.  Who was left?  Discord and Nemesis?
       Discord had served Me in the past, but I knew his future.  It was
painfully obvious for any that cared to look.  Nemesis, he was meant for
a certain task from the beginning of time.  He would serve Me, but only
when it was in his favor.
       Was there no one that would be Mine?
       I expanded My awareness until I was pushing against the shield
with My mind, testing the shield's power.  I could not break it.  I knew
this.  I had already tried and failed.  I had manufactured the very
Talisman that now held Me prisoner.  I knew the Talisman well, and
what it was capable of.  I could only hope that one on My minions would
succeed.
       I pushed with all My will, feeling for any weakness, even though I
knew there would be none.  I was not ready to give up.  I monitored the
shield instead, waiting for Rancor to drop his guard.  Other than an
occasional fluctuation there had been nothing since I had first attacked
it.  I maintained My watch as long as I could, but My strength became
overdrawn, and I wavered in weakness.
       Establishing contact with Crime had cost Me much more than I
had thought it would.  Not caring who saw, I staggered to My knees.  I
could not stand.  I closed My eyes and lay flat on the ruined stone floor
of Defile.  The stone was cold and uncaring.  Everything was so very cold.
I slept.

       I woke sometime later and tried to remember why there were two
arms hanging from stone in front of Me.  I remembered.  Witch!  The acid
cask still dripped its corrosive contents onto what was left of Witch,
nothing more than her arms, a few ribs, and a mostly deteriorated skull.
       "Come Witch, say something to amuse your Lord," I said, even
though an answer was not possible.
       I pointed My finger at the vat of bubbling liquid, and spoke a word
to focus My will.  The vat violently exploded, showering a fine deadly mist
into the air.  My skin became wet with the liquid, and even My  flesh
began to flow.  I neutralized the liquid with a quick thought, then
returned Myself to my most favored shape.
       I considered returning Witch to her past glory, but decided instead
to let her recover on her own.  I was not sure if My energy was yet fully
recovered.  She would  heal.  It would probably take a few million years,
but she would again be the beauty that men would kill to posses for even
an hour.  I had promised Witch I would not take her exquisite beauty.  I
always kept My promises, even though not all do Me the same service.

       I entered the base of the tower that was all that remained of Defile,
My once proud castle.  I looked up the endless winding steps, and let out
a weary sigh.  I did not relish the idea of making an assent upon these
stairs.  I had little other choice.
       There is only one way to start anything, and that is to begin.  I
took my first step, then another.  I dropped My head to look upon the
stones on which My feet moved.  I climbed yet one more stair.  I had to
force Myself to remain calm.  I hated this.  I wanted to break into a run,
and conquer the tower in a few short moments.  If I gave into this urge I
feared that the tower might seek to thwart and humble Me by insuring
that My climb took longer than I could afford.
       I kept a slow continuous pace, My head lowered almost as if I were
a petitioner come to ask forgiveness for some heinous sin.   I composed
My mind and prepared Myself to spend years climbing this tower if need
be.  I suppressed all anxieties.  I became the calm that I had sought.
There could be no way for the tower to break My will.  I would climb, and
continue to do so until I reached My goal
       The door.  Plain, wooden, nothing to make it stand out.  Bound by
iron, and held by nails.  When I came upon it I knew it was real.  I could
see rough grain , and with a slight shift of perception I could even make
out all that made up the door.  Every plank, splinter, fiber, and atom.
       I pushed open the portal and stepped through.  There was, as I
knew there would be, only one window.  This I went to.  I saw My domain
broken and dead.  I had expected this.  My land had suffered through a
war of terrible magnitude.  What I did not expect was to see movement.
       I enlarged the view the window presented.  This was yet another
effect of the tower's power.  I brought the movement into focus until I
could see exactly what it was.
       Each soul held a burning candle in one hand and the other was
cupped holding a shining liquid that appeared to be oil or water.  I
sensed no malevolence from these souls, only a gratitude for the
restoration I had granted.  I turned away from the window, and what it
showed.  I did not need if for what I intended.  I cast out My awareness.
       I did not plan for Rancor to leave Hell.  I had thought that he
would be bound to Me through loyalty to his Sire or through Silenthia.  I
did not want to keep him from acting as was foreordained.  I only wanted
to play a part in his destiny and I wanted to determine when the time
was right to do so.
       I submerged My consciousness with the shield.  It was no simple
thing to attune One's mind so that it encompassed all of infinity, but
with the tower's help I was able to do so.  The tower would aid Me by
allowing me to do this for as long as it took for any of My minions to
distract Rancor.  I had been thwarted too often.  I would have My part in
this!  I would be through instantly if Crime, Absinthe, or Discord, were
able to succeed.



                         Behold the Antichrist



THE WAY TO SALVATION

"Spare the goats and spoil the lambs!"
Screamed the Farm Man,
"It's raining fireballs and boulders and radioactive debris"

"Run for your lives and kill your wives,"
Cried the Preacher,
"It's the end of the Christian Era"

"You'll never make it; no need to fake it,"
Giggled the Anti-Christ,
"Just put on an Otis Redding record and start the Dance"

"Open up the windows and let the fresh air out!"
Said the television to the shackled children,
"This is the Way to Salvation"


c 1991 Misc. Missal Music, BMI.
All Rights Reserved. Used without  permission.



                         The Dying Ritual
                              Part 4
                     Behold the Antichrist



Sublime Punishment
Sweet Revenge
Toad
Legion
False Prophets
The Succubus
Dear Mother
Damnation
Night
To be Forgotten
The Bride
Loki
Mercy
The End of It All



                         Sublime Punishment


       We finished satiating our lusts.  Silenthia had remained
blindfolded and bound throughout.
       I asked her to stand, and it was so.  I asked her to raise her hands
above her head.  This too became as I wanted.  The room that we
inhabited was in a cavern deep below Defile.  I had prepared this room
for this occasion.  I had placed a chain through a fastening in the roof.
On one end of the chain was an iron hook, on the other was a winch
system whereby the chain could be raised or lowered.  I'd known what I
wanted to do here from the time that I rescued Silenthia from
Bettacrasnakka.
       I placed the hook so that it held her wrist fastenings, and I caused
the winch to tightly pull her arms above her pretty head.  This made her
breasts stick forth in a manner that was pleasing to me.  She was
actually held a little off the floor.  I searched her mind, but I detected no
pain. I did not want to hurt her.
       Silenthia's skin still glistened with sweat from our lovemaking.
She moved her head from side to side slowly, like she was trying to
memorize her surroundings, but she could not see.  The black cloth
about her eyes prevented this.
       I admired her as I put on my armor piece by piece.  She had chosen
her shape well.  I pulled on my right gauntlet.  I wanted to take her
again, but I had destiny to confront, and I felt I had better be about it
soon.  I drew tight a shoulder clasp.  The world would shudder.  I slid the
last buckle into place, and was dressed in my full plate armor.
       I could have just shifted it onto my body, but I received
satisfaction from doing it the way I had.  I looked at the visor of my
helmet.  It was crafted to look exactly like me.  My image reflected onto
the visor, and I had the feeling that I held my own severed head.  This
filled me with foreboding as I thought it might be some kind of sign.  I
brushed this feeling aside.  I already had enough black prophesies to
fulfill.  I put my helmet upon my shoulders.
       "You will remain suspended there for a day.  You may then free
yourself.  Do not make contact, or accept contact, with anyone, most of
all my Father.  Do you understand?"
       "Yes, master."
       "Then consider yourself punished."
       This would hopefully give me an hour or so on the Earth, before
my Father found out that I was gone, if He didn't already know that I
was leaving.  I had much I wanted to accomplish before I had to confront
Him.  I had to keep my Father from being able to leave Hell without my
bidding.  I had a plan.  I only wondered if I would be able to implement it
before He sought to stop me.
       I had something that I had to do before I could deal with destiny.
There was a crime that could not go unpunished.  Witch would pay, and
pay dearly.  The sensations that were never the same surrounded me,
tried to crush me, and found that this was impossible.  They pulled me
apart instead, and put me back together in the place of my destination.
       I had shifted to Earth.


                         Sweet Revenge


       I came into existence as part of the night from nowhere, stepped
forward, and said, "I've come for you."
       She stepped back in dread panic.  I could see her thoughts.  She
believed me to be my Father, so I took His appearance, but in illusion
only.
       "My Lord, I beg of You, be merciful.  Forgive me," she said,
confirming her guilt.
       I decided to remain silent.  I hadn't come here to say anything to
her.  She had almost cost me one I cared for.  I drew the knife that had
been meant for my Father, threatened Silenthia, and killed
Bettacrasnakka.  Witch cowered from me. I decided to slay her quickly.
She had no heart, so let her have no heart I decided.  By a slight exercise
of will I caused the muscle that pumped her unnaturally prolonged life to
be no more.  She collapsed.  Let my Father take her damned soul.  She
tried to draw breath, but was unable.  Her eyes seemed to beg me, "Allow
me life," they cried as tears slid from them.  She was a sight to implore
pity, but I felt none.  Witch held out her hand.  I only watched as her life
ended.  No look of peace came about her face.
       Her corpse held, tightly clenched, in her hand an Item.  I pried it
from her dead grasp.  I knew all that this was meant to be used for.  The
Item held the shape of a pentagram on a fine chain of some tarnished
metal or another.   It was made to summon, but that was not what I
intended for it.
       I concentrated on the Item, channeling power through it.  I enacted
a powerful block that Satan could not break through.  It would work to
hold him prisoner in His own Hell.  As long as I didn't become too
distracted I would be able to keep it in effect.  I didn't want my Father
interrupting my destiny.  I put the Item around my neck.
       Instantly He attacked!  The shield held, but he hit it again seconds
later.  I felt it becoming rent.  I summoned more of my will and pushed
back at my Father.  I detected a small tear in the shield.  It wasn't large
enough for Him to get through, but this too I could not allow.  I spoke to
Satan, through this hole, trying to make Him understand why I was
doing this.  I did not think He understood.  I closed the hole He had
created.  With a thrust of defiance I made it whole again.
       The corpse at my feet was still dead.  I hadn't expected it to be
otherwise.
       Witch had been afraid of aging.  She hadn't wanted her beauty
marred.  Now she was dead.  There was no reason for her to have made
any deal with Bettacrasnakka.  She had been granted eternal youth and
a perfect body.  I did not feel sorry for her.  I hoped that she was raped by
every demon of Hell.  She deserved so much.  I didn't think that I would
ever understand her motives behind providing such a dagger to my worst
enemy.
       "So, you killed her, Rancor?"
       I hadn't expected anyone to call out my name.  I had thought
Witch and I were alone.  I turned toward the voice, but there was no one
there.  I knew I hadn't imagined it.  The voice was too clear--too distinct-
-for it to not have been real.
       "I guess it could be expected.  I told her that someone would if she
did as she had planned, but she wouldn't listen."
       "Who's there?  Answer me."
       "Oh, sorry.  I forget sometimes."
       A man blinked into my perceptions then.  It appeared that he could
see me, though he  was not visible unless he allowed it.  I didn't really
know what to think about this, but I knew that I didn't like it.  I looked
at the individual that had spoken.  He was an older male, looking about
50, weak, and dead gray.  I could tell that he was no mortal though.  He
had too much vitality to be mortal.  It was in his eyes.  They were an
intense blue that seemed to not reflect the light.
       I reached into his mind, and a sharp sensation exploded in my
own.  I reeled back distraught and distracted.  My illusion fell, and I no
longer held my Father's form.  I could feel the barrier around Hell start
to crumble.  I quickly reinforced this with all the energy I could channel,
putting me at this being's mercy.
       "My name is Discord, and my thoughts are my own."
       "You're a servant of my Father's," I said trying to stall for enough
time to restore the shield.
       By saying this I revealed that I knew who he was, but I also
revealed who I was.  Discord was the servant of only one Being, that
being my Father.  Silenthia had made it a point to teach me everything
that I might need to fulfill my destiny.  I could recognize any servant of
Satan's.  I knew who Discord was, but I knew very little about him.
       "Servant?  Yes, sometimes.  Your Father--my Master--demands
that you lower your shield from around His domain."
       "I hadn't expected Him to react so quickly."  He had attacked as
soon as he realized that revenge was not my only motive.  "The shield
will come down in due time, but as to now, tell me how were you able to
pass through?  I had thought that it was not possible."
       I could not have others coming.
       "I was already here.  I am  a servant, but I do not serve in Hell.  I
do not feel that I would like it there.  Now, I must ask you again, lower
the barrier, or I will insure that you do."
       I couldn't do as he asked.  I didn't know if my Father would allow
me to confront God.  If Satan had really wanted to challenge God, then
wouldn't He have already?  He always spoke of when He would "rise up
again," and take what was rightfully His, but this seemed to have become
only a ritual to Him, a monotonous daily litany to chant.  Satan had to
feed His hate.  What purpose would His existence have if He did not?  My
Father probably no longer even desired revenge against God.
       The barrier would have to be maintained.
       "I will kill you before I allow Satan freedom."
       "Rancor, if you know me, then you know that cannot happen, but I
can see  that you only know of  me.  Then, I will tell you this.  When my
brother Cord and I were angels above, and the Devil was cast from the
presence of God, I chose to go with Satanel, as He was called at that
time.  My brother was distraught by this and begged God to allow him to
try and redeem me.  God granted his wish."
       He occasionally made dramatic little gestures with his hands.  It
was almost as if he had something to say with them also.
       "'But what if he is to die before I am able to convince him to
repent?' my brother asked God.  God spoke to my brother, saying,
'Discord will outlive Cord, so that Cord shall have all his days to reclaim
his lost brother,' but I did not yet know this.  My brother devoted his
whole existence to bringing me back into the fold.  To taunt Cord I told
him that all he had to do was defeat me in a physical contest, and I
would ask forgiveness.  So now, whenever we meet we fight.  The winner
of these matches can then give the loser one command which he has to
obey.  Cord will command me to repent if he ever wins.  I have never lost.
       "It hurts my brother to have to raise a hand against me.  He never
fights to his ability.  The first time we fought, I won, and I almost
commanded him to perish, but then I read all his hopes for me in his
mind, and I came to understand that I could not be destroyed as long as
he lived.  This is why you cannot hope to defeat me."
       I said simply, "I do not play by the rules of God.  Come, I will
try to be quick about this.  No sense making your death long."
       I opened my hand and hit him with a blast of blazing whiteness.  I
wasn't able to strike him with as much power as I wanted.  I still had the
barrier to maintain.  The beam struck Discord, and enveloped him in
burning brightness.  I was unable to see him for moments, but then my
eyes adjusted, and he again came into view.  He was unharmed, and
laughing.
       He held up his hand, made little movements with it, and
disappeared.  At first I thought that he had left, but then I felt a blow to
the back of my head.  I staggered forward, but I did not fall, nor was I
hurt in any way.  I spun, and with all my strength I delivered a vicious
blow to where I thought his head should be.  My gauntleted hand passed
through empty air, and I again felt another blow to the back of my head.
These hits were doing little but irritating me.
       I flailed about me with steel covered fists, connecting with nothing.
I was struck several times though, and I did not like it.  I let forth several
streams of swear oaths, and power that flew about the room like little
balls of fire.  One of these struck Discord, who then came back into view.
I concentrated my efforts and hit him with the largest blast that I could
manage.  Discord was propelled into, and through the wall, of Witch's
home.
       I did not wait to see if that had finished him.  I followed through
the torn wall where he had passed through.  Discord was laying on the
street.  I was in a full rage, so I did not stop to consider whether or not
he was still alive.  I did not care.  I drew my sword from my back, and
stepped forward, placing the point of my weapon at his throat, about to
slice it open, when I felt another assault on the barrier surrounding Hell.
I had used some of the power that I had been channeling to it in order to
fight Discord, so the shield was weakened.  I tried to reinforce it, was
unable to fully restore it.  The barrier would still hold, but only as long
as I did not again use any of my major powers.  Satan was no longer one
of my immediate problems.
       I again threatened the throat of Discord with my bright blade.  The
skin parted, and blood ran forth onto the ground.  He was at my mercy
here on Earth.  All could die here if damaged beyond the ability to heal,
even my Father, and it was my hope that the same would prove true for
God.  I wanted his blood to pour forth onto the ground of his precious
creation, but if need be I would pursue God to the far reaches of heaven.
I drew the blade back, to get a full swing, so that when I hacked at
Discord's head I would be able to sever it from his shoulders in one fierce
blow.
       "Stop!" someone called out, and I was amazed, more so because I
actually obeyed.
       The man who yelled was exactly like Discord in every way, down to
the clothing.  I had to look again to the ground to reassure myself that
Discord still lay there.  He did.
       "You must be Cord."
       "Yes, and I cannot allow you to kill my brother."
       I didn't say anything to him.  I turned, and with silver sword I
parted his head from  flail-looking shoulders as I had planned on doing
to Discord.  His head rolled from him, and his body dropped lifeless.  I
laughed.  Discord had thought himself safe.  He was a fool.  God was not
going to protect him.  Instead God had sent Cord to his slaughter,
satisfying his promise.
       "You style yourself the deity of all deities?  Ha! I only have utter
scorn for you.  You are nothing.  You are more petty than my Father!  At
least He wanted something at one time.  While you--you do nothing, but
sit, hidden away from all that needs you.  Well, I say hide, foolish God!
Hide while you can, for Rancor is coming to knock you from your lofty
throne.  I will cast you out, and into a Hell of your own.  You will be
alone, unable to create anything to amuse you," I said to the sky.  There
was no reply.
       A bubbling sound came from Discord then.  He was not yet dead.
The wound that he had received was not very serious.  He would recover,
given time.  I did not plan on letting this happen.  I pierced his unfeeling
beating heart with the point of my sword.  Discord became still.
       I was done here, so I left.


