City Infernal by Edward Lee

care for that whacked-out Goth crap she listened to; he’d snuck into her room a few times when she was out and looked at her CD covers. Mostly fellas dressing up like gals and wearing make-up and the like. He’d take Charlie Daniels any day. Didn’t matter to him, though, what kind of shit she listened to. Jervis just wanted to see the tits and the cookie, and that trim white stomach and little bellybutton that just made him want to haul back and do a rebel yell—with his hand in his pants of course.
    The life of a voyeur was intricate and bizarre.
    But after almost three hours up here, kneeling in the musty closet with his eye to his peephole, Jervis wasn’t getting much in the way of treats.
    She sat around on her bed or at her desk in a jean skirt and fancified black bikini top, mostly listening to that hippie Goth crap or reading books. Jervis would’ve liked the short jeans—except the denim was black. Black denim? he thought. Dumbest-ass thing I ever done seen. These freaky Goth kids, all they ever wear is fuckin’ BLACK! Nor did he care for the diminutive rainbow tattoo over her cute little bellybutton. It seemed like vandalism, like spray paint on a gorgeous canvas. Why did gals these days insist on messin’ up their bods with all that hippie tattoo business?
    Time just kept ticking by. Would she ever get undressed and go to bed?
    Aw, come on! Let’s get down to it!
    At ten o’clock, she gave no indication of turning in. Jervis heard her saying goodnight to her father out in the hall, heard the old man go to bed himself, but after that she just came back to her room listening to more of that weirdo music. At least now she listened with headphones, so Jervis didn’t have to hear all the groaning and screaming lyrics about the anti-Christ superstar or some such shit, and kids killing themselves. But Jervis was pretty much trapped in the lightless closet, and wouldn’t be able to head back home until after she’d gone to sleep.
    Which it didn’t look like she had any intention of doing.
    Come on, you yellow-hairt little city bitch! I ain’t got all night! Get them clothes off and give Jervis some stroke time!
    It seemed, then, he’d get his wish. She took off her headphones, looked at her watch, and stood up.
    Get that shit RIGHT OFF! I want that dumbass-looking black skirt ON THE FLOOR! Get that bra and little panties the fuck OFF!
    That’s when the clock downstairs struck midnight.
    It almost seemed like a signal. When the clock struck, Cassie turned off the light and left the room.
    Daaaaaaag-NABIT!
    Jervis remained kneeling in the dark, knees aching—with nothing for his effort.
    He could hear her going down the hall, her flipflops flopping. Then the flopping stopped at what he guessed must be the landing.
    He didn’t hear her go down.
    Very carefully. he rose, hoping his knees wouldn’t crack. He tiptoed to the door and knelt again, at the old-fashioned keyhole. He looked out.
    There she was, standing at the landing, right next to the other stairwell that led up to the oculus room.
    He knew it was his imagination—simply compounded by the dark and the late hour—but for a moment he actually thought he heard footsteps coming down from the oculus room. Naw, that’s silly. There ain’t no one up there.
    How could there be?
    Yet Cassie remained standing there, looking up now, as if waiting for someone to come down....
    He heard her whisper: “My father’s asleep. We can go now.”
    But no one else stood on the landing.
    Now who in the HAIL is she talkin’ to?
    Cassie turned on the barely-lit landing, began to descend the stairs to the first floor.
    She was alone.
    But she continued to whisper, and the last thing Jervis thought he heard her say was:
    “Don’t worry, I got ’em. I got the bones....”

(II)

    Via, Xeke, and Hush arrived as they’d said, at midnight. Midnight was the best time for a “Pass,” Cassie was told, simply due to the human meaning it had accrued over the last