HELLSPEAK PART THREE

I smelled death. I heard buzzing at my ears. Dim and I locked eyes. Without saying a word, we both fell to the linoleum floor of the unfinished building and rolled left. We rolled right into a leg in blue trousers. I looked up and saw Hemlock standing in the doorway of the building. The short fat man was in an uptown blue suit cut especially for him. He was grinning at me, a cigar hanging from the corner of his mouth.

“How nice, Chambers,” Hemlock said. “You've found friend to play war with.”

I picked myself up slowly. The stench of death was staggering. I felt slightly dizzy. I propped myself up on a wall. It was getting harder to see Hemlock, or what was in front of me. My eyes started to water.

Dim offered me handkerchief and I graciously accepted. “You really should change your perfume, Hemlock,” I told him. “It's a bit overwhelming.”

“The company I keep seems to like it,” He laughed, blew cigar smoke in my direction. The Sicarious appeared beside him. All of the tiny black flies seemed to be stuck  in slow motion, just swarming in the same area.

“You look like you have big plans,” I said, fumbling for the piece of paper Maggie had written the spell on.

"You like my new house?” Hemlock extended a hand to show his pride and joy. “It's taken lots of hard work.”

“You planning on becoming the new Lucifer, I take it.”

“No!” Hemlock spat at me. “The all-powerful Aldiss Hemlock, Chambers!” His face was red as tomato. He actually reminded me of Yosemite Sam sputtering all over the place. “It is true I'm aiming for a new Hell. Yeah. But it's going to be my 'Hell', Chambers.”

“Naw,” I shook my head. “You aren't a little crazy. You're f*****g mega-crazy!”

“Hand it over,Chambers,” Hemlock insisted. He stepped forward. The Sicarious followed, the flies broke away slightly, awaiting Hemlock's command.

“Hand what over?”

"The cylinder. What the f**k do you think I mean?” His little fat feet did that dance again and I almost couldn't contain myself.

“You want G'nal.” I said. “You really think you can micro-manage Hell? Keep a demon as a subservient shift manager? I hate to break it to you, Hemlock. I don't think Hell is ready for the corporate world.”

“It's okay, Chambers. Don't hand it over. I thought maybe I could talk you into taking a job for me gathering souls---”

“You thought wrong,” I cut him off.

“We might as well go with the first plan and take it.” He finished. He used Hellspeak to command the Sicarious. The demon came towards me. The tiny flies rose and formed their own winged Armada. Three groups were poised to burrow into my body and turn me into a bloated corpse.

I took the paper from my pocket and read aloud the spell. It wasn't my voice that came from my lips. It was Maggie's voice that was so loud, the newly installed windows in the building shook. What language my ears recognized was Hellspeak.

A bright light appeared about ten feet from me. Then a barrel slowly emerged onto the scene. I could smell the gasoline. It was strong, overtaking the smell of death coming from Hemlock's body. The little group of flies stopped in front of me, hovering. They turned quickly toward the spiraling light. In an instant, the flies flew off to meet the light. Just for a moment, they regrouped as the silhouette of the Sicarious before diving into the barrel of gasoline. Immediately the barrel caught afire, rose to the ceiling and burned bright.

Then it was gone. The fire. The barrel. The Sicarious. The swarm of flies.

Hemlock was left standing before Dim and I. Dim brushed past me, stopped in front of Hemlock, who was by now a blubbering fool on his knees, groveling.

Dim handed me a gold locket on a golden chain. “Here, Chambers,” He said. I took it from him gingerly. “I'll handle this from here on.” A low growl from his lips turned into a pitch perfect screech as he leaped on Hemlock in one bound.

Dim tore into Hemlock's face with those awful black teeth, tearing flesh from his left cheek. Hemlock's screams echoed loudly in that empty building.

I walked past the poor lost souls that Hemlock had been collecting. Those sad, red eyes were burned into my memories forever.

******************************************

Maggie took me into her arms, enveloping me. She whispered that she loved me. She sat me on the couch in her living room. She kissed me, touched my chin with her hand.

“I'll fix you a drink.” Maggie said.

