Butcher Bird

Spyder ran after her, pausing at the dune line in case she was waiting. He didn't think that Lulu would want to shoot him, but she still might out of fear or surprise. He moved slowly down the base of the dunes, letting his eyes adjust to the dark. Finally, he saw a woman running. Spyder lit out after her.

"Lulu!" Spyder yelled. "Lulu!"

When he reached her, Lulu was on her knees in the sand, the four-ten wedged under her chin.

"Stay the hell back, Spyder."

"Give me the gun."

"I didn't want you to get hurt. And I didn't mean for you to get involved in my shit. The Clerks are coming for you now, too. For all of us."

"They're not coming for anyone. We're going to get that magic book and get clean."

"Look at us, Spyder. Those people back there have a clue. We get loaded and hunt for girls. We can't help them."

"Not dead, we can't."

"We'll mess everything up."

"That's a possibility."

Lulu looked at Spyder. "I really love you, you know. You're the best person I know. But I can't have those things crawling around inside my skull." Spyder heard Lulu pull back the hammer on the four-ten.

"Before you do anything, I want you to listen to me, Lulu," Spyder said in a calm and even voice. "You listening?"

"I'm not putting the gun down."

"Fair enough. You hold on to it, if it makes you feel better."

"Okay."

"The Clerks took your eyes. We know that and are agreed on it, right?"

"Yeah."

"Did they take your ears?"

"No. I've still got them."

"Right. So all they can do is watch TV with the sound off. You following me?"

"Not really."

"If the Clerks are spying on us through your eyes it's because that's all they can do. They can't listen to us. They don't have your ears. That means, all we have to do is keep you from seeing where we are and they're blind as a bat."

"You think that'd work?" Lulu asked. She moved the gun from under her chin and scratched the side of her head with the barrel.

"We just cover up your little eyeholes and the Clerks get to play Three Blind Mice till we're home, drinking tequila and winking at college girls."

"Maybe," she said.

"If you're nice, I'll get Shrike to slip the blindfold on for you. You like a little bondage with your morning coffee, right?"

Lulu seemed to think about it for a moment. "I'm not giving back the gun," she said. "I've been useless and naked up till now. But I know how to use this."

"I'm sure the Count won't mind. Come on over here."

Lulu got up and went to Spyder. He kissed her cheek and hugged her tight. "Don't scare me like that again."

"I won't," she said, and hugged Spyder back. "So, can Shrike really put my blindfold on? That sounds kind of hot."

Spyder slid his arm around her shoulders and led Lulu back to camp.

"Christ, you got a cigarette?" Lulu asked.

"Nope. Don't worry. We're almost to Hell. Bet they have plenty of smokes down there."

Thirty-Nine

Anthropology

"We're moving too slowly without the horses," said Primo. "I'm afraid we won't make it to the mountains in time."

"When will the moon reveal the entrance to Hell?" asked Shrike.

"Tonight, I think. Perhaps tomorrow, too. After that, it will be invisible for a month."

"Where are we exactly?"

Primo looked up at the stars, then at the mountains ahead and behind them. "Perhaps halfway between Mount Cholula and Mount Culhuacan, near the Tajin burial mounds."

Shrike nodded. "If we push through, we can make the base of the mountains late tonight," she said. "But we'll have to rest at midday."

"I'd rather not, ma'am."

"I know, but we all have injuries and no one's had any sleep. I don't want us limping and yawning into the underworld."

"You're right, of course."

They'd been walking most of the night, since an hour or so after the attack. Food and water was weighing heavier on their backs with each step. Spyder had a length of the Count's rope tied around his waist and this was tied to Lulu's left wrist. She was blindfolded with a yellow scarf, like a Tibetan prayer flag, Shrike had taken from a boudoir conjured by her magic book. Lulu didn't have much to say as they trudged through the sand. She never let the four-ten drop from resting on her shoulder, Spyder noted.

"How you doing, Lulu?" Spyder asked.

"Feel like I'm your Rottweiler bitch you're taking out for a whiz. Find me a fire hydrant so I can mark my territory."

"You're lots sweeter than a Rottweiler. Hell, you might be a Shih Tzu. Maybe one of those little teacup poodles old ladies like."

"It's not wise to taunt a woman with that much firepower," said Count Non. "That gun is enchanted and will never run out of shells."

"I have this demon-made knife Madame Cinders gave us. Is that some kind of demon blunderbuss?" asked Spyder.

The Count sighed. "The way you people use words, it's a wonder you understand each other at all. Every vaguely inhuman creature you find unpleasant or frightening or just strange is a 'demon' to you. And everything conjured or made by these creatures is 'demonic.'"