                                Toad


       A clear gooey syrup of sugar and saliva oozed out of the fat corner
of Toad's dirty simpleton grin.  He lay naked on a colossal bed that
strained to contain his huge sore covered bulk.  The bed was polluted by
Toad's own excrement.  He lay in thick sewage.  It would be hard to
believe that this was one of the most powerful men in existence if one
did not look at the state of the world in which he lived.
       Two bikini-clad serving girls constantly brought forth foods which
he shoveled into his gapping maw.  One girl was dressed in a dark blue
ribbon, the other wore scarlet.  Their only job seemed to be bringing the
waste of a man on the bed food.  He dined only on children's candy and
gourmet desserts with no preference between.
       "How can I help you?  It's Rancor isn't it?  Would you like
something to eat?  Do you have a last name?" he mumbled around his
mouthful of sweet food.
       I watched him as I thought of how to answer.  How did he know
my name?  It didn't matter, but it made me more interested in him.  He
patted one of his bikini wenches, leaving a mark of frosting on her
breast, and he let out a burbling belch.  If he thought I would be
disgusted or offended by this he was wrong.  I had destroyed my Father's
dancing demon sculpture, and been buried under tons of rock and blood.
I had hacked off the faces of devils.  I'd looked upon the infinite horrors
of Hell.  Toad would be unable to impress me with his baseness.
       "My name is  Rancor, and no I do not have a last name.  I'm the
Antichrist.  I tell you this only because I know you will not believe.  If I
thought you would believe then I would have lied.  I do not like to lie."
       The fat man scratched his hairy bellybutton, and a few lice ran
across the vast flesh of his tremendous gut.  He caught one between his
index finger and his thumb.  This he brought up to his waiting mouth for
ingestion.  The remaining lice again found refuge and safety in his
bellybutton where they would remain until he scratched yet again.
       "Well, so you're the Antichrist.  I couldn't give a shit, specially
since I just took one.  What you want from me?"
       "National coverage.  I want unlimited time on holovision.  I want
my face on every stat-paper and 'zine on this pathetic world.  I want my
voice to be heard by every citizen.  This is the only way my message can
get to all."
       "You don't ask much.  How 'bout a cherry cheese tart instead?" he
said as he held one out, clenched in a grubby hand.
       "No."
       "Don't mind if I do."
       He jammed it in his mouth, tried to force it down his throat, but
only about half made it past his lips.  The rest covered chin or fell onto
his expansive chest.
       "Toad--"
       "Look kid, you're asking something I wouldn't even give the
Council.  There's no way that this is going to happen.  End of
discussion."
       "Nobody'll believe me anyway, and I'll give you anything you
desire."
       "What could such as one as I want?  I have almost  enough food,
and I have beautiful girls to bring it to me.  They bring me more than I
can eat, and I can eat a whole lot.  I have guards.  I have more money
and power than I like.  No, don't offer me anything.  I have all  I could
ever want."
       I moved my hand in a short circular motion, and time forgot that
it existed.  The universe stopped with a shudder.  I reached forward and
grabbed Toad's filthy face.  I squeezed his greasy jowls.  My eyes flamed
as I looked into his soul, as Silenthia had taught me, and I was
pleasantly pleased by what I saw there.
       Toad was right.  There was nothing his minute soul could desire.
He had everything he wanted.  Toad's soul was lost in all his mammoth
flesh.  It hid in a dark corner of his mountainous body.  There was a lot
of room left over in Toad for more than just his soul, and he was not
alone.  Another was using him as a host.  Toad was possessed!  This was
what surprised and pleased me.
       I reversed my hand gesture and time resumed its course as if it had
never been halted.
       "You will help me.  You have no other choice.  I will take you from
this if you do not."
       "You can't.  I have guards!"
       "Shut up Toad.  I speak to another now."
       "There ain't--"
       "Shut up!"
       I glared at Toad, and pulled  at the demon within.  I knew I could
tear him from this body with nothing more than my will.  The body
arched its back, and he screamed as contractions overtook him.  There
was a sloshing noise as the flesh came away from the sewage in which it
rested.  A clawed hand tore though Toad's chest.  It was colored an
electric blue, and it meant that the demon didn't care at all about the
host which it rested within.  A sickly yellow liquid ran off it like warm
gelatin.  This would kill Toad.  I interlaced my fingers with the hand, and
bent it backwards.  There was a struggle, and it tried to resist.  The
clawed hand pushed against me.  I forced it back into the house of flesh
it inhabited.
       My hand was inside of Toad, and I could feel the rush of the ocean
of blood that flowed through his veins.  I could feel the beat of his
overworked heart.  I pulled back my arm, and when I no longer had
contact, his skin closed unharmed.  Illusion.
       /Master/
       "I must have your cooperation."
       /It is yours/
       "Good.  When can I go on?"
       Toad shuddered, and tried to rise from the bed.  His muscles were
too far gone with atrophy to support his bulk though, so he collapsed
back into the shit and urine in which he lay.  Toad could barely move.
       "He's never tried to get up before," the girl in the scarlet bikini
said.
       "Never," agreed the other.
       /Master  I've done my work here too well to help you/
       /Make the orders   Make it happen!
       /I can't   Toad is only a figurehead   He has no real power   He only
believes he does/
       I jammed my fist against Toad's belly.  A large wave of soiled
gelatinous fat rolled out from my fist's area of impact.  Skin tore open,
allowing me entry.  I grabbed the demon and ripped him from his home.
He came forth curled into a fetal position clutching Toad's heart.
       "Mine!" it cried.
       Both the dessert servers screamed and one feinted to the floor.
The other ran away.  I let her go.  She was of no concern to me.
       "You will possess someone with the power to insure that my vision
will come to pass."
       "Master, it takes time!"
       Time I did not have.  I could hold my Father only so long.  I still
had a lot to accomplish before the end of it all.
       I found myself staring in rapt attention at Toad's corpse as it sank
into the raw sewage and food in which it rested.  Toad was consumed by
his own filth and became as one with it.  Thoughts entered my mind as I
watched this occur, and I wasn't sure if they would work.
       "Do your powers extend to changing your form?" I asked, even
though I already knew the answer.  This was only a demon, and few
devils  ever had this ability, other than when they took their first form.
       "Then I hereby grant you devil status and all the powers that come
with this.  Chose your shape well and I may let you continue to exist.
Fail me and face this."
       I held up Witch's dagger.
       I could not tell this demon what its new shape should be.  I could
not take away the privilege of choice.  I wasn't even sure if I had the
power and ability to grant this status.
       The demon cocked its head to the side and its horns sank into
flesh.  The hue of its skin changed until it became a healthy looking
flesh tone.  The demon unfurled its legs until they reached the floor.  I
released my grasp on it, giving it freedom to do as it chose.  The demon
grew until it became my size.  I heard the facial bones of its skull crack
and snap until they settled into what the demon wanted.  Its flesh flowed
around these reformed bones until I was looking at a mirror image of
myself.
       A shiver ran through me as I thought of Bettacrasnakka, but I
knew this one had not the power to rise against me.  I had made sure of
that.  I do not make a mistake more than once.
       "I shall be called Hate.  Are you pleased?" he spoke with my voice.
       "Yes Hate, I am most pleased.  Now waste no time.  Clothe
yourself, and put forth my message to all.  Speak as though you are me.
Tell of 'your' coming.  All shall know that the Antichrist has risen.  Be
my herald to the world.  Let all know that the end is at hand."
       I placed my hands on his naked shoulders.  I still held the deadly
dagger in one hand; he the dead heart.  I locked eyes with this new devil,
and challenged it.  He offered no resistance as I fell through layers of his
mind.  I was not trying to hurt this one, but I had many more
instructions for it.  It had to know exactly what I wanted it to say and
do.  I filled Hate with visions of war and the destruction of the world.
       /Dominate the will of any that would seek to oppose you/
       /Yes  master/
       I became the world, and exploded into white light and sound.  I
collapsed in on myself and became a supernova that quickly blazed,
expending its energies to nothing.  I opened my eyes, and for a moment I
thought I had shifted to the wrong place.


