to ask without fear of someone else knowing about it.
“Since when did you become a Red-head? You ever remember me taking the stuff?” Josh let a bit of his red eyes flash at the bartender, who respectfully cowed and moved on to another customer.
Suddenly the raucous music was deafening to Josh. Was his hearing changing too? He scanned the room. He knew many of the faces, but the eerie green-yellow lights made the expressions grotesque representations of his acquaintances’ former selves. The Halloween-like costumes, heavy ancient scents and the obvious abundance of RedEcs everywhere. It was so strong Josh could feel it begin to take hold.
No one appeared to be particularly interested in him, so Josh decided to leave. Outside the Raven, he sneezed again. A couple of streetwalkers wearing fishnet stockings and high heels flashed open their white rabbit fur cropped jackets, displaying enormous breasts. He tried to smile with his usual savoir-faire, but had the feeling his expression looked more like a grimace. He wasn’t interested in their brand of recreation. Not any longer.
The streets were dripping with the sandalwood fog, which masked all the other unmentionable smells of Undertown, none of them pleasant. This was a place one went to get lost, but Josh knew his bearings. Still, he noticed the town had become darker, wetter, and the sandalwood scent overpowering. Liquid running down the gutters in the foggy wet street held a red tinge.
Josh heard the sound of flapping overhead. He recognized that sound. Someone had resurrected the dark winged angels that had been outlawed some two hundred years ago in an attempt to modernize the Underworld. But now someone had brought them back. Someone powerful. Things were reverting to a time Brutus had told him about, almost medieval in feel, when the Underworld had grown powerful, only to lose repeated battles in the human world to Father and his angel forces. Josh could see someone was gearing up for a fight, another great confrontation. Josh thought the plan unwise, pure folly to expect to win against the Father and his minions. No doubt this was Peter’s doing. It smacked of an ego being out of joint.
The wet street curved to the left and Josh searched the dark, wide passageway. Finally, he was finally alone. After a short walk, he came to a heavy metal gate that had a keypad at the side. Josh punched in the code and the gate clicked open, loudly.
At last, something that hasn’t changed.
He walked through garden of deep red roses he could see even in the night air. The sandalwood was less obvious here, and he could finally smell the flowers. The pleasant scent reminded him of Melanie. That spurred a little interest in his groin.
The mansion was covered in dark green ivy. In the middle of the front yard was a tall fountain with the sculpture of an angel praying, as if begging for mercy. He easily ascended the front porch, three steps at a time, then stood at the wide covered veranda on which he had spent some wonderful afternoons. Overstuffed dark green wicker furniture in bright floral prints was strewn all over the area, looking inviting, even at night. He saw movement through the window to the right—a brush of pink lace and part of a woman’s thigh.
He hesitated at the door. Maybe Helena would take in Melanie. Maybe he could make that happen for Melanie, arrange it so he could make her this offering in exchange for her turning. Maybe she wouldn’t hate him so much for what he was going to have to do. Hosting here could give her some time to herself. If Peter would allow it, if in time the director would lose interest, perhaps Josh could visit her now and then…
Abruptly the door opened, before he could knock. Helena stood before, him, as lovely as he had remembered. Her white skin and bright red hair were a lethal combination in a dark world that had suddenly grown more menacing.
“My goodness. Joshua Brandon. Love of my life. My sponsor. My sexual
“Since when did you become a Red-head? You ever remember me taking the stuff?” Josh let a bit of his red eyes flash at the bartender, who respectfully cowed and moved on to another customer.
Suddenly the raucous music was deafening to Josh. Was his hearing changing too? He scanned the room. He knew many of the faces, but the eerie green-yellow lights made the expressions grotesque representations of his acquaintances’ former selves. The Halloween-like costumes, heavy ancient scents and the obvious abundance of RedEcs everywhere. It was so strong Josh could feel it begin to take hold.
No one appeared to be particularly interested in him, so Josh decided to leave. Outside the Raven, he sneezed again. A couple of streetwalkers wearing fishnet stockings and high heels flashed open their white rabbit fur cropped jackets, displaying enormous breasts. He tried to smile with his usual savoir-faire, but had the feeling his expression looked more like a grimace. He wasn’t interested in their brand of recreation. Not any longer.
The streets were dripping with the sandalwood fog, which masked all the other unmentionable smells of Undertown, none of them pleasant. This was a place one went to get lost, but Josh knew his bearings. Still, he noticed the town had become darker, wetter, and the sandalwood scent overpowering. Liquid running down the gutters in the foggy wet street held a red tinge.
Josh heard the sound of flapping overhead. He recognized that sound. Someone had resurrected the dark winged angels that had been outlawed some two hundred years ago in an attempt to modernize the Underworld. But now someone had brought them back. Someone powerful. Things were reverting to a time Brutus had told him about, almost medieval in feel, when the Underworld had grown powerful, only to lose repeated battles in the human world to Father and his angel forces. Josh could see someone was gearing up for a fight, another great confrontation. Josh thought the plan unwise, pure folly to expect to win against the Father and his minions. No doubt this was Peter’s doing. It smacked of an ego being out of joint.
The wet street curved to the left and Josh searched the dark, wide passageway. Finally, he was finally alone. After a short walk, he came to a heavy metal gate that had a keypad at the side. Josh punched in the code and the gate clicked open, loudly.
At last, something that hasn’t changed.
He walked through garden of deep red roses he could see even in the night air. The sandalwood was less obvious here, and he could finally smell the flowers. The pleasant scent reminded him of Melanie. That spurred a little interest in his groin.
The mansion was covered in dark green ivy. In the middle of the front yard was a tall fountain with the sculpture of an angel praying, as if begging for mercy. He easily ascended the front porch, three steps at a time, then stood at the wide covered veranda on which he had spent some wonderful afternoons. Overstuffed dark green wicker furniture in bright floral prints was strewn all over the area, looking inviting, even at night. He saw movement through the window to the right—a brush of pink lace and part of a woman’s thigh.
He hesitated at the door. Maybe Helena would take in Melanie. Maybe he could make that happen for Melanie, arrange it so he could make her this offering in exchange for her turning. Maybe she wouldn’t hate him so much for what he was going to have to do. Hosting here could give her some time to herself. If Peter would allow it, if in time the director would lose interest, perhaps Josh could visit her now and then…
Abruptly the door opened, before he could knock. Helena stood before, him, as lovely as he had remembered. Her white skin and bright red hair were a lethal combination in a dark world that had suddenly grown more menacing.
“My goodness. Joshua Brandon. Love of my life. My sponsor. My sexual
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