Grimm Awakening Read Free Page B

Which is a contender for largest understatement since the dawn of time. Just one more question. I tried to make a phone call. I fucked up. There was a voice, a recording...I...she...”
    The desk clerk spun around again. There was a knowing smirk on his face. “That's the voice of Lust, son. You'll never see her. No one ever sees her. But that voice—just thinking about it gives me a big ol' stiffy—that voice is everywhere. It's on every recording in hell. Whether you hear a man's or a woman's voice depends on whether you like pussy or bein' poked in the ass. Most people can't get enough of it when they first get here, but that changes. You get to feeling like that voice is always teasing you, promising you the hottest, wickedest, freakiest circus sex you've ever desired. And then you realize you ain't ever gonna get it.”
    Jack wanted to hear that voice again more than just about anything else, maybe more than he wanted to solve the mystery of the anonymous girl and how he'd come to be in hell, but he recognized at once the truth of what this man had told him.
    “Just out of curiosity, how the hell did you come to be in hell?”
    The clerk's eyes filled with tears. “On the last night of my life, I killed that whore out there at the bus stop. Slit her throat ear to ear. Then I went home and blew my brains out with my daddy's shotgun.”
    Jack turned to leave. He couldn't get through the door fast enough.
    “Hold up, son!” the desk clerk/whore killer called out to him. “You forgot something.”
    With great reluctance, Jack turned around. “Yeah?”
    The clerk tossed a pack of matches over the counter. Jack snatched the pack out of midair and looked at the name printed in black letters against a red background: THE DEAD END.
    Jack looked at the big man. “What's this?”
    “You dropped that matchbook here last night. The Dead End's a bar few blocks east of here. A shitty little dive. I gather that's where you drank yourself sick before stumbling through my door.”
    Jack glanced at the matchbook again.
    THE DEAD END.
    Huh. Nice name. Nothing ominous about it at all.
    He remembered nothing about it. Of course.
    He looked at the clerk. “Run that card number. I've got work to do.”
    And drinking to do , but he kept that thought to himself.
    Then he was gone.
     

5.
     
    THE DEAD END was identical to innumerable hole-in-the-wall dives Jack had patronized throughout the checkered course of his long history as a barfly. There were just two small rooms. The front room featured a bar on one side and a row of dingy booths on the other. The back room was a gaming area, with dartboards, two pool tables, and several stools lined up against the back wall. The very dim, almost inaudible sound of a baby crying emanated from somewhere indiscernible. Other than that, nothing about the place struck him as odd or ominous. Even the clientele seemed nondescript by the usual dive bar standards. Until he slid onto a stool at the bar and got a better look at the man seated to his right.
    Jack gasped.
    The man (though Jack was suddenly sure that 'man' wasn't the proper word to describe this creature) grinned at him. The whatever-it-was possessed just two arms and two legs, and he had two five-fingered hands with opposable thumbs. But that was the extent of the thing's resemblance to a human male.
    The creature wore a uniform, a crisp outfit featuring a black blazer, flared black trousers, and black boots polished to a high gloss. On the left shoulder was an armband with an insignia depicting a gruesome beast. Jack noted that the beast bore a faint resemblance to the creature wearing the uniform.
    Whatever-it-was chuckled. “What's the matter, pal? You look like you've never seen a hellhound before.”
    Exerting what he considered an absolutely heroic level of willpower, Jack forced himself to remain still. He even managed to affect a half-convincing aura of nonchalance. “I'm new.”
    The thing laughed. “Of course. The newly