William Doonan

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Horror has a new URL

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It started here on this blog as an experiment in serial fiction.  Now you can have the finished product!

The Mummies of Blogspace9 is FREE today on Amazon!

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“None of us knew what was at stake. And that’s the thing about archaeology – you never know what you’ll find when you start digging into an ancient pyramid. Maybe some burials, mummies even. But surely not a five hundred year-old secret worth killing for.

Had I known at the onset that seven weeks later most of my friends would be dead, I would have left Peru in a heartbeat. But of course I didn’t know that.

I didn’t know that a demonically-possessed Spanish Grand Inquisitor would haunt the crap out of us, or that a pair of undead conquistador knights would help us find the secret to putting down walking mummies.

And surely, I wouldn’t have just sat around had I known that something was watching from inside that pyramid, some malevolent force that could animate the dead.

But it’s all true, as you’ll come to realize.

My name is Leon Samples.  I am twenty-eight years old, and I am damned”

The Mummies of Blogspace9 is a taut, high-stakes thriller about a team of archaeologists who inadvertently dig up more than they bargained for. Demons of antiquity are not easily amused, nor are those who’ve sold their souls to protect them.

 

Get your free copy today.

http://www.amazon.com/Mummies-Blogspace9-William-Doonan-ebook/dp/B00C44N1L0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1396798161&sr=8-1&keywords=the+mummies+of+blogspace9

Written by williamdoonan

April 6, 2014 at 3:46 pm

MedicineLand: Chapter Thirty-Seven

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Billy St. Clair turned the knob that lit the gas fire in the study while Rocky clipped the edge off an Upman Petit.

Julia frowned.  “You haven’t even touched the cigars I got you for our anniversary.”

Rocky lit up.  He drew the smoke into his lungs and held it a moment to clear his head.  “Those are for special occasions.”

She told them what she knew, and she piled blankets on the sofa where Karen Sorros rested, a new IV in her arm.

“I lit up the fence just in case.”  Billy sat in front of the security monitor where he had keyed in the codes to turn on the electric fence.  “We’re safe here.  Timmy is in the basement checking on the guns.  They’re going to come after her, you know.”

Rocky nodded.

“What if they call the police?” Julia asked.

“They won’t,” both men answered at once.

“This isn’t the sort of situation that calls for police,” Rocky said.  “But they will come for her.  So let’s review, why is it we’ve kidnapped her again?”

Julia sighed.  “I couldn’t leave her there.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t think she would have been safe.”

“Why?”  Rocky asked again.  “They’ve been protecting her.  Why would they hurt her now?”

“I don’t think they would try to hurt her.”  Julia paced nervously around the room.

“Pickup truck just passed by,” Billy said, staring at the monitor.  “Second truck in about five minutes.  Could be I’m paranoid.”

“I don’t think they would hurt her,” Julia continued, “but I think if she got sick enough, they might let her die before they would go for help.”

“I thought you said she was already dead,” Rocky told her.

“I don’t know what she is.  I have to figure that out.  Maybe it was also for selfish reasons.  This girl could have all the answers to everything.  I can’t walk away from her, and now I’ve put us all in danger.”

Billy reached into the humidor for a cigar without taking eyes from the monitor.  “We’re actually pretty safe here unless they have tanks.  The perimeter fence could stop a Humvee.”

“They could have a helicopter,” Julia suggested.

“How about you figure out the girl,” Rocky said.  “And let us sit here and plot.”

 

By early evening, Alice Yee had transformed one of the guest bedrooms into a functional intensive care ward.  Most of the equipment came from Carson’s apartment.  The heart monitor and crash cart from when he was younger and sicker had been summoned from his basement storage locker.  The ventilator, the IV supplies, and the computer were Rocky’s, brought up from the emergency shelter behind the wall.  And they had Carson’s portable dialysis machine

At the far end of the room, away from the windows, Karen Sorrows looked tiny on the Queensize bed under two comforters and a Charlie Brown electric blanket that Carson found in his closet.

