Edward Lee - Lucifers Lottery

HIGH PRAISE FOR EDWARD LEE!

The living legend of literary mayhem. Read him if you dare!

Richard Laymon, Author of Funland

Edward Lees writing is fast and mean as a chain saw revved to full-tilt boogie.

Jack Ketchum, Author of Joyride

He demonstrates a perverse genius for showing us a Hell the likes of which few readers have ever seen.

Horror Reader

Edward Lee continues to push the boundaries of sex, violence and depravity in modern genre lit.

Rue Morgue

One of the genres true originals.

The Horror Fiction Review

The hardest of the hardcore horror writers.

Cemetery Dance

Lee excels with his creativity and almost trademark depictions of violence and gruesomeness.

Horror World

A master of hardcore horror. His ability to make readers cringe is legendary.

Hellnotes

TO SEE THE DEPTHS OF HELL

Youll have exactly six minutes to listen to the Trustee, ask any questions you have, and then accept or reject the offer. And even if you accept, which I pray youll do, youre under no obligation. Nothing becomes binding unless you say yes upon completion of the tour.

The tour... Those words bothered him more, perhaps, than anything else tonight. There was something potent about them. Even when he thought the words, they seemed to echo as if they were called down from a mountain precipice.

But then more thoughts dripped. This is a pact with the Devil, you mean.

Not a pact. A gift. One thing to keep in mind. The Devil doesnt need to offer contracts for souls very often these days. Think about that...

Hudsons eyes narrowed. But Im about to go to the seminary. To be a priest!

Her voice drifted in delight. Perhaps what you see will dissuade you. Your reward will be beyond imagination....

Other Leisure books by Edward Lee:

THE BLACK TRAIN

THE GOLEM

BRIDES OF THE IMPALER

TRIAGE (Anthology)

HOUSE INFERNAL

SLITHER

THE BACKWOODS

FLESH GOTHIC

MESSENGER

INFERNAL ANGEL

MONSTROSITY

CITY INFERNAL

EDWARD LEE

For Rex MillerRest in peace.

DORCHESTER PUBLISHING

July 2011

Published by

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

Copyright 2010 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, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the authors rights is appreciated.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN 13: 978-1-4285-1126-2
E-ISBN: 978-1-4285-0941-2

The DP logo is the property of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

Printed in the United States of America.

Visit us online at www.dorchesterpub.com .

This project is a novelization of my previously published small-press novella The Senary. I liked the concept so much that my Muse demanded I transform it into a full-fledged novel for my mass-market readers. Ultimately, I must thank you, the reader, for buying it! I hope you like reading the book as much as I liked writing it. More thank-yous to: Don DAuria, Wendy Brewer, Dave Barnett, Tim McGinnis, GAK, Bob Strauss, Larry Roberts, Jason Byars, William Patrick, Thomas Deja, and Christine Morgan. William at the Tyrone Barnes & Noble; Shroud Magazine; my friends at Wild Willys in Largo, Florida, the coolest bar in the world: Nick, Rhonda, Johnny, Bob Monday, Sheri, Roz, Stacy, Mitch, Randi, English Richard, James, Royce, Doug, and the rest. Krist at Diabolical Radio; Tracy Lee Hunt and Temple Arnold Corson IV. Also to the following fans and readers: Paul Legerski; Sandy Griffin and Tony Brock; Jonah Martin, Rob Johns, James L. Harris, Jordan Krall, splatterhead4ever, harleymack, Amy M. Pimental, mrliteral, Horror Freek, Lilith666, Bateman, Lazy Old Fart, vantro, TravisD, JameyWebb, reelsplatter, boysnightout, Nephrenka, carthoss, Amano Jyaku, Insalubrious, VT Horrorfan, bgeorge, Tod Clark, John Copeland, dathar, godawful, Ken Arneson, Bob & Jaime Taylor, Killa Klep, darvis, antitheism, Onemorejustincase, S. Howard, S. Eliot-OLeary, FrederickHamilton, niogeoverlord, horrormike, Serra, swix, vladcain, Kerri, lazy2006, bellamorte, GNFNR, mpd1958, sassydog, IrekB, jesus was a robot, dk78, FeedMeaStrayCat, sunnyvale22, goregirl, Zombified420, Becki, Patricia Maier, Cyberkitty, squeakytherat, sikahtik, Craig Cook, Qweequeg. Plus, special thanks to Monica ORourke and Wrath James White for pulling off a dynamite Killer Con in Vegas.

Six minutes after he officially died, Slydes found himself standing agog on a street corner like none hed ever seen. He stood as he had in life: broad-shouldered, tall, dark dirty hair and a bushy black beard. Blue jeans and work boots, and his favorite T-shirt stretched tight over his beer belly; it read ST. PETE BEACH A QUIET LITTLE DRINKING TOWN WITH A FISHING PROBLEM. Slydes was a redneck, tried and true, a shitkicker. A bad ass. Hed seen a lot of outrageous things in his day, but now... Now...

This?

The wind screamed. Winged mites swarmed in the humid air and splotched red when he swatted them against his brawny forearms. What kind of city is this? he thought as his gaze was dragged upward. Dim, drear-windowed skyscrapers seemed a mile high and leaned this way and that at such extreme angles, he thought they might topple at any moment. Twisted faces that couldnt possibly be human peered out of many of the narrow panes, while other panes were either broken out or spattered with blood. The sky visible between the buildings appeared to be red, and there was a black sickle moon hanging between two of them. Slydes blinked.

A dream, it had to be. It was this notion that he first entertained. His Condemnation only minutes old, he couldnt remember much. He couldnt remember where he was born, for instance, he couldnt remember his age, nor could he remember his last name. Indeed, Slydes couldnt even remember dying.

But die he had, and for a lifetime of wincingly outrageous sins and wickedness, hed been Damned to Hell.

So here he was.

A nightmare, thats all, he convinced himself. A red sky? Office buildings leaning over at sixty-degree angles? And

SWOOSH

A black bat with a six-foot wingspan and a vaguely human face glided by just over his head. Slydes felt a stinking gust, then recoiled when the impossible animal shat on his head.

Fucker! Slydes yelled.

The batactually a Hexegenically created Crossbreed of one of several genera known as