Edward Lee - Infernal Angel

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Table of Contents

RAVE REVIEWS FOR EDWARD LEE!

A horror extravaganza ... Lees twisted tale has an outrageously paranoid surprise that will keep fans of cover-ups and conspiracy theories reading to the final sentence.

Publishers Weekly on Monstrosity

The living legend of literary mayhem. Edward Lee writes with gusto, guts, and brains. Read him if you dare.

Richard Laymon, internationally bestselling author
of Darkness, Tell Us

The hardest of the hardcore horror writers.

Cemetery Dance

Lee has penned some of the wettest, bravest terror this side of the asylum.

Hellnotes

A demented Henry Miller of horror.

Douglas Clegg, award-winning author
of The Hour Before Dark

Adventures galore.

Publishers Weekly on City Infernal

Utterly intriguing.

Horror World on City Infernal

Lee is a writer you can bank on for tales so extreme they should come with a warning label.

T. Winter-Damon, co-author of Duet for the Devil

Lee pulls no punches.

Fangoria

NEW IN TOWN

Why would Walter dream such a thing, such an awful thing?

He was standing on a street corner in a city, but it was unlike any city he could have ever imagined. The midnight sky was ruby-red, the low sickle moon was black. He could only see these features, though, by looking straight up because the buildings lining the street mustve been hundreds and hundreds of floors high, skyscrapers unlike any hed seen. He got dizzy just looking up. Do they even make buildings that high? he questioned himself.

They do here, a little girl said.

She was skipping down the street, smiling at him. Walter almost fell over. Her pigtails flipped as she skipped. She wore black-strapped shoes and little white socks, a bright red-and-white checkered dress. Deep lines ran down her gray, wizened face. The girl was mummified.

She was playing hop-scotch but the squares werent formed by chalk, they were formed by long, odd bones. She couldnt have been more than seven or eight. Youre in the Mephistopolis, youre in Hell, she told him....

Other Leisure books by Edward Lee:

MONSTROSITY
CITY INFERNAL

For Christy Baker & Bill Agans.
thunk.

LEISURE BOOKS

January 2004

Published by
Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
200 Madison Avenue
New York, NY 10016

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as unsold and destroyed to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this stripped book.

Copyright C 2003 by Edward Lee

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

ISBN 0-8439-5203-2

The name Leisure Books and the stylized L with design are trademarks of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

Printed in the United States of America.

Visit us on the web at www.dorchesterpub.com.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Though in debt to many, I need to acknowledge the following for their support, inspiration, and friendship. Tim McGinnis. Dave Barnett, Wendy Brewer, Rich Chizmar, Douglas Clegg, Don DAuria, Tony & Kim Duarte, Dallas, Tom Pic, Bob Strauss, Wrath James White, and Bel Wilson (& Harold). Much gratitude also to Amy the Mama and Scott, Charlie, Darren, Cowboy Jeff, Julie, Kathy, R.J., and Stephanie. Thanks additionally to Teri Jacobs for cool names, music, and impetus for cryptography. Thanks to Jeff Funk and Minh.

Inestimable thanks to,,,, and . I am forever in your debt.

Prologue

The metropolis sprawls. The moon is black and the sky is the color of de-oxygenated blood. Screams rip down streets and through alleys, carried by malodorous winds. The people of this place trudge the sidewalks back and forth, to home, to work, to stores, etc., just as they do in any city. Theres only one dissimilarity.

In this city, the people are all dead.

What... is this place? Cinny wondered. She lay in a stinking alley, flat on her back as if dropped there. Cut-off jeans and a holey t-shirt that read MOTORHEAD. A tiny tattoo on her ankle affirmed NOWHERE LEFT TO GO BUT DOWN.

What am I doing here? she thought, but the thought speared her mind like an ice-pick. She tried to think back, couldnt remember. All she knew was this:

Im in a city...

It was too big for St. Pete, she knew. She turned tricks there all the time, when Harley Mack was either in jail or too strung out to deal ice. Cinny would do anything for Harley Mackand she had, literally, anything because she knew the only thing keeping them together was their mutual addiction to crystal methamphetamine. Her eyes opened wider, then she shrieked when something chittered alongside. A rata big one. She saw its shadow slip away into a pile of garbage. The animal looked the size of a puppy.

Cinny tried to get up but couldnt yet. Her heart was beating funnyit did that a lot lately, when she smoked too much crystal at onceand her mind continued to reel, not just from the toll the drug was taking on her but from her confusion. Some john mustve knocked her out and raped her; it happened all the time, a hazard of her profession and one shed long since learned to live with. The fuckers were too cheap to fork over the twenty-five bucks, so theyd just hit her in the head with a blackjack or something, then dump her somewhere later. That mustve been what happened. Some trick jacked me out and dumped me here.

But

Where, exactly, was here?

She peered harder out the mouth of the alley, leaning up now on her hands. No, she wasnt in St. Petersburg and she knew as well that this couldnt be downtown Clearwater. This city was too big for either of those. Tampa, she realized. Right now Cinny was looking at some big buildings, and there were plenty of those in Tampa. It just seemed a whole lot of trouble, though. Why would a psycho john drive her all the way from St. Pete to Tampa just to rape her?

She thought back harder, her heart still beating funny, beating slow. Then some memories began to emerge, recollections that dashed her previous suspicions: Wait a minute... I wasnt turning tricks tonight. I was with Harley Mack. We were breaking into that place it was a pharmacy or clinic or something... The memories continued to jell. Harley Mack had gotten wind of a local medical clinic that had a lot of Dilaudid and other synthetic smack stored in its pharmacy vault. That kind of stuff went for big money on the street these days, so he and Cinny had broken into the place ...

But thats all she could remember.

Gotta get up, gotta get out of here, she told herself. Shed remember the rest in time; the actual events that had led to her being in this stinky, rat-infested alley werent important right now. She had to find Harley Mack. She had to get up and get going, and hitch a ride back home.

Get up, get up, get up! she was yelling at herself now, but she was still so dizzy and racked out, any movement sent her senses reeling. She sighed and lay back down against the slimy pavement, tried to settle down and catch her breath.

Then she heard the sound. whats...

A vigorous, wet smacking.

The sound emanated from her left side; she quickly turned her head.

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