“How is she?” Julia asked.

Alice looked up from the monitor.  “This is the most fucked-up thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I know.”

“Do you smell something?”

“Like what?”  Julia leaned in and inhaled.  “Like cinnamon.”

“I was thinking cloves.”

“Some spice.  Maybe they rubbed her down with something.”

Alice stared.  “She’s warming up.  A minute ago she hit ninety-seven degrees.  She’s breathing without a ventilator.  Heartbeat is good.  Pulse is 54; she could eat nothing but Big Macs until the day she died again and not have to worry about high blood pressure.”

“That was pretty funny,” said Julia.

“The part where I said, ‘until they day she died again?’”

“Yeah, that part.”  Julia inspected the tubes that ran into each arm.  Saline drip and plasma in one, dialysis tubes in the other.  “She’s a mess.”

“She’s a mess,” Alice agreed.  “This is one for the textbooks.  Hey, you don’t have an MRI lying around here do you?”

“I wish.”  Julia opened the girl’s eyes.  Her irises were fully dilated but constricted instantly when turned on her penlight.  She flicked the light to the right and Karen’s pupils followed.  “That’s a good sign.”

“Not that good.  You can be brain dead and your eyes will still dart to follow stimuli.  It’s your cerebellum peeking around for possible food sources.  She could be brain dead, Julia.”

“No.  She said something when we were back there at the compound.  She said I should help her.”

Alice looked up at her.  “All you said was that she gasped.”

Julia frowned.  “Yes, she just gasped.  That’s all, yet I have this vague memory that something was communicated.”

“Telepathy?”

“No.”

“Why not?  Once you start believing in zombies, it’s really not that much of a stretch.  The neurons in your brain communicate with each other.  What’s wrong with them communicating with someone else’s neurons?”

Julia held Karen’s hand, surprised again at how cold and light it was.  “You’re going to be OK, sweetheart.”  She stared at the heart monitor which registered a tight strong heartbeat.  “Neurons communicate by firing electrochemical charges over minute distances.  They can’t reach outside to other brains.”

“What about pheromones?”

“Not in primates.  Our sense of smell has atrophied too much over the last sixty-five million years.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Alice.  “I read the same books you do.”

“I know.  I assigned them to you.”

“What I mean is that we need to start expanding our thinking a little bit.  What are we going to do with this girl if she doesn’t get better soon.”

“She’s getting better.”

“She’ll need to go back,” Alice said.  “She said she needs to drink the tea to get better.  It’s some special tea that they brew there.”

Julia turned slowly.  “What did you say?”

“The tea.”  Alice froze.  “Oh my God.  She’s communicating with us, isn’t she?”

Julia felt the adrenaline spike through her system.  She hadn’t been this afraid in hours.  “I don’t know.”

Written by williamdoonan

May 30, 2013 at 9:06 pm

Free this week on Amazon.com

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We interrupt this normally scheduled zombie blog to bring you breaking news:

To celebrate the release of The Mummies of Blogspace9, Amazon.com is offering free downloads this week only.  Please pick up your free copy today, and one or two for some loved ones.  And if you enjoy the book, please consider leaving a short review on Amazon. com!

http://www.amazon.com/The-Mummies-of-Blogspace9-ebook/dp/B00C44N1L0/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1366031231&sr=1-1&keywords=the+mummies+of+blogspace9

 

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Written by williamdoonan

April 15, 2013 at 1:20 pm

The Mummies of Blogspace9: Chapter Forty-Three

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July 27, 2011
Seville, Spain
Samples http://www.greatbigLeon.blogspace9.ex

Father Vasco Cuellar pulled it together.  He said a prayer for Sebastiano, his old protegee, as the old priest faded out of the world.  I hope he will find some measure of peace.

Once Cuellar, Duran, and Naya again removed their earplugs (to avoid a similar fate) we returned to the hotel, to Kim, to Baltazar, to the minibar, to make plans for the future.

