personal
coach. Just walk normally."
Ruth shook her head. Walk normally he says. With a torso
on my back in Hell ...
"Don't say anything and don't look at them. Just walk
by like you don't see them," the priest warned. "There's
something screwy here."
"I'll say. We're in a town made of rot."
"I mean there's more Conscripts than normal," Alexander said, observing more Demonic soldiers prowling
roofs and balconies. "And some of them aren't wearing
Rot-Armor-it means they've been called in from other Districts. And the Vulgaressa is never out at this time of
night. It's almost like..."
"They're looking for someone?"
"Shhh! Just walk by."
Ruth loped ahead. Years of grifting and petty thievery
had taught her to act inconspicuously, yet the priest's
mysterious alarm was making her nervous.
"And don't be nervous," Alexander added. "They have
Prism-Veils."
What the fuck! she thought.
She passed a large steepled structure fluffy with rot. It
looked like a church but then she read the sign:
ST. BATHORY'S ABBEY OF CATHETERIZATION -JOIN ABBESS
JOYCELYN FOR BLACK MASS & GENITAL TORTURE.
Ruth just shook her head again, but then, as she passed
a sewer grate full of pleading, twisted faces, she became
dreadfully aware of the squishy snap! of her flip-flops. Act
cool, she thought. Don't blow this.
She began to cross the intersection, right in front of the
Steam-Buggy and platoon of homed and helmeted soldiers.
In the carriage window, Ruth thought she saw a pallid,
shiny shape leaning out. It's her! she guessed. And she's
looking through ... a veil.... It was like the kind of veil
women wore at funerals that only covered their eyes, only
this one was glittery with bright, glassy colors.
Like a prism ...
Then a wet gargle cracked through the intersection.
"Stop them. Investigate."
Fuck, Ruth thought.
"You two! Halt in the name of the Grand Duchess Vulgaressa."
Three of the Rot-Soldiers approached, their armor like
sponges soiled by cleaning toilets. Their helmets, too,
were but blobs of rot with a slit to see through. Instead of
swords, they carried large, rusted boat hooks.
"State your business," the lead soldier demanded.
It was all Ruth could do just to look at him. "Oh, hi, sir.
We were just, you know, bopping through town."
He stepped closed, and put the point of his hook right
against her exposed navel. "So it seems. Why, then, did
your aura indicate prevarication when viewed through an
Occult Sensor?"
What the fuck does that mean! She guessed it meant they
looked shifty. "Oh, yeah, sir, see, because my friend here
told me that the buggy belonged to the Vulgaressa."
The hook turned up and cradled a breast. One twist
and she'd be punctured. "And why should that make you
nervous?"
Ruth struggled not to tremble. "Because, see, everyone
knows that the Vulgaressa is a very important personone of the most important in all of Hell-and, well, I got
nervous because I've never been so close to someone that
great and important, sir."
There was a click, and in the corner of Ruth's eye she
saw a figure getting out of the buggy. Then a mushy, wet
gargle of a voice stated, "What an exemplary Human trollop to say such nice things about me."
"Yes, my Duchess!" the lead Rot-Soldier said. He lowered the hook and stood back at attention.
"So, what have we here?" came the splattery rattle.
"Newcomers, I'd say, my Duchess. A Human tramp
and a torsoed priest."
The smell that approached with the figure almost
knocked Ruth over, and when she got her first full look,
she wanted to run away and jump into one of the canals.
"The only good priest is a torsoed priest," the strange
voice continued. "And as for the tramp? Such an attractive
one, I must say."
All that covered the Vulgaressa's body was a brassiere
and a miniskirt fashioned from some manner of reptilian
scales, and she wore a glittery headdress like Cleopatra.
But the rest of her was indeed a containment of pus that
had taken on
coach. Just walk normally."
Ruth shook her head. Walk normally he says. With a torso
on my back in Hell ...
"Don't say anything and don't look at them. Just walk
by like you don't see them," the priest warned. "There's
something screwy here."
"I'll say. We're in a town made of rot."
"I mean there's more Conscripts than normal," Alexander said, observing more Demonic soldiers prowling
roofs and balconies. "And some of them aren't wearing
Rot-Armor-it means they've been called in from other Districts. And the Vulgaressa is never out at this time of
night. It's almost like..."
"They're looking for someone?"
"Shhh! Just walk by."
Ruth loped ahead. Years of grifting and petty thievery
had taught her to act inconspicuously, yet the priest's
mysterious alarm was making her nervous.
"And don't be nervous," Alexander added. "They have
Prism-Veils."
What the fuck! she thought.
She passed a large steepled structure fluffy with rot. It
looked like a church but then she read the sign:
ST. BATHORY'S ABBEY OF CATHETERIZATION -JOIN ABBESS
JOYCELYN FOR BLACK MASS & GENITAL TORTURE.
Ruth just shook her head again, but then, as she passed
a sewer grate full of pleading, twisted faces, she became
dreadfully aware of the squishy snap! of her flip-flops. Act
cool, she thought. Don't blow this.
She began to cross the intersection, right in front of the
Steam-Buggy and platoon of homed and helmeted soldiers.
In the carriage window, Ruth thought she saw a pallid,
shiny shape leaning out. It's her! she guessed. And she's
looking through ... a veil.... It was like the kind of veil
women wore at funerals that only covered their eyes, only
this one was glittery with bright, glassy colors.
Like a prism ...
Then a wet gargle cracked through the intersection.
"Stop them. Investigate."
Fuck, Ruth thought.
"You two! Halt in the name of the Grand Duchess Vulgaressa."
Three of the Rot-Soldiers approached, their armor like
sponges soiled by cleaning toilets. Their helmets, too,
were but blobs of rot with a slit to see through. Instead of
swords, they carried large, rusted boat hooks.
"State your business," the lead soldier demanded.
It was all Ruth could do just to look at him. "Oh, hi, sir.
We were just, you know, bopping through town."
He stepped closed, and put the point of his hook right
against her exposed navel. "So it seems. Why, then, did
your aura indicate prevarication when viewed through an
Occult Sensor?"
What the fuck does that mean! She guessed it meant they
looked shifty. "Oh, yeah, sir, see, because my friend here
told me that the buggy belonged to the Vulgaressa."
The hook turned up and cradled a breast. One twist
and she'd be punctured. "And why should that make you
nervous?"
Ruth struggled not to tremble. "Because, see, everyone
knows that the Vulgaressa is a very important personone of the most important in all of Hell-and, well, I got
nervous because I've never been so close to someone that
great and important, sir."
There was a click, and in the corner of Ruth's eye she
saw a figure getting out of the buggy. Then a mushy, wet
gargle of a voice stated, "What an exemplary Human trollop to say such nice things about me."
"Yes, my Duchess!" the lead Rot-Soldier said. He lowered the hook and stood back at attention.
"So, what have we here?" came the splattery rattle.
"Newcomers, I'd say, my Duchess. A Human tramp
and a torsoed priest."
The smell that approached with the figure almost
knocked Ruth over, and when she got her first full look,
she wanted to run away and jump into one of the canals.
"The only good priest is a torsoed priest," the strange
voice continued. "And as for the tramp? Such an attractive
one, I must say."
All that covered the Vulgaressa's body was a brassiere
and a miniskirt fashioned from some manner of reptilian
scales, and she wore a glittery headdress like Cleopatra.
But the rest of her was indeed a containment of pus that
had taken on
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