The Book of Bart Page 22

  The day turned even darker. I had to turn on my lights. With this creeping darkness surrounding me, I should’ve been worried. I should’ve gotten off the Beltline. I did neither.

  And that’s when the Black Cloud of Death struck.

  omplete darkness enveloped the Benz. The second everything turned black, the car flipped on its side. At eighty-miles an hour, Sweet Claudette’s frame screeched against the road as I barrel-rolled across two lanes of traffic. My head jerked forward when another car slammed into mine. The airbag went off, hitting me in the face like a high-powered air rifle projectile. Claudette and I continued flipping. Everything happened so fast I didn’t even have a chance to lament what had befallen my new car. Sweet Claudette and I rolled down a hill. We must’ve been off the Beltline and in some grass. All I could focus on was the sound of metal crunching.

  The Benz and I came to a violent, upside-down halt as a tree trunk pierced the passenger side of the car. I tried to take stock of everything. Windows shattered; the engine wheezed as it died. Fiery blood burned in my mouth. I spit out pieces of glass. My body felt like I’d been put in a blender. Blood ran down my neck. The screaming sensation in my bones let me know I’d probably broken a few. Everything spun. I unbuckled my seatbelt and tried to move, but I couldn’t.

  I should’ve known.

  My horns had come out and lodged in the roof. Destroying my week-old, two hundred thousand dollar car with me in it tended to unleash the horns. I wiggled my head around, trying to create some space in the roof to get my horns free. I moved my noggin in a circle, then pulled my head down. They came loose. I crawled out of the gaping hole where my passenger window used to be and sat in the grass outside. When the spinning in my head let up, the rain began.

  I reached into the door’s container for one of the vials of healing ointment. I lifted my hand to find it covered in goo. None of the vials survived the wreck. I scooped up as much as I could and rubbed it all over myself. There wasn’t enough to completely heal me, but enough to get me in basic working order. Thankfully, I hadn’t broken the plastic seal on the cigarettes, so the ointment hadn’t ruined them. I tapped the box against the palm of my hand, then pulled one out and lit it. I took a deep, long drag. I needed to see the full extent of Sweet Claudette’s damage, but first I needed a few more pulls on the cigarette, for courage.

  I fell to my knees at the sight of my dear, dead Sweet Claudette.

  I couldn’t find one inch of her that wasn’t dented, shredded, or mangled. The roof had collapsed under the weight of the rest of the car.

  My baby. My beautiful baby.

  “Why?” I asked, pounding my fists into the ground. “She didn’t deserve this.”

  I understood going after me, but Sweet Claudette? I hadn’t even hit one hundred miles an hour with her yet. If I’d had a human heart, it would’ve been broken right now. I took one last drag, then flung my cigarette in the grass. I felt too sad to keep smoking.

  Flashing red lights glared off the Benz. I looked back and saw an ambulance approaching. They couldn’t see me like this, with my horns still out. I pushed myself to my feet and stumbled into a patch of trees, hoping they wouldn’t try to find me. The rain hid my tears from sight. The last time I’d cried was in 1588 when Heaven saved Great Britain from the Spanish invasion with the Protestant Wind. I’d spent over a year helping set that up, and those douche nozzles upstairs wrecked the entire thing. That one should’ve been my big break. Instead, I ended up a cautionary tale. A joke. Bite off more than you can chew, end up like Bartholomew. Even rhymed.

  I had to get out of here. Now. I pulled my phone out of my pocket. The cracked screen gave me a moment of near-panic before the thing lit up. I called Sam.

  “Bartholomew? What’s going on?”

  “The thing… it… it… killed Sweet Claudette,” I said through my tears. “Struck down in her prime by a monster.”

  “Are you okay? Where are you?” Sam sounded panicky.

  “On the Beltline. Not sure where.” My brain felt like a stampede trampled it to death. “Ambulance here.”

  “I’m on my way. I’ll look for the flashing lights.” Sam hung up.

  I held the phone to my ear for another moment. I couldn’t find the will to move.

  Something landed on my back, knocking me face-first into the ground. My head jerked back as someone grabbed my horns and yanked. Kyle knelt down in front of me, grinning like he’d gotten away with murder.