                         Legion


       As I came into existence a mortal immediately attacked me.  He
had a handgun and was already firing his third shot by the time I had
even started to recover from the effects of the shift.  My armor protected
me, and I drew my sword.  The man was young, merely a boy with bright
red hair.  He wore a bold silver badge bearing the letters ICP.  He was
short work for my sword.
       The boy lay dead before me, and my intended target sat in a black
wrought-iron chair staring into nothingness.  He was hooked to tubes
which fed him what he needed to survive.  Machines did his breathing,
prolonging his existence.  He tried to open his eyes, but was unable to do
so.
       "Loki, is that you?" he wheezed, and I assumed that he was calling
for the dead boy.
       It was easy to comprehend how so much power rested in the hands
of this decaying man.  It all came down to decadence.  Power eats at the
soul until no soul is left.  All power corrupts.  One only had to look at
the remains of Toad to understand this.
       "What would happen if you were to die?" I asked the man.  His
name was Legion, and it was in his name that wars were won and lost.
It was even said that he was the god  of war.
       "There would be a struggle for power, and wars the likes of which
have never been seen before would break out.  Man would be blotted from
the Earth in this conflagration.  I want this.  I've wanted it for such a
long time, but they won't let me die!"
       Yes, this was the one.  He seemed too fragile as he sat upon his
dark throne.  The continuance of mankind rested on frail shoulders.  He
wasn't strong enough to carry such a burden.  His life was too tenuous
of a balance upon which to rest man's fate.
       "I do not believe you.  You could die at any time."
       "Loki, is that you?  Answer me please.  I'm so alone.  I have only
my little wars to entertain me, and they won't let me create a large one
to really amuse myself.  Loki?"
       "Yes, it is I."
       "Kill me!  I can't die.  I've tried so hard for such a long time."
       "Who won't let you die?  Who won't allow the wars?"
       "The Council."
       Then I understood.  I was wrong.  His life was the perfect balance.
He couldn't die.  The Council had made sure of this.  He was too weak to
kill himself, and the elixirs that ran in his blood and the machines
would keep him preserved forever.  Long after the Council had fallen to
dust.
       I grabbed him by the throat and choked him.  I crushed his
windpipe, but still I squeezed.  I wanted to feel his life pass from his frail
body.  I could see a mother screaming as her child ran burning with
napalm.  Legion only tried harder to look at me, but his eyes would
become nothing more than slits.  He moved his small head from side to
side in pain, but he wasn't any closer to death.  I pulled the needles from
his arms and legs while clawing at his throat.  Die!  Armies clashing on a
plain of death, and nuclear fire lit the sky.  I smashed a heavy gauntlet
between his breasts.  His sternum broke with a dull thunk, not at all like
the reverberating crack of bone as I had expected.  His heart stopped.
Finally his eyes were able to open, and he looked upon me as I truly was.
A man gives his life to stop the desecration of a corpse of a man he didn't
even know.  Blood burbled forth from Legion's dying lips.  Blood.  A
bright cup filled with it skitters across a wooden floor.
       A wave of blackness came across this last vision of the future and I
knew it would end with this.  End with this!  I inhaled and blew forth a
liquid fire that ate at the Legion's flesh.  I was careful to leave his face
unmarked.  I wanted any who saw him to recognize him.  I wanted no
doubts as to his identity.  I wanted it known that he was dead.  The wars
would start.
       Legion went into convulsions.  His scorched body flailed about on
the iron chair in which he sat.  He kicked his feet and swung his arms
about him.  It was a long time before he became still, and I did not know
if his life had truly fled.  I touched his throat and felt for a soul within.
It was gone.


                         False Prophets


       "I am the Antichrist," claimed the lunatic in a raving voice. "It is
written, 'Who is the liar but he who denies that Jesus is the Christ? This
is the Antichrist, he who denies the Father and the Son.'  I do these
things.  It is I.  It is I, he proclaimed to the sky!  I who hold such
knowledge, but I shan't tell you.  I know the truth.  Maybe I'll mutter it
with my last breath, but only in a whisper, so that none can hear.  I take
it to my death."
       He wore gray sackcloth, and had a snarled gray beard, that did
little more than hide his age.  He would occasionally wave a thick oak
staff about him to accentuate what he said. I didn't know whether to be
angered or amused by the audacity of his antics.  A small crowd, of a
dozen or so, was gathered about him.  Some laughed, some jeered, and a
serious looking boy took notes, preserving for posterity everything that
the man said.
       "The world will end tomorrow.  It's true I tell you.  Tomorrow the
world will end.  I tell you it's true," he yelled as though he were revealing
a profound revelation.
       A man called out from the crowd at this.  "That's what you said
yesterday!" he said, and many laughed at this.
       "To know doubt is to know death!" the lunatic screamed.
       He stepped towards the man, and struck him with the oak staff.
With a crack the man, who had dared to speak out against the self
proclaimed Antichrist, went sprawling to the ground.  He did not rise.
None sought to help him, and only the note-taking boy took any real
interest in the fallen man.
       "It came to me in a vision.  The world will end.  It is also written,
'So now many Antichrists have come; therefore we know that it is the
last hour.'  This I say to you has come to pass.  I am he that was
foretold.  I hath come!"
       I decided that I had allowed this charade to go on long enough.
The world would end, and perhaps even tomorrow, but not due to
anything that this one had to say.  I stepped to the front of the crowd,
and stared at the man until our eyes met.  He did not turn away, but
returned my glare.
       "See me for what I truly am, and know me for what I am to do," I
said to him.
       He opened his mouth to speak, but I reached into his mind, and
released many deep insanities there.  Spittle began to run off his lips,
and he went into convulsions.  His staff fell from his grasp, and clattered
to the ground.  The serious boy picked this up as the man took to his
knees in horror before me.  He did not scream or speak.  His mind was
shattered.
       Some few of the crowd remained to see if he had any more holy
mutterings to exclaim, the rest left, speaking of religion and gullibility,
and how they could never be taken in by one such as the raving man.
       I too turned to leave, but I felt a hand on my arm imploring my
attention.  It was the boy with the note pad and false prophet's staff.
There was still a severe look about him.
       "You're him," he said.
       "And who might that be?" I asked as I walked away from what
remained of the crowd.
       "You're the man from the commercials.  I have them all
memorized.  I've recorded them for the future.  That's what I do.  I'm a
future historian.  I write about things that are happening now, like news
stuff.  Anyway, you are him aren't you?  The man from the commercial, I
mean?"
       He said all this as he struggled to keep up with me.  My strides
were long, and soon left everyone but the boy behind.  We were alone on
the street.
       "He is me, but I am not him.  I am as that man claimed to be."  I
gestured to the direction of the slobbering prophet as I said this.
       The boy frowned, looked long at his notebook as if he were trying
to decide if my cryptic sayings were worth recording.  He gave in, stopped,
repositioned the mad prophet's staff, and wrote down all I had said.  He
probably feared he would have insulted me if he hadn't.  He ran to catch
up with me, for I had not stopped.
       "Show me these commercials," I said.
       "My mom wouldn't like for me to bring home anybody."
       "I will make it so that she does not even know I exist."
       The boy looked doubtful at this.  He'd seen enough crazies for one
day.  I did what I knew would appease his disbelief.  I caused myself to no
longer reside in the same reality as him.  To the limited perception of his
eyes I no longer existed.
       "Wow!  Where did you go?"
       "I am here," I said, though I did not allow myself to be seen.
       With a minute portion of my will I levitated the boy into the air.
He became convinced at this, and yelled for me to let him down.  I did as
he asked, and allowed myself to once again come into view.  The boy
stared at me in wonder.
       "How old are you?" I asked.
       "Fourteen."
       "So young to record the events of the world.  Take me to your
home.  I wish to see what you have spoken of."
       The boy nodded his head once, and started back the direction we
had come.  We came upon the gibbering prophet.  His insanities had
caused him to pull his beard from his face and I could see the bone of his
jaw.  Gobbets of pink flesh decorated the ground.  The false Antichrist's
hands were marred with blood.  These he held before his eyes, as if they
would reveal hidden secrets to him.
       The man who had been struck still lay where he had fallen.  His
soul had fled.  He had been slain by the blow of the oak staff.
       We shortly came upon a small white house.  It looked as though it
could not have been more than one or two rooms.  We entered the front
door.  The interior was no different than the outside had led me to
believe it would be.  It was tight, there seemed to be no room for anyone
to live.  Seated before a standard size holovision set was a middle-aged
woman who was starting to become fat.  She smoked a harsh filter-less
cigarette and did not look up at our entering.
       A man with a gun stalked another man who had no such
advantage.  Both were in a jungle environment, and the holovision
seemed to lend reality to their struggle.  It was as if one could touch the
players of this other place.
       "Ah--listen--is she a...."
       I reached into her mind.  There was little there.  Her whole
existence was that which played itself out on the holovision.  The boy
need not have feared her noticing me.  To her I did not exist, but I caused
a slumber to come about her for the sake of the boy.
       "Cool," he said as his mother began to snore softly.  "I got a tape.
Here, I'll play it for you.  Hey, you want to get that cigarette, before she
burns herself."
       He inserted a cylindrical object into the base of the holovision.  I
exerted my will, and the cigarette became no more.  A sky-blue light
wavered, and I beheld the image if Hate on the holovision, and found it
hard to believe that it was not I.  The demon that I had taken from Toad
and made into a devil was doing my work well.  I was sowing dissention
among mortals.  This would work to further my ends.  I wanted man to
question his existence.
       "Ignorance is bliss.  This has long been known," spoke the Hate
image.  "But evil is bliss also, and I say to you, if you can't be ignorant
be evil.  Revel in sin.  Delight in your damnation.  Do whatever makes
you feel alive.  Do whatever makes you feel.  This is my advice to you--
forget all you have known, for ignorance is the one true evil.  Become as
the base beast rutting in the back field.
       "Contemplate the naked flesh of a beautiful woman.  Take her into
your arms if she is willing.  If not, take her in any way you can.  Make
her accept your thrusts.  'Rape?' you cry in with righteous indignation,
'never!'  Yes, I say rape, steal, kill!  Lie if you must, but come to reality,
and never forget your damnation."
       I reached out to touch Hate's face, but it was only a simulation,
and my hand passed through it like a specter.  The boy laughed at this as
the Hate image flickered, and was gone, only to be replaced by another.
This was a newscast, and I found interest in this also.  It was of an Army
General being interviewed by an unseen reporter to create the illusion
that he was speaking directly to any viewers.  This worked, and I actually
wanted to ask the General questions of my own, but I could not.  I had
no choice but to listen.
       "Rage is the fire that fuels my life," he said.  "I'm told that many
feel that this is going to be the war to end all wars.  Well, that's been
said before, and war's my business, and I think I'll be working for a long
time."  The General continued to speak, but I ceased to listen.  He would
say no more that I needed to hear.  The tape ran out with this.
       So it already began.  Killing Legion had worked as I had expected.
       "Who are you?  You're not just an actor are you?"
       "No, I am not an actor at all.  I am a player.  I've come to fight a
battle, and win a prize.  I am the true Antichrist."
       The boy looked puzzled for a moment.
       "But when I looked for good, evil came; and when I waited for light,
darkness came."
       "Why do you say that?" I asked.
       "It just came to mind."
       I no longer had a need to be in this place, yet I found the boy's
company enjoyable.  His very presence lifted my heart.  I felt that I
should reward him somehow, and yet I did not know what one such as
he would want.  I thought of reaching into his mind to find out his
desires, but I feared I would be disappointed by what I found there.
       I looked to his mother.  She lay dreaming of the false realities that
sprang into existence from the holovision.  Her mind I already knew.  I
reached into her.  I discovered that she held no secrets as I again sifted
through her simple layers.  She did not love her son.  She held no
affections for anything real.
       I decided that she would serve a better purpose than wasting flesh.
I touched her face in almost a lover's caress.  Her skin turned yellow
where my finger's made contact.  I looked at the boy who stared at me in
wonder.  His mother continued to change color until she was of a
uniform gold.  And that was what she had become; solid gold.  Used
wisely she would provide the boy with a lifetime of comfort.
       I was unsure as to why I did this.  If everything worked as I would
have it this boy would be dead in days.  Then why this vain gesture?  It
was not in recognition that I could fail.  I would not.  I could allow
myself no such doubts.
       The boy did not seem to react to his mother's death.  He did not
cry, nor did he seem in any way surprised by this apparent miracle.  He
did not speak and the silence became awkward.  I decided to break it.
       "You can hack at her as you need the gold."
       "I did not love her," he said, his expression still unreadable.
       I almost gave into the urge to dance within his soul, but I
withheld.  I wanted to see if I had been right, to change his mother as I
had, without using Hell born heritage to find out.
       He smiled then, and spoke, "You are the Antichrist.  This is a sign.
I shall follow you, and chronicle the End Of All Days."
       This was not what I had wanted.
       "No.  You cannot.  I must do this alone.  I will go places where you
cannot hope to follow.  I will do things that would drive you raving.  I
must fulfill my role.  You must go your way."
       He bowed his head in submission and seemed to accept this.
       I had seen all that I had came to see.  I was done here, as much as
I desired to prolong the visit with this boy.  Time and space fell in on
themselves, cracked, and I opened my eyes to the street outside of my
mother's brothel.


                         The Succubus


       As soon as I saw her I knew what and who she was.  Succubus and
Absinthe.  Her mind was open to me.  I knew what she wanted.  Also I
could see how she planned to do it.  I could expect little else from a
succubus.  They have never been known for creativity.
       I decided to allow her to play her game.  I wanted to take care of
her now, so as to insure that I would have no interference from her later.
       She was chomping on a large wad of soft pink bubble gum.  Her
hair was platinum that flowed about her shoulders like so much light
and her eyes were deepest blue.  I noticed as she blew a bubble that her
lips were the same shade of candy-pink as the gum.  The bubble broke
with a snap, and she gave me a lopsided grin that was calculated to set
me longing.
       "What is it that they call you child?"
       "My name's Theresa, and I'm not a child.  I'm more than enough
woman for the likes of you."
       "I doubt it.  I have tasted paradise," and I knew it was my destiny
to feast of it.  I would claim heaven, and present it to Silenthia as a gift
to my bride, but I said nothing of this.
       She took out a small crystal bottle.  It was tinged with blue.  I
recognized what it was at once.  I wasn't interested.  Drugs probably
wouldn't affect me anyway.  I watched as she opened the bottle.  It
popped as if it were cheap champagne.  She filled a dropper full of the
blue liquid.  With much care she let a drop fall into each of her eyes.
They immediately turned sky-blue, and her pupils grew until her irises
were but thin rings.
       "This will make you feel good, then I'll make you feel great," she
said.
       "I don't think so.  I'm not into Scream or demons."
       She came up to me and placed her arms about my neck in an
intimate embrace.  The illusion of clothes disappeared with her touch.  I
was again dressed in full armor.  Silver shone.
       "Rancor, let's quit playing this game.  I won't do as He
commanded.  I'll do anything that you  want.  Anything."
       Either she was lying, or she really intended to refuse my Father's
bidding.  I would refuse her, but not for any sense of morality.  I had
none.  I just refused to partake of anything less than perfection.
       "Kiss me Absinthe."
       I slit her throat as she went to do as I said.  I opened her with the
dagger of Bettacrasnakka's.  She fell to her knees as blood reddened the
front of her white blouse, causing it to cling to her breasts.  I knew that
she was trying to figure out why she couldn't heal herself, even as she
realized that she was going to die.
       I resheathed the dagger, after having wiped it off, and walked past
Absinthe.  "Only I can betray my Father and still hope to live," I said.
       She was still alive and I didn't care to wait around until she died.
I knew she would.  This knowledge was enough for me.  I had a task to be
about.  I erased Absinthe from my mind.


