House Of Blood Part 28

"The sacrifices are offerings to The Master's G.o.ds. Each month each Overlord selects a member of his herd as his contribution."

Chad cringed. "Barbaric. Absolutely barbaric."

Cindy snorted. "No s.h.i.t. It's why slaves so zealously pursue emanc.i.p.ation. It's the only way to remove yourself from the ranks of the condemned. The problem with emanc.i.p.ation is the inevitability of becoming what you loathe."

The obvious implications were unsettling. "And now you're emanc.i.p.ated."

A statement. Cindy didn't reply.

"Are you ..." Chad groped for the proper way to express what he wanted to say. "... would you say that... inevitability ... applies to you?"

252.

Again, no reply.

Which was not exactly rea.s.suring.

They emerged through another crowd of people and ducked down an alley. An old man with a bottle sat slumped against a wall. "Where are we going now?"

"The Outpost."

"Oh." Chad waited for clarification, but none seemed forthcoming. "What's the Outpost?"

"It's what pa.s.ses for a social club Below. Entrance is restricted to emanc.i.p.ated slaves and Overlords, but the latter rarely venture inside."

Chad groaned. "Am I about to be hitched to a rail again?"

"No. I'll get you in. It won't be a problem."

He couldn't account for her confidence, but there was so much here he didn't understand-like almost everything-so he let it go.

He stepped over another unconscious wino. Like the slave hitched to the rail outside the SCD, he stank of infection. "Ugh. Jesus. Hey, Cindy, why are we going to the Outpost, anyway?"

"You're a smart boy, Chad." He could almost hear her smirk. "You should be able to figure it out."

Chad started to refute her statement, but he realized she was right. "That's where Lazarus is."

"Uh-huh. I'm proud of you, Chad."

Chad ignored the sarcasm. "So what's the deal with this guy, Cindy? Is he some sort of guru? Why are you taking me to see him?"

Cindy's sigh was rife with exasperation. "Stop interrogating 253.

me, Chad. Save your questions for the man with the answers."

That being Lazarus, Chad a.s.sumed.

They emerged from the alley and crossed another street, this one less congested than the marketplace. There were pedestrians about, but they were outnumbered by guards and hulking shapeshifters. The strange creatures watched him with hungry fascination; he could feel their eyes tracking him down the street, a sensation that made the back of his neck tingle.

The buildings here, though fewer in number, were marginally more impressive than what he'd seen of the buildings lining the marketplace. Those had been little more than shacks and lean-tos. The level of craftsmanship here, however, was several notches higher, as were the building materials-he saw actual brick and mortar, concrete foundations, and gla.s.s windows. One building they pa.s.sed had an open door through which instrumental techno music emanated. Two attractive women, each notably more attractive than any of the other women he'd seen Below (with the exception of Cindy, who was otherworldly), framed the doorway. They wore thigh-high black leather boots with stiletto heels, black thong panties, and black bras with pointed cones. Each of them wielded bullwhips, which they would snap at the occasional pa.s.serby. A closer look revealed the telltale emblems of emanc.i.p.ation about their throats. Cindy's gaze locked on the building as they pa.s.sed it.

Chad had to ask. "What sort of place is that?"

Cindy glanced sideways at him. "A bad one. It's where 254.

the Overlords go to indulge their basest desires. Slaves are the entertainment." She looked at him directly now. "Females slaves, mostly."

His eyes narrowed. "Have you-"

"Yes. Now shut up. We're here."

"Huh? Where?"

Despite the horror he felt at the injustices heaped upon Cindy and the other women of Below, the women in their bondage gear were shamefully compelling. He had to force his gaze away from them to see what Cindy meant.

"The Outpost, Chad." She smirked. "Which you would've known if you weren't like every other man on the planet."

A sign less than twenty feet from where he was standing read: THE OUTPOST.

OVERLORDS AND EMANc.i.p.aTEDS WELCOME. SLAVES AND OTHER Sc.u.m STAY OUT!.

The message troubled Chad."! thought you said-"

"I remember what I f.u.c.king said, maggot." She twisted a handful of his hair, eliciting a high-pitched yelp. "And you better remember to keep your slave mouth shut."