  “Surprised?”

  A bit, actually. I tried to speak, but the combination of spaghetti brains, my head wanting to be removed from my body, and the grief over Sweet Claudette made it almost impossible.

  He slapped me. “Answer me.”

  “Uh… yeah.” I forced out the words.

  Kyle motioned to whoever held me down to ease up a bit. Then he kicked me in the face, making my teeth vibrate.

  “You killed my baby,” he said, then glanced at the person behind me. “Well, one of them.”

  “Huh?” I had no idea what he meant.

  Another flick of his hand and his flunky jerked my horns so hard I ended up being brought to my feet.

  Kyle moved past me. “Come on. We don’t need an audience.”

  I still couldn’t see the person behind me, but the flunky led me through the trees and down to an abandoned side road. We approached a beat-up Toyota.

  “You… how?”

  Kyle laughed. “I got a phone call telling me to be here at this time and whoever called promised… satisfaction… for what you did to my darling Miss Evans.”

  The flunky threw me against the car. I slid down the wet metal to the pavement. The flunky revealed herself to be the Goth girl I’d seen Kyle making out with.

  “She… you were under her spell?”

  Kyle shook his head.

  “As bright as you like to think you are, you really are an idiot.” He put his arm around the girl. “No, Miss Evans, much like my new protégé Ursula here, was part of my harem.”

  I didn’t understand. Kyle ran the succubi? “What?”

  Kyle stomped on my face, driving my horns into the car and forcing me to look up at him.

  “We’ve traveled the world forever, leeching off an international buffet of horny people who didn’t have a clue. Like Tyler. Clayton. Darrel. We made a nice living out of it too. Miss Evans was one of my most prized girls.”

  The football players? “But… they bullied you.”

  Kyle grinned, revealing sharp, spiked teeth. “Nope. I knew what you were the second you walked into Casey’s house. You only saw what I wanted you to see.”

  “So you’re a… pimpubus?”

  Kyle glanced at Ursula. Both of them nodded and smiled.

  “I like the sound of that. Yeah. You could say that. I’m a pimpubus.” His eyes turned black. “Where’s the Shard?”

  I laughed, spilling blood out onto my chin. The smoky smell wafted into my nostrils. “Gone. Hidden. Safe.”

  “And where would that be?”

  I wiped some of the blood off my chin, then flicked my hand. “Church.”

  Kyle stared at me for a moment. He probably tried to figure out if I was bluffing. I used my peripheral vision to see if anyone could stumble on us, but I saw only trees. I hoped Sam knew she’d better move her cute little ass.

  “You’re lying,” Kyle said. “You wouldn’t let it be stored in a spot where not even you could get to it.”

  “Onward, Christian soldier.”

  “Ursula, let’s make our friend here a little more presentable for the rest of the world. He can’t walk around in public with those things sticking out of him.” He grabbed one of my horns. “The mortals would piss themselves.”

  “You got it, baby,” she said, taking hold of the other.

  I screamed as they pulled my horns out of the car door. Then, they each placed a foot on my arms and used all their strength to pull my horns to opposing sides. I almost wished they poured holy water down my throat instead. I b
et it would’ve hurt less. My brain felt like it was being ripped in two. Red lights flashed through the trees, but the pouring rain and sirens drowned out my shouts. I felt my horns fracturing. They snapped with a loud crack. What remained of them pounded in my head. My ears rang. The world seemed like a flushing toilet all around me.

  Kyle dangled a horn in front of my face.

  “You took what was most precious to me,” he said. “Now I’ve returned the favor.”

  Kyle and Ursula danced around, throwing the horns up in the air and catching them.

  “Look.” Ursula held the two horns in front of her chest. “Diamond cutters.”

  A demon’s horns were more than just a symbol that we’d fallen from Heaven. Many of the original demons, like myself, wore them as a badge of honor. To us, they were like a cooler version of the halos angels wore. Yes, we had to hide them while topside to conceal who we really were, but that didn’t temper our love for them. Some people defined themselves with a mustache, or baldness, or an unhealthy fondness for Elvis Presley. Our horns defined us. They let everyone know who we were and what we were capable of. Without them, demons had no definition. We didn’t belong in Hell. We didn’t belong anywhere. We technically might not have even been demons anymore.

