Succubi Unplugged - #3

I got back to my non-descript apartment and plunked down for a few hours. Thanks to my Alma Mater I always woke up at 5am, come Hell or hangover; I guess it was Hell for a change. I fell out of bed half-awake, delirious and naked; this only fit part of the desired equation, so I started sucking down the rest of last night's Stolichnaya. I'd gone 'Down Under' before and I knew that my mind would just get me killed. I hobbled into the ritual room, which doubled as a sound-proof bedroom. My old spellbook was perched on a TV dinner stand in the middle of the bare wood floor, an old hunk of ratty leather billowing with bookmarks and color tabs.

I flung one hand and manifested a flaming orange pentagram around me, the fingers of my other hand braiding through several pages, pawing at the glyphs as I read them. I closed my eyes, trying to believe-not think-that Hell existed and that I could get there. My body tingled with energy, barely breaking a sweat as a loud 'Ding!' split the room.

There in front of me was a 1920's style elevator with a red velvet interior. Yeah, I'm one of those practical reality-warping people. I stepped in. Horrors played inside my stomach, escalating up my esophagus then floating back down. Some light elevator music was playing. I plummeted down hard while bracing for the G's. I could have gone to Hell instantly without all the trappings, but then playing mind games with myself made dimension hopping easier.

Everything stopped. The door opened. A vast, cavernous plane drifted and swirled in the distance like morning fog, earthy and sanguine colors shifting into different shapes. Caricatures of hills blurred and became roads, while parts of the sky bent into gruesome beasts as I 'walked'. I could somehow feel Sal far off. I tried blocking out all thought; if I didn't, I'd start believing more in this reality and become visible-probably ending up as lunch.

Along the way were flesh-covered spirits, distinct as stars in this abstract place. Some of the souls sat in absurd cubicles while they filed paperwork, others screaming and clawing at themselves while impish creatures fed from them. It didn't matter that I'd seen it all a dozen times, it was just fundamentally sick and wrong.

I suddenly stopped and felt like it was safe to focus on Sal and my surroundings. I concentrated. An infernal office congealed around me, a union poster of Anton LaVey's Eleven Satanic Rules tacked onto the backboard. Sal's wrinkled face hung plastered on a heavy-set head, his crystal blue eyes deafening me. Sal did most of his business in the same city as me; at the time I wasn't really sure why.

"Daniel," he said, rolling out my name like a carpet, "It's good to see you. How is my associate and friend?"

"Busy as all hell-that is, up top," I replied in a level tone, "Business is great and I just got a juicy contract. As you probably know, some public utilities--like wisp lighting and subway power--are on the fritz and getting worse. Some polyester sperm whale from City Hall wants me to find out if it's espionage and, if so, who's doing it. I wanted to know if you've heard anything."

Sal stayed real quiet for a few minutes. He looked at me, eyebrows lurching down in thought until his face cleared. He asked, "You've already tried finding this information on your own, then?"

He already knew I wasn't being as self-reliant as I could have been, which bothered him as a devout Satanist. It was absurdly ironic, yet logical that many demons followed the Satanist philosophy. After all, they were soul entrepreneurs, wayward creatures who imitated the whole 'Hell' schtick just so they could trick guilty Christians into being food and a work force (on a temporary basis).

I shook my head and said, "I have a few leads, but I'm new to investigations and reconnaissance. I don't have the assets that some of your coterie possess in abundance."

Sal snorted with a smile, saying, "Nature doesn't give all her gifts to all people. I know someone who can help you, but you must agree to render a favor to me in the future."

"As long as it won't compromise me, Quid Pro Quo as usual is fine," I agreed and nodded, reaching over to shake his hand. It was understood that I never signed in blood; we'd done business before and Sal knew I didn't need the defaulting option of a gruesome death to keep me to my word.

"Good," the demon thrummed, "It pleasures me to do business with you again. When you leave my lair, you'll find yourself on a street corner near your office. You'll run into an associate of mine there who has been watching CODU closely. You will be useful for one another."

I nodded to him again and made my way through the misshapen door. Sal was more tight-lipped than usual, I thought; he usually seemed friendlier, not somber. Then again, I didn't know what went on inside demon heads. I scrambled back into my own reality with a sickening jolt. It was night again. I didn't have anything in my system except vomit. The hypoglycemia bit hard into my neck and upper back as I nearly collapsed. I wanted to crawl into my bed or even my truck and die. Pretty soon I would be if I didn't eat fast.

Just as I lurched forward, a firm set of arms grabbed me.