                         Dear Mother


       I passed a woman as I walked.  I thought she might be yet another
of Satan's minions, but she just stared at me, and I realized why.  I was
outfitted in my armor.  I ignored her and kept on walking.  I waited until
I was out of her sight and anyone else that could have seen me.  I then
caused my armor to change.  I now appeared to be dressed in a white
suit.  My shirt was open at the collar and I wore no tie.  My armor was
still on me, but now it was hidden by illusion.  This illusion took little of
my energy.  It would not endanger the shield.  I could handle minor
magics like this, but I could no longer rely on using my will alone.
       I came to the door of my mother's Shop.  I thought of knocking,
but decided instead to pass through it.  I stepped forward and into the
waiting room.  A receptionist glanced up from a paper that she had been
looking at.  I chose not to allow her to notice me.  I opened her mind,
and caused her to forget that someone such as I could exist.  I then
enveloped myself in a minimal part of my power, so that no one would be
able to see me at all.
       I went to the room where I knew my mother would be.  I didn't
acknowledge her door as being real.  Therefore it was not.  I passed
through this door also and I was not surprised with what I saw there.
       I looked down at the two sleeping mortals before me.  They held
each other as they slept.  One was my mother, the other was a man
named Spirit.  My mother held the coin--in a tightly clenched fist--that
could grant life eternal.  Spirit had no such benefit.  Crime could outlive
him by several lifetimes.  They were a tragedy waiting for the future.  I
concentrated on my mother for a moment, willing her to a deeper
slumber.  She turned over in her sleep, but otherwise gave no notice of
me being in the room.  I wanted her to sleep.  It was not she that I had
come here for, but on a whim I decided to take the dragon from my
mother.  I understood it better than she.  As soon as my thoughts were
of the dragon it raised its head and looked into my eyes.  I held out a
mailed fist, and then slowly I opened my hand.  The dragon glanced
quickly at Crime.
       "You were never meant for her.  Come, I will care for you now.  You
will share in the glory of my victory.  Come."
       Crime stirred slightly, as the dragon unwrapped itself from her
finger, but she did not wake.  The dragon crawled onto my fingertips and
climbed my right hand till it was right behind the middle knuckle.  It
then wrapped itself tightly about the gauntlet.  The dragon blinked its
molten ruby eyes and lowered its head.  It was at rest.
       I felt a warmth emanating from the ring and a cold image of a
timeless beauty invaded my mind.  With the face came a name--Lisa--
and a longing.  The ring wanted its mate.  The image of this Lisa
screamed and a rush of blood was remembered by the ring.  The blood
ran over the dragon and it did not understand the pain of the one who
wore it.  It was incapable of intentionally causing harm to anything.  The
dragon did not know that it was responsible for its own bath of blood.
       The dragon was never meant for this.  It was to have lived out a
tender existence of love, but the memory of blood and pain would never
fade.  The dragon would carry this taint till the end of days.
       As I took the ring from my mother I touched the hand that she
held the coin in.  Again images flashed through my mind.  An explosion,
the likes of which had never been experienced on Earth before.  A naked
seventeen year old young man believing his soul was locked in the coin.
Fire.  Flickering dark visions of the cross.  Blood.  The church.  Death of
a guilt ridden priest.  A loving female caress on cold metal.  Protecting its
new owner.  I broke contact.  I had found out what I had wanted to
know.  I had the knowledge of where the church that I wanted was at.
Now there was only one thing left for me here.
       "Spirit."
       No response.
       "Spirit!"
       He sat up in his bed and looked around.  It was impossible for him
to detect me, and I chose not to reveal myself to him.
       "Who's there?  Speak up or I'll call the guards!" Spirit hissed in a
soft but threatening manner.
       "No guards will be needed.  It is I, Rancor."
       "I can't see you."
       "I do not want you to.  Listen, I don't have time to explain
everything, but I wanted to give you a warning.  Are you paying
attention?"
       "Of course."
       "Good.  In the end what I have to say won't matter, but I wanted to
let you know what I planned.  The world is to end soon--tomorrow--and I
am to be the cause of it.  I will seek out something sacred to God, and I
will cause it to become defiled by one of his own.  God will have no other
choice but to confront me then.  If for some reason I am wrong, and this
doesn't work, well then, there will be other ways, but the world will be
ending.
       "Take my mother, leave this place, go somewhere to live out the
rest of the days allotted to you in pleasure.  Leave, but do not tell her
why."
       "Why do you do this thing?"
       "Because it must be done, and if I am not the one to do it then
another will come.  It will happen.  I only play my part.  Now, no more
questions.  Say nothing, only do as I have said."
       I waved my hand at Crime, and took away that which had bound
her to slumber.
       She did not wake.


                         Damnation


       The sad fact of mankind has always been that they can never
recognize what they have.  Even when it is gone they never miss it.  The
soul for so many means so little.  Some have sold their souls for wealth,
some for love, and some even for a song.  It would be laughable were it
not so pathetic.
       Then there are those sad few that fully realize exactly how damned
they are.  I studied one such as this.  I knew a little of his story.
Silenthia had taught me of him and the Banquet.
       "Nemesis, can you remember to before the first rebellion, and how
you became what you are?"
       "Yes.  I was torn...."
       He fell silent and stared into nothing.  It was as if he was
remembering how it had been.  His lips started to move, but he said
nothing.  I was about to say something, but he snapped out of his reverie
before I had to.
       "I was a cupbearer to God himself.  I was once beautiful.  I had
much prestige.  Everything was pure.  I was happy then, but things
changed.  They always do that.  I didn't want anything to change, but no
one asked me.  Nothing ever stays the same.
       "Satan rose up, and was cast from paradise for doing so.  For a
short while it looked as if everything was going to become as right again,
but they didn't.  Many angels joined Satan in exile.  Brother from
brother and lover from lover.
       "I knew I no longer belonged in heaven.  It no longer held the same
beauty.  It was tainted to me.  I chose to join Satan in Hell.  I took the
cup of God with me.  I offered my services as cupbearer to Satan, but He
said it would be long before He 'again had the taste for wine.'
       "Hell was hideous.  It was a place designed by a madman for a
madman.  It reflected Satan's soul.  I could not bear to look upon it.  I
could only be thankful that I did not have to face such a waste of my
own.
       "I beseeched God, on my knees, to take me back, but nothing
happened.  He didn't even answer!  I had fled heaven, had rejected it, and
now I did the same to Hell.  I went to the place that was God's prideful
creation; the place that was the bane of Satan.  Earth.
       "There was much good here, but there was also evil.  I did not truly
understand evil then.  It was long before I even began to comprehend it
at all.
       "I met a woman.  I fell in love.  She was a mortal like no other.  I
watched her often as she bathed in a warm spring, and my breath would
catch in my throat at the sight of her form.  I never tired of her embrace.
       "We seldom felt the need for words.  We said so much without
them.  We went on many late night walks.  It was during one of these
walks that she was torn from my side.  I hadn't seen what had done it.
It was as if a piece of the night had just plucked her away.  I chased the
creature that I could not see, even though I knew that I would be too
late.
       "I came upon a moonlit clearing.  I recognized it as a place where
we had once made love, but this was no longer a place of gentleness.  In
the center of the clearing lay my love.
       "She was dead!
       "There were no marks upon her body.  I cradled her cold body to
mine.  I cried.  Tears dripped off my chin onto her face.  I begged God to
restore her to me.  God offered no help.
       "I turned to darker forces.  I made a pact with the Devil!  While he
had no use of me as cupbearer, He found another way to make use of me.
If only I had known what He intended.
       "He touched the woman that was my life.  Her eyes fluttered open,
and her breasts rose with breath.  She reached up and touched the
wetness on her face.  My tears.  She whispered my name.  I was not
called Nemesis at that time.
       "We embraced.  I looked to thank Satan, but he was gone.
       "I stood, and helped my love to stand also.  I kissed her.  She
responded, but it was not the same.  There was no surrendering of her
whole being.  It was as if she was trying to hide something.  This seemed
impossible, so I unwisely ignored it.
       "She led me from the clearing then.  We came upon a black cave
that I knew and had used before.  We slept within, but when day came,
and I tried to wake her--she was dead again!  She was stiff, cold, and I
thought Satan had deceived me.  I should have realized that true life was
not within His power.
       "I spent the morning digging her a grave.  I lovingly placed her
inside.  I buried her within the Earth.  I was numb--dead inside as I piled
rocks high upon her grave.  When I was done I laid upon the stones and
cried. 'Betrayer! Liar! Deceiver!' I called out to Satan from the place
where my love now rested.
       "It was only afternoon, but I went back into the cave.  I was
swallowed by darkness.  I was exhausted from my grief and my exertions.
I wept myself to sleep.
       "I woke in the night to my love.  She stood over me.  I felt such joy
at the sight of her, even though she was covered in grime, and her
clothes were only ribbons that hung about her  I did not question the
miracle of her again living.
       "We went together to the river.  I removed what remained of her
clothes, and we made love in its flowing waters.  I knew there was
something different about her, but I convinced myself that this was not
true.
       "She bit me.  She fed her life from mine and I thought little of it.
I couldn't.  My whole being was denial.  We went then again to the cave
and slept.
       "I woke during the day.  My love was again as if in death.  I did not
want to be near my love's dead form.  I tried to leave the cave, but the
sun prevented me from doing so.  I could not bear to look upon it.  Me,
who once held the cup of God and let his light shine on me.
       "It was then that I began to understand.  I was to forever be cast
into darkness.  My soul would never again know anything but black.  I
could have bore this sentence if only I was not alone, but that evening
my love left me.
       "I tried committing suicide, but this did not work.  My wrists
healed too fast.  A fever came upon me then, and I hungered.  This had
never happened to me before.  I had never required sustenance in the
past.  My insides tore at me, but I could not eat.  I was cold and I
thought God was going to answer my prayers and take me back into
heaven.
       "Time passed with me alone in the cave.  My condition worsened
until I became a mockery of what I once was.  I became a horrid creature.
I lay in a tortured, huddled ball.  I seldom moved.  I no longer knew who I
was.
       "I don't know how long I stayed like this, a year maybe.  I would
unknowingly grasp rocks and crush them to pebbles.  My fingers became
bent, my fingernails tore back, and the skin of my hands ripped.
       "It was only by chance that I did not spend eternity hiding from
everything.  A horrid thing found me in a fevered sleep that rivaled my
death sleep of day.  I was almost completely defenseless.  I did not even
know that I was being attacked.
       "I don't know why, but I clawed through the blackness that filled
my mind until I regained some semblance of life.  My throat was ripped
open and part of my face was missing.  I had only one eye.
       "With this I saw what evil thing had done this.  It was a young girl,
maybe seven years old.  I struggled against her.  She was strong, but I
overpowered her.  She asked me, in a voice thick with a lisp, if I too was
a vampire.  I did not know that word.  I was a wretched being then, and
desperate with thirst.  She tried to flee, this poor pitiful urchin, this lice
ridden rabble, but I did not let her.  I drank from her.  It was an intimate
joining, the like I had known with only one other being.  I drank until all
life passed from her to me.  I killed this evil thing.
       "My fever was gone and I found myself healing.  I left the cave that
I had made my home.  I went secretly among men.  All feared vampires.
They were new to the world and it was still unknown how to combat
them.  The vampires grew in number.  It was even said that they were
ruled by a queen of unsurpassed beauty.  It looked as if God's creation
would be overrun with Satan's evil.
       "I began to destroy every vampire that I came across, even though
it filled me with great guilt.  I fed of these.  This was what Satan had
intended for me.  By design I was a control for this evil.  I once again had
a purpose for my existence.  I became the nemesis of my love.
       "She's still out there, making more of our kind, but I find them, or
they come here, and when I hunger...I feed."
       This fallen angel of white looked down then.  I waited, but he
offered no more.  I didn't want to open his pain, but I had questions that
had to be answered.
       "Where is the cup?"
       "I took it to Hell with me, but when Satan refused me I hid it on
Earth.  It is in the cave where I came to know what I am now.  I could
take you there if I was allowed to leave."
       I concentrated on his mind and the knowledge of the cup's location
became known to me.  I wanted the cup.  It would help me in my
endeavors.
       "You do not need to show me.  Why do you only kill vampires?
Why not defy Satan and join your love?"
       "You do not understand?  Even when I went among men, I never
let them know what I was.  I could never kill a living thing.  I would
rather live in Hell than do such an evil thing as that."
       I wanted to ask Nemesis if he had ever found his love again, but I
did not feel I had the right.  It didn't matter.  I was filled with pity for
this creature, and though I knew it futile, I resolved to reunite Nemesis
with his love.  I wanted them to have a chance at reconciliation before
the end of it all.  Besides I wasn't at all sure that everything would be
destroyed.  Some few might survive.  I had taken knowledge of the cup
from his mind.  I took an image of his love too.  I surrounded myself with
this, and with a terrible explosion of sensations I shifted to her.


