Free Tempter by Nancy A. Collins

of his mouth.
    “Had enough?” the doppelganger asked. With a wave of a hand the scene disappeared. “Quite an impressive display. The fool ended up with fifty stitches and unconscious for three days. You, on the other hand, spent three months in Bellevue. You also lost your house in Beverly Hills and the Mercedes. Not to mention your agent, your manager, and all your bookings for the rest of that year. Too bad, considering you were so close signing that contract with Matador Records. You stood a good chance of making a real comeback. But you blew it, didn’t you?
    “Why did you show me that?” Rossiter asked. “I know I fucked up. I couldn’t have killed my career any deader than if I’d put a pistol to its head.”
    “I have my reasons,” the doppelganger replied with a smile. “What if I told you it is within my power to return to you everything you have lost? That I can return you to the spotlight? That is what you really miss the most, isn’t it? Not the money, or the prestige, but the thrill of standing before thousands of screaming, swooning girls, worshipped as a god made flesh; to be adored for no other reason than that you exist.”
    “Yes. I miss it.” Rossiter knew he should feel shame for confessing to such adolescent urges, but there was no point in lying to himself. He’d come of age in the brilliant, searing glare of the public’s gaze, and the thought of spending the rest of his life outside its magic circle was too horrible to bear.
    “I can give it back to you. But you must want it. I cannot force a gift on you. You must take it of your own free will.”
    “But...what do you want from me in return?”
    The doppelganger shrugged. “A trifle, nothing more. I need to utilize you for one or two minor activities. Then you will be free to do as you like.”
    “That’s it? That’s all you want from me?”
    “Yes. That is all.”
    “Then it’s a deal.”
    “Excellent. Now that you have agreed, we must seal our bargain.”
    “How?”
    The doppelganger’s features suddenly began to blur, the mouth widening as the nose flattened and his hair changed color and grew longer and softer. “With a kiss,” Pearl smiled, her eyes glowing like live coals.
    Rossiter came out of the trance choking on phlegm. He was flat on his back, wrapped in dingy, sour-smelling sheets, his skin exuding a chill layer of sweat. His touched his naked thighs and his fingers came away sticky. He groaned in disgust and wiped his hand on the mattress.
    Had he dreamed it? Or had he really been in a land beyond time and space, bargaining with a nameless, faceless entity? He shivered as he recalled Pearl’s hot red eyes staring up at him, the ectoplasmic equivalent of jism dribbling down her chin.
    He got out of bed and retrieved the bottle of Stoli from the freezer. He told himself that at worst he’d had a sick wet dream; at best he had some heavy-duty mojo working in his favor.
    That sounded good. And it sounded even better with every shot of vodka.
    Tempter’s delight was beyond definition. At last he had succeeded! He had shown his prey the bait and the poor, deluded fool had taken it without hesitation. Now he had a foot in the material world. Granted, his hold was tenuous, but it was there. The horse had unwittingly given him access to his body and, soon, his soul. For in the place between places, there is no such thing as a symbolic act. He would have to work quickly, before the vévés became aware of the rupture. Still, he had enough time to gloat over his conquest.

Chapter Nine
    “Looks like your friend drew a good crowd.” Charlie gestured to the knot of people clustered on the curb outside the Gris-Gris Club.
    The usual mix of uptown college students and French Quarter habitués were loitering on the street corner, smoking cigarettes and drinking beer from plastic go-cups. Each group was trying hard to look hip, with the Quarter Rats doing the better job.
    Jerry nodded in agreement. “Seems like Alex