I’ll be returning to Peru, to that pyramid at Magdalena de Paz.  I’m an archaeologist after all, and what archaeologist doesn’t love a pyramid?  Besides, there’s a muki there I want to learn more about.  I can’t help thinking that we have a lot to know still about these little demon spawns, even if they’re mostly all gone.

Kim won’t be coming with me.  I’m a little broken up about that, I won’t lie.  She’s  going to spend some time in New York with Duran, and that’s OK.  Of all the walking mummies, he’s probably the sanest, and he’s promised to counsel Kim in the way of things, in the way of their kind.  That being said, Kim did assure me she’d visit me over Christmas to pick up where we left off.  For now, I feel blessed.

Also, having split up the money, I’m almost a billionaire, so it’s hard to be too upset about anything.  On the off-chance I need it for spring break or something, I just bought the Gran Melia Colon hotel.  The largest penthouse suite is now my personal apartment, and the minibar is stocked with mescaline.

July 27, 2011
Seville, Spain
Hanson http://www.historyismine.blogspace9.ex

I found it difficult to take, watching Sebastiano leave this world for provinces unknown.  History shows us that any man can change the world, and for what it’s worth, this old priest changed it more than most.  Not only did he feed the poor for two centuries, he helped vanquish some poorly-understood evil that had been lingering for a long time.

For my part, I come away from this reborn.  I’ll mis my mentor Cyrus Sanderson who sold his soul for less than 1% of what I have in my bank accounts.  That was poor judgement, Cyrus.

I’ll miss Laney.  I’ll miss her every time I cook paella and remember the smile on her sexy face.  She made some poor choices, as we mortals sometimes do.  And from time to time I regret letting my current girlfriend eat her.  But dense times demand creative solutions, and in the end, I think Laney would have approved of my resolution.

I will spend the rest of my life with Naya, or as much of it as she allows.  I suspect, given what we’ve learned, that I have many centuries ahead of me.  I’m not immortal as she is, but if Segovia is any indicator, the love of a walking mummy can add not only decades to one’s life, but a spring to one’s step.

For his part, Segovia bid us farewell, kissing Naya’s hand like a gentleman, and leaving his former lover to my great care.  I don’t know what will become of him, but I’m not worried.  Like the rest of us, he’s hugely, ridiculously rich.

The old gypsy Melchor Sacromonte didn’t get much of his gold, but he didn’t fare too badly either.  With close to two billion euros as his take, he fared well.  As chief executive officer and sole owner of Blogspace9, he agreed to extend our service contract indefinitely.  I shook my head at his duplicity, having never imagined his involvement in that end of things, but he only laughed.

“I only wanted the money Queen Isabella promised us,” he told me.  And he got that money, with more than ample interest.

For my part, I’ll stay in Seville with my love.  Naya and I have a wonderful apartment in the Gran Melia Colon, courtesy of Leon Samples.  I have high hopes for my research as a historian.  If you need to find me, look no further than the Bruce Hanson wing of the Archive of the Indies.  We even have an espresso machine.

Rest in peace, Laney.

So that’s all for now.  Signing out here – Bruce Hanson, investigator #00219222.

July 27, 2011
New York, NY
Duran http://www.harqubusier.blogspace9.ex

So here we are.  It is done – our foes vanquished, our objectives met.  I left Spain a richer man than I came, but I was already a rich man, so what of it?

I brought the girl Kim with me, to counsel her, nothing more.  She is young, and there are few guides in this uncharted realm.  I am perhaps the best.  I’m honored too, that my old friend Vasco is with me now at my home in New York.  He’s had a time of it, Vasco has.  The years have not been as kind to him, and I’m eager to make amends on behalf of eternity.

We have hours ahead of us, Vasco and I.  We’ll play some chess, drink fine wine, spend yet more dollars, and perhaps secure the services of a delightful whore or two.  I can’t predict what our adventures will entail, but I can say that I’m weary of wonder.