She leaned in close and spoke in a whisper. "Now we're back to keeping up appearances. This is important, Chad. Life-and-death-level important. Don't talk again until invited to do so." She spun around, relinquishing her grip on his hair. "Follow me."

Chad followed her through a pair of bat-wing doors.

255.

Smoky jazz music emanated from a hidden sound system. The mellow tones meshed perfectly with an atmosphere of languor. The dozen or so patrons present sat slumped over beer steins and whiskey gla.s.ses at booths and tables. The dining area was small, but the bar was surprisingly wellstocked for an establishment that redefined the phrase "out of the way." Tendrils of sweet-smelling smoke plumed in the air. The aroma was vaguely reminiscent of marijuana, but Chad was sure that wasn't it, though the handrolled cigarettes pinched between the fingers of at least half the customers did resemble joints.

Heads turned with slow indifference as Cindy led the way to the bar. A balding bartender with rolled-up sleeves over beefy arms planted meaty hands on the bar and glowered. "His kind's not welcome here. There's a big d.a.m.n sign outside that makes that pretty clear. You blind?"

Cindy leaned over the bar. "I'm here to see Lazarus."

The bartender's expression changed subtly, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes. "He ain't here."

Cindy ignored the denial. "Tell him *the girl has returned.'"

The bartender's demeanor did an about-face. "I'll be right back."

He disappeared through a door next to the rows of liquor bottles.

Chad's brow furrowed.

He again experienced the frustration of not being privy to crucial information. He ached to ask Cindy what was going on, went so far as to open his mouth, but she 256.

silenced him with an angry glare. Chad fidgeted, barely able to contain his curiosity-luckily, the bartender returned less than a minute later to usher them through the rear door.

They entered a room smaller even than the dining area outside. A pair of booths lined the rear wall. A single table occupied the center of the room. A lone man sat at the table with his back to them. A black kitten with yellow eyes leapt off the table and ran out of the room-Chad felt the animal pa.s.s between his legs. The bartender left them without another word, closing the door behind them. Cindy circled the table, pulled out a chair opposite the man Chad a.s.sumed was "Lazarus," and beckoned Chad to sit at the only other chair.

Chad sat.

Cindy started talking. "It's almost time. Everything's in place."

The man inhaled from a handrolled cigarette, smiled thinly, and released a cloud of sweet-smelling smoke. "Excellent. May I say that your bravery is inspiring."

Cindy blushed.

Chad couldn't believe it. Cindy blushing?

"I only did what had to be done."

"Nonsense." The man toked again. "Your valor is truly humbling."

The man's unwashed hair hung to his shoulders. It was brown but heavily flecked with gray. His eyes were bloodshot, but they nonetheless sparkled with a keen intelligence. His body evinced the telltale signs of decades of hard living-a pale complexion, a red nose mapped with 257.

traceries of broken veins, and a gut. A whiskey gla.s.s and a nearly empty bottle of gin sat next to his ashtray. There was an aura of sadness about him, something awful in his past-something that predated his time Below.

"And it is an honor to meet you."

Chad was studying the man's face so intently he didn't initially realize this latest statement was directed at him-but the man was looking right at him.

He blinked. "Say again?"

The man laughed. There was something familiar about the sound. Hauntingly familiar. "We've waited a long time for you."

Something in the set of the man's features triggered a nagging a.s.sociation, a mental puzzle he couldn't set aside. The man reminded him of someone. A deepening frown creased his face as he minutely examined every facet of the other man's visage. The mouth. The nose. The eyes. The cheekbones. He'd never looked so closely at another man's face before. It was so familiar, like the face of an old friend you haven't seen in too many years. And there was that voice, so distinctive, a rich whiskey-soaked baritone. Chad's mouth opened in a gape as suspicion quickly morphed into absolute certainty.

"Oh my G.o.d."

Now the man whose name wasn't really "Lazarus" was frowning.

A helpless, humorless laugh sputtered out of Chad's mouth. "This can't be. You're supposed to be dead."

