The silt-smeared floor had bulged upward sometime in the past, leaving the part of the mall called Place de Bruxelles high and dry. We passed a jewelry store that some maniac had looted in spite of the radiation danger; I marveled at my
lunacy quotient.
I doused the torch again to concentrate on the harsh stream of light angling out of a wooden doorway ahead of us.
'In the names of the Princes of Hell; Satan, Lucifer, Belial, Leviathan! I summon forth the Powers of the Night! Crush the Enemy! Take this sacrifice, that His blood should drain as hers. Let His essence be cast to the eternal Winds as her life is thrown to the Void! As she dies, so dies my Enemy!'
I edged toward the doorway. My shoes had picked up an irritating squishy sound.
The place had been a chapel, years ago. Now, in the glow of a hundred black candles, a variation of Mass worthy of Disney County was in full swing.
A hooded figure in robes of unrefulgent black loomed over an altar draped in the same jet material. Atop the oblong slab lay the body of a girl, her face turned toward him, away from my view. I couldn't tell if she was alive or dead.
The chapel's decor had undergone a few minor modifications. The heavy wooden cross behind the altar had been inverted. From the cross hung a red and black image of an upside-down star. Inside the star was a stylized goat's head. Scores of black candles burned on the pews and railing. Their light flickered in the stifled atmosphere.
The robed figure continued to face the pentagram. I had a pretty good idea what was going on.
A long, thin dagger appeared from the folds of his outfit. He raised it high to the symbols above him. Its blade was as black as his intentions.
'In the name of Ahriman and Marduk,' he thundered, 'of Coyote, Baphomet, and Sekhmet! Take this virgin blood and
I command thee to rise forth in beauteous terror to impale my accursed Enemy on the bifid barb of Hell!'
He whirled about with a rustle of fabric, raising the blade to drive it home.
I saw the man I most expected to see. I took aim with my pistol.
The girl turned her head away from the blade, screaming toward the door. And I saw who
was.
I almost burst out laughing. He had managed to pick an astoundingly inappropriate victim!
'Drop the sticker, Zack.' I raced up to the railing and crouched to one knee, waggling my automatic as if I were a real threatening character.
Zack's soft eyes curled up from gazing at the kid. He snarled like a cornered animal. Knuckles tightened to glint like polished bone. Under his hood, his face ran through a spectrum of colors ending with purple.
'Get out of here!' he shrieked. 'This doesn't concern you!'
I took one step up toward the altar. 'Not that I like to kibitz or anything, but if you need virgin blood, you're in big trouble in L.A. That little tart you've got is about as pure as the whiskey in a skid-row bar.'
The kid looked really scared. She stared up at Emil and the dagger. I figured I could shoot him on the downswing without her getting cut. The hilt looked heavy enough to upend if he dropped it.
The kid shouted, 'It's not true, mister! He knows it's a trick. I never made it with anyone!' She looked straight at me.
The room faded away in a grey whirl. I felt abysmally cold and lost. Suddenly I saw the girl standing before me. She wore a leather outfit that on someone older would have been a federal offense. On her it looked silly.
'