I don’t know what I am.  I may be, along with Vasco, the girl Kim, Naya perhaps, the last of our kind.  Am I a walking mummy?  Or shall I call myself something else?  I don’t know.  I am Gumecindo Duran.  I have fought bravely, suffered brutally, loved wisely, and lived live beyond any human measure.  And for the first time in centuries, I have people who call me friend.

 

THE END

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September 7, 2012 at 9:06 am

The Mummies of Blogspace9: Chapter Forty-One

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July 25, 2011
Seville, Spain
Samples http://www.greatbigLeon.blogspace9.ex

The tenth best thing about this whole experience was staying in the penthouse suites at the Gran Melia Colon, one of Seville’s finest hotels.  We had the whole floor.  All things considered, we needed the privacy.  A discreet surgeon looked after Sacromonte’s bullet wounds and patched him up nicely while I drank Tequila and sherry.  I thought about having a mojito, but in the end, I decided against it.

The ninth best thing was Bruce having the foresight to make sure Naya, Duran, and Cuellar were wearing earplugs during our trip to the Alcazar.  Otherwise, it would have been curtains for them too when that malleus momias recording came on.  It’s not like we want a world free of walking mummies; we just want to get rid of the bad ones.

The eighth best thing was realizing that Bruce had uploaded that whole book to the internet.  Malleus momias was already being translated into other languages.  Honestly, I have no idea what kind of problems the good folks in China, Portugal, the Philippines, and Turkmenistan are having with mummy uprisings.  But I take some comfort in knowing that they’ll be prepared.

The seventh best thing was watching Gumecindo Duran and Vasco Cuellar walk arm in arm past the Giralda Tower.  It was morning by then, and we were all exhausted, but these two conquistadors carried a lot of the battle this day, and judging by the spring in their steps, I think they understand that.

The sixth best thing was shooting a scimitar-wielding eunuch guard who tried to kill me.  I’ve never shot anyone before, nor come up against a eunuch of any kind bearing any sort of weapon.  So I’m pleased that I didn’t choke under pressure.

The fifth best thing was filling my pockets with gold doubloons — real ones.  Sopay/Quiroga’s desk drawer was full of them, so I helped myself.  We did a little ransacking once the bad guys were down.  Sacromonte put a few guys in the Alcazar apartments to keep things under wraps until we get back to sort out our new business affairs.

The fourth best thing was watching all those eunuch guards fall to the ground.  Like all at once.  The moment Bruce and company put that sopay down, all of his minions fell apart.  It’s not like they disintegrated or anything — they just more or less died, as did all the wives.  And I know that’s not a thing to really be happy about, but there was something peaceful about it.  You could read it in their faces – like it was finally over.

The third best thing about this whole experience was that Bruce’s new girl Naya agreed to take us to Sebastiano.  And he’s really the only piece of this left.  Only he knows where the gold is.  Naya promised Bruce she’d take him to the gold, and she promised Segovia the same thing two hundred years ago, so it’s time she did so.  We’re heading out in the morning.

The second best thing was that I finally got to sleep with Kim Castillo.  She isn’t quite herself, I’ll grant you that, what with all the dying and the cannibalism, and stealing the ship and eating all the sailors and being engaged to a demon, and agreeing to have sex with me.  But she was extremely grateful to me for coming to her rescue, and she conveyed that gratitude in a way that was extremely meaningful to me.  I asked her out afterwards, but she told me not to press my luck.

The best thing about this whole experience was not being castrated.  Seriously, if you get through the day without having your balls off, then you’re a lot better off than you could have been.

Written by williamdoonan

August 23, 2012 at 10:43 am

The Mummies of Blogspace9: Chapter Forty

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July 24, 2011
Seville, Spain
Duran http://www.harqubusier.blogspace9.ex

The boy acquitted himself well.  Although I haven’t known the sensation of fear for centuries, I confess to some manner of trepidation as we approached the door.  No matter what transpired next, behind that door waited my maker.  I was not entirely eager to meet him.

