Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
I am wandering around out the front of the manor, not so much exploring so much as marinating in the unfortunate vibe of the place.
“Can I help you, madame?” The question comes from a refined but restrained looking man wearing an impeccably British brown suit. He doesn’t look like anybody in particular. He looks like someone who could be anybody. A set of generic features sitting beneath coiffed hair.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Crichton. I am manservant to the gentlemen at Direview Manor. I am also available to tend to the needs of their respective ladies.”
Okay, so his cards are on the table. He is in service to these psychopaths. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained.
“I... uhm… I need to go to the airport. Or to a bus terminal leading to an airport. I need to go home. Can you direct me where you need to go?”
“I can take you, if you’d like, madame?”
“I would like. I would like very much, thank you.”
I feel a sense of unparalleled relief as an opportunity to escape finally comes up. I don’t mention that Cosmos wouldn’t like this. I don’t think that this man works for Cosmos, and I don’t want to jinx things by invoking Cosmos’ name. Look at me, already starting to think like a cultist. Invocation, what a concept. I cannot wait to get back to America.
Cosmos
The house is quiet. After Bryn spent far too long taking up my time requiring briefing about the Fleisch affair, all I want to do is get back to Elise. Of course she’s slipped away somewhere, which is very easy to do in Direview. This place was designed to allow everybody in it to have their own personal space. It is a very English design, and I used to be grateful for it, but now I mostly find myself annoyed by having to find Elise inside it. I know she has to still be here, because surely none of the others would let her get away. That would be a level of carelessness that I’m sure nobody present would indulge in.
I do end up finding Anita, the little demon Thor has taken pity on. My natural loathing for demons aside, I did promise to treat her like a person. The irony of that request seemed to be lost on everybody present.
Anyway, here we are.
“Where is Elise?”
Anita looks up from her embroidery. She’s working on a sampler that appears to be a curse word. One that starts with C. She’s like a little dark cloud of gloom. I imagine she makes Thor’s life almost impossible.
“I don’t know. I think I saw her talking to Crichton?”
“About?”
“Fuck if I know.”
“Don’t cross me, demon.” My voice descends into a growl.
“Did you expect me to listen into every conversation in this place?” She gives me a look that I do not care for. Bryn has allowed all kinds of corruption into this house. Thor’s female demon seems relatively harmless, preciously close to a house demon, but not quite.
“I know you did.”
“What do I get if I tell you what you want to know?”
“I can tell you what you get if you don’t tell me. A one-way trip to Hell.”
“Kill joy,” she sighs. “Fine. Crichton agreed to give her a ride to the bus stop.”
“BRYN!” I leave the room shouting for the man who pretends to be in charge of this shit show. Bryn emerges from his office at my call, looking both concerned and annoyed.
“Crichton has absconded with my bride,” I tell him.
“I am sure Crichton wouldn’t help your wife escape Direview.”
“Anita told me he drove her to the bus stop.”
“I am certain Crichton wouldn’t leave your wife at a bus stop. Don’t worry. I am sure he knows what he is doing.”
“She’s my wife.”
“Perhaps, but we are all charged with her protection.”
Elise
“So your objection to Master Cosmos is because you believe that he, along with the rest of the inhabitants of Direview, are suffering under the unfortunate delusion that the world is inhabited by angels and demons?”
Crichton is making conversation with me in the car.
“Yes.”
“I see.”
Suddenly, there’s a strange smell in the air. Sort of sulphur-ish. I wonder if he farted. I don’t think he would do something like that, somehow. Crichton has the air of a man who has never passed gas in his life. I can’t help myself. I sneak a glance over at him to see if he is truly the source of the stench.
Hot flames catch my eye and bring my attention all the way around to him. Crichton’s head has been replaced with a flaming effigy of itself. His eyes are two burning coals stuck in a head that has no hair or skin, just a bone skull around which the flames lap and lick, somehow leaving his pristine brown suit completely alone.
I scream at the top of my lungs. I scream as though my very soul is being ripped out through my mouth.