Devil's Breath, page 8
“That’s usually a good idea, but no, it’s nothing like that.”
She laughed lightly.
“What?”
“You’re so formal sometimes, it’s really goofy.”
“Sorry.”
“I actually think it’s kind of cute.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
“Yeah, I heard you the first time.” Sophie lay back into the couch and smoked her cigarette. “Let’s just forget any of this ever happened, okay? You want me to run you home?”
“No.”
“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
I nodded.
“Me too.”
“The idea of starting something again isn’t—Sophie, it’s not like we picked each other up in a bar. We know each other, we—we’re friends—and I—I’m not somebody you should get involved with, trust me.”
She grinned, the cigarette held between her lips. “Maybe I’m somebody you shouldn’t get involved with. Ever think of that?”
There was something about her slumped down into the cushions of that couch, her legs open and her clothes disheveled, the cigarette hanging from her mouth. “You some kind of bad girl?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Maybe.”
“I like being friends with you,” I said awkwardly. “And I don’t want to screw that up for a few minutes in the sack.”
“So I’m missing out on the best forty-seven seconds of my life, is that it?”
“A solid thirty to thirty-five anyway.”
She barked out a laugh and I felt valuable. “You could still stay.” With one more quick drag on her cigarette, she sat forward and crushed the butt out in the ashtray. “We can hang out, fire up some microwave popcorn and watch a movie or something really original like that. Maybe later, we could lay down a while, I’ll drive you home in the morning. Doesn’t have to get complicated. We can just snuggle. It’d be nice to feel someone next to me in the dark. I’ve almost forgotten what that’s like. No offense, Balthazar.”
The cat yawned and looked away, thoroughly unamused.
I moved to the nearest window. The sun was low in the sky. Night was still a few hours off, but it was on its way, daylight was dying. For the first time, I was glad I’d avoided the gallows. All that time preparing, convincing myself suicide was the right thing to do, the only alternative, the one chance I had at peace and quieting the storms inside me. Until that moment I was convinced I’d become incapable of feeling much of anything besides pain. But there they were again, those old feelings whispering to me that maybe there was a point to my shattered life. And it was worth sticking around for.
“Stan?”
I turned from the window and looked back at Sophie, certain now that there was nowhere else I wanted to be.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“I think I was promised cookies.”
9
Night. the street is dark and deserted. It’s a beautiful night, with a sky full of stars, but there is something wrong. I can feel it creeping closer, stalking me like prey. I’ve been in dangerous situations before and can handle myself, but on this night I know fear. On this night the Devil lives and breathes.
And he’s getting closer.
A car appears, turns at the corner, then rolls slowly up alongside me. Someone says something unintelligible from inside the car, the voice deep and garbled. Through the partially open window I see a silhouette but cannot make out any detail.
And then someone’s approaching on foot, moving along the sidewalk and walking right toward me. A man. I can only see part of his face in the darkness.
There is someone…something…behind me. I can feel its presence.
As I turn, a face explodes from the darkness and lunges for me. A demon, a witch—stark and pallid, the face powdered white but for a single black stripe that runs down its middle—the eyes painted blood-red, the whites feral and glassy and diseased. Long black hair drapes either side of it, a tangle of beads and feathers and strips of cloth and leather dangling from it like ornaments.
The demon blows into its open palm, dispersing a cloud of mist that sprays my face and blinds me. I stagger back as a nauseating taste coats the inside of my mouth.
And then I’m falling, spiraling down.
Down into Hell...
* * *
I opened my eyes, let them adjust to the darkness, and then, without moving, looked to the right, across the bed and in the direction of the door. It was closed. Panning my eyes back across the bedroom, I covered the entire area until I was satisfied we were alone.
Somewhere, at the very edge of my memory…something…but before I could grab hold of it, the memory—or whatever it was—slipped free, drifting away like smoke spiraling from a snuffed candle. In its wake, only fear.
The old air-conditioner in the window rattled and hummed noisily, making it difficult to hear much of anything else, but in those first moments when I’d come awake, I swore I’d heard something in the other room. I told myself it was only the nightmare that had spooked me, but I lay still a while and listened anyway.
The alarm clock on the nightstand read: 11:47. We’d been asleep just under an hour. Sophie lay next to me on her back, mouth open as she snored quietly. We lay atop the sheets and comforter, and except for our shoes, remained fully clothed.
I rolled onto my side so I could better see over her. A narrow band of light shone beneath the bottom of the door. Hadn’t Sophie turned everything off when we went to bed? I thought so but couldn’t be sure. Sitting up, I brought my feet to the floor and pushed them into my sneakers.
Just as I was about to go check the rest of the apartment, I was instinctually drawn to the long double windows along the back wall of the bedroom. Without turning on a light, I approached them and looked out at the night. A pale yellow star caught my eye. Saturn, I thought, though I had no idea how I knew that or even if I was correct. And yet, there was something about that realization that left me both confused and anxious. It was unsettling, and suddenly I wanted nothing more than to run, to get away from there, away from that thing sparkling in the dark sky, but the enormous full moon hanging before me demanded attention, brilliant and surreal, its glow casting eerie specters of ghostly iridescent light along the street.