July 24, 2011
Seville, Spain
Hanson http://www.historyismine.blogspace9.ex

I didn’t know what to expect.  Not this: a fireplace-lit moldering study that might have been ornate and comfortable some decades or centuries ago, two metro Seville policemen done up in riot gear carrying automatic weapons, and one very old man.

If he had passed me on the street, I’m not sure he would have stood out in any physical sense.  He was neither thin nor fat, tall nor short.  He wore a gray sweater and gray corduroy pants which complimented his gray skin and reddish-gray eyes.  All things considered, except for the petrifying odor and aura of desolation, he could have been mistaken for an old homeless man.  But he wasn’t.  He was Gaspar Quiroga y Vela, the five-hundred-year-old demonically-possessed Grand Inquisitor of Spain.

“I haven’t much time,” he said as he tossed a pile of recyclable grocery bags onto the floor.  “I’m to be married today.  The lady in question is fairly begging to feel my spirit inside her.”

Hard as it was to look away, I stole a glance at the bags – they were from SuperSol, the popular chain where I did most of my food shopping.  “Those are for your heads,” he explained, “if I don’t get what I want within the minute.”

Cuellar collapsed and began to grovel.  I heard some Hail Marys, but most of it was begging, which was really too bad because he wasn’t helping our position.  To be honest, I couldn’t take my eyes off the grocery bags.

Quiroga smiled warmly, taking us in one by one.  “My children.”  He nodded to Naya who backed away, and to Duran who didn’t move, “welcome home.”  Moving on to Sacromonte, “you I have not yet met, but I’m pleased to have this opportunity prior to your imminent expiration.  And you,” moving on to me, “I’ve been waiting a long time for you to join me.  My new prince.”

“I didn’t come to join you,” I said, but he just nodded.

“You did.  You did.”  He motioned to one of the policemen who came at me fast, sweeping my feet with a baton and dropping me flat on my back.

“You went down almost as easily as your lovely Lane did, though I dare say she was more eager.  I miss her; she was pliant.”

I tried to catch my breath as the policeman flipped me over and searched me.  I had hidden the malleus momias book in the inseam of my jacket, and it took him about four seconds to find it.  Dutifully, he delivered it to his patron.

Quiroga regarded the book solemnly, turning the pages carefully as if they might crumble in his hands.  “I had no notion it even existed.  Rumors, yes, but I thought them just that.”  He spent a few moments reading the text as I regained my breath.  Cuellar had groveled his way closer and now hung at his leg.

“Something of a tumi, the sword of the indians, was also mentioned in your communications.  Give it to me.”

I shook my head, but a more thorough and considerably more painful search led to the discovery of the tumi in my sock, and its near pulverization beneath a police boot.

Quiroga laughed; it was little more than a giggle.  He held up the book.  “Then all you have are words.”  He shook his head.  “Don’t misunderstand, I know how powerful words can be.  Precautions must be taken in case you have memorized the text.”  With another nearly-imperceptible motion, he gestured to the nearest policeman who began winding a roll of tape around my head, shutting my mouth.

At that, Quiroga held up my precious and hard-won malleus momias book and tossed it into the fireplace.  It caught the flame immediately and began to burn brightly.  “Now then,” he continued, “as to revealing the location of my gold, or removing your heads, which shall we do first?”

What transpired next transpired so quickly that I still have trouble piecing it together.  As one policeman hauled me up to my knees and the other produced a serrated knife, Duran turned to our host and fired that ancient rifle he’d been hauling around.  “This once is for you, sopay,” he growled, but it produced a tiny wisp of smoke, nothing more.

Quiroga frowned.  Sacromonte deftly shot one of the policemen who caught him in the chest with his own fire as he went down.  My precious Naya made quick work of the other.