  I felt as if both my honor and demonhood were stripped away all at once. I still had all my strengths, but my identification with Hell was gone. Horns didn’t grow back, so losing them undid my connection to Hell for eternity. From now on, I could no longer call Hell home. And the worst part? I would still be expected to finish this crap with Sam. Just because I’d lost my horns didn’t mean Hell wouldn’t come calling if I failed.

  I lowered my head. My will to exist vanished.

  “Just do what you want and be on your way.”

  “What’s that?” Kyle asked.

  Ursula held a horn up to her ear, like a hearing device. “Speak up.”

  Kyle pushed the end of my horn under my chin, forcing my head up.

  “You heard the lady.”

  “Finish it.”

  Ursula laughed. She wrapped her arms around Kyle and jammed her tongue down his throat. Even when I’d been busted trying to get my hands on the Shard of Gabriel, I’d still had some fight left in me. I’d endured the Seventh Circle. Now? The fight drained out of me. I didn’t see the point anymore.

  “We have one last thing we want from you,” Kyle said. “Ursula here needs to take possession of someone before she can fully transform into a succubus. And guess what? You’re it.”

  Ursula slowly ran my horn down the middle of her chest, then used it to trace the curvature of her breasts. When they’d still been attached to my body, I’d relished the opportunities to use my horns like that.

  “I’m so nervous.” She giggled. “It’s my first time.”

  Under any other circumstances, that would’ve been music to my ears. She leaned down in front of me and grabbed my face with her hand.

  I refused to lock eyes with her. The succubus-in-waiting forced my mouth open, then kissed me, massaging my tongue with her own. I barely noticed. My head still felt like such a swirling mess of pain and emptiness. She pulled back, licking her lips.

  Nothing happened. I didn’t fall under her control.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. “Is he possessed? Can I have him?”

  Kyle knelt down in front of me, his teeth showing under a nefarious grin. “I don’t know. He should be crawling all over you.”

  I should be, but the Ring of the Gods kept her patented succubus seduction technique at bay. Not that I really cared at this point. I didn’t have the energy to fight back and, even if I did, I wouldn’t have wanted to.

  “Is it the horns?” Ursula asked. “Is that it?”

  “I don’t know,” Kyle said.

  A bright light illuminated the ground. Lightning. Another flash. Strange, I didn’t hear any thunder booming over the rain. Kyle fell to ground, out cold. I glanced up to see Ursula rushing toward Kyle, screaming. Her screams turned into tearful wailing as she cradled him in her arms.

  rsula screamed. “You bitch.”

  I lifted my head to see Sam, hands still glowing. She looked down at me with pity and sorrow in her eyes.

  “You killed him.” Ursula, not yet a full succubus, let her skin melt away to reveal her scaly form. She didn’t have wings, and looked to be maybe half the size of Miss Evans.

  Sam took hold of Kyle and Ursula. A beam of light moved under their skin, tearing the two to pieces. They exploded, the rain slashing through their remains as if they were dust.

  Josh rushed over and helped me to my feet.

  Sam stared at the stubs where my horns used to be, frowning. She reached out to touch them, but stopped herself.

  “Come on,” Josh said. “We need to go before anyone sees you.” He glanced at my broken horns. “Love the new look.”

  Sam took out the two vials of healing ointment I’d given her earlier. I couldn’t be sure, but I think she used the remaining contents on me. Losing my horns left me so broken and disoriented, I didn’t even notice if the stuff helped or not.

  Josh helped me down the abandoned road. We turned toward the Beltline and moved through the trees. Sam had parked her car on the shoulder. I fell into the back seat and closed my eyes. When I opened them, we were moving down the road. For all I cared, Sam could’ve dumped me on the unpaved shoulder. I wasn’t much use to anybody.

  “Hello, 9-1-1?” Josh said into his cellphone. “I’d like to report a theft. Yes. Someone stole my car.” Josh gave the 9-1-1 operator the make and model of Sweet Claudette. He glanced back at me. “What’s the license plate number?”

