one knelt and laid a torch down and flames shot waist high and quickly blossomed into a series of crisscross angles of an occult nature. The mighty pentagram spanned dozens of yards and it shed a most hellish radiance, which I figured was the point of the exercise. Thus, evidently, was the weekly spectacle at the Paxton estate.
“Don’t look so horrified, it’s not as if they’re going to rut in the field,” Paxton said from the safety of the door. “Granted, a few might observe the rituals. The majority will dance and make merry. Harmless as can be. I hadn’t estimated you for a prude.”
My hand came away from my side wet. I drew the Luger. “I don’t care whether they fuck or not,” I said, advancing until I’d backed him further into the study. It was dim and antiquated as could be expected. A marble desk and plush chairs, towering stacks of leathery tomes accessed by a ladder on a sliding rail. Obscured by a lush, ornamental tree was a dark statue of a devil missing its right arm. The horned head was intact, though, and its hollow eyes reminded me of the vacuous gaze of the boy in Muybridge’s film. “No one is gonna hear it when I put a bullet in you. No one is gonna weep, either. You’re not a likeable fella, Mr. Paxton.”
“You aren’t the first the sorcerer has sent to murder me. He’s gathered so many fools over the years, sent them traipsing to their doom. Swine, apes, rodents. Whatever dregs take on such work, whatever scum stoop to such dirty deeds. I’m exhausted. Let this be the end of the tedious affair.”
“I’m here for revenge,” I said. “My heart is pure.” I shot him in the gut.
“The road to Hell, etcetera, etcetera.” Paxton slumped against the desk. He painstakingly lighted another cigarette. His silk shirt went black. “Father, the crones, other, much darker personages who shall remain nameless for both our sakes, had sky high ambitions for me when I was born. That’s why I went to a surrogate family while Floddie got shuffled to a sty of an orphanage. It must be admitted that I’m a substantial disappointment. An individual of power, certainly. Still, they’d read the portents and dared hope I would herald a new age, that I would be the chosen one, that I would cast down the tyrants and light the great fires of the end days. Alas, here I dwell, a philosopher hermit, a casual entertainer and dilettante of the left-hand path. I don’t begrudge their bitterness and spite. I don’t blame them for seeking my destruction. They want someone to shriek and bleed to repay their lost dreams. Who better than the architect of their disillusionment?”
To test my theory that no one would notice, or care, and to change the subject, I shot him again. In the thigh this time.
“See, I told you. I’m but a mortal, and now I die.” He sagged to the floor, still clutching his cigarette. His eyes glittered and dripped. “Yes, yes, again.” And after he took the third bullet, this one in the ribs an inch or two above the very first, he smiled and blood oozed from his mouth. “Frankly, I thought you’d extort me for money. Or use me to bargain for your friends whom you’ve so quaintly and clumsily searched for since they wandered away a few minutes ago.”
“My friends are dead. Or dying. Probably chained in the cellar getting the Broderick with a hammer. It’s what I’d do if I were in your shoes.” I grudgingly admired his grit in the face of certain death. He’d a lot more pluck than his demeanor suggested.
“I hope your animal paranoia serves you well all the days of your life. Your friends aren’t dead. Nor tortured; not on my account. Although, maybe Daniel wasn’t satisfied with one double cross. I suppose it’s possible he’s already dug a hole for you in the woods. May you be so fortunate.” He wheezed and his face drained of color, become gauzy in the dimness. After the fit subsided, he gestured at my chest. “Give me the charm, if you please.”
I limped to his side and took the cigarette from him and had a drag. Then I placed the cocoon in his hand. He nodded and more blood dribbled forth as he popped the bits of leaf and silk and chrysalis into his mouth and chewed. He said, “A fake. What else could it