Finding himself quite outnumbered, Quiroga lowered his gaze and began petting Cuellar’s hair.  “There, there,” he said turning to watch the book burn in the fireplace, “forgiveness can be at hand, my son.  Let us understand that nothing left in this world can hurt me.  Now… as to my gold.”

Sacromonte shot him from the floor but he didn’t even flinch.  I’m not certain he noticed.  I was focused on getting the tape off my mouth but it wasn’t happening too easily.

I didn’t see Duran step around me, but he must have.  Sword drawn, he came at the old man and drove the blade deep into his abdomen, pinning him to the desk.  “Vasco,” Duran called out, “Vasco, I’m a swordsman after all.”

There was no more grinning at this point, no more giggling.  I heard something guttural emanate from the old man, something not quite human.  There was some manner of struggle as his skin began to crack.

“Santo demonios,” Cuellar moaned, “Santo sopay.”

Duran stood his ground as Quiroga, his demon enraged, strode purposefully towards him.  Still pinned to the antique desk by the sword, he pulled the desk along with him as if it were no inconvenience.

Sacromonte emptied his gun to no effect.  Naya stood frozen at my side, a policeman’s head in one hand.  Duran laughed.  “I’ve been waiting a long time for this, sopay.”  I, for my part, retrieved what spindly bits of the tumi remained, and hurled them at the demon.  I’m not sure what good it did; the tumi might have been a prop, nothing more, as swords often but not always are.  Then I hit the PLAY button on my laptop.

What rang out through my speakers were just words, of course.  But throughout human history, words have had the power to move mountains, to forge alliances, to alter destinies, and to vanquish evil.  The transcription of the malleus momias I uploaded to the internet made those words available to anyone on the planet.  It was a fitful yet melodic tongue, and I had recorded the words as best I could.

Those words might provide some comfort to a Peruvian cane farmer who might still shut his windows against the cool night rather than stare any longer at the pyramids of old.  Those words might provide some solace to a dynasty of gypsies long overdue their reward.  Those words might ease the sorrows of men and women transformed against their will to something not of their choosing.  Those words were the salvation of a historian and his undead friends who vanquished an evil long in need of vanquishing.

As soon as that sopay understood what was happening, he extricated that sword from his abdomen and hurled it at my head.  I’d not be sharing this missive had not Duran sacrificed his left hand in catching it.  “That’s just one more thing,” he conceded as he retrieved his hand from the floor.

And he might have made it, that sopay.  He might have made it out of the room, out of the range of my puny laptop speakers had Cuellar not clung tightly to his leg.  Not so easy to dislodge as a Toledo sword, Cuellar was a creature of his making – an undead priest, strong in body and conviction.

“Forgive me, Father,” Vasco Quiroga said, holding tightly as the demon screamed and writhed himself out of existence.  “I’ve been sinning for a very long time.”

Written by williamdoonan

August 18, 2012 at 9:06 am

The Mummies of Blogspace9: Chapter Thirty-Nine

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July 24, 2011
Seville, Spain
Samples      http://www.greatbigLeon.blogspace9.ex

I’ll admit to some small degree of terror once we split up.  I thought it unfair that Bruce got all three immortals.  All I got was Baltazar and my bud Segovia, but life goes on.  And on and on, as I would soon learn.

If I told you that the hallways smelled like death, I’d be sugar coating things.  If there were some aerosol death-scent available, I would have been spraying it liberally as we walked.  Decay was everywhere; in the woodwork, in the wilting mushrooms that sprang from the woodwork, and in the rot, which was itself somehow decaying.

What might have once been a carpet softened our steps as we crept forward and came to a room lined by louvered screens. 

“We must take great care,” Baltazar whispered.  “They are unpredictable when they change.  By means of example; Duran seems quite sane.  The same cannot be said for the other.”

“Yeah, Vasco is a nut,” I agreed.  “You’re saying Kim might not be happy to see us.”