  “Tem… temporary.” I reached around and got hold of my wallet, then flung it at Josh.

  He flipped through my wallet, found the tag information for Sweet Claudette, gave it to the 9-1-1 operator and hung up.

  “That takes care of the wreck. You should have another Sweet Claudette in no time.”

  I reached into my jacket and pulled out my cigs. I popped one into my mouth but felt too weak to light it. “Ligh… lighter.”

  Josh glanced back and understood what I tried to say. He popped in Sam’s car lighter and waited.

  “You’re not smoking in here, are you?” Sam asked. “I am not okay with that.”

  I forced out a small laugh. “M… medicinal.”

  “That’s a load of bull,” she said. “And you know it.”

  “Come on,” Josh said. “Look at the guy.”

  “Fine.” Sam sighed. The window by my head rolled down. I couldn’t believe this ancient piece of metal with four wheels had power windows. “Just blow it outside.”

  Josh grabbed the lighter and held it to my cigarette. I inhaled. My body felt a little more at ease. I put another cigarette in my mouth, and used the one I smoked to light it. Two for one, baby.

  “Unbelievable,” Sam said.

  Josh winced. “Two? Really?”

  The smoke and nicotine seeping into my body immediately made me feel better. I still couldn’t move around a lot, but they at least took the sting off the horns. The healing ointment helped some, but aside from numbing the pain, it didn’t do much. It couldn’t make them grow back. Nothing could. I must’ve looked more busted than Humpty Dumpty.

  I closed my eyes and imagined voluptuous, naked virgins dancing to the tune of Hey Mickey. “Take me home. I want to get drunk.”

  I gave Sam the code to get into my parking deck and she pulled into a spot marked Compact, giving us less room to get out and making things that much more painful for me. I banged against the car next to me as they tried to help me out. Every time my body bumped into something, pain like a sonar ping moved throughout my body.

  Sam and Josh propped me up as we walked out of the elevator and toward my condo. A couple of feet away, I noticed someone jimmied the door.

  “What now?” I asked. “Can’t I just cease to exist in peace?”

  Sam leaned me against Josh as she held h
er hands out in front of her.

  “Stop being a baby.” She carefully pushed open the door. Her coach-speak didn’t work. I still felt like being a baby.

  The door creaked and a man called out from inside, “Come on in. We won’t bite.”

  He had a strong Southern accent. A familiar accent.

  Josh and I followed Sam inside. Arthur Powell leaned against the kitchen’s island, drinking a glass of wine. My wine. He must’ve noticed me glaring at him.

  “Surely you don’t mind me partaking,” he said, waving the glass.

  I spit on the floor. I’d worry about cleaning it up later.

  Powell sandwiched himself between two men, neither of whom looked very large or imposing. The pair wore matching red bowties around their necks. That Powell would bring muscle with him that didn’t even look like muscle made me curious.

  “Josh, call the police,” Sam said. “Report a break-in.”

  I propped myself up against the wall, freeing Josh to take his phone out of his pocket. He pressed the digits nine, one, and one.

  “You sure you want to do that?” Powell asked. “You hit send, my friends here are going to get angry. I love them when they’re angry but, hey, that’s me. I like a good tussle.”

  “I don’t like them regardless,” I said, feeling a sliver of strength returning. My anger at Powell gave me something to focus on besides my missing horns.

  Arthur smirked. “You don’t look so good. Give me back what’s mine and you won’t look any worse for wear, you have my word on it.”

  I raised my hand and extended my middle finger. I could almost see the heat emanating from Powell’s henchmen. The televangelist took a sip of the wine and motioned for them to back down.

  “I like your spunk, I really do,” he said. “I don’t want this to get ugly. Just give me back my ring and I won’t devote myself, my ministry, and my viewers to destroying all three of you.”

  The healing goo fixed my exterior wounds a while ago, and now seemed to be strengthening me internally. I forced myself off the wall, struggling to maintain my balance. Things still felt a little wobbly. The rumors were true. Losing the horns messed with my equilibrium.