Faith of the Divine Inferno, Leslie Thompson [ebook reader web txt] 📗

the bedspread and floor that defied identification, even if I wanted to know what they were. The bathroom was worse than the bedroom. The porcelain sink and toilet were cracked and stained brown and yellow, and the mirror was cracked and corroded while the tub had large patches of exposed fiberglass. I didn’t dare look at the floor in there.
I came back into the bedroom to find Shaw eating his burger and watching the television. The appliance was reasonably new, though the porn on its screen might have been from the seventies.
“What are you watching that for?” I demanded, irked by Shaw’s blatant vulgarity. Suddenly I was real glad that I had twice failed to do the nasty with him.
“This is the only thing the television gets,” Shaw replied. He picked up the remote and flipped through the channels, showing me one triple X movie after another. The actors were so shameless in their debauchery that they made my eyes bug and my skin warm with embarrassment. And that’s saying something. After twenty-five hundred years, I thought I’d seen it all. Clearly, a few things were invented when I wasn’t paying attention. I wondered how the actresses avoided hospitalization.
“Turn it off,” I snapped. I opened the bag and fished out a hamburger and sat in the chair next to Shaw to eat it. He clicked the TV off and we fell into a tense silence. Since I didn’t want to fight with Shaw I pretended that the quiet was brought on by eating rather than because we were getting on each other’s nerves. We were cramming bags and wrappers into the tiny garbage cans when Shaw’s cell phone vibrated and went spastic with boinging noises. He checked the screen and ground his teeth angrily for a few seconds and flipped the phone open with a snarled, “Hello?”
The only reason why I could hear the high, feminine voice speaking at machine gun speed was because the woman was screaming. I thought it was amazing that she didn’t pass out from lack of oxygen as the shrill stream of words continued unabated for several minutes. Maybe she had learned to inhale and speak at the same time. If so, it was a nifty trick. Shaw wasn’t nearly so impressed as I was. He scowled as soon as the woman started in on him, and his expression got darker with every word she spoke.
Finally, the woman stopped her nattering and waited for him to answer. Shaw took a minute to smother his temper and make sure she was finished before he answered her.
“I didn’t forget that the kids were coming,” Shaw said through clenched teeth. “I wasn’t home because…something came up.” Even I flinched at that load of crap. I understood why Shaw didn’t want to tell people that he had been snapped up by a bunch of freaking faeries, but if your ex is pissed because you didn’t show up to visit your kids (especially if they came to you) then you better have a damn good reason for not being there. At least have a better excuse than “Something came up”. Shaw is a retard.
The woman on the phone took it worse than I did. The woman launched into a tirade of rage spoken entirely in fluent shrewish. Shaw listened to it for about five minutes and then hung up the phone and tossed it on the bed.
“Are you sure that it was a good idea to hang up on her?” I asked. “She’s pretty pissed.”
“Enid is always pissed off,” Shaw snapped and collapsed on the bed. “But she managed to tell me that the kids are okay, so I’m happy. She can get as mad as she wants.”
“What do you think she’ll do?” I asked. Women as angry as Enid always do something about it. Hell, if I thought my kids had been left standing on their father’s doorstep for no good reason, I’d do something about it too. Shaw was screwed, and if the tension in his face was an indicator, he knew it too.
“She’ll probably haul my ass to family court and try to strip me of my paternal rights.” He groaned and rubbed his eyes with his hands in despair. “She’s been trying to get sole custody since we separated.”
“I’m sorry.” I wondered what Shaw did to turn his wife into a bitter shrew. Unless she is a psychopath, a woman doesn’t harbor that much rage for the man who was her husband and father of her children unless she feels justified. While half of those reasons are stupid, the other half are very good. I wondered which category Shaw fit into.
It’s a universal truth that you never, ever tell a man that he is to blame for a vicious ex. They never take it well. The only thing left to do was soothe his battered ego and hurt feelings then hope that he got over it quickly. “Maybe once all of this is over, we can find a way to tell Enid what happened that will simultaneously make her see reason and spend less time plotting your demise.”
Shaw gave me a dubious look that implied that I was delusional.
“Or, maybe I can plant heroine in her car and call the DEA,” I added with an evil grin. That got a wry smile out of him and he favored me with a chuckle. “Why don’t you find a clean corner of this bed to sleep, and I’ll take the first watch.”
“First watch?” Shaw sat up in with a curious expression. “Don’t you think that’s a little paranoid?”
“No. If meth-mouth downstairs is anything to go on, this is a rotten neighborhood full of poor, desperate, and violent people. We are in a crappy hotel with flimsy locks on flimsy doors. Only an idiot would sleep unguarded.” I told him. “You don’t know what might break through that door.”
“Maybe. But what are you worried about? It’s not like anyone can kill you.”
“True, but we have faeries and rabid cultists out to get us; both of which can kill you and make my life miserable for a very long time. We can’t be too careful.”
Shaw growled and dug the discarded fast food bag from the trash. He opened it and withdrew the salt packets that had been thrown in with our fries. Putting the others onto the small table near the door, Shaw tore the top off of one and sprinkled the contents halfway across the threshold before taking another and finishing the job. He did the same with the room’s one window and then threw the rest on the floor around the bed.
“Happy now?” Shaw demanded. He sounded very condescending as he put the trash back into the tiny can. He turned to the bed and pulled the sheet and blanket from beneath the lumpy pillows. To my surprise the sheets were pure white and new. Maybe there was a hotel faerie somewhere that took pity on people like me and magically cleaned sheets to spare us the indignity of a bizarre abscess in a delicate body part.
Shaw stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside and his jeans quickly followed. I got a delightful view of his backside with the smooth ripple and play of muscles along his shoulders. He slid into the bed and pulled the sheet up to his waist and lay back with his hands behind his head, posing so that I couldn’t do anything but admire him. He patted the pillow next to him and gave me a wink. “The salt will keep the big bad monsters away. Come to bed now.”
Something about the way he said that rubbed me the wrong way. “Salt won’t keep cultists from storming the room. And don’t you talk down to me.”
“You’re acting like a hysterical victim when there’s no reason to do so.” He threw his hands up and rolled his eyes at me. I would have liked to lift my hand and roll those eyes out of his head. But I couldn’t, so I scowled.
“Stop talking.” I was careful to keep my voice low and even. I didn’t want to fight. I wanted him to shut up and go to sleep so that I could have some peace and quiet. Shaw stared at me like he was the one who had been insulted, and then rolled over with an irritated sigh. I stared at his beautifully broad back and I wondered how many holes I could put into it before he could stop me.


