Free Flesh Gothic by Edward Lee by Edward Lee

faced him was a Gothic immensity, five stories of gray brick
staring back. Stained-glass windows glittered like bizarre dark
gems; oddly placed stone verandas seemed ensconced into the
heavy walls. Were the high corner-posts of the building
made of iron? Things he guessed were decorative gargoyles
sat perched on intricate cornices like transfigured crows. Bow
windows with sloping, slate half-roofs extruded from the first
story's east and west wings, and stained-glass windows-these
diamond-shaped-were set along the sides of the mansion's
central structure. Parapets on either side extended over sloping dormers of the fifth floor, rung with spiked cresting.
    Nyvysk-though he wasn't psychic at all-could feel the
ill-omen hovering over the place, like a murky cloud.
    He actually got out of the van to look further, still a hundred yards away. The feel in his gut, and simply the way the
sun was half-blocked by the mansion's highest peak, reminded him of a time when he was in Jerusalem, just north
of the Damascus Gate. Here, he'd succeeded in an exor-
cism---an infant-and when he'd looked up he saw a similar murkiness just over the area where Christ had likely been
buried. He closed his eyes now but could still see the sunlight through the lids, and he prayed, Yes, God, I'm really going to need courage this time. Please give me courage.
    When he opened his eyes again, he noticed that the
house's massive arched doorway stood open now Someone
was standing under the keystone, waving at him.

II
    "I'm flattered that you find me attractive," Vivica Hildreth
said, her eyes narrowed. She uncrossed her legs, then recrossed them in the wire chair. "Everybody likes to be admired, even if they act like they don't."
    Westmore nearly fell out of his own chair; the suddenness
of the comment-a total shift in subjectsr--threw him for a
loop. He blushed, because he knew why she'd said this.
"I ... apologize. I guess I've been ... staring at you. I
didn't mean to."
    "Not staring-appraising, maybe. Don't worry, Mr. Westmore. It makes me feel better. Most men are put off by me."
    By now, Westmore was growing accustomed to the awkwardness of the day. "I don't know why. You're a very interesting woman."
    She took off the Paisley shawl, her breasts blooming beneath the t-shirt. He guessed she was teasing him now,
overtly. "You're a very intriguing man. It's regrettable that
we don't have anything in common."
    Now all Westmore could do was shake his head and
laugh. "Come on! DeKooning?"
    "Not to mention that I would never cheat on my husband.
If you are able to discern that he's dead, though ... who
knows what the future might hold?"
    I do not believe this ...
    Her voice edged down. "Do you know what the future
holds?"
    "No, I don't."
    "Well, then. Time ... will tell." Her breasts, standing
out, preceded her words-the bright-eyed pop baroness in
flipflops. "Strange day, huh, Mr. Westmore?"
    "Yes

    She stood up, and bid the exit with her hand. "You're
about to walk into a very strange week. Good luck."
    I gum that means I'm leaving. He rose and shook her hand
again, felt a static charge crackle when their skin made
contact.
    "As I've said, there will be others at the house with you,
but remember whom you're working for."
    Westmore raised a brow. "I thought I was working for
you. 11
    ..You are, and anything you discover while you're staying
at my husband's house-anything snuitiue ... you're not
to share that with anyone else. Report, in private to me. I
can be reached on my cell phone at all times. You're not to
give the number to anyone else."
    "Understood," Westmore said, but he still didn't really
understand much at all. Iguess she wants me to find out everything I can about what happened that night, and find out whew her
husband is. It was a trick-bag, though, and he knew it. Right
now he knew essentially nothing about Reginald Hildreth ... except that his obituary was faked. And he
couldn't tell a soul unless he