Tweel laid Velma down on the couch.
"John, nice to see you," the demon said, smiling.
Carney approached the desk. "Have we met?"
The deng said, "We have mutual friends. Can I get you a drink?"
"Yeah, as a matter of fact, before I stuff you back into the stinking hole you came from."
"Is that any way to respond to an offer of hospitality?"
"Deng, your leathery ass is heather, and I got Heathcliffe revving up the combine."
Ashtaroth puffed impassively. "Really. You're pretty drunk."
"Things are not what they seem. I want you and your minions out of here in one minute, starting now."
Ashtaroth plucked the cigarette from his bloodless lips. "Hey, who do you think you're talking to?"
Carney reached across the desk and grabbed a lapel, pulled the huge body forward and took the other lapel, brought the deng's face close to his. Sparks flew from the points of contact.
"WHO THE FUCK D'YOU THINK I'M TALKING TO, FUCK FACE? THE FUCKING WINDOW?"
Astonished at Carney's strength, the deng desperately tried to detach himself. Carney pushed him away and sent him tumbling over the executive leather chair.
The deng rose, slapping at the tiny flames that had sprung up on the lapels of his shiny gabardine suit. "You're dead. I don't care what kinda hocus-pocus you got working, you are one dead cookie, pal."
Carney lanced a finger at him. "I want you out of here, out of this town, and down your hellhole, pronto, or you're going to regret it."
The deng came around the desk and strode toward the door. "Get bent. I take no orders from you. Okay, so we can't get no leverage this time, but we're taking him ― and there's nothing you can do about that. We got a contract!"
Ashtaroth left, slamming the door.
"You guys didn't seem to hit it off," Tweel said.
"Chemistry, you know."
"Yeah. Shit, what am I gonna do?" Tweel sat and passed a meaty hand through his shiny black hair.
"Now you worry. Twenty-four years ago you didn't worry so much."
"What can I say? I was a fool. The power, the glory, the shining chrome on the pussywagons, it blinds you."
"Oh, don't make me puke. You got a brain, why didn't you use it? You knew you couldn't win."
Tweel held his head in his hands. "I know, I know. Jesus Christ Almighty."
"Too late for that stuff. Boy, you really got your tit caught in a wringer this time."
"What can I say, Inky? I'm basically an asshole."
"I'd say you were an anal opening of the first magnitude. An asshole's asshole. Not only that, you didn't R.S.V.P. Dorcas's invitation."
"Shit, I forgot. Tell Mom I'm sorry, okay?"
"You tell her when you get back to Perilous."
"That's a laugh."
"Don't worry about it. They're only local demons."
"Their Hell is one of the best in the omniverse, I hear. Exquisite refinements. Really, they are very good at what they do."
"Hooray for them."
"Uncle Inky, what the hell am I going to do?"
"I dunno. I gotta take a piss first, then…"
"Ah, enough of this puling," Tweel rose. "I want to see Helen before they take me." He picked up Velma again easily.
Carney said, "Is there a bathroom on the way?"
Helen was staring into the fire, empty wineglass in hand, when she heard the door open.
"John!"
"Hi, Helen. I need a drink or a place to pee, or both, in any order."
She got up and hugged him. "It's so good to see you."
"Nice to see you. They drag you here?"
"Sort of. I wanted to come. I knew he was in trouble."
"He's in a pile of trouble."
"Is Velma okay?"
"Yeah, one ruby grape of Proserpine and she was out like a light."
"Why are you here, John?"
"To save this jerk's butt."
"Oh, John, can you do it?"
"I dunno. I feel it's possible."
She looked up. "John, there's something like faint flame dancing around your head." She drew back from him. "In fact, around your whole body."
"Aura. You read auras?"
"Nope. What's it mean?"
"It means I'm cooking with gas. I don't know what the hell it means, but I feel good. I feel positive. I sense the vibrations. I've been getting more fiber in my diet. Got that drink?"
"There's wine."
Carney reached for the bottle and took a drink. "Excuse me," he said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, "but I have to keep a certain blood-level up."
"John, you've been drinking. You never drink, very much."
"Dutch courage."
"There's going to be a fight?"
"There's gonna be a battle of epic proportions. Dionysus meets Godzilla, plus selected foreshortened subjects. I wish I could get you out of here."
"Three minutes," Tweel said, staring up at the clock. He looked extremely worried.
"You have to do something, John," Helen said.
"Take it easy. Want a drink?"
"No." She sat on the settee. "He asked me to marry him."
"What was your answer."
"I said yes. It was a qualified yes, though."
"Do you love him?"
"That's always the question, isn't it? It's a question I can never answer. I wonder if I can love anybody."
"You can if you love life. Existence."
"Maybe I don't," she said. "I'm frightened of life sometimes."
"Aren't we all, sometimes. Videlicet, the present moment."
"Maybe I don't love life."
"Well, you can learn. But this is hardly the time for deep discussion." Carney took another drink, then looked at her. "What are you thinking of?"
"Being back home, in Illinois. Sometimes I get homesick."
"What did you do to support yourself back there?"
"I worked in a cracker factory. Nights, I sang in speaks. Real dives. In one of them the dancers went bare-breasted."
"Cracker factory?"
"Yes, snack foods, that sort of thing."
"What did you do?"
"I was a taste tester. But I quit to come here."
He took her chin. "Was this the face that munched a thousand chips and spurned the topless bars of Illinois?"
"That's me."
"All is gross that ain't you, Helen."
"John." She kissed him tenderly.
He said, "One kiss from you and I'll be Methuselah."
"Two minutes," Tweel said, his eyes still on the clock. Beads of sweat had appeared on his brow, tiny drops, a film of worry and fear.
The house began perceptibly to shake.
Carney said, "Sit tight and try not to be scared." He patted her hand.
He got up and paced the room, now and then lifting the bottle to his lips. He examined the paintings, the expensive vases, statuary, and other objets d'art.
"One minute. One minute to live. O gods. Uncle Incarnadine, save me!"
"Stay calm, kid."
Earthquake tremors shook the house. Paintings fell from the wall, vases toppled, and shelving collapsed, spilling fine limited editions all over the floor. Furniture began an eerie dance, shifting positions.
Carney lifted Velma off the couch and brought her to a corner of the room near Helen. He beckoned to Helen and had her sit in the corner, holding on to Velma. He moved a heavy Chippendale highboy in front of them.
"Thirty seconds! Gods save me! I don't want to die! I don't want to burn in Hell forever!"
Tweel was on his knees before the clock, fists at the sides of his head, his eyes shut against the terrible moment about to come.
To the sounds of cracking boards and splintering wood, the floor split down the middle, creating a wide chasm into which rugs, furniture, and lamps plunged. Flames leaped from the abyss. The hole went down to the basement and farther, into a deep pit that was the source of the searing fire. Smoke and sulfurous fumes rose.
Carney threw the wine bottle into the hole. He stood at the edge and unzipped his fly.
Tweel was still on his knees, staring with horror into the Avernean depths, mouth agape. The flames lit his terrified eyes, but he could not avert his gaze from what was in the pit.