I looked to the building directly across the way. It was dark and quiet. On the sidewalk out front an array of trash cans had been left near the curb, along with a pile of green plastic bags bulging with refuse.
And then I noticed something else.
Across the street, a dark form stood watching Sophie’s apartment.
I stepped to the side of the windows. Reminding me it was still there, the fear my nightmare had left behind slithered closer and coiled deep inside me, its conversion to the world of the living complete. I peered around the edge of the window casing until I could see the man again. Partially concealed in shadows, for several minutes he stood perfectly still, staring up at the apartment. Without altering my position, I did my best to look up then down the block, but far as I could tell, the man was alone.
I didn’t want to frighten Sophie, so I rounded the bed quietly as I could and slipped out, closing the bedroom door behind me.
In the light of the other room, I saw that a lamp had been left on but there was no one else in the apartment and nothing out of the ordinary. Opening the front door, then closing it softly behind me, I moved along a short hallway, then down a flight of stairs until I’d reached the foyer at the entrance to the building. I could no longer make out the man across the street, as the shadows from this vantage point were too thick, but the foyer was dark so I knew he probably couldn’t see me either.
Outside, the air was thick and hot, the night deathly quiet.
Fast as I could, I crossed the street and closed on the area where I’d seen the man, but no one was there. Already dripping with perspiration, I checked the alley between the buildings.
At the far mouth of the alley, a shadow slipped around the corner and disappeared from view. I hurried after it, moving quickly but not running so my footfalls wouldn’t make too much noise.
When I reached the end of the alley, I stopped, leaned against the corner of the building and peered at the street beyond.
The man was moving toward a small parking lot across the street.
I followed, this time breaking into a run.
He heard me coming and looked behind him, visibly surprised to find me bearing down on him. Scruffy, with small rodent-like eyes, the man held his hands up like this might stop me. “Hey, what—what’s up?” he muttered.
Only a few feet away from him now, I came to a stop. “Who are you?” I asked.
“Who are you?” He arched an eyebrow. “Why you running up on me, bro?”
Although I was certain I’d never seen the man before, there was something about him that bothered me. Masking it best I could, I remained where I was. I couldn’t be certain this was the same man I’d seen watching Sophie’s building but who else would be out on the street this late in such an otherwise quiet, residential neighborhood?
But for a nearby streetlight, I couldn’t see him that well, so I took a step closer. Thin, with pockmarked skin, he was clad in cheap polyester dress slacks, black cowboy boots and a bowling shirt. A wallet in his back pocket was attached to a thin chain that dangled down to his thigh. He needed a shave, and his slick black hair was styled with pomade into a comical-looking pompadour. “What are you doing out here?” I asked.
“You the neighborhood watch or some shit?” He grinned and winked at me like we were old friends. His was the drawn, bleary-eyed and emaciated look of a longtime alcoholic and drug abuser, and his hands, wrists and arms were littered with numerous tattoos, mostly the kind of ink one obtained in prison. “Out for a saunter, daddy, what’s the problem?”
“This time of night?”
He gave a little laugh and sized me up without subtlety. “What’d you want?”
“Why were you watching the building?”
“What building?”
“Are you following me?”
“Fuck you talking about? You come up on me, brother.”
“Why were you watching the building?”
He offered his best poker face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.” He turned and started for the parking lot. “Peace.”
“Hold up,” I said.
He did, but began fidgeting about nervously. “Come on, big daddy, I don’t want no heat, all right?”
“You were watching the building,” I said. “And you’re following me. Why?”
He feigned indifference and lit a cigarette, cupping the flame with his hand even though there wasn’t any wind. “You a little paranoid or something?”
“Answer the question.”
He looked everywhere but directly at me. “Hell’s wrong with you, bro? I didn’t do nothing, I—shit—I don’t even know you. Why you hassling me?”
“Who are you?”
“I’m me.”
“What’s your name, wise-ass?”
He took a deep drag on his cigarette, exhaled through his nose. “The name’s Chic, all right? What’s it to you, tough guy?”
“What are you doing out here, Chic?”
“Look, you go your way, I go mine. It’s all roses, dig?”
I felt something dark within me coming alive for the first time in years. “Don’t make me ask you again.”
“Or what?”
I stared at him but said nothing.
“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” He flicked the cigarette at me, and as it bounced off my chest in a spray of sparks, he walked away.
He’d made it two steps before I grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him back around. He staggered, a bit off-balance, but quickly righted himself and pulled something from his pocket. As he thrust his hand toward me, a blade snapped into view with a loud click, just inches from my face.
“Back off!” he spat.
I did, raising my hands. “Take it easy.”
“I’m always easy, boss.” Chic stood his ground, brimming with newfound confidence, the blade still hovering right near my face. “But don’t put your hands on me again, you got it?”
