Page 21 (1/2)

"Of course not" Josef gets up and walks around the desk He’s wearing chinos and a polo shirt He doesn’t look any erous than a salesman at RadioShack "Who we are doesn’t ot out of Hell and that makes you special But why are you special? You don’t even smell like other humans What are you?"

"I’ , Josef has one hand on my shoulder and the other insideand ot his hand insideover ans I try to throw him off Punch or kick him But I can’t ers

"Oh," he says "That shouldn’t be there You should have that looked at"

Josef’s human facade cracks like old paint, drops in flakes, and peels away in long sheets, falling on the floor There’s a black void beneath his skin, but the blackness doesn’t hold and I can see what’s inside him Josef is the hands and eyes of the operation, but he’s not alone There are other creatures in there, too Their outlines aren’t entirely solid They’re vague, like ghosts Like Josef, they glow fro across the bottoels were candles that you left in a locked car in Texas in August Their faces are fish-belly white and soft Half formed The fact that the creatures are almost beautiful makes them even harder to look at I can’t read them the way I can a person, but I don’t have to They reht pounce on your next ht wait for a ht It’s all the saer with a side of fury

I’ up from the inside There’s a bitter sar I want to throw up, but I can’t move

"What’s this?" The question comes from far away and in a thousand discordant voices

Josef takes h id

All those voices again "What is that? Is that your secret? I want it!" He leans forward and pulls onto pull it out through ht make it But it’s not ers around it and tries to pry it out

I don’t black out I don’t scream My vision collapses to a small point and settles on the floor, which opens up beneath me I can see the outlines of Lucifer’s palace, Pandeenerals’ palaces and the arena where I fought Individual Hellions drift up through the chaos at the edges of Hell, flying towardUntil noasn’t even sure I could die Now I know better

The Hellions are getting closer Soon I’ll fall right into their waiting arain What else aood at?

Josef screaers are black and charred

"What did you do to ? I want it"

The floor is suddenly solid beneath rabs ood hand and pulls ain "A man couldn’t do that Tell erbread Man I’ll run and run as fast as I can"

Josef swings me around and throws me, one-handed, over his desk Books, papers, and CDs scatter around the room I slam into the wall Some of the knuckle-dusters and knives that had been on his desk now dig intothat I’m useless I have a de on a pile of shiny killing toys, but I couldn’t go two rounds with a kitten right now

When I try to get on my feet, my hand comes down on one of the taped pipes It feels familiar and heavy, like Hellion metal It’s a na’at Of course Josef said that he’s been to Hell He definitely knows dark ave the Devil Daisy to the skinhead in Carlos’s bar I stay on the floor, slip the na’at inside my shirt, and wrap my arms around myself so he won’t see it

I say, "Don’t stop noeetheart It was just getting fun" Then I puke

I hear Josef open the door and bark orders at someone My Nazi pal and some of his friends come inside and haul me to my feet I stay bent over so that they can’t see the na’at Not that I can stand up straight yet I still feel Josef’s fingers inside my chest

The skinheads perp-walk me to the door, but Josef stops them He leans over and whispers, "My na ready to strike "Reh the skinhead’s playhouse isn’t as fun as the first It feels like every one of theirlfriend at the door grabs et my first chance to admire the warehouse’s lovely linoleum floor

That’s it, honey We’ve officially broken up

The trip back to the Bamboo House of Dolls is a blur of elbows and knees as the skinhead boys play Frisbee with ood news is that the ets us to the bar in record tiet there The boys pushthirtyand bouncing down the street until I hit the curb in the front of the bar

Before anyone can call the cops, I crawl under a parked car, drop into the shadow, and stuh the rooet into bed I lie on the cool floor Try to catch ers scrabbling around in my chest I take the na’at out froht inthe weapon orth the beating, but I’ aith a working na’at and leaving a de but a burned hand and a pile of puke can give you a feeling of acco day