Infernal Angel by Lee Edward

Author:Lee, Edward [Lee, Edward]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Publisher: Dorchester Publishing -A
Published: 2004-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

(II)

Colin owned the entire top floor of the Strauss Building in downtown St. Petersburg, overlooking Tampa Bay. That’s what Walter’s eyes opened to when he began to regain consciousness—the low moon glowing over the bay. A gentle breeze off the water revived him. He winced; his head ached.

It took several moments to re-sort all that had happened. He wasn’t sure what was real and what was imagined. He was still in the wheelchair—someone had put him out here on the balcony to look at the bay—but when he tried to stand up, he couldn’t, still too shaky from the painkillers.

“Buddy-bro!” Colin’s voice called from behind. “I see you moving out there. How you feeling?”

“I’ve been better,” Walter grumbled under his voice. His arms felt weak as he grabbed the wheels and began to turn the chair.

“Augustina? Give him a hand, will ya?”

The buxom shadow slipped outside. The loveliest scents drifted off the tall woman’s hair. But when Walter’s eyes adjusted, as she came around to the other side of the wheelchair, her form seemed ghostlike and white. That’s when he discerned that she was naked now.

Walter shuddered when her hands smoothed up his chest, then over his cheeks. A cooing sound faintly drifted around his head, like a caress itself, and then he was turned around and wheeled slowly back into the suite.

Walter squinted; the expansive room off the balcony was done up in dark wood paneling and large, ornately framed paintings. Maroon carpet hushed the chair’s wheels. The entire room seemed to flicker darkly, tiny shadows licking up the wood-grain walls. There were no electric lights here, just dozens of tall black candles.

Colin was standing knee deep in a churning hot tub. “Want some of this?” He held up another bottle of champagne : Perrier-Jouet. “It’s six hundred bucks a bottle. Can you believe that? Six hundred bucks for a bottle of hooch?”

“Colin,” Walter reminded, “we’re not even old enough to drink.”

“When you win a hundred million in the lottery, Buddy-bro, you’re old enough to do any fuckin’ thing you want.” He took a slug off the bottle, winced, then spat it out in a bubbly spray. “Jesus Christ, that’s worse than the other shit I was drinking.” He winged the bottle, like a bowling pin, out the open sliding doors where it sailed over the balcony and disappeared.

Walter just looked at him. “Colin. What’s going on?”

“Lotta cool shit, brother. And I’m gonna tell you all about it right now. Everyone has their destiny, you know?”

Walter, by now, was starting to get scared by that word.

“Some people have a modest destiny, some people have a great destiny. But your destiny ... is monumental.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Relax. We’ve still got a little time to screw around, I guess. Till midnight, I mean. Kind of hokey if you ask me, but midnight really is the Witching Hour. It’s all about faith, Walter. Belief in myth is just another form of faith.” Candlelight flickered over Colin’s face. He smiled sharply.

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