Play with Fire

chapter Twenty-Six

IT WAS JUST after seven in the evening when Robert Sutorius opened his front door, already alerted by his security system about what he would find there. Morris and Chastain had brought another woman with them this time – a woman, he had to admit, of amazing beauty.

But he still managed a dour tone as he said, “Back again so soon? I must say I’m surprised.”

“You said you’d be willing to discuss a straight business proposition – an assignment involving the work you specialize in. Well, we’ve got one – or more precisely, this lady has.”

Morris turned to the beautiful blonde. “Ashley Stone, let me present Robert Sutorius, the man I told you about.”

Sutorius said, “How do you do?” then, with difficulty tore his eyes away from the woman and looked at Morris. “If this lady has business with me, then what are you two doing here?”

“Two reasons,” Morris said. “One is, you said you don’t usually see people without an appointment, and there’s a time factor involved with this assignment. Ashley needed to see you today.”

“The other reason,” Libby Chastain said, “is that the three of us are partners in this new enterprise. The partnership was our compensation for introducing our new friend here to the best – maybe the only – occult burglar in the world.”

Sutorius pursed his lips and tried to keep his eyes focused on Chastain. Although she wasn’t bad looking, next to the other woman, she was a hag. But if Sutorius tried to address the other woman, he found his concentration slipping in favor of the kind of erotic fantasies he hadn’t entertained since his teens. So he said to Chastain, “Well, the scanner shows that none of you are carrying a weapon – I see you’ve even left your little knife behind today, Morris. And since magic is worthless in here... you may as well come in.”

He stepped back and allowed them entrance. “You can leave your coats on that sofa there,” he said. “We’ll talk in my office.”

Through the hobbit door they all went, and soon were seated around the elaborately carved coffee table.

Sutorius looked at Ashley and said, “So, Ms., er, Stone – how can I put my talents and experience to work for you?”

“Before we get to that, Mr. Sutorius, I need to explain something,” Ashley said. “The fact is, I’ve come a very long way to see you.”

“Oh? You don’t live in New York?” Even though the blonde had not said anything remotely sexual, Sutorius found himself growing an erection of such engorgement that he hoped it would not show through his trousers and embarrass him.

“I do now,” Ashley said. “But until recently, I lived far away from here, and I stayed there for a very long time. The place has different names, depending on what religious tradition you follow – Hades, Eblis, Gehenna, or just plain Hell – you know, the neighborhood where the worn dieth not, and the fire is not quenched. That last bit is from Mark, 9:48, by the way.” She gave him a brilliant smile. “See? Shakespeare was right – we can quote Scripture to our own purposes.”

Sutorius’s befuddlement might have been comical, under other circumstances. He blinked five or six times, leaned forward, and said, “Excuse me? What on earth are you talking about?”

“I’m not talking about anything on Earth, silly man. That’s my point. But perhaps it will be simpler just to show you what I really look like.”

Morris and Chastain had unobtrusively turned their heads away, and now they closed their eyes. Both of them had seen Ashley in her natural, demonic state, and, to a certain extent, were hardened to the sight. But that did not mean they enjoyed it.

And the key feature of what was about to happen is that it did not involve magic. Although Ashley could work black magic with the best (or worst) of them, what she was doing now involved no spells, charms, or incantations. She was simply showing what she really was.

Ashley let Sutorius look upon her true form for exactly two seconds, a time period that was carefully calibrated. Too long an exposure – say, five seconds or more – could drive the average human incurably insane. Neither Morris nor Chastain would sanction that – and, besides, Sutorius could not tell them what they wanted to know if his mind were gone.

The similarity of real demons to the Elder Gods of Lovecraft’s Cthulhu mythos were not lost on Ashley. She had once told Libby, “I never ran into Lovecraft in Hell. From what I’ve read about him, he’s certainly there – but it’s a huge place, and not terribly well organized. I’ve always wanted to ask him if he got a glimpse of one of us before he started writing about Azathoth, Cthulhu, and all those guys – not to mention the effect they usually have, in his stories, on the humans who get a look at them.”