                         Night


       My body became atoms, then nothing.  Nothingness found itself to
be more and came to an awareness.  I raised my head and in
disorientation, looked about myself.  I shook off the effects of the shift
and stared.  She was beautiful.  Long black tresses hung to a slender
waist.  Pale skin shone against a gown that matched her hair.  She was
once Nemesis's, but now she was owned by none, though I, as I beheld
her,  realized I desired to possess her.
       "I am called Rancor, the Antichrist."
       "I am Night, although once I was known as Beauty.  I've been alive
for such an awfully long time now.  I can't really remember much of my
childhood.  Mother talked to snakes."
       She had a dreamy expression about her face; almost as if she
inhabited some other place.  A place of solace.  She did not seem at all
surprised at my visitation.  She began to spin like a child does on a
breezy summer afternoon to become dizzy.  She seemed to enjoy the
sensations.  Her face lit up, and her gown billowed about her.  Suddenly
she stopped and, as dark material settled into place, gestured with her
elegant ivory arm.  She brought it up over her head then down in front of
her face.  Night held out her hand, beckoning for me to take it.  I did so.
       She fell into my embrace and I could feel her frailness, like a bird,
little more than a child.  So tiny in my arms.  She looked up into my
eyes.
       "Rancor, are you really the Antichrist?"
       "I hope so, or many lives will be to waste for nothing."
       I examined the room in which we stood.  It was one of many in a
ruined castle, not at all like Defile.  Large dead gray stones made up the
walls.  Crumbling mortar filled the cracks between these.  A damp wind
brought the scent of decay to Night and myself.
       Night stood on her tiptoes, and stretched up to place a kiss upon
my chin, but I bowed my head to receive it on my lips.  She was gentle,
and her lips were moist and cool, reminding me of ripe sweet fruit,
though there was no taste.
       With a blush and a laugh she broke away from me then, and began
again to dance as a child.  I waited for her to grow light-headed and fall
reeling to the floor, but she did not.  I admired her movements.
       Night--once the love of Nemesis--lost innocent to unknown evil.
Night, perpetuator of vampires.  Undead herself.  Why did I feel the need
to come to her?  What power did she hold over me?  I found myself
becoming mesmerized by her movements as she spun faster and faster.
She became as a blur and I could not recognize her for anything even
resembling human.  Night.
       "Night."
       She did not answer, but remained lost in her dance.
       "Night."
       I moved towards her with the intent of stopping her, but she
slowed, and slid once again into my arms.
       "Love me," whisper, soft caress of voice.
       "I love another.  I cannot," I said.
       Her lips curled into a pout at this and again she reminded me of a
child.  She looked as though she were to cry.  One solitary tear made its
way down her angelic face, leaving a shining trace of wetness.  She
crossed her arms then and turned from me.  I did not let her go.
       "My emotions are another's, but if you find me suitable for other
endeavors, it would be my pleasure to graciously perform them."
       I could not see her reaction to this, but she became relaxed in my
hold.  I caused my armor, shield, and weapons to shift from me.  I then
dropped all illusions.  I wore no clothes.  I released Night from my grasp.
Now I would see what she intended.  Would she flee?  Night turned to
face me.
       "You assume much, my lord," she said with an imperious voice of
frost.
       I chose not to reply.  Instead I cupped her chin in my right hand
and tilted her head back.  I leaned forward and kissed her brutally.  I
parted her lips, forcing her to accept my tongue.  I then grasped the front
of her garment and tore it open.  Cloth screamed and buttons flew as her
breast became exposed to my view.  They were the same creamy ivory
color as the rest of her skin.
       I threw her to the ground.  She looked up at me, eyes not wide with
fear, but excitement.  I crossed to her and grasped her black tresses.  She
did not resist as I forced her against the stone floor of the ruins.  I put
my mouth to one of her snowy nipples and bit until she winced.  In pain
or pleasure I could not tell, nor did I care.  I lifted her gown and violently
entered her.  I thrust as she clawed the flesh of my body.  I imagined
rivulets of blood running along my muscles.  I could feel the wetness.
Night was tight around me.  Her body knew the ways of intimate union.
She began to scream and cry out to God.  I ignored her calls, and God
chose not to answer.
       Heat began to rise between us.  Night arched her back and I could
feel her spasm around me.  It was then that I found release in our
passion.
       "My lord," so softly spoken, that for a moment I thought it
imagined.  "My lord," she said again, "what is it that you would have me
do?"
       I thought to Nemesis.  I had intended Night to be his once again,
even if only for a short while.  Did I still want this?  Night meant little to
me.  Only a passing amusement, but I was sure that I could find pleasure
in her again.  There was an alluring appeal to her.
       "Petty men paint pretty pictures justifying actions done for greed.
A man will deny guilt with his last breath, even when he himself knows
he has done wrong.  Not I.  I freely admit that all I do I do out of greed.  I
want what is to come, and I will do anything to that end.  I was taught
forgotten prophecy.  I was taught to look into the heart of man to see
what is there.  I was taught love.  But I would sacrifice that love without
regret if it could assist me in fulfilling my fate.  I am not some petty
mortal to fear sin, while committing it.  I revel in sin."
       I gave myself to the urge to speak.  To confide in another seemed to
settle my mind.  I had not thought to do this.  I had meant Night for
another.  Now, I knew not what I intended.
       I put my lips to her throat and kissed her there.  It would be so
easy to give it all up, and lose myself in her.  There was nothing coercing
me.  I could live, grow old, and maybe die.  I could allow myself to be
taken along by the flow of life.  I could take her again and again, giving
into temptation.  I thought of this.  It would be so easy.  Another would
come to take my place and I would be free--free to pursue many
distractions such as Night.  But I would not.  I knew this, and there was
little purpose in imagining otherwise.
       I removed myself from Night's hold, stood, and shifted my armor
onto my body.  I knew what had to be done.  I decided to be about it.
       "I would 'have you do' nothing.  I came here to take you to
Nemesis.  Instead I find myself just taking you.  That was not what I had
planned."
       Tears began to flow forth from eyes so sad at the mention of
Nemesis.  She would received no pity from me.  I could not feel much for
one such as she.  Her beauty was exquisite, and she was built for carnal
delights, but I knew her story.  She had given up the only individual that
could have redeemed her.  She had forsaken Nemesis.
       "Wars will be fought.  Disease will ravage the land.  Men will know
famine, and they will panic and kill for morsels that fall from the
mouths of dogs, and I will be the cause of it all.  I will unmake the world
to receive God's attentions," I said for no reason at all.
       She continued to cry.  I remained unmoved.
       "What did you expect from me?  You did not think that I would
come here and save you from yourself.  Night, you are a damned creature.
You will do according to your nature.  You will refuse none that come to
you.  You will take them, receive them as you have me and, when your
pitiful lust is satiated, you will procreate more of your kind for Nemesis
to consume."
       Tears flowed along her face, gathered at her chin and fell to her
exposed breast.  She drew a shuddering breath and drew her legs tight to
her chest.  She rearranged her ruined black gown about her to hide her
nakedness.
       There was no more for me to say--no more for me to do.


                         To be Forgotten


       Blackness became white, then black again.  Sound rose to an
unbearable silence and I again found myself coming out of a shift.  The
cave was little changed from the way Nemesis remembered it.  I brought
up my illusions, and prepared to enter.
       ?Rancor?
       ?Silenthia how is it that you can penetrate my shield?
       /There is a bond between us Rancor   Do not deny it/
       I thought then of Night, but dismissed her from my mind as not
being worth consideration.  I had only dallied with her out of attraction.
She meant nothing, but Silenthia was right.  There was a bond between
us.  Could I forsake it?
       /I must strike at the heavens/
       /I know   Remember  it was I who trained you in your destiny   I do
not seek to stop you   Let me through/
       The idea of having Silenthia with me as I challenged God appealed
to me.  This was not something I wanted to do alone, but I knew this was
the way it had to be.  I could not let her through without doing the same
for my Father.  In the end, I knew, it would come down to a clash of wills
I could not see myself as losing.  No, Silenthia.  I would have you with
me if it were mine to decide, but this is a task for one.  A task that my
Father had chosen not to take up.  Now it was for me to do.  Alone.
       /No/
       /Rancor/
       /No   I will not have it   You will obey me in this   Do not seek to
come through   I will surely slay you if you try   Know you this  soon I
will rule in heaven   I will send for you then   We will be together in
paradise/
       Would these words come true?  They had to.  I had no other choice
than to make my bid.  I perceived Armageddon as my duty to fate.  It
would not be hard to start.  Once started there would be an end whether
I became the victor or not.
       I entered the cave.  I  hardly believed that the cup would be there.
It was, but it was not unguarded.
       A muscled angel stood with a flaming sword in hand.  He had a
hopeless but determined attitude about his whole being.  His wings beat
nervously, more of a fidget than anything else.  He knew what the
outcome would be if we clashed.  So did I.  I had no desire to end his
existence.  Too many of his kind would needlessly die soon.
       I could see the cup of God.  It sat upon a stone altar and there was
little to make it stand out.  It was only a standard silver chalice with an
anachronistic cross emblazoned on the side.  The cross hadn't even been
invented at the time of the goblet's fashioning.  This cup was not the
mythical holy Grail.  That came into existence much later than this
drinking goblet of God's.
       "You know me and what I come for.  Stand aside, so I may begin to
complete that which I was born to do."
       "Dark One, I cannot."
       "Dear angel, I am not dark.  I am not evil.  I have come here to do
my part in this cosmic game."
       "Then let me do mine."
       So be it.  I drew my silver sword, and unslung my shield.  The
illusion I had cast about me shimmered and disappeared.  I was fully
armored, including my helmet.  I lifted my visor, and saluted my
opponent.  He replied in kind.
       "Angel, tell me your name before you die, so that your glory will be
sung forever in the new order."
       "If there is to be a new order, then I wish only to be forgotten."
       I lowered my visor.  We crossed blades.  His was lighter and would
be a lot quicker than mine, but where I had a shield, he had none.  The
angel made the first strike, but it seemed to be more of a halfhearted
feint, than any real attack.  I blocked, and followed through with a lunge
of my own.
       My shining sword connected with his face and passed through the
back of his head.  He fell back and off my blade.  His wings beat
spasmodically a few times and his limbs twitched a little, but then he
became still as the cold stone he lay upon.
       The angel's face was completely unrecognizable now.  No blood
came from him, but he was obviously deceased.  It seemed an
unnecessary shame, but it was what he had wanted.  He had played his
part and now none would ever know who he had been.  He would be
forgotten.
       My blade was unsoiled.  This one's blood had been too pure to mar
it.  I sheathed it, and picked up that which I had come for.  It burned,
even through my gauntlet.  It would have caused the death of any foolish
impure mortal that chose to touch it.  I could not be harmed though.
Only a confrontation with God or my Father would be able to hurt me in
any real way, and I was starting to doubt that my Father held enough
power to challenge me any longer.
       I felt a pushing against the barrier I had erected.  My Father
wanted through, and He wanted through badly.  I felt the Hell barrier
move, but not enough to be any real threat.  As long as I maintained, the
shield would be impossible for Him to break down.  His power was far
from being as absolute as He thought it was.
       I left the cave, where I had slain a foe worthy of me.


