Part 25 (2/2)

She kissed me. Her lips were as cold as steel.

”Where are the others?” I asked, pulling away.

”There are no others.”

”Ma and Pa Bender? Your brother, John?”

”Ah,” she said. ”Them. The old ones were merely slaves, and the stupid young one only a consort. They are dead. I killed them all, soon after we left that wretched cabin. As mortals they thirsted after land, and now they have their wish-they sleep beneath the prairie for eternity.”

”Did you slit their throats?”

”There was no time for pleasure, darling,” she said. ”I shot them all, with a marvelous invention-the Colt 1873 revolving pistol, a forty-five-caliber, also called 'the Peacemaker.' Oh, how I love you Americans and your sense of humor!” She laughed wickedly. ”Oh, would that Alexander had a thousand such weapons. Macedonians would rule the world still, instead of yet and again.”

”You knew Alexander the Great?”

”A casual relations.h.i.+p,” she said. ”He loved boys more.”

”That had to sting.”

”Enough talk!” she said. ”Malleus awaits.”

At the bottom of the steps was a room with a fire pit in the center and all manner of objects piled against the walls: expensive clothes flung carelessly about, caskets overflowing with jewelry, books, marble busts of Greek and Roman statesmen, dusty wine bottles. Also piled about were human skulls the color of parchment. The ghosts here were old-very old. Their voices were the murmur of a shallow river in a deep cave unseen by any man.

Malleus was sitting-or rather squatting-on a throne that looked like it would have been at home in the court of Nero. He was wearing a dressing gown over his enormous body, and from a wide leather belt dangled the antique pistol and the leather bag. His hands were the color of dead fish and were resting on the silver handle of a walking stick.

”Take off your hat,” she said.

When I refused, she knocked it to the floor.

Then Katie dropped to one knee and attempted to pull me down with her, but I refused.

”Malleus, my lord,” she said. ”I have brought the other.”

”Welcome to h.e.l.l,” Malleus said, opening his arms. Then he smiled, revealing those teeth the color of old tusk, and I could not help but shudder.

”It could use some cleaning,” I said, ”but it is hardly my idea of h.e.l.l.”

”Pahghh!” Malleus spat. ”You mean your Christian idea. How bored am I of this theology for simpletons. One G.o.d to rule all-how uninspired! Give me that old-time religion, when there was a G.o.d for every temper. And h.e.l.l is merely the netherworld, the place of the dead.”

Malleus motioned for Katie to come to him, and she scooted across the floor and put her back against the throne. She loosened the silk gown and he caressed her bare shoulders as he spoke.

”Why have you come here?”

”My aura,” I said. ”Give it back.”

”You had your chance,” he said. ”I dropped it from surprise when I took it-it was made of better stuff than I expected. It lay there in the mud, and you could have s.n.a.t.c.hed it up, but you did not. I placed it in my collection then. When I have enough of the s.h.i.+ny ones, I will transform into something more pleasing. . . .”

”Are you Macedonian, too?”

He waved dismissively. ”I speak more dead languages than any Oxford don,” he said. ”No man has heard my native tongue in five thousand years, and none know its name. Call it 'Enigma.'”

”Obviously, you aren't human,” I said.

”Brilliant,” he said. ”Any more revelations for us?”

”What are you?”

He smiled. ”If I told you,” he said, ”I might be lying. Or I might not.”

I had my answer.

”What are you doing here?”

”Anything I want,” he said. ”And what I want at the moment-meaning the next hundred years or so-is to set loose a new kind of evil upon humanity. Murder as a kind of sickness. I don't know what to call it yet, exactly. I might just wait and see what kind of bad name you can give it. You get so many things wrong! Oh, some of my favorites-spontaneous generation, the miasma theory of disease, pinochle, maternal imprinting, phrenology, Lamarckism.”

”We get a few things right.”

”Given enough time, perhaps,” he said. ”Problem is, your race doesn't have time, does it? What can you accomplish in your biblical three score and ten? The best of you make some music for others to hum, scribble some dreams or nightmares for others to share, or work a lifetime to discover and perfect some new knowledge. But the rest of you-driven by the pursuit of pleasure and profit, turning a blind eye on the pain of others, and always beating ploughshares into swords. Yours is a murderous race. Why, look at what you have done here on the plains in the s.p.a.ce of a single generation. You have driven the aborigines from their lands, destroyed a mult.i.tude of cultures, and slaughtered the bison to near extinction.”

He made a motion with his hand, and Katie somehow knew what he wanted. She brought him one of the skulls from a pile near the wall.

”Look upon the legacy of an empire,” he said, holding up the skull as if he were in a play. ”You have no name for them, but they ruled this land for a thousand years and did but a fraction of the harm you have done in a handful. Their empire collapsed, in time. Now, even their name is known only to the wind.”

He squeezed the skull, and his fingers crushed the ancient bone as if it were thin plaster; teeth and dust falling to the floor.

”That is man,” he said. ”That is your fate, and soon. But I offer something . . . better.”

”What?” I asked. ”You want to turn me into one of those whackers?”

”Why would I do that when I have a surplus of dull auras and an unlimited supply of prairie wolves?” he asked. ”No, I want you to serve me as your ageless sister, Aikaterini, serves me. In return, I offer eternal youth, power second only to my own, and a seat at the table of darkness.”

”And if I don't?”

”I'll kill you, of course,” he said. ”Your soul will wither and die without its shadow.”

”Doesn't sound like much of a choice.”

”Oh, but it is,” Malleus hissed. ”I can kill you, but I can't make you serve me. You must do that of your own free will. Choose now.”

”Thanks, but I'm tired of playing this game,” I said. ”Just give me my aura, and I'll be on my way.”

”You're choosing death,” he said. ”You'll become food for the whackers.”

”Well, I always liked dogs.”

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