In the case of Robert Sutorius, a two-second sight of Ashur Badaktu in all her glory (if that’s what it was) was enough to send him to the floor on his knees, hands pressed tightly over his eyes, sobbing uncontrollably. Soon thereafter he vomited, although he apparently hadn’t eaten a big breakfast, for which Morris and Chastain were thankful.

After a while, the sobbing abated, but Sutorius remained on his knees, eyes still covered tightly, rocking back and forth and whimpering. Morris stood up, went over to the stricken man, and felt under his coat for the pistol that Sutorius had displayed the other day. He found it, slipped the gun into his jacket pocket, then said to Libby, “Give me a hand, would you?”

Libby approached Sutorius from the other side. She and Morris each grabbed an arm and, at Morris’s signal, lifted the man back into his chair. Libby sat down again, while Morris, as they’d agreed, prepared to play the heavy. He reminded himself of the stakes that could be riding on the recovery of the Corpus Hermeticum. Then he took a deep breath, yanked Sutorius’s hands away and slapped him across the face, hard. Then he slapped him again, equally as hard, with the other hand.

“I want your attention,” Morris told him. He leaned forward until his face was a few inches from Sutorius’s own. “Do I have your complete attention?”

“Yes, yes, all right!” Sutorius cried. “What do you want?”

“What I want,” Morris said, “is for you to understand the situation you find yourself in. That lady over there–” He pointed at Ashley, who was watching the proceedings with great interest “–isn’t a lady at all. She’s not even human. She’s a demon, the real deal. I don’t really need to explain to you what that means, do I – a guy who does the kind of work you do?”

“No, of course not,” Sutorius croaked. “I’ve just never seen one before. And I didn’t know they could... take human form like that.”

“There’s probably lots of things you don’t know about demons,” Morris said. “But here’s something you’d better understand, if you haven’t already – demons have no conscience, no scruple, no pity. None. And here’s something else to keep in mind, too – they enjoy human suffering. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I know, all the books say the same thing. I understand. Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want you to understand your options, and you’ve only got two of ’em, podner. We’ve got a few very specific questions for you, about a job you did recently. Option one–” Morris held a single finger in front of Sutorius’s face. “You answer our questions, truthfully, fully, and accurately. Then we’ll leave, and you’ll never see any of us again. You can take a nap, call a priest, get drunk, do whatever you want. It’ll be over.”

Morris held up a second finger. “Option two: we’ll tie you securely to that chair, then Libby and I will go for a long walk – leaving you here, alone and helpless, with a demon. We’ll be gone about an hour, but it’ll seem like a lifetime to you. Then, when we get back, I’ll ask my questions again, and you can decide whether you feel like answering. Hell, you’ll probably beg me to let you answer.”

Morris straightened up and turned to Ashley. “You remember what you promised, if we leave him with you?”

“Certainly,” Ashley said. “There has to be enough of him left to answer questions. That means I can’t take his tongue, or inflict too much brain damage. And I have to leave most of his teeth intact.” She might have been at a garden club meeting, discussing the best way to transplant begonias.

Morris turned back to Sutorius. “You understand? That means everything else – every other part of your body – is fair game. She can do whatever she wants.”

Sutorius tried to speak. “Listen, I–”

“I’m not quite finished,” Morris told him. “Let’s say you’re a real tough guy, and even after everything Ashley’s gonna do to you, you still won’t talk. Well, then we’ll just have to give up on you. But before we leave, we’ll give you another nice, long look at this demon in her true form.”

“They sometimes try to close their eyes,” Ashley said. “But slicing off the eyelids takes care of that nicely. I’m sure we can find a razorblade, or a nice sharp paring knife, around here someplace.”

“Please...” Sutorius had started to cry again. “Please, don’t let her touch me. I’ll tell you anything you want to know – anything. Just keep her the hell away from me!”