Horrors of the Dancing Gods (30 page)

"You make it sound so easy," Irving noted, knowing it almost certainly wasn't.

"Well,
they
certainly know it as well," the doctor admitted. "One would expect that their agents on
this
side assembling what's required have a certain level of built-in redundancy. The trick, then, is in finding out how many sacrifices they actually
require
rather than the number they have got, you see." He yawned. "Pardon, but I've had a long day, I'm afraid."

"Perfectly all right. You have been a lifesaver, Doctor," Marge assured him. "Please go back to your hotel room or wherever and have a nice rest."

"It's that blasted Frenchman. Had me up all last night examining the catacombs of Boreas." He sighed. "Well, it certainly has kept life interesting. Charmed. Don't worry about your friend—she'll be fine, at least as far as the wounds go. Superficial. I wish I could say the same about the curse, but that's out of my league. Farewell for
now!"

And with that he was gone.

"Fascinating," Poquah commented. "One begins to suspect that Yuggoth has other surprises than the ones we anticipated. This suggests a primary weakness in the dimensional walls separating the two universes right along this continent. Perhaps more than two, since there is also a physical entryway to Hell here and in no other place. One suspects that the two great bubbles of our respective universes
almost
touch here. If so, it would be the ideal invasion point from the Sea of Dreams and the easiest to control access into and out of."

Irving frowned. "Well, if Hell's
close over one way
and Earth's
close by on the other, then where's Heaven?' "On the other side of Earth, of course. I thought that was obvious," the Imir responded. "We are a bit closer to Hell here. Always have been. Not that Earth folk are any more or less likely to go there than our people are, but here you can
walk."

Marge tiptoed to the door of the bedroom and looked in. Larae was professionally bandaged on her left arm and shoulder and seemed to be asleep from the release of tension, Trowbridge's drugs and shock, or both. She quietly pulled the door shut again, turned, and for the first time saw the strange little man in the white suit "Who's Peter Lorre?' she asked.

He smiled. "Joel Thebes, madame. At your service. We were speaking—the three of us—when you and your companion made your dramatic entrance. I am sorry we did not have a calm and proper introduction."

She nodded. "Then you're the native guide we were to meet?"

"At your service. Not, however, a native. Not of this place, oh, no! I, too, was born and raised on Earth, in a small town none would have heard of in the Carpathian Mountains near the Romanian-Hungarian border."

She immediately understood. "You're
really
from Transylvania'?"

He brightened. "Oh, my, yes! A descendant of the Wallachians who ultimately subdued and dealt with Vlad Dracut. And no, I am not a vampire or a werewolf or anything like that, although over time some changes have taken place within me. They have nothing to do with my birth or ancestry, though, and do not imperil you. They are the price I have paid to still be chasing the bird after so many, many long years."

"And a fat man and a pretty girl are around someplace, no doubt."

He looked quizzical. "Um, there
was
a
very large man, a companion, yes, but he is now dead, I believe. At least, I left him in the last stages of a terrible lung disease in Istanbul long ago, and if I know him, he would have made it here by now were he not long dead and assigned to wherever he was to go. As to women, I have encountered many beautiful women over the years but none in a very long time. Why did you make the comment, may I ask?"

"Never mind. You just reminded me of a different plot I once knew." She should have guessed, Marge told herself, or at least reminded herself that much of the fantasy and fancy of Earth were carried over the Sea of Dreams and there crept into the minds of the most creative and receptive. Earth's fiction was this world's fact, including, it appeared, this little fellow. Well, if he was anything close to his fictional counterpart, he was a very dangerous killer, but he was also more of a threat to Irving than to Larae.

Irving yawned. "Seems to me that we'd all be better off in the daylight around here, except maybe Marge. Maybe we should get some sleep while there's still enough night."

Poquah nodded. "I agree. Mister Thebes, can you meet us for a late breakfast, say, eight-thirty or nine? I assume the hotel has some sort of service."

"It does," Thebes responded. "Mostly European-stylesweet rolls, coffee, tea, that sort of thing—but ample. Shall we say nine, then?"

"By all means. We have much to arrange, and our clock is ticking on this," the Imir reminded him.

With that, Thebes left, and they felt free to relax a bit. "You trust him?' Marge asked the Imir.

"Not much and certainly not in proximity to the McGuffin, but until then his interest lies in sticking with and even helping us. I also believe that his fanatic obsession for obtaining the Grand McGuffin is such that he will be less vulnerable to many of the truly evil influences we may encounter along the way. Perhaps even more insulated than any of the rest of us."

"You really think
that
is a
danger?" Irving asked him.

"Perhaps. It is best to remain on guard. That is why the Master sent me along on this trip, I believe. Duty is all-important to the Imir. It outweighs and overrides all other considerations, and I have my duty to perform on this mission. So far, in fact, it has been remarkably easy; now, I fear, it is going to turn much uglier. It isn't just the institutional dangers, it's
the random ones such as the man with the dog tonight. Marge, tell me true, do you believe that he knew who either of you were?"

"No. I don't think so. He didn't even seem to be waiting for us. It was almost, well, he was going along and spotted us and decided to sic the dog on us just for the hell of it."