He knew the man's name. His real name.

The man knew that he knew. Chad could see it in his 258.

eyes. Those riveting eyes he'd seen in so many film clips from VH1 specials and doc.u.mentaries. Penetrating, playful, and mournful.

Eyes set in a frown.

The man sighed. "The person I was is dead, Chad. In a figurative sense." Another pensive drag from the cigarette followed this grudging admission. "The body lives on, yes, but that person, the personality, the myth ..." He flashed that same sad, thin smile again. "That... persona ... has rightfully been consigned to the ash heap of history"

Chad was astounded. "So you say. But you have no idea, man. No idea. You haven't been forgotten."

The man's eyes narrowed. "I don't know how I feel about that. What I do know is what I am now is much more important than what I was..." He indicated some nebulous place above them with a forefinger. "... up there. ..."

"Why do you say that?"

The old singer smiled. "Here I can really help people be free. It is my calling. My true role in life. What I was born for, Chad."

"Wait."

Chad's eyes widened in shock. "How do you know my name?" He darted a glance at Cindy, who wasn't looking at him, but he was sure she knew far more about this man than she'd let on. "Jesus Christ. It just hit me. We were never introduced. You can't know my f.u.c.king name."

The man's posture changed. Chad saw his eyes charge with excitement. "But I do, Chad." He leaned over the table. "There are things you need to know, friend. You have no idea how important you are."

259.

Chad shivered at the singer's words. He reached for the whiskey bottle. He said, "I need this more than you right now." He drank straight from the bottle. And a long morning of revelations and whiskey-fueled lamentations began in earnest.

260.

Giselle's progress through the pa.s.sageways behind the walls of The Master's estate was slow and deliberate. The time for the uprising Below was nearly at hand, and she wanted to get a sense of the structure's temporal stability. The house was more than an a.s.semblage of stone and mortar. It existed simultaneously on the physical plane and beyond it, like the tainted swath of land encircling it. This was what allowed for the vast, impossible expanse of rooms on the upper level, enough rooms to fill the most extravagant mansion. Several dozen, at least. From the outside, however, the structure's top floor looked big enough for only a fraction as many.

This flagrant defiance of the laws of physics also allowed for alternate means of movement through the fluid structure. The dark pa.s.sages between the walls were accessible by more than the conventional means of ingress 261.

and egress. Here and there were places where the fabric of existence was altered in an enhanced way, portals through which those sensitive to their presence could move from room to room within the beat of a demon's heart.

Giselle pa.s.sed through portal after portal, pausing at each stretch of pa.s.sageway just long enough to gauge its stability. She would lay a hand on the cold walls, close her eyes, and allow her uniquely sensitive mind to search for signs of volatility. Anything out of the ordinary would be cause for alarm. A disturbance in the energy field could indicate The Master's awareness of the impending revolt, a development that would doom the effort before it could even begin. She was looking for anything, any subtle hint of something amiss, but there was nothing.

Only the usual cold emptiness.

She allowed herself a smile.

Just a small one.

Because she knew the danger was still immense. The uprising's chances of success depended on keeping The Master off guard until it was too late. Until the moment of his death was at hand. For that to occur, every aspect of her long-ago-conceived plan would have to come together with utter precision. Which entailed a perfect confluence of events and players. At least she could be sure Eddie would be where he needed to be when he needed to be. The s.e.x magic had, of course, eliminated any ability he had to resist her. The rest of it was maddeningly out of her control.

She did, however, trust her fellow revolutionaries Below.

Especially Lazarus.

The only man she'd ever loved.

262.

And the only one she could never have.

The man was a mythical figure to the banished people, believed dead for years but not forgotten. The amazing man was haunted by demons from his distant past, and he had a p.r.o.nounced penchant for whiskey. However, he possessed a remarkable ability to remain lucid no matter how much he imbibed. He was a man of clear vision and unwavering conviction, and he'd inspired the people of Below. People flocked to him, clamored to hear him speak, and they derived hope from his words.

Of course, the power structure Below soon moved in to silence him.

A slave was bribed to a.s.sa.s.sinate him.