                         The Bride


       "Did you think I would just let you go?  You treated me like a
whore.  I deserve more, Rancor.  You do not understand me.  You see me
as one who is damned.  You are so wrong.  I flew on the winds of night to
come here.  I knew this was your destination.  You could have had no
other reason for having sought my Nemesis."
       I barely recognized her.  I raised my visor to better see.  Night had
taken the time to change her clothes.  She now wore a full-length
wedding dress with a veil of mist obscuring her face.  The dress seemed to
almost be more than white, and shone against the dark.
       An entity of blackness hovered about her.  It made quick furtive
movements.  I was unable to see it clearly.  It was as if the night
gathered this creature into its embrace, hiding it from view.
       "You broke my heart," she whispered, and I had to strain to hear,
"with your accusations, and your mentioning of Nemesis.  I loved him
much--before the meaning of the word was even known."
       "Night."
       "No!  You will listen.  I know you.  I know what you are about.
You will listen.  Do you know why I make vampires?  I do not need to you
know.  At first it wasn't like that.  I hunted, and I killed."
       The creature continued to flutter around her.  Night ignored it.
       "I embrace death every sunrise.  I know life only in night."
       She paused, and I wasn't sure if she was going to continue.  Her
breath disturbed her gossamer veil--her wedding shroud.  The creature
reached out and touched this, and for the first time I could see clearly its
hand.  It was completely black and even the long nails were colored to
match.  These were filed to narrow deadly points.
       "I still love him.  But don't you see, I can't go to him.  He would
forbid me to create more of our kind.  He would feed from the few
vampires that now exist until there were no more.  Then what would he
do?  He would hunger, and live a tortured existence of pain.  He loves
mortals.  They are nothing to me.  I make undead, and drive them from
me.
       "Mortals are so predictable, once you take away their mortality.
They always want to know why.  'Why am I like this?'  'What does it
mean?'  They go in search of answers, and eventually they find Nemesis.
I create them for him.  I do it because he cannot."
       Light dimly glowed from the cup in my hand and I could still feel
its purity through my gauntlet.  I clenched it tightly in my grasp.
       "What do you want from me?" I asked.
       "Understanding."
       "Why?  What can it matter?  You say you know me.  You say you
know what I am about.  See this?" I held up the goblet.  "With this I plan
to challenge God, but I will destroy all of creation if need be.  He will face
me.  What good is understanding?"
       Night's companion still held her veil.  I tried shifting my
perceptions, but it remained hidden from sight.  What was this?
       "He used to think that cup you hold would be our redemption.
Poor Nemesis, he prayed that some day God would come seeking his
cupbearer once again.  Rancor, I cannot allow you to take the cup.  I've
come here to stop you.  I wanted your understanding before I brought
about your death."
       I laughed.
       "What can you mean by this?"
       Only silence greeted this question.  She raised her hand and
pointed to me.
       "Kill him," she said "and I shall again be your reward."
       The creature rushed forward, and its claws were at my throat.  I fell
backward.  The night manifested itself, and it could find nothing of
substance to combat.  I tried to use my arms to protect myself, but
raking claws still found their mark.  Blood flowed from my eyes and
raked flesh.  I could in no way fight back.  There was nothing there to
fight.  I desperately tried again to change my perceptions.  Again it was of
no use.
       I drew my sword, with thoughts of dropping the goblet, so that I
could use my shield also.  I decided against this.  I was not yet ready to
part with it.  I swung my bright blade.  It did not strike anything.  The
blade met no resistance as it passed through where the creature had to
be.
       I still felt its savage claws.  They seemed to easily find their way
through the defense of my Hellish armor.  Black claws sought the flesh
of my throat--and found it.  Blood soaked the cloth padding that I wore
under metal plates.  I rose to one knee.  The world began to swim.  I
swung my sword again with no better success.
       "Night!"  I could not lose like this.  "Night!" I screamed again.
       I was struck, and I again fell.  This would not do.  I needed to part
from this place.  I tried shifting, but my mind was not composed well
enough to do so.  I probably could have, had I not needed to insure
energy was channeled to the shield imprisoning my Father.
       Vision failed me as razor talons slid into gel orbs.  I could see
nothing, except for a slight glowing from the goblet.  I almost laughed at
the absurdity of it.  I twisted around and rose to my feet.  Again and
again blindly I flailed about me with my blade.
       I closed what remained of my eyes.  I willed them healed, and it
was so.  I looked about me with restored vision.  Night stood silently by
watching as her servant continued to slay me.  I fended off its attacks as
best as I could, but it seemed futile.  If only the angel had fought so well.
It might even still be alive.
       Air rushed around me and the ground quickly fell away.  We rose
to the night's sky, this beast and I.  We were kept aloft by its powers, for
it was by no bidding of mine that we sailed through the air.  Hands
enclosed my throat, and I quickly became unable to breath as ebon
fingers crushed my windpipe.
       I was dropped then, and the ground was unkind as I crashed into
it.  I did not want to rise.  I lay on my back, and I only wanted to fall
through blackness as I had fallen through the night, until I could find a
place of peace, but this was not my destiny.  I closed my eyes and turned
my blood to healing fires.  I screamed and my flesh flowed like melted
wax, and wounds closed.
       The creature desired the reward Night promised.  It persisted in
attacking me.  Before I could again stand, the damn beast was at my
throat, seeking to part my skin.  I could feel its hands seeking weakness
in my armor.  I brought my arm up to ward against its blows, and my
hand unexpectedly struck the being a blow.  There was a fierce light
then, and I did not see what passed.  A scream cut through the night
from Night, and the black entity was dead.
       He lay unmarked.  He had been slain only by the power of God's
cup.  My blow had nothing to do with it.  The creature was one of beauty,
and must have been an angel before the Fall.  He was hairless, winged,
and perfectly formed.  There was no part of him that was not black.
Even the wings.  They were leathery though, and not at all like the dead
unknown angel's.
       Soft sobs came to my attention then.  Night.
       "I should kill you!  You bitch."
       I slid my sword into its scabbard and placed the cup within a
pouch.  This I affixed to a leather strap at my waist.  I stepped towards
Night.  She did not cower as I expected, but seemed to accept her failure.
She now thought to die.  I had not yet decided her future.  I was not
unmoved by her loveliness.  I reached forward, and took hold of the white
wedding veil.  I exposed her face.  So like a porcelain doll.  So beautiful.
       I touched her face with a heavy gauntlet of cold mirror steel.  She
looked as though she were about to cry, but she did not.  Her mouth
quivered.  I touched this.  I ran a steel encased finger over her lips.  I
then put this hand to the back of her hair.  I slid it under hair and veil,
and grasped the base of her small skull.  I could crush it so simply.
       "You bitch," I repeated, but this time I lacked venom.
       Gently, I kissed her pert mouth.  Her kiss was as I remembered.
Little time had passed, less than hours, since I had taken her.  I directed
her head with my hand, forcing her to kiss hard.  She could not pull
away, nor did she try.  I wondered if she thought she had found
redemption.
       She stiffened in my arms then.  I released my hold of her.  Her eyes
were wide.  I could see fear clearly written there.
       "The sun comes.  I need bed down if I am to survive, and you have
killed that which bore me here.  I cannot make it back to my home."
       She looked past me at the cave that was now the tomb for the dead
angel.  I took her into my arms then, and held her tight.  Only the first
hint of false dawn colored the horizon.  There was still time before she
need seek sanctuary.
       She tilted her head back, and looked me in the eyes.
       "Is this it then?  Are you so cruel as to kill me this way?"
       "If I so choose."
       I replaced the veil of her dress.  I would not kill her.  I decided
this, and it would serve no purpose to torture her with that which she feared
most.  I saw no reason to make her feel the indifferent caress of the sun.
       "You can go," I said.
       She ran into the cave.  I followed Night into dark confines.  I had
not intended to enter again.  It seemed almost a violation.  She stood
over my fallen foe.
       "Is this to be my bedmate?"
       I did not answer.  She touched the edge of the angel's facial
wound.  I stepped forward to stop her from profaning the angel, but she
seemed genuinely concerned with its death.  She lay beside it, and closed
her eyes.  I could not tell if she yet slept, but she did not breathe, and
she was as in death.
       I went to the entrance, and watched the sunrise.  I'd never seen
one before.  I was struck with the magnificence of it.  I'd read of them in
Hell.  I could see how it inspired poets.  It lit low hanging clouds to fire.
The horizon burned with a multitude of reds and orange.  I had new
respect for any being that would create such a thing, if indeed he had
created it.  It seemed too perfect to have come about by design.  I heard
bird song, and my fate weighed heavily upon me.
       I returned to Night.  She still lay as I had left her.  I took her
into my arms, and walked towards the sun.  I composed my thoughts and
shifted.  Needles stabbed into my flesh and became daggers.  I screamed a
backwards scream not meant to be heard, and I saw a bright star
flashing before me.  I became one with Night in a way more intimate
than orgasm.  I plummeted through myself to the dwelling place of
Nemesis.
       It was as I expected it to be.  Barren of any individuals.  Leftover
scraps of food and sour jugs of coagulated blood lay strewn about.
Nemesis's throne stood empty.  I carried Night from room to room.  She
did not stir in my arms.  I felt as though I were playing the part of a
tragic hero in some forgotten play.  I imagined I carried a dead lover torn
from life and myself, and in a way I was, though I felt no noble emotions
for Night.
       Where was Nemesis, or any of the vampires for that matter?  I had
assumed that they bedded down here.  Perhaps I was wrong.  Nemesis
was confined to the Banquet by dictate of Satan, but I did not know if he
obeyed.  I had to find him soon, or return Night to cave or castle.  I
would not just leave her.
       I entered into the only room that I had not yet searched.  There
were many tables in this room with a bar along one wall.  Broken glass
covered the floor.  It crunched under my steel-shod boots as I walked.
The urge to call out came upon me, and I had to resist from doing so.
There would have been none to answer.
       Nothing out of the ordinary was to be seen in this room.  I left,
and went again to the throne.  I thought of my Father's throne in Defile.
It hid a staircase that led to the only remaining tower of Defile.  Was
Nemesis to be as predictable?  No.  There was nothing behind the throne
but a white wall.  Nothing under it either.
       "Where is he Night?  Where?" I spoke to myself, for no other
answered, or was able to answer.
       The vampire's caution could be understood.  Their resting place
had to be hidden well, so wandering mortals would not accidentally
happen upon them as they slept.  Where?  Then I felt foolish.  The
vampires were hid from mortal view, but I was no mortal.  I was
something more than human.
       Walls no longer existed, and the ceiling hovered above me, held in
place by no seen force.  In the same manner the floor also disappeared
from sight, though I still walked upon it.  It was by my will that these
things happened.  Below me, in neat rows, stood caskets in contrast to
the chaotic mess that filled the undead's Banquet hall.  Only one was
white, and larger than the others.
       I slid through the now insubstantial floor, and floated to the white
casket.  This one was decorated with a cross.  Engraved on the cross was
an artistic image of a cup overflowing with blood or wine.  I kissed
Night's dark brow, and placed her softly on top of a nearby coffin.  I then
opened the one that I hoped to house Nemesis.  I was right.  He lay
within.
       Nemesis slumbered peacefully, if his expression could be taken as
an indication of his mind state.  Nemesis's coffin was unique in that it
was wider than the others.  I picked up Night, from where I had laid her,
and placed her within this white cross-marked coffin.  It was as if it had
been built for the purpose of housing two.  I positioned Night so that she
embraced the being who loved her.
       Night and Nemesis.  They looked as though they were meant for
each other.  My skin tingled with an unfamiliar sensation, and I realized
that I was being moved by this love scene.  These gentle emotions
disturbed me.  I wanted to give into them, and claim my own bride.  It
would almost worth giving up everything for.  I could reclaim Silenthia
from Hell.  I wanted this, but I had resolved to confront my Father's age
old enemy.  Why did I have to be the pawn of Fate?
       "I give you this, your bride.  Love her well for what she is.  You
haven't much time."
       The dead air grew stifling.  I needed to leave.  I'd wasted enough
time with Night.  I still did not understand what had caused me to go to
her.  Surely, it had not been Nemesis's narrative.  I had not needed to
visit her.  I could have gone straight for the cup, and had I, there would
not have been a battle with Night's guardian creature.  I suspected that
the being I had fought was the same one that had originally slain Night.
If this was true then Night was no creation of my Father's as Nemesis
believed.  Night would have still been the same.  The black entity had
most likely made her the undead, not my Father.  I would have to ask
him if I lived through what was to come.
       I placed my hand on the pouch that held the goblet, and I looked
at the undead couple once last time, then shut the coffin lid.  It crashed
closed with a bang.  I shifted.
       Something was wrong!  It was taking entirely to long, and there
were no spectacular shift effects.  I couldn't see for a moment, and there
was a wetness on my face.
       "I am Loki, and you are here for me to kill," came a voice, then
insanity reigned.