He nodded.

Segovia let out a gasp as he peered through the louvers.  I joined him and suppressed my own shudder.  “Early risers, aren’t they?”

Sunrise was not far off, but already the curtains were being drawn on the apartments the caliph built for his harem a thousand years ago.  And as the servants unrolled the carpets, and lit the morning fires, the concubines began to rise.

Horror is a word too kind for what I saw in front of me.  I’ve made no secret of the fact that Kim got five times hotter after her transformation, but these things were horrifying.  I’m not certain what they were, but a different manner of thing.

Where once were faces, only leather on bone remained.  As the nearest concubine turned, a ray of light illuminated the rouge that had been applied directly to her exposed cheekbone.  Coyly, she peered into a mirror and brushed away the six  wispy hairs that remained on her head, presumably so they wouldn’t fall into her sunken eyes.  Even Baltazar gasped.

“What are they?”  I whispered.  “I thought we would find a harem full of mummy honeys.”

Segovia shook his head.  “A sopay’s foul breath can keep death at bay, but only a muki can transform someone.  And a muki cannot leave the pyramid.”

“So these women are what?  Zombies?”

“No,” he said.  “They are living women, centuries old perhaps, but living women.  They see themselves as they once looked.”  He pointed to a lingerie-laden crone who applied lipstick to her jawbone.  “She is making herself beautiful for her husband.”

Baltazar turned away.  “I can understand why he would want a new wife.”

“He’s not going to get that chance,” I told him.

Segovia put his hand against my mouth as a harem guard passed on the other side of the louvered screen, his scimitar dragging on the tile floor.  Something creaked as I drew back, and the guard stopped.  He turned and looked straight at me.  I would have screamed if Segovia didn’t have me by the mouth.

Something of a face remained, the face of a very old man.  He peered through the louver, his toothless mouth hanging open.  I wanted to pity him as much as fear him, but the fear was winning out.  I don’t know how much sight he had left in his clouded eyes, but fortunately he didn’t see us.  A remnant of lip drew up in a sneer as he turned back to his route, his scimitar scraping behind him.

“That was one scary old eunuch,” I observed.

“Quiet,” Baltazar warned.  “There are at least a dozen more.”

We waited until the fires had all been lit.  That’s when they brought her out.  She was wrapped from head to toe in a woven tapestry, but there was no mistaking her.  I would recognize Kim Castillo anywhere.

Segovia checked his guns.  “Baltazar will create a distraction.  I will cut a path through the guards.  Leon, be ready to grab her.  If she resists, call to me.”

I nodded, but before we could even get that underway, the attendants began unwinding the tapestry from her body.

“Madre de Dios,” Baltazar whispered when she was naked.  He must have whispered it too loudly, because another ancient eunuch appeared on the other side of the screen.  Before we could react, he shoved his hand through the louvers and grabbed Baltazar by the neck.

Segovia got off a volley of shots.  I held my fire for the next guard and then I kept shooting until he was down if not motionless.  But there were dozens more.  They mobbed us, and soon had us flat on the ground.  My face pressed into the tile and I shut my eyes.

When I dared open them, I saw an impossibly lovely foot in front of me.  I looked up and saw the rest of her.  “Hi, Kim.”  The scar at her throat had healed.

She laughed.  “Leon, don’t tell me you came all this way for me.”

I nodded as best I could. 

“And Segovia, you came too?  You had your chance.  How many times did I strip down for you, and each time you turned me away?”

“Eleven times,” he said.  “But I am a gentleman.  My love has already been promised to another.”

“That’s too bad,” Kim said.  She peeked down at Baltazar.  “This one I don’t know.  But that’s not a problem, I could use some fellows like you on my staff.  There’s just the one thing, you know, two things really.”

Baltazar began to sob.  I think I did do when Kim summoned her remaining guards and ordered them to castrate us.

Written by williamdoonan

August 12, 2012 at 10:45 am