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Janet shoulder-bumps me, all excited.
While Juliette pours drinks at the bar, Dan addresses the room.
“To celebrate Manimal Mike’s birthday, there’s going to be an excursion Monday. We’ll travel somewhere out of town and you’ll work in teams of two.”
Juliette hands me the drink and says, “Each team will get one canteen of water. That’s all I’ll say for the moment. Now, let’s have a drink to James Stark, our newest member.”
I raise up my glass and Juliette leads me around to glad-hand the rest of the dopes.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
Janet holds me tight and rests their head on my back as I drive them home. It’s a good feeling, but since we left the Lodge, my mind has drifted elsewhere.
When I let them off in front of their building, they take hold of my coat sleeve and say, “Come up, Mr. Stark?”
I have to frown.
“Can I take a rain check? There’s something important I need do.”
They let go of my sleeve and say, “Aww. You’re no fun. Fine. Go do your important thing. But tomorrow night. Me and you. Doing it ’til dawn. Understood?”
I can’t help but smile.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“You better be.”
That feeling of wanting to flee comes back. Guilt. What am I going to tell Candy?
Janet waves and goes inside while I gun the Hog and head for the movies.
The Devil’s Door drive-in is surrounded by a high black wall covered in flaming and horned dancing girls. There are eyes over the entrance and teeth around the edges so that when you enter, it’s like you’re driving right down the Devil’s gullet. Flicker owns the place.
I don’t know her real name and I don’t know anyone who knows. All anyone is sure of is that she’s Chinese and comes from heavy Sub Rosa money. She’s a geomancer—a land witch. All of her strength is concentrated in certain patches of ground. Power spots that only she and a few other magicians know about. The Devil’s Door sits right on top of her personal spot.
The guy selling tickets at the door waves me through and I head straight for Flicker’s office behind the concession stand. I like it back here. It’s a childhood movie memory. The sky overhead and everything smells vaguely of hot dogs.
I knock on the door and Flicker yells, “Come in.”
It’s dark inside. The only illumination comes from an old Philco Predicta TV. She’s watching The Tingler with someone or something else. I mean, it’s person shaped but completely black. No face or anything else. It’s like a kind of human void next to her on the battered red sofa.
I say, “You have a fifty-foot screen to watch movies on outside, but you’re in here with a twenty-inch black and white TV?”
“Twenty-one,” she says without ever taking her eyes off Vincent Price on the screen. “The set is from 1960. The movie is from ’59. They’re kind of made for each other, don’t you think?”
She finally looks at me, her eyebrows raised.
“I can’t argue with that,” I say. “Who’s your friend?”
Flicker glances at the void next to her.
“I don’t know. They just stop by sometimes to watch movies.”
“They don’t make you nervous?”
“Why should they? They bring their own popcorn. It’s no big deal.”
“I guess we’ve both hung out with worse.”
