Authors: Mick Farren
More Than Mortal (39 page)
“Does Columbine know about this?”
Julia nodded. “Destry called her in her room. She’s dressing.”
By now Marieko was experiencing a definite foreboding. She stared at Destry. “So why didn’t you call me?”
Destry avoided looking directly at her. Her aura had a certain blush. “I knew you’d be on time.”
“I could also have dressed.”
“You look fine as you are.”
Marieko looked down at her faded blue jeans, T-shirt, and motorcycle jacket. “We look like lesbian humans.”
Destry’s aura-blush deepened, but Julia merely laughed. “All the better to reach our objective speedily without undue entertaining of the prey. You know how both human genders are fascinated by attractive lipstick lesbians.”
“I’m just not sure I wanted to be cast as the butch tomboy.”
Julia laughed dismissively. “You’ll adapt, my dear.”
Further discussion was interrupted by a curt rap on the door. Destry opened it and let in Columbine, who was also, literally and figuratively, dressed to kill. Marieko felt completely isolated, totally left out of this plan to collectively vamp the motel bar. How dare Julia dismiss her with “you’ll adapt”? Columbine was a retrovision in flowing antique sequins and embroidery to a color scheme of white and pale blue. A large sapphire was at her throat on a white velvet band. Her curls fell to her shoulders in contrived disarray, and a dark blue diamond beauty spot decorated her heavily powdered left cheek. On close examination, though, all about Columbine did not seem right. She looked drained and unhealthy, but no one else appeared to notice. Was Columbine continuing to dream, or had what Marieko
firmly believed was her link with Merlin entered some new and more damaging phase? Whatever the problem, Columbine was manifestly determined to put the bravest possible face on it. “So, are we going to see what this place has to offer?”
firmly believed was her link with Merlin entered some new and more damaging phase? Whatever the problem, Columbine was manifestly determined to put the bravest possible face on it. “So, are we going to see what this place has to offer?”
The hunting party left the room and followed the signs to the nearest lift with a giddy and high-spirited girlishness, as if they were off on an adventure. If the sight, when the lift doors opened, of two silver-green aliens with oversize heads and huge ovoid eyes wasn’t initially a shock, it was at least highly unexpected. A second take, of course, revealed the creatures were in no way extraterrestrial, but merely humans in not particularly well made fancy dress, but this didn’t completely cancel the primary surprise. More strangeness waited when the four, plus the two ersatz aliens, exited the elevator and stepped into the lobby. The entire motel seemed to have been taken over by emotionally disturbed humanity, many seriously overweight, elaborately costumed as if in some projected make-believe future. The quartet’s nosferatu senses were instantly struck by a confusion of thought that came at them as an uncouth, nonsensical, and highly intrusive babble.
“What the hell is this?”
Julia looked around. “I suppose this must be the convention that delayed my obtaining our rooms this morning. The desk clerk told me it was dedicated to a popular science fiction series on television, but I didn’t imagine it would be like this. These people are nothing more than chronic obsessive-compulsives. I suppose they must be the fans.”
On this subject, Marieko was far ahead of Julia. She was well aware of the TV show and the less-than-rational cult surrounding it. She could only assume Julia was one of those nosferatu who disdained the gross pop culture of humanity, and restricted themselves to Miró and Mahler. Four humans walked by in identical imaginary astronaut uniforms, white Pan-Cake on their faces,
and false plastic hair. Marieko commenced to follow them, going with the flow, and the other three came after her by default. The four nosferatu may not have conformed to the theme, but they were certainly not out of place. An entire section of the motel had been specifically set aside for the convention, designated banqueting and conference rooms on the ground floor where they held their seminars, watched their films and videotapes, bought and sold their artifacts, and would later indulge in painfully awkward drinking, disco dancing, and attempts at hedonism.
and false plastic hair. Marieko commenced to follow them, going with the flow, and the other three came after her by default. The four nosferatu may not have conformed to the theme, but they were certainly not out of place. An entire section of the motel had been specifically set aside for the convention, designated banqueting and conference rooms on the ground floor where they held their seminars, watched their films and videotapes, bought and sold their artifacts, and would later indulge in painfully awkward drinking, disco dancing, and attempts at hedonism.
Before they could enter this reserved area, the quartet was accosted by a convention organizer in the costume of a warrior from some alien military culture. They might not have looked out of place, but they apparently lacked credentials. The faux warrior demanded to see their badges. Seemingly a badge indicated one had paid one’s money and was entitled to partake of the convention. Marieko was tempted to use the immortal movie line from
The Treasure of the Sierra Madre,
but she decided the pretend-alien warrior wouldn’t even get the joke, and she reduced it to “we don’t need badges” accompanied by a brain-smack of sufficient force to ensure the young man would never bother them again. Just to cause him future remorse, she also left him hopelessly in love with her. If nothing better presented itself, he would be hers at a snap of her fingers.