I snatched his wrist, turned it until he’d dropped the knife, then jammed my forearm into his throat and walked him back to the side of the nearest building, slamming him against it with enough force to let him know things could get a lot worse for him if that’s how I decided to play it.
“Okay, pally,” he gasped. “O-Okay!”
Holding him in place with one hand, I reached down and yanked his wallet free with the other. The cheap chain snapped and swung away. I released him, then picked up his knife, closed the blade and handed it back to him. “Put your toy away like a good boy or I’ll stab it so far up your ass you’ll choke on it.”
Chic returned the switchblade to his pocket but was more concerned with his wallet. “What, you gonna rob me now, man?”
He stepped off the wall but I pushed him back into it.
I flipped open the wallet, saw a driver’s license showcasing his homely mug and a home address listed in Brockton. In a slot just beneath it was a blank black business card, just like the one I had. My heart dropped but I maintained my composure. “Brockton’s a good forty, forty-five minutes from here,” I said. “What are you doing in Sunset?”
Chic smiled wide. One of his front teeth was gold. “You need to let me glide, Clyde, before you get us both killed. You dig?”
“No, I don’t dig. I don’t dig at all.”
He laughed but there was no humor in it. It had a horrible edge, sick and depraved and awful. “You don’t want to start acting the fool with me, brother man.”
I took a step closer to him. “You gonna make me take this where it doesn’t need to go, Chic?”
The smile vanished. His beady eyes shifted about. “Come on, man.”
“What do you want with me?” I asked. “Why you following me?”
“Who said I was following you? Maybe I was casing the joint. Maybe I’m out for a midnight stroll and got lost. Maybe I’m sleepwalking. Maybe you need to blow it out your poop hole ‘cause it ain’t none of your beeswax what I’m doing. Hate to break it to you, baby, but not everything’s about you.”
I pulled the black card from his wallet, held it up. “What’s this?”
“Never seen it before.”
“Oh, it’s not yours? I didn’t just pull it out your wallet right in front of you?”
He shrugged.
“Then I guess you won’t mind if I hang on to it,” I said.
“I don’t give a shit what you do, Scooter.”
He was bluffing and we both knew it, but I slipped the card into my pocket anyway.
“We done, boss?” he asked.
I’d known dozens of guys like Chic back in the day. The only way to reach his kind was to ratchet up the violence. If I hurt him, he’d tell me whatever I wanted to know. Luckily for him, I wasn’t prepared to take it to that level. Not here. Not now. Not yet.
“Go,” I said.
“Can I get my wallet back?”
I pulled his license, stuck it in my pocket along with the card, then tossed him the wallet.
“You serious? You keeping my ID, bro?” Chic was trying to play it cool but was clearly coming out of his skin. “I need my license, dude.”
“I’ll see you real soon,” I told him. “Give it back to you then.”
Barely containing his panic, he shuffled his feet and nervously scratched at the stubble along his throat. “This is bullshit, you—you don’t wanna be—”
“Get out of my sight.” I cocked my head toward the parking lot.
Shaking his head, he walked to his vehicle, a beatup windowless red van that looked like something someone who abducted children might drive.
Chic pulled out and drove off, leaving me standing on the sidewalk in the middle of the night. I couldn’t be sure of anything anymore.
But I knew now what needed to be done.
1 0
When i got back to Sophie’s apartment, I found her awake and pacing about nervously. “What’s going on? Why were you outside at this hour?”
“It’s okay,” I said, closing the door behind me.
“I woke up and heard you leaving,” she explained. “Then I saw you out the window running across the street and—”
“Soph, there was someone out there. He was watching the apartment.”
She looked at me like I was crazy. “What?”
“There was a man outside, across the street. He was watching the apartment. This apartment.” Despite the cool air in the room, I was pouring sweat. I wiped my face with the back of my hand and as I swung my arm back around I inadvertently knocked over a glass vase full of flowers from a small table near the door. “Shit, sorry.” I bent down and started to clean it up.
“Leave it,” Sophie said, grabbing the wall phone in the kitchen. “I’ll get it. I need to know what—Stan—what’s going on? Who was this man?”
“I’m not sure. But I’m going to find out.”
“Why was he watching my apartment? What did he want?”
“I don’t know, but it has to do with me, not you, okay?”
She hurried off into the bedroom, then came back a moment later with her cell phone.
“Who are you calling?” I asked.
“The police, who the hell do you think?”
“Don’t.”
“Are you out of your mind? There was someone watching my apartment in the middle of the night and you expect me—”
“Put the phone down, Sophie.” I joined her in the kitchenette. “Please.”
She kept the phone in her hand but let it drop down to her side with a dramatic sigh. “I don’t—you need to explain to me what’s happening, okay?”
She looked like she might burst into tears at any moment. “I don’t—I mean—I’m half-asleep and now I’m scared out of my mind, there was a man watching us?”
“It’s all right, it—”
“No, it’s not all right!”
“You can’t call the cops, Soph.”