                         Loki


               Loki. Loki.  Loki. loki.  loki is a man?  a gog  ha! a god!
Loki is a woman.  Am i loki?  loki.  loki   loki     loki    !=?     loki.
How i've hated you. kill kiss kinky karma
       "I kill well also.  You killed The-One-Who-Could-Not-Die.  I too did
so once.  I was punished for it more than you can imagine.  Balder, poor
beautiful god of charisma.  You killed Legion.  So alike.  They still almost
saved him.  Even without a soul he would have been worth much to
them.  The Council was distraught at his loss.  They didn't know who
slew him.  I had to take that knowledge from the mind of the dead boy.
That's why I was hired."
       He little monkeys hold the key paced about me in a wide
roundness.  He was Loki, but who was me?  i could not move, Nietzsche,
please tell me what you think of Hell and the drug was keeping me from
being able to think.  My body felt warm and the air was thick.  i were
submerged in the womb waiting for the breath of death.  Who?  Am i am
i Rancor!  I am the Antichrist!  i I would burn it from me if only I could
think.  Loki seemed to be far from finished with his diatribe.  Would he
speak long enough for me to recover?  He stopped pacing.
       "Does it seem a little excessive to you?  I mean, hiring a god as an
assassin?  What do you think of mortals?  I like them.  They amuse me,
and I find it pleasurable to dally with the better looking females.  Would
it belittle me, in your eyes, if I told you that I even occasionally partake
of male flesh?  Not as often though.  I just don't get the same
satisfaction.  I actually liked Legion.  Wasn't a very good lover though,
all those tubes and everything, so no real loss.  Oh my, here I am
carrying on like this, and you just wanting more.  Oh no, don't protest.  I
insist."
       More of his damn liquided pasheled, and i became a furry baby.
Would i ever be born?  i tried moving, but my arm was entirely too long
to lift, and there weren't anything that i wanted too bad, and i wished he
was dead, but i couldn't sort my brains.  Did i have two?  Seemed so.
       loki/loli/loki/loki/loki/loki/ hey loki!
       "Satanel," I managed, and I didn't know why I added the heavenly
honorific He was no longer entitled to.
       "He won't answer.  You see, I can't have him saving you.  That
would completely undermine my killing you.  This isn't really happening
yet, you see, or maybe it's already happened.  I forget, and things get so
confusing these days.  This is a moment out of time.  As soon as I've
killed you time will resume.  It'll be a shame really."
       Long Lion gong winded bastard.  I could feel my blood, coursing
crimsonly through my veins.  I becAme one with it.  I melted into a
radiant pool of nothing.  There were no thoughts as time realized that it
should be doing something.  Loki held it back.  There was more to me
that there should have been.  I was blood.  Pure red blood, but there was
this other.  Where do the children play?  On the head of a pin  Poison.
Burning white flash and it slowly slipped from me for an eternity, but
there was so much.
       "I said, we can't have that!  I did say that didn't I?"
       He pasheled splashed! splashed! He slpsplasjed splashed me again.
This time that was not MINe Gtt!  Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?  all he
did.  He poured it into my mouth, and I drank.  I has a mouth.  I found
this to be rather odd.  Wasn't i blood?  groooooovy groovy blood.  kiss me
i've got trh the truth on my moughth like sands.  did i mention the
rabbits Aw fuch the bunnies fuck the bunnies
       This sucked, and i wanted much to....  I swallowed, because I
could, and it seemed like the thing to do.  was there really a plastic
Jesus?  did he crack when they nailed him up/  should a been made a
sturdier stuff  I drew breath.  I drew breath, and I knew who I was.  There
was much I wanted to do.  There was little that I could do.  Would I
never learn?  I could have taken Nemesis's cup with ease, had I not
visited Night.  I could have used it without interference, had I not
reunited Night to Nemesis.  Why did i delay destiny?  No more.
       "I spent thousands of years under the spray of this venom, I'd
think you could take it for a little while.  Don't be such a baby.
Convulsions aren't at all becoming for one of your station.  The cup's
always full you know?  So don't despair there will be enough."
       Loki wore tight leather pants, black and laced up the side.  This
was all he wore.  The ever-full cup was upended, and Loki poured the
contents onto my armor in a steady stream.  It slid through cracks to
find my skin.  Cloth tore, and a woman screamed in rape  Ma heart
became my brain, and missed a beat.  Nannies, and feather dusters  He
stroked my face with a long fingered hand.  i didn't mean it.  i didn't
mean it!  i'll be goox, really i will.
       "We're so alike, you and I."
       How does one kill a god?
       "Once, just for kicks mind you, I poured this venom on a mortal.  I
then had perverted and sick sex with her until she died.  Or was it
afterward that we had sex?  I forget.  I'll have to ask her sometime.  Have
you had enough yet?  Should I stop?"
       i don't want to die!  i want i want i want i want i want i want  Oh
fuck!  Please please Please please Please  Loki stopped the torturing
liquid.  He held it ready though.  Crimson kings and slaves, they're the
same really  Thus i die!  in a flash of pitiful poetics.  So unfairly.  Music
came for me from somewhere.  Where, i know not, but it carried me
away, though i went nowhere.  Then there was silence.
       "A little sin's always good," I said as my eyes rolled to the back of
my skull.
       "Sin's always good?"
       "I little sin," I said.
       "You mean 'a' little sin, not 'I.'  I like that.  You don't mind if I
use that do you?  I'm sure it'll be a hit.  Poor Rancor, the mighty Antichrist
has fallen. And a little sin's always good."
       He set he cup down,  I'm bigger than the world ya know and sat
next to it.  There wasn't any ground really, just soft purple nothingness.
Virginal sacrifice of a radioactive prostitute
       "Oh fuck it.  This isn't fun anymore.  They're not paying me
enough either.  You can go."
       jusp lipe thap, just lipe thap.  just like thap!  just like that?  i
still could not think.  Who was the being?  Was her really a god?  I tried to
rise, but that was completely out of the question.  I laid there.  I could
do that.  I even did it well.
       "I don't suppose you would consider....  Nah, I'm probably not your
type.  Besides, all that armor would be a pain."
       loki...loki...  i cried like a baby.  i wasn't sure AND nO supper!
why.  i was still wet from the venow--venom.  Loki left leaving loathed
cup of snake spittle behind.  If only I could follow, I would slice slash
rend rip beat bash cut kill him. the serious boy chipped at the golden
statue  I moved.  Not far, but I found I no longer lay directly in a wet pool
of poison.
       Again, I tried to become one with my blood.  Hot liquid running
through my veins.  zzzzLifeblood.  i closed my eyes.  My muscles
contracted, and I could no longer breathe.  I was blood, then not.  fast
cars and breaking glass  I grasped my will for a fleeting moment, and
magnificent illusions exploded away from me.  They were no different
from what I had been seeing.  Flowers and decapitated priests and puppy
dogs.  My focus slipped away then, and they were all gone.  This wasn't
working.  I would just have to wait out the effects of the drug-venom.
       I sat up, tried to stand, fell.  This was no good, no good at all.  I
rose to my knees.  Such a wavering accomplishment.  I remained like this
for I'm not sure how long.  Visions continued to fly past my eyes.
Sometimes, I paid them attention, sometimes not.  When I again felt
confident in my abilities I tried to take to my feet.  I collapsed in a heap
of silver armor.
       /Silenthia/  No answer, but then I hadn't expected one.
       Oh Silenthia, did I even tell you I love you?  I can't seem to
remember.  I love you.  I will win.  You'll see.  I'll do this thing, and send
for you when I've won.  We can be together forever.  We can....
Everything will be perfect.  We'll remake anything that isn't.  Silenthia,
my love, !I love you!
       /Rancor  Is that you?  You sound funny/
       ?Did you betray me Silenthia?
       ?Why do you say such things?
       I needed her.  I had to lose myself in thoughts of her.  I needed
someone to set me back to reality.  Everything began to spin, and I
turned my head to the side and vomited.  Horridly caustic stuff that.  Oh
help.  If I ever saw that effete dilettante....
       ?Rancor  are you still there?
       I could not compose my thoughts to answer.  It was enough that I
knew that we were linked.  I could feel her flesh.  Were we making love?
Why this blindfold?  These chains?  I can't see!
       !Silenthia!
       /Let me come to you   Let me through/
       /No/
       So the shield still held.  It was as Loki had said.  This was a
moment out of time.  Then how was I linked to Silenthia?  Was it only
my imagination?  I had no answers.  I could only hope time would
resume from when Loki had captured me.  I would come into existence at
the church.  If only I could shift.
       I stood.  I was shaky and feared I would fall yet again, but I did
not.  I turned, and looked at the cup that Loki had poured the venom
from.  It was a simple clay cup of mean workmanship.  I hated it.  What
if he came back?  What if he again used that damn poison against me?
These thoughts, and many more like them, came unbidden to me.  I tried
to calm myself, but I couldn't.  Why?  Oh this was becoming frustrating.
       /I want you   I took another   She was nothing compared to you
Silenthia?  I love   I hate   I was made for this/
       This was greeted with only silence.
       I did not trust myself.  I checked for my sword, my shield.  I
insured that I still was in possession of my helmet.  Lastly I felt for the
cup that had once been God's.  It remained in the pouch at my waist.  I
looked at my armor.  It was unstained from the liquid.  There were no
traces of it left.  I still felt its effects though.
       /Silenthia/
       Still no answer.  I felt well enough to again try banishing the
remaining venom drug from my system.  "Rage is the fire that fuels my
life."  Who had said this?  I summoned memories of molten lava where I
had truly been born.  My soul had been tempered there.  No part of me
was human.  I imagined my rage at the capture of my love.  Fires washed
over me in unpleasant waves.  I opened my mouth, for what I wasn't
sure, but I did not scream.
       I took the cup of God from the pouch, and I had a small child in
my hand, I made a tight fist, crushing life from it.  Blood flowed from
between my fingers, and I realized I was that child.  Music rose in funeral
dirge wail, and I came out of the shift.  I was at the house of God.  The
one from Crime's dream-vision.


                         Mercy


       I came into existence in front of the altar.  A priest was kneeling
before me.  He did not notice that I was even there, so deeply lost in his
prayers was he.  I did not want to disturb him any more than I had to in
order to satisfy my aims.  I changed my image to that of one that he
would trust.
       "Father, rise.  You are found to be pleasing in my sight."
       The priest looked up at me.  There was shocked disbelief in his
eyes.  How easy to believe when faced by the belief.  Man shuns his own
soul, only because there is a spot of dark in it, not understanding that
this darkness makes the light possible.  Does the evil man see himself as
evil, or does he see himself as the martyr, dying for another's sins?
       "Jesus?" gasped the priest when he could finally bring himself to
speak.
       "It is I," I said, and it was not a lie.  I did not claim to be his
god, only myself.
       "Why are you here?"
       "I've come to test you, and to ask a service of you."
       "Yes.  Yes, anything."
       "What is your name?"
       "I--I have once been called Mercy, but I can't seem to remember my
real name.  Strange, I knew it only moments ago."
       I thought of the visions that I had received from my mother's coin.
I brought up the image of the priest that had died in the vision.  It was
the same as the one before me.  I shifted my perceptions a little then,
and I could see through Mercy.  This would not have been possible had
this been a living mortal, but this was not.  He was dead.
       "Mercy, you are a ghost."
       "I remember now.  She wanted the coin, but I wouldn't let her have
it.  I even threatened to kill her, and I tried.  I hit her and I hit her and
I hit her.  The coin was mine you see."
       Mercy looked dejected.  As if he no longer had any hope, but then
he realized that what he thought to be his savior was standing before
him.  His eyes lit with a light that was like that of the living.
       "The coin, it was meant for me, wasn't it?" he asked.  He didn't
seem to be bothered by the fact that he was no longer living.  It disturbed
him more to have lost the coin.
       "It has been meant for many.  It is meant for the one who holds it
now.  You were not wrong in desiring it.  It could have been used for
much good.  Now, forget about the coin.  Forget about being dead.  There
is something that I must have you do."
       "Anything, Lord."
       I brought out the cup.  I had been holding it the whole time, but I
had not let Mercy see it.  I had shielded it from view.  The goblet glowed
with a golden light.  I could still feel a stinging sensation through my
gauntlet.  I turned my back on Mercy.  I had wanted a live priest, but I
was sure that this one would do.
       I set the chalice upon the altar.  It blazed.  The cross upon it
seemed to be made of liquid.  It was as if the cup had finally come home.
It looked as if it belonged where it now rested.  I was now almost afraid
to touch it.  I doubted if it could kill me, but I didn't relish the idea of
the anguish that it would now undoubtedly cause me if I made contact.
       "Come, Mercy, your Lord requires a favor."
       Mercy reverently approached the altar.  He made the sign of the
cross.
       "What should I do?"
       "Bare your wrist."
       He did as I commanded.  I took out Witch's dagger, and drew it
across the skin of his wrist.  The dagger was made to kill devils, but I
knew that it would not seriously harm Mercy.  I wasn't sure if he would
bleed, being a ghost, but I felt that this was what I was supposed to do.
If Mercy wasn't the one then there would have been another here, not
him.  Fate.  I had little worry.  Blood flowed freely.  I put away the
dagger, and grasped his forearm, and brought it to the cup.  Red blood
splashed onto the altar.
       It was then, as I prepared to fill the chalice that had once touched
God's lips, that the unexpected happened.  A voice called out from the
back of the church at the same time as my Father once again made an
assault of the barrier that was held in place by the Item and my will.  I
almost lost control for long enough to let my Father through, but I
regained it in time to stop Him.  The voice.  I turned to look at where it
had come from.
       There stood Crime and Spirit.
       "Stop Rancor!"
       I had chosen only to have Mercy see me as the form of the son of
God.  All other's would see me as I appeared dressed in my white suit (a
layering of illusion) but I would still be wearing my armor, no matter my
appearance.
       I addressed Spirit. "You shouldn't have brought her here."
       "I didn't.  She said that she had a dream, and that she had to
come here.  I couldn't stop her.  I tried to do as you said, but I couldn't
convince her to listen to me.  I tried, but she wouldn't listen."
       "I'm sure she wouldn't."
       I glanced back at Mercy, and was alarmed by what I saw.  He was
starting to fade.  The blood was no longer flowing as fast as it was before.
I didn't have time to deal with Crime.  I again started to guide Mercy's
arm to the cup of God.  It still glowed with the same intensified light
from when I had first placed it on the altar.
       "Rancor, please.  I can't let you do this.  I'm happy now.  I finally
found something for myself.  Love.  And I wasn't even looking.  I want
this  life.  I do not want to begin again.  You have no right to take it
away."
       Blood ran from the fingers of the priest, but still none had fallen
into the chalice.  I directed Mercy's hand till it was right above the
golden goblet.  Several large crimson drops hung from the end of his
fingers, and a little pool had formed in the palm of his hand.  This was
it.  This was to be the defilement that would bring God to me.
       A dagger rang off the side of my helmet.  This caused my illusions
to drop.  I now was appeared as I really was.  Fully dressed in silver
battle armor.  I was protected, but when the blade hit I flinched and
released Mercy.  He pulled back his blooded wrist.  No!  Another dagger
hit me, but this one found its way between my helmet and the gap where
my body armor started off.
       Pain shot through my whole body as I pulled it from out of my
neck.  I dropped it.  When compared to what I had been through before,
during the war in Hell, this was nothing, but it was enough to distract
me from my destiny.
       "Look mother," I said, as I held up the gauntlet bearing the dragon
ring.  "This is the ring you stole from your father.  You could never
understand its purpose.  It was intended as a gift of love, but now it has
fed on blood and been christened by fire.  The dragon has been perverted
mother.  It is a thing of hate now.  It's living a nightmare, and it
hungers."
       "The ring means nothing to me.  I put it on only as a whim.  Take
it Rancor, feed its hunger as you will.  I only ask you to quit this
foolishness."
       Foolishness?  I thought of this.  Was I indeed being the fool?  I did
not think so.  I could try to convince myself all I wanted that I could
refuse my part in this cosmic game, but it wouldn't do any good.  I was
born to be a game-piece.  I could play willingly, or I could play
reluctantly, but I would play.  To pretend anything else would be the
foolishness.
       "No mother, you are wrong.  I only come to fulfill all the prophesies
both known and untold.  If not I, it will  be another, so why not me?"
       I held my palm up.  A wide beam of light shot forth and struck the
person that was my mother.  It hit her in a blinding brightness.  Her eyes
were the first part of her to be hurt.  They just seemed to melt in their
sockets.  Her clothes were next.  They burst into flame, bubbling into her
skin.  Crime's skin blistered, and her flesh cracked deeply, but still I did
not lessen the energy I was expending.  She fell to the church floor.
Black blood oozed from her wounds.  I closed my hand, extinguishing the
light.
       By degrees I became aware of Spirit screaming as if it were he who
was the one dying.  By degrees I became aware of what I had done.  I
hadn't meant it!  It wasn't my fault, and I could have saved her, but I
had to use Mercy before he disappeared completely.  I was torn by
indecision, but there was no choice really.  I had to do what I had lived
my whole life to do.  No one should have tried to stop me.
       Spirit dropped to his knees and cradled my mother in his arms.
She was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it.  He looked
up at me with hatred in his eyes.  I couldn't really see what it mattered.
If I succeeded in defiling the chalice of light then death would be coming
to all anyway.  What did it matter if Crime went seconds earlier?
       I reached again for Mercy, but he backed away from me.  There was
again disbelief in his eyes.  I didn't care what he believed.  It was enough
for me that he had once been a servant of God's.  I grabbed him.  He
struggled.  I struck him.  His eyes closed, and he fell into my embrace.  I
once again started to bring his hand to the damn chalice.  It wasn't
supposed to be this hard.
       "Appear!" screamed Spirit.
       "No!"
       I spun around, holding the still body of the ghost priest.  Spirit
and Crime were together holding the Talisman clenched between their
hands.  My concentration broke as a new wave hit the already stressed
barrier holding my Father back.  It tore right through my shield as if it
did not exist.  The Talisman was more powerful than mine, and even if
they had been equal, the shield would have still fallen with the help of
my Father's attack.
       Crime drew her last breath, looked at me, and closed her eyes.  I
felt nothing at her passing.
       Fire and smoke, and there He stood.  He had chosen his large
winged shape.  He did not look pleased.
       "Father, have you came to join in my moment of glory?"
       "No, I've come to stop folly.  You cannot win.  Come with Me back
to Hell.  There will always be another day to fight God."
       "Ha! Father, don't you see, that's just it.  There will always be
'another day.'  Left to Yourself You would never face him.  How many
times have You tried?  Once in a sad pathetic moment of childish rage.
That was it!  I plan on defeating him Father, and taking back that which
has been lost.
       "I learned my lessons well.  I discovered my rage while I was buried
in lava.  I've fed that rage.  You fed it.  Crime fed it.  Now no one wants
to acknowledge their creation.  Don't be a hypocrite Father.  I couldn't
stand that.
       "Either join me or stand and watch, but do not try to stop me or
You will face my wrath, and I have no doubt as to the outcome of such
an encounter.  I am so much more than You!"
       "Such a pretty speech, Rancor, but you have forgotten that I knew
the meaning of true evil before the world was even created.  I've faced
God before, and I know you cannot win!  I will stop you."