I watched her walk to the bar. I took the peculiar gold locket from my pocked. “Hey, look at this---”

Collins appeared behind Maggie, holding a straight razor in his hand. The tall gray haired man was dressed in all white. Tie, shirt, jacket, and shoes. He grabbed his wife by her hair, pulled her toward him. He dragged the razor across the jugular of her throat. Blood spurted all over him, making his white suit into a Jackson Pollock painting.

“No!” I screamed, rushing him.

His eyes flashed red. Collins laughed. Before I could reach him, his body broke into particles, dispersed into thin air.

I fell to my knees, clutching Maggie's lifeless body to me. I wept. Screamed, cursed.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up and saw Maggie standing over me.

“I told you,” She said. “I told you I would find a way for us to be together forever.”

Author's Note

CONCLUSION OF A STORY STARRING PETE CHAMBERS

Reviews

[Chuck Briggs]

" I smelled death."

Can't imagine a better opening line for a story, although technically this is chapter three. The only commentary I can make on this is that you take a few stylistic chances that seem like they are going to blow up in your face and somehow make them all work. I'll say it again: your writing is beyond my ability to criticize. You're obviously cobbling together a new sub-genre, or sub sub genre. Noir urban fantasy/horror ? - but absolutely not like most Urban Fantasy you read. This stuff ain't for wimps. There's nothing "cute" about it.

I can only give you my subjective response as I was reading:

I thought you were changing styles. The first chapter started off as grim, gritty and absolutely convincing. I was very impressed at how well you captured the life of the homeless with just a few, quick "brush strokes." I just laid down a 400 page Kindle freebie that couldn't capture a tenth of this story's feeling or sense of place for all of its wordiness. In chapter two, I thought you had slipped with "hit me like a ton of bricks." It's a cliché, of course, but I thought it was a hold over from the more tongue and cheek style of the first Pete Chambers story. Of course, the ending chapter with it's Aldis Hemlock/Pete Chambers banter took us full tilt boogie with no apologies right back into the realm of Dash Hammett and Chandler. I was reminded of Humphrey Bogart and Sidney Greenstreet in the Maltese Falcon. "..uptown blue suit" "You've found a friend to play with," "You really should change your perfume," and the terrific, deadpan summation of the plot "You planning on becoming the new Lucifer, I take it." throw us right back into the 1940s before yanking us back to the present with "mega-crazy" and "micro-manage" Hell.

I feel like James Garner watching Bruce Lee tear his office apart in "Marlowe." All I can do is stand there with my mouth hanging open, cigarette burning down to its stub and holding a forgotten glass of whiskey as I see you drop kick and karate chop the desk, bookshelves, liquor cabinet, office pictures and gun rack into kindling. I may blink once or twice, but there's not a damn thing I can do about it.

You seem to be doing the same thing with literary expectations and even some of the basic "truisms" of good writing, perhaps like Beethoven casting off the more classical restraints of Hayden and Mozart.

All of which, of course, is my way of saying I liked it.

[mark slade]

Thank you, Chuck. Those words are way too kind for my amateurish prose. But I thank you very much for your enthusiasm. By the way, I'm a huge Garner fan, and sometimes picture Chambers as Rockford. But, I've thought about my influences, and I have to say, I'm a HUGE Ross Mcdonald fan. In crime fiction, other than Ed Mcbain, he is the best ever.

[Chuck Briggs]

Chandler, Chandler, Chandler!! Seriously, I've recently added Ross MacDonald to my read list. Came across a very cool collection of suspense stories he edited which included one of the rarer Flannery O'Connor. I've read of Ed Mcbain but haven't actually read him yet. I'll add him to the list. (Back when I was reading a lot of detective fiction, I had NO taste. I read, gasp, SHELL SCOTT.) I look forward to reading more of your work. Perhaps I'll start with the early stuff and work forwards. I'll see if I can grow along WITH you. (James Garner was GREAT!)

[mark slade]

Never read Shell scott. I looked him up, and have to say, he's up my alley. i mean you gotta have a sense of humor when it comes to private eyes. I also like Jim Thompson in Crime fiction. Too many to list.