The Treasure of the Sierra Madre,
but she decided the pretend-alien warrior wouldn’t even get the joke, and she reduced it to “we don’t need badges” accompanied by a brain-smack of sufficient force to ensure the young man would never bother them again. Just to cause him future remorse, she also left him hopelessly in love with her. If nothing better presented itself, he would be hers at a snap of her fingers.
Marieko made the mistake of allowing herself to be distracted by the convention itself. The way in which the humans were prepared to treat their passing amusements with such a quasi-academic seriousness was the source of a definite anthropological appeal. From Godzilla to Pokémon, Japan had served as ground zero for this kind of collector-cult behavior, and she felt patriotically obliged to keep abreast of developments in the field wherever she might find them. Some of the costumed participants seemed consumed by their fantasy cravings to the point of a wistfully neurotic melancholy that it all
couldn’t be real all the time. After browsing a number of random minds, Marieko commented to the others without actually speaking.
couldn’t be real all the time. After browsing a number of random minds, Marieko commented to the others without actually speaking.
“I swear if we were to reveal what we really were and our true intentions to some of these freaks, they’d willingly give themselves to us.”
She turned and discovered no one was there to hear her. Julia, Destry, and Columbine had wandered off, more interested in the quest for prey than the weird cultural fringes of human sociodynamics. She supposed she also should be taking care of the task at hand, rather than wandering like a predator tourist. She decided the bar might still be the best place to snag a fast and effortless victim. Her first glance inside confirmed Destry and Julia had either come to the same conclusion or had opted for a certain alcohol content in their feed. The convention had thoroughly infiltrated the conventional motel happy hour, and they were in deep conversation with a pair of young humans in matching, somewhat revealing. The minds of the two girls revealed they used these conventions as a release for exhibitionism and a limited perversity unavailable in their drably mundane lives. Gatherings of this kind offered them an immunity from shock, guilt, and inhibition in that they could always tell themselves afterwards they had only been playacting rather than acting out, and nothing that transpired was really real. Under the screen of vodka martinis and small talk, Julia and Destry were reinforcing this idea, mentally conditioning them into the illusion that fantasy could be elevated to far greater heights, and their limits should be extended infinitely and unconditionally. At the same time, they fed them a line of seductive suggestion tailored precisely to the desires revealed in their purpletinged auras. Unfortunately these quasi-images were being broadcast on an indiscreetly wide band, and many of the human males in the bar were becoming warmly uncomfortable, but not sure why.
Marieko knew what Julia and Destry were up to, but this break for a roadside diversion hardly seemed appropriate. She would normally have no objection to playful bonding games, but they were supposed to be on their way to rescue Victor, and surely that was worthy of everyone’s full concentration. She decided to take it upon herself to move matters along and remind them of their primary objective. She pushed her way through the crowd of space crew, extraterrestrials, and traveling salesmen. “Ladies.”
“Marieko.” They didn’t seem overly pleased to see her, but the two humans, who, up close, were really showing too much of their thighs and cleavage for a scifi convention, seemed to find her oriental and exotic.
“I’m Epiphany.”
“And I’m Devora.”
Of course, these weren’t the girls’ real names. They’d taken them from a book they’d both read. While smiling politely at the humans, Marieko mentally hissed at Destry and Julia. “
This is not the time for games.”
This is not the time for games.”
Julia gleamed angrily and seemed poised to tell Marieko to fuck off and leave them alone, but Destry accepted the chiding.
“Yes, yes, we’ll move it along. Do you have one of your own picked out?”
“Yes, yes, we’ll move it along. Do you have one of your own picked out?”
Marieko decided she’d settle for the warrior checking badges.
“Yes. It’ll take me just a moment. I’ll meet you in the elevator.”
“Yes. It’ll take me just a moment. I’ll meet you in the elevator.”
A snap of the fingers was literally all it took. The young man fell into step behind her. In the elevator, which they mercifully had to themselves, Julia produced a bottle of vodka. More alcohol was always a good and simple way to keep humans distracted without the need to lock down their minds. It was all too plain to Marieko that Destry and Julia, in their new role as soul-mate hunters, wanted their prey to be helpless but fully conscious, aware of what was being done to them but unable to resist. Marieko doubted Epiphany and Devora would resist anything. So many pleasure centers had been
teased and tantalizingly fondled, they were all but beside themselves, surprised by the uncharted depths of the scary-strange, dark lust in which they found themselves. The young man was fully beside himself. He couldn’t believe what was happening to him. Ever since he’d been coming to these events he had dreamed and even masturbated to a scenario of this kind. Alone with no less than five drunken and apparently bisexual women? His cup was close to running over, and Marieko knew she would need to keep him partially folded down in case, at the last moment, he panicked and bolted. Humans often found it hard to confront the flesh of their fantasies.