"Indeed, that is just what I mean. Around here much, perhaps a lot, is just for the Hell of it. That is why we must always stick closely together if possible and always be on guard. Trust no one outside our circle unless we have to and all the rest of us can keep watch. The natives here may seem quite ordinary, be friendly, all the rest, but deep down they have no conscience and no sense of responsibility. Assume that everyone you meet is like that fellow with the dog and you will be a lot safer."

"'Thanks a lot," Marge said glumly. Still, they were here and going inland. "I think the sooner we're on our way and the less time we spend in towns and cities, the better, though."

"I agree. Irving and I will sleep tonight; you can keep watch. Tomorrow one of us will do the same
for you."

"Fair enough," she responded, "but I may have to go out for just a little bit. That trick I pulled tonight to get us out of that jam used up a tot of energy. I will need to feed."

"Be careful. It won't take much to overdose in a place like this!" the Imir warned her. "Still, go."

"Um—Marge?" Irving asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, Irv?"

"What
did
you do that got the dog off her?"

"I can't demonstrate. Takes too much out of me. Let's just say that I can do illusions and that most of my illusions are nice and very easy to look at but that there are a few I can do that are scarier than all hell. When that dog lit into her, I just reacted instinctively, and suddenly the woman next to her turned into an apparent horrible fiend and snapped at the dog. Last I saw, it was running down the alley yelping, dragging its tail. When I looked around for the owner, I found him knocked out against the far wall! How
that
happened I'm not sure. I got the strong impression somebody else was close by in spite of my aerial surveillance, but with Larae hurt, I couldn't take the time to look. I'd
swear,
though, that there was no way the guy with the dog could have been startled and knocked himself out that way, but, well, who knows?'

"Remind me to stick close to you."

"Don't get too confident," she warned him. "Remember, it's only illusion. Fake. The only reality is what you see right now." She sighed. "Okay, I'll just go out the window over here. Close it after me—there are some pretty mean things flying around these parts. I'll get back in. And don't worry so much! We're gonna
do
this thing! Believe it!"

"I try," Irving assured her. But he wished there had been enough time for Joel Thebes to tell them why their destiny was so wrapped up in this. Well, he was going along, so there would be plenty of time for that. There was still so much that seemed to have been deliberately withheld from
him.
Like that and like what Larae's curse was.

Damn it, it wasn't fair for perfect strangers to know more about him and his cohorts than they did themselves!

He would find out some of it, he promised himself. He'd find out as much as he could in the morning.

BE MINE ON YUGGOTH

There can never be but one partner in a seduction.

—
Rules, Vol. XXXIII, p. 261(c)

LARAE WAS SORE BUT OTHERWISE
IN FAIRLY GOOD SPIRITS the next morning. "Go on down," she urged them. "I'll be all right here, and if I feel up to it, I'll try and dress and join you.
Please.
I'm not very well going to allow you to help me in here, anyway."

Irving shrugged. "All right, if that's what you really want" He looked over at the absolutely comatose Marge, who seemed to be sleeping the sleep of the dead. "She's not going to wake up for a hurricane, you know."

"That's all right. I didn't expect her to. You would be surprised at how self-sufficient I have had to learn to be. Go on, get your business started."

Leaving the girl, he joined Poquah, who had switched his usual gray robes for a mottled green and brown tunic and pants and strong boots. They went down to breakfast

"Is this your normal Imir garb back in your own homeland?" Irving asked him, curious.

"One of them. The style's rather stock, I'm afraid—the Rules, you know—but the coloration and cut are often quite distinctive. Um, I assume you noted how completely unconscious the Kauri was?"

"Uh, yeah, but she's always out of it in bright daylight"

"Not
that
out of it. She's functional in daylight; she just could feel the same as you or I would if we hadn't been to sleep for, say, twenty-four hours. Groggy but workable. If she slept that hard normally, she'd be totally vulnerable during the day, when virtually all of her defenses are from the conscious will rather than being automatic. No, I fear we will have to keep a careful eye on her because she will be the last to notice."

"Notice what?"

"She feeds on other people's misdeeds, regrets, whatever. There's not a lot of conscience in these people, so the kind of psychic energy she's designed to digest must be dug for more deeply and at its root, which is not in the sense of wrongness but rather in the nature of the deed itself and its stain upon the soul. It is quite easy for her, I think, to mistake the stain for what is her natural food."

"I don't follow you at all," the boy admitted, shaking his head.

Poquah sighed and chose his words patiently. "She thinks she is doing the normal, instinctual, and natural thing by cleansing the soul, but instead she is consuming a part of it."

"Huh? What?"

"She is eating part of their evil-stained souls, which, to someone of a faerie nature, is tantamount to cannibalism. You remember the old saying that you are what you eat?"

"Yeah, but ..."

"If she is not careful, she will turn from being a Kauri to becoming a Succubus, a predator. In a sense, it would be like a mortal becoming a vampire. It would not matter if she liked the state or not; she would not be able to help herself. She would become a killer to live, but under a whole different part of the Rules.
That
is the danger I feared most from the start and the one which Master Ruddygore was also most concerned about. I still hope that her own ruler, who keeps some connection with all those of the tribe, has a way to control this or she wouldn't have allowed Marge to come, but it is by no means sure. In the end we must drive home to her the need to stop before she turns completely. It is more a matter of will than of compulsion, but one must recognize the problem to deal with it."

"Sounds like drugs and booze," Irving commented.