Chapter 21

I frowned groggily at the walls as they ran red in gory streaks. Thick, black liquid oozed from the cracks in the floorboards and spread slowly across the floor. The salt around the bed sparked like an over loaded circuit while the door and window burst into pretty green and blue flames. I blinked at it and could only feel disgust. This is what happens when faulty wiring and corroded pipes were allowed to decay unchecked. Our room had become a cesspool of filth and flame, and if I wanted to keep Shaw alive, it was time to leave. But not before we got our money back.
“Wake up.” I grabbed Shaw’s toes and gave them a firm shake. He woke with a startled snort and blinked at me in surprise.
“What is that smell?” he gasped, struggling to force his fatigued mind to function.
“The room is on fire and the pipes are seeping sewage onto the floor. It’s time to check out.” Something dripped onto my head from the ceiling, burning my scalp as slime soaked through my hair. My skin crawled and my stomach lurched in disgust and I hurried to the bathroom to towel off.
I used a threadbare towel to scrub the gunk out of my hair as Shaw let out a string of frightened curses that was astonishing in their creativity. I started to chuckle and tease the poor mortal who was convinced of his impending doom, and then stopped. Before my eyes, the cracks in the mirror were disappearing, as if someone was dragging an eraser across the glass and removing the jagged lines.
I locked eyes with my reflection, finding her sad expression wildly contrary to my astonishment. She wept big tears of blood that spilled down her wan cheeks and dripped from her delicate chin. She gave a sobbing cry and pressed mutilated palms against the glass in a silent entreaty.
Horrified and unwilling to remain within easy reach of my doppelganger, I took a wary step away from the sink. I heard Shaw go silent behind me as a high, childish laugh speckled the air like hailstones. My reflection flinched in terror and fell to piteous wailing as she searched the room behind me.
“Speak your name,” she pleaded. A thin black liquid spilled from between full lips to mix with the gore staining her calico shirt. “Make it go away, please! Speak your name!” She beat at the mirror in her despair, further splitting the battered flesh of her hands and leaving bloody prints.
I shook my head, refusing to utter the syllables it wanted. I have put too much effort toward