teased and tantalizingly fondled, they were all but beside themselves, surprised by the uncharted depths of the scary-strange, dark lust in which they found themselves. The young man was fully beside himself. He couldn’t believe what was happening to him. Ever since he’d been coming to these events he had dreamed and even masturbated to a scenario of this kind. Alone with no less than five drunken and apparently bisexual women? His cup was close to running over, and Marieko knew she would need to keep him partially folded down in case, at the last moment, he panicked and bolted. Humans often found it hard to confront the flesh of their fantasies.
The party of five came out of the lift and stumbled down the corridor—Destry and Julia maintaining a pretense of drunken, human bonhomie as they let themselves into their room. Marieko ushered the young man in behind them, and then immediately wished she hadn’t. The spectacle confronting the five of them would have been disturbing to any human except perhaps for the most intensely and suicidally depraved. In the middle of the king-size motel bed, Columbine was on all fours, clad in nothing but shoes, stockings, silk French knickers, and a sapphire, mouth to the throat of a blandly handsome and quite naked young man. She looked up with her fangs extended, blood on her lips, and a single trickle running down her chin. “My dears, you’re back so soon.”
Marieko felt shock course through her young man and immediately killed his conscious mind. She would have expected Julia and Destry to do the same with Epiphany and Devora, but they were still playing the game. They allowed the girls an exchanged look of mutual horror, and then swamped them with the illusion they had passed the portals of some dangerous but infinitely rewarding fantasy. The action risked them lapsing into full and screaming hysteria that might be easily noticeable in the motel full of humans, but Julia and Destry pulled
it off with almost unbelievable finesse, a finesse Marieko suspected had more to do with Julia than Destry. Epiphany and Devora’s faces grew slack and depraved, and they swayed on their fetish heels with the expression of evil children in purple eye shadow and loaded on opiates. Julia and Destry assisted one apiece through the door into the connecting bedroom. The last thing Marieko saw before she sank her fangs into the throat of the young man in the warrior costume was Destry and Julia on either side of Devora and Epiphany, kissing each other while they undressed the two humans, stripping and unlacing their pathetic latex and vinyl.
it off with almost unbelievable finesse, a finesse Marieko suspected had more to do with Julia than Destry. Epiphany and Devora’s faces grew slack and depraved, and they swayed on their fetish heels with the expression of evil children in purple eye shadow and loaded on opiates. Julia and Destry assisted one apiece through the door into the connecting bedroom. The last thing Marieko saw before she sank her fangs into the throat of the young man in the warrior costume was Destry and Julia on either side of Devora and Epiphany, kissing each other while they undressed the two humans, stripping and unlacing their pathetic latex and vinyl.
When she surfaced from the mindless animal bliss of feeding to the death, Marieko rose from the corpse and looked again. The two girls were drained and dead, and Julia and Destry held each other. Destry was shaking slightly as though she had just undergone a powerful emotional experience, and the room resembled an untidy abattoir. Columbine’s boy lay dead on the bed, but there was no sign of Columbine herself. Good manners should have dictated Marieko not intrude on Destry and Julia’s moment, but as far as she was concerned, their self-indulgence put them beyond normal considerations. Marieko had set out on what she considered more of a commando raid than a meandering pleasure outing. She walked past them and opened the window at the far end of the room, letting in the night air. The curtains billowed as if some kind of vacuum had been created. “Does anyone have any suggestions?”
Julia and Destry languidly disengaged. “Suggestions about what, darling?”
“About what we do with these leavings?”
Although Marieko was clearly very angry, Destry suddenly giggled. “We leave them.”
This was finally too much for Marieko. She’d expected better of Destry. “Pull yourself the fuck together, will you?”
•Julia began to gather her scattered clothes. “She’s
right, actually. We should simply leave them. I mean, who will remember us among a hundred demented humans masquerading as alien life-forms. The police will assume the obvious insanity of the one of the conventioneers and spend all their time trying to deduce which one. As the song says, we’ll be in Scotland before them.”
right, actually. We should simply leave them. I mean, who will remember us among a hundred demented humans masquerading as alien life-forms. The police will assume the obvious insanity of the one of the conventioneers and spend all their time trying to deduce which one. As the song says, we’ll be in Scotland before them.”
“That’s madness.”
“Is it? We can’t get them out of here without being seen.”
Marieko shook her head. Much as she might not want to admit it, Julia was right. It really was the only course they could take. “It’s so damned messy.”
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