                         The End of It All


       Mercy faded away then.  It was as if he had never existed.  I
glanced at the altar, and even the blood stains that had been there were
gone.  Something sacred of God's to be defiled by something that was of
God.
       I drew my silver battle blade.  This would not be the first time I had
fought my Father, but I would make sure that it was the last.  If He
defeated me then I did not wish to live.
       "Come to Your death then, Father."
       My Father, Satan, the Devil, Lord of all Hell, God of This World,
The Deceiver, Father of Lies, The Fallen One, Dark Angel, the Serpent.
He was all of these, yet He was nothing.  He was unwilling to fight for
what He felt was His.  This was why I had to win.  I would not  hesitate.
       This Being, Who stylized Himself as a creature of darkness, held
out a fisted hand.  In it a heavy weighted hammer came into existence.
The hammer was like a pick-ax on one side, blunt on the other.  It was a
mean weapon.  I still felt nothing but purpose.
       I left my shield slung about my shoulders.  I wanted to be able to
move my sword with that little bit of extra speed that I would have had
to sacrifice had I decided to use it, and I had something planned for the
hand that usually carried the shield.  I could always block with my blade.
The sword that I wielded could be broken by none.  I held my weapon in
one hand, leaving the other free, and I waited.
       The Devil, my Father, came at me with a deafening roar.  All the
stained-glass in the church exploded and blew outward.  Still my Father
came, hammer behind his head, ready to smash me.  I did not move.  He
swung it towards my head.  Even though He had created it the hammer
was still a mundane weapon with no powers.  I could detect that from
the moment He had held it in His grasp.
       I didn't bother to move.  I knew my armor could withstand any
blow that the weapon could make, even though it was wielded by the
Lord Satan Himself.  It collided with my helmet, my head rocked back,
and for a second I thought I had been wrong.  The noise was intense, and
I wondered if my ears were bleeding.  I could feel a warm wetness running
down the sides of my cheeks.  My eardrums must have shattered.
       Still I waited.  I knew what I had to do in order to win this fight,
and I was going to do it.  Satan raised the hammer once again, in
preparation to strike what he perceived as a confused opponent, but I
was far from confused.  When His weapon was again behind His head I
drew the dagger of Bettacrasnakka, and buried it in my Father's
stomach.
       He dropped the hammer.  It hit the floor, but did not stop there.  It
passed right through the wood, leaving a hole, that was only slightly
larger than the hammer.  My Father fell flat to the floor.  I sheathed my
sword, stepped behind Him, and grabbed a fistful of His hair.  I pulled
his head back from where it rested until it almost touched his back.  I
stared Him in the eyes.  There was still light there, but it was fading
quickly.
       "This is the end, Father.  You never understood.  You had Your
petty hates.  Your petty loves, even if You would never admit them.  You
have always been petty, Father.  You never knew the meaning of true
evil.  There is no such thing.  There is only existence and purpose.  You
have to find a purpose, and once you have done so, you have to follow it,
even if it's destined to fail you.  What other choice is there?"
       I pulled His head back even farther until I had His chest and
stomach off the floor.  I then reached around and drew the dagger from
Him.  It slid from His flesh with a hot splash of blood.  I brought the wet
blade up to His throat, and slit it with no emotion.  Something sacred of
God's to be defiled by something that was of God.  I cut into His neck
with a sawing motion.  It was not hard to decapitate Him.  The last
strands of flesh and bone parted under the blade quite easily.  I dropped
the knife, for it had served its purpose.
       I carried His severed head, neck up, to the altar.  No ghost illusion
of blood.  No one to stop me.  I could feel the moment of victory.  The
world was to end, and God would be mine to defeat!  I now stood before
the silver cup.  Soon its light would be no more.  I held my Father's dead
head over the chalice.  I tilted the head, letting crimson liquid pour forth
from it.  The blood ran into the chalice.  The cup filled, and overflowed.
       The light about the golden cup of God flickered, then was
completely quenched.  I dropped Satan's  head.  It hit the ground, and
rolled back until it sat upon its bloody severed neck.  It was facing me.  It
was as if even in death my Father didn't want to miss what was going to
come next.
       I reached out, picked up the goblet, and drank it down.  Thunder
clapped, and the ground shook, as I did also, but I barely heard anything.
My ears had been damaged by my Father's blow.  I tossed the goblet away
when I was through with it.  I heard it rattle off to some unseen corner.
I wiped my mouth on the back of a gauntleted fist, and turned around.
       I wanted to laugh, so I did.  It was as I was laughing that I again
noticed Spirit.  He was still holding my dead mother, as if he could not
accept her death.
       "She's dead, you know?"
       He didn't answer, but more softly heard terrible thunder did.  I had
little hearing.  The concussion wave of displaced air almost caused me to
stumble and fall.  Lightning flashed though a window where once had
been stained-glass until my Father had shattered it with a yell.  The
lightning struck me.  My armor carried the shock to all parts of my body.
My muscles uncontrollably contracted.  I screamed.  Then it was over.
       "You'll have to do better than that if you hope  to defeat me!" I
yelled to the heavens, and for all I know, I was the only one besides
Spirit who heard.
       I threw my arms over my head, and clenched both hands into fists,
as if I was preparing to fight.  I was ready.  Nothing could hurt me.  I
would be victorious.  "Come, taste my might!" I wanted to yell, but as I
started to do so another bolt of God's wrath manifested itself, and
blasted into me.  My armor seemed to gather it in and focus it.  I was
thrown onto my back.  I tried to rise, but pure electricity continued to
assault me.  It would not stop.  I could do nothing but feebly push
against the floor and feel my flesh begin to burn.  Little wisps of
moisture escaped my shining suit of metal.  My heart stopped, and blood
started to drip from the fingers of my gauntlets.  I did not know where it
was coming from.  Flames rose about me.
       As quickly as it began, the lightning quit, and I realized I had not
breathed since it had first hit me.  I forced my will inward, and caused
my heart to resume its beating.  I then drew in a deep breath, and willed
the fire to cease.  I stood, and pulled off the metal and leather gauntlets I
wore.  My skin was blackened and torn.  Large cracks ran up both of my
forearms.  These cracks oozed thick blood.  I could see raw muscle and
fat tissue where my skin had separated.
       I looked again to the sky through the open window, and awaited
the next bolt of deadly energy.  It did not come.  Instead the ground
began to shake.  Large sections of the roof collapsed down upon me.  I
threw one metal clad arm up to shield myself from the shower of debris.
The ground stopped, but still dust and small fragments of dry plaster
formed a cloud about me.  I had to close my eyes against this.  When I
again was able to open them I faced Spirit.
       He was bloodied, grime covered, and one arm hung uselessly at his
side.  A section of the roof must have struck him.  He took another step
towards me.  In his good hand he held the blade with which I had so
recently killed my Father.  So little mortal, you seek justice?
       "A little too poetic don't you think?"
       My armor would protect me against the knife, unless he got lucky.
I would not risk my destiny on the luck of a mortal.  Spirit would have to
be slain, and quickly.  I did not know when God would again attack.
       "Drop it, and I will give Crime back to you," I lied.  Life was not
yet mine to grant, only take away.
       "No."
       Spirit lunged with the wicked blade, but his broken arm caused his
attack to be clumsy, and I had only to step back to avoid the thrust.  I
returned his attack.  I decided to destroy him as I had destroyed my
mother.  The same deadly force struck him, but instead of harming him
he only glowed with a gentle blue light.  The light seemed to emanate
from his useless arm's fist.  Was he protected from me by God?
       He again made a thrust, and I was so surprised by the fact that I
had been unable to kill him that the blade connected with my armor.  It
scratched along the surface of my breastplate, cutting a long gouge.  The
blade did not touch my flesh.  Spirit brought the sinister knife back for a
stab.  I could see the hate in his eyes, and I knew it would not go away
until the knife rested in my black heart.  I saw it coming at me as he
brought it down, towards my chest.  I saw my death, and the cruel
ending to my destiny.
       It could have ended here, but fate was not done meddling in my
life.  I caught Spirit's wrist in one of my blood slickened hands.  I
clenched his wrist tightly, and cracked it backwards breaking it.  A jagged
bone peeked through Spirit's skin, and the knife hit the floor between
our feet.  I kicked it away.  It slid across the floor spinning until it fell
into the hole that was created by Satan's hammer.  The knife was no
longer a threat to me.
       I lifted Spirit into the air by his throat.  I felt myself losing
control of myself.  My emotions raged, and my body started to form into that
of a dragon.  Large ridges formed above my eyes, and talons sprang from my
fingers.  I grew, and my armor became the scales that covered my bulk.  I
stopped the transition before I became too huge for the church.  Spirit
seemed unimpressed by my changes.
       I inhaled deeply, and spewed forth great bellows of flame that
completely engulfed the mortal I held.  Flesh hardened, became dry, dark,
and burst into flame.  His charred skin peeled back from his muscle and
bone.  Juices sizzled on the exposed meat.  I did not stop the fire until it
had completely consumed Spirit, and there was nothing left of him
except a small amount of ash sprinkled about the floor.
       "Rancor!"
       I turned to the voice, wondering what new surprise it heralded.  I
was growing weary of this.  I wanted it to be over.  I wanted to claim
Silenthia, and sit upon the throne that was rightfully mine.  The voice
that had called out was Spirit's, and he was whole, with no injuries,
once again.  He stood over the corpse of my mother, and at first I
thought that he was like Mercy--a ghost, but then he held up his hand.
In it he held the silver two headed American dollar that had bought a
soul.
       "So we both have a trophy from Crime," I said, as I held forth the
hand that was decorated by the dragon ring.
       "She gave this to me as a symbol of her love for me before she died.
She told me of its powers, but I did not believe," he said of the coin.
       "You poor fool.  She gave up immortality for your love.  She did not
want to see you grow old and die while she remained in the body of a
child.  You wept over her death, but you didn't know what you lost."  My
voice was low, almost a growl, for I had many of the characteristics of a
dragon.  It was also faint in my damaged ears.
       Spirit ran at me.  I saw no reason to be frightened of him.  I stood
my ground, and awaited him to discover that I was invincible.  His fist
flew towards my breastplate.  It struck the same place that
Bettacrasnakka's dagger had marred.  The coin had no power over me.  I
remained unharmed in any way.
       "That affects only the unnatural, and I'm far from that."
       I drew my bright blade, and struck off Spirit's arm at the elbow.
He only looked at me in horror and defeat.  I turned from him as
irrelevant, and looked to heaven once again.  There had been no sign of
my enemy for some time.  I began to wonder if he had given up, and ran
to some unknown place to hide.  If not I would force his hand.  I would
make it so he would have to destroy me, or face devastation of all he held
precious.
       "Must I come to you?  I do not think so.  I will seek out and
destroy all that is sacred to you.  I will make this world as Hell.  No
goodness shall exist here.  Only evil shall thrive.  I will cause the Earth
to burn, the oceans to rise and consume the land, and I will blot out the
sun.  I will kill every innocent, destroy all that is beauty, this I promise
you."
       I raised my hand, the universe started to shudder, and I began to
undo the Lord God's beloved creation.  I smiled at an ashen Spirit as the
world slowly fell into chaos about us.



Christopher Jorgensen