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"Mogart want stone that burns," he told the demon. Balthazar gasped. "Mogart!"
His mind was clearing quickly now. "Then Dend not Dend."
Walters shook his head. "Dend not
Dend, he confirmed.
"
The demon was still digesting that fact when he saw there was a third person
in the cave-an old woman, it looked like. She walked forward now, and he saw
that in her hand she held a burning ember, its flame extinguished but still
glowing red in the almost total darkness of the cave.
"Baal give stone that burns Dend!" she ordered in a tone that surprised
both of them. Mac
hadn't even known that she was going to get involved, and he looked
wonderingly at her wrinkled and scarred face by the light of the ember. There
was sheer hatred in her eyes and expression, that was for sure.
Oona might not know what the hell was going on, but she definitely had reasons
to hate this demonic witch doctor.
Balthazar was equally surprised. "Oona!" he exclaimed.
Now it was Mac Walters' turn to be confused. These two obviously
knew each other, and pretty well.
Without hesitation, she touched the ember to Bal-thazars skin just below the
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hip. It sizzled and
'
made a sickening stench; even Walters was stunned by her unhesitating
brutality.
The demon's reaction, however, was not at all ex-pected. Instead of yelling
and screaming in pain, he almost seemed to lean into the glowing wooden wand,
and his face took on a look of rapturous delight.
"No, Oona!" Mac shouted, and grabbed the burning ember from her hand. "Baal
like hurt!" It was true. Here was one very sick mind.
She hesitated a moment, looked at her victim, and saw that this was so. She
threw up her hands in dis-gust. Plainly she was feeling the same helplessness
Mac himself felt.
How the hell do you torture a secret out of a mas-ochist like this?
The situation was worse than that, really. Holding the ember and
shaking it a bit to keep it glowing, he held it near where Oona had
thrust it into the demon's side.
The charred flesh was already starting to heal.
How long had Mogart said he'd been on Earth? Since the beginnings, Mac thought
glumly.
They couldn't be killed, and their injuries healed quickly. The scars on
Balthazar were obviously a touch of au-thenticity added by the surgeons,
rather than true ones.
Not only could the son of a bitch be tortured indefinitely, but he'd love
every minute of it.
Mac understood Oona's frustration. Whatever this creature had done to make her
hate him so, there was obviously no way to get even. No way at all. That jewel
seemed to be as unattainable as ever.
Even the demon sensed the frustration, and started to chuckle in the dark.
Oona was so mad she stalked out of the cave, leav-ing the two alone. Balthazar
sensed this, looked up, and said, Dend put hand on Baal, talk more good.
"
"
Walters considered it. A trick, perhaps? Some way for the demon to get at him?
He sighed.
Might as well, he decided, and put his hand on Balthazar's shoulder.
There was no feeling, no sensation out of the ordi-nary, and after a few
seconds Mac took his hand away, confused.
"That's much better," said Balthazar in flawless, middle-American
English. The language of
"
these peo-ple can be so cumbersome sometimes."
Walters' jaw dropped. He was speechless for a moment.
Balthazar sensed his wonderment. Oh, come, come. You can talk to me as well. I
merely had
"
to match your soul to the known patterns of Mogart's world. I
spent some time there a few thousand years ago, but it got too cultured
and structured for me. I still take a look at it from time to time, though.
There's some interest-ing devil worship going on there, and a bunch of
talented
amateurs manage to break through occasionally and summon me."
"Then you really are demons," Walters breathed.
Balthazar shrugged. "Magic is any phenomenon that is misunderstood. When
sufficient mental force and desire are properly focused into, say, a
pentagram, even by using ridiculous mumbo jumbo which helps concentration,
these factors can call one or another of us who are, shall we say, simpatico
with the basic spirits of the callers. There are several of them
in your world, although the number has fallen off in recent years.
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"
"I need your jewel," Walters told the creature flatly. "My world is about to
be destroyed by a collision with an asteroid, and only Mogart with enough
power in his hands can stop it."
The demon shrugged again. "Too bad. I sympathize. But I'm not much on doing
something for nothing, and theres nothing you can offer me to make me
part with the only means I have of
'
contacting, or being reached by, other continuums. This life is all well and
good, but it gets to be a bore sometimes. No, I'm afraid you'll do without my
jewel, and I am prepared to wait here in this cave until you die of old age if
need be. Why not just forget this silliness and throw in with me?
I've had some success establishing devil worship here-with me as the devil, of
course. You could be a high priest for this tribe. Put your soul under my
command and you won't have a bad life here.
"
Mac Walters snorted. "I don't think Id want to preside over any religion
'
you were at the heart of, even if I weren't already under Mogart.
"
Balthazar smiled. "But as you said yourself, Mogart is on a world that is
swiftly coming to an end. He'll never go back; he'll kill himself
first, the only way we can die. I need only outwait him-and you."
"Why, you-I" Walters snarled in fury, and put his hands around the
other's throat and squeezed.
"Tighter! Tighter! Oh, please!" the demon choked, but he wasn't kidding. He
really did enjoy this sort of thing.
Walters let go. "The woman-Oona. Tell me, why does she hate you?" he asked.
Balthazar coughed a little and caught his breath. "I have certain needs that
others must fulfill,"
the demon told him. "With the jewel I have a certain power over others. Oona
was one of the first
I chose when I ar-rived here. .She was pretty then, very desirable. She did as
I commanded-she had no choice. The rites are, ah, rather strenuous. Within a
year she was used up, the crone you see now."
Mac Walters heard the demon, and the hairs on his scalp tingled slightly. He
felt sick. What sort of hide-ous, hellish rites did this demon command?
"How long ago?" he asked Balthazar. "How old is she?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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