The Hollywood Incubus by Rowan Casey

Author:Rowan Casey
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Harbinger Books
Published: 2018-07-05T05:00:00+00:00

11

He left me for dead.

One thing I pride myself on is my ability to take a battering. That’s how you win most fights. It’s always the person most willing to get hurt who walks away victorious in the end. It’s not just about skill or stopping power behind your punches. If you are willing to get really hurt you are always going to get some good punches in, and the other guy may be the better fighter, but if he’s frightened of getting hurt you’re going to end him. Of course, when you can’t actually throw a punch it’s pretty damned academic.

I lost count of the blows I took to the ribs and the entire right-hand side of my face was swollen, bruised and bloody by the time he’d stopped fighting.

Between spitting blood I had suggested he suck my dick, which he decided to interpret as kick me between the legs with ball-busting force. I wasn’t going to be availing myself of Madame Evienne’s charms tonight, that much was for sure.

I played dead, letting my eyes close and head loll on my neck after a good eighty or ninety second barrage of fists and feet. I couldn’t fall because he had my body pinned there, suspended on tiptoes. He grabbed a handful of my hair and lifted my head up to see if I was out of it. I blew him a kiss and he hit me some more, until finally I really was out of it.

I didn’t come around for nearly an hour. When I did I was very much alone and appeared to be lying in a ditch in the middle of an enchanted forest. Sound stage number six. It felt like a long way back across the worlds to the door, but I dragged my ass bodily back through each and every make-believe world until I was back on the gantry, sweating and shaking from the exertion.

I was in a bad way, but I was still alive. And alive meant I was still going to be around later, so win-win.

I leaned on the rail for longer than I would have liked, but it wasn’t as though I could call security to help me out. I checked the time on my cell. I was well into single digits in terms of time left.

I opened the doors, and bright light and heat hit me full on, hard enough for me to actually step back into the cold and dark of the hanger involuntarily. But I couldn’t hide in here if I wanted to actually get to the bottom of how I died, and where, and actually find a realistic way to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat and, you know, survive.

It was a long walk back to the Mustang. I really didn’t feel like much of a conquering hero as I staggered and stumbled most of the way. No one even looked twice. No one asked if I was okay or needed a hand. They just assumed I was some stunt man or a character actor they didn’t recognize working through my shtick.

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