Alice stands still. I can read faces pretty well. If she had a heartbeat, it would be spiking right now. That’s all I need to know.
There’s a crack like a cannon going off as the building the Kissi set on fire collapses. I wave to her once and go.
I COME UP in the Badlands, though I don’t see how this parcel of the L.A. shit-scape is supposed to be worse than any of the others I’ve seen. In fact, I’d find the area downright restful if it wasn’t for all the blood.
I’m in a deserted industrial area surrounded by collapsed warehouses and bent and twisted railroad tracks following the L.A. River. The river’s concrete banks are stained the color of old bricks from a rushing river of blood, a tributary of the Styx. I guess this is the source of the blood bubbling up out of the sinkholes.
There’s nothing here that points to Tartarus. No signs, burning bushes, or sphinxes playing Jeopardy! for clues. The one time a sphinx tried that with me, I held it down and shaved it until it looked like one of those hairless cats you see in Beverly Hills pet stores.
I’m not far from a burned-out, crumbling version of the old Fourth Street Bridge. It’s all big Roman arches with a few out-of-place Victorian streetlamps to class up the thing because you don’t want your industrial wastelands to look tacky.
There’s something strange under the bridge. A bright patch of green. There are palm trees on either side and they’re not on fire. The green looks like fresh, healthy grass. In the middle of the little oasis is a white stucco forties bungalow. It has red slate shingles and it’s styled with the vaguely hacienda look you see on the older places. I go up the pristine walkway out front and knock on the door. It opens and the woman inside sibuman insmiles at me. Her face shifts and re-forms, showing the phases of the moon.
“I told you that in the end you’d come to me,” says Medea Bava.
“So this is your dirty little secret. Tartarus is the Inquisition.”
“No. I’m the Inquisition. Tartarus is your fate. The Dies Irae,” she says, and recites, “ ‘Just judge of vengeance, grant me the gift of forgiveness before the Day of Judgment.’ ”
“I like the sound of that forgiveness part.”
“And some receive it, but I’m afraid you’re a bit too late for that.”
I step out of Bava’s way, tromping on her perfect lawn with my bloody-sewage-waste boots.
“Then why don’t you scoot us on over to the Club Double Dead and let me in?”
She comes out, locking the door behind her.
“Seriously? You think someone’s going to steal your stamp collection all the way out here?”
“You’re not the only one in Hell with a chip on his shoulder. I don’t believe in taking foolish chances.”
“That sounds boring.”
She leads me to a rickety-looking metal staircase leading up to the bridge through a hole chiseled in the roadbed. Medea gestures for me to go first. I take hold of the railing and shake it. The stairs wobble a little, but it looks like they’ll hold. I start climbing.
“You know, I’ve been waiting here for you your whole life.”
“I hope you’ve got cable, or you’ve missed a lot of good TV.”
When we reach the top, she heads for the far side of the bridge and I follow. She stops abruptly halfway across and looks at me.
“You know that once you get inside, you can never leave.”
“That’s what Angie Summers said in the back of her daddy’s Cadillac on prom night. If I can get away from her, I can get away from you.”
“It’s refreshing to meet a man so anxious to embrace annihilation.”
“Okay. You’ve had your supervillain moment, now can you show me to the front door?”
Medea steps back a few paces and holds out her arms.div height='0'>
“We’re here. Behold Tartarus.”
I turn around, looking for something.
“We’re nowhere. Behold fuck-all.”
“Look down,” she says. “Then jump.”
I look over the edge. We’re right over the Styx.
“In your dreams, Vampirella.”
“Is Sandman Slim afraid of a little blood?”
“He’s afraid of how deep that is. You want me to jump and crack my head on the bottom.”
She shakes her head. Shadows make her shifting features even more disturbing.
“This is the way in. You can keep a little dignity and jump, or I can push you.”
“Try it.”
I start for her and suddenly I’m airborne. When I land I slide about twenty feet. Medea just smacked me with a hex that felt like a tornado giving birth to a hurricane. I climb to my feet and brush the dust off my coat.
“If you put it that way, maybe I’ll just go ahead and jump.”
