Black and Orange by Benjamin Kane Ethridge Read Free Book Online Page A

picked up on it in the gloom.
    In the meantime Ray’s blood spilled from its vessels in loud glug-glugs —the sentinels behind Paul muttered with helicopter lips—the Diamondback rattled its tail now or the memory of the sound had returned—the lacy fringe beneath Sandeus Pager’s suit groped around Paul’s face like ivy and slipped down into a shocking mask and—
    —brought Paul to his feet, sweating, head pounding. He said something formed as a question, though the meaning remained elusive. It must have been gibberish because the Archbishop only sat there calmly fingering Ray’s wound.
    Paul slipped around the monastery table. It stretched into infinity, yet the tank loomed over him and widened. He could smell the tank widening. Two large steps brought him closer, still conscious of finishing this and leaving here, getting the hell away from this place. Quickly. Paul flooded with adrenaline. The tank leered and snickered. Paul turned at a sound and he threw his hands to his throat to search for a knife wound. There was no wound that he felt, but his tears were so real they actually felt terrified for him.
    “I’m too high for this!” he shouted back at the Archbishop. “I can’t pick up any damned snake!”
    “Just grab Alexander behind the neck.” Sandeus tittered, looking to the guards, who chuckled from the dark smears at the back of the room.
    Gears turned inside and Paul went into a different mode. It wasn’t fight or flight. No, this was something bent and sharp and altogether usual for him, even high. This was kamikaze. This was suicide-bomber stock. This was I know what happens next, but I’ll do this and then it will be finished for good . He treaded over and pulled off the tank’s plastic lid. Silence chimed around him. His invincibility deactivated when he looked inside the tank. He wasn’t hallucinating any longer and that was even more awful than the loop of black and orange scales below.
    “Not a Western Diamondback. Alexander was brought from the Old Domain as well,” said a starchy voice behind Paul. “I didn’t want to scare you before.”
    The kindling of more laughter burned Paul’s ears.
    The snake moved. Its two black jelly eyes opened. Paul lifted a hand. The tail rattled alien chatter. He sucked in a breath and hoped for luck. Quickly, his hand moved into the tank. It grazed the side and his trajectory went off target. He took a slimy handful, mid-body, but he didn’t wait (fuck no) and jerked the snake out like a whip. Alexander lashed out and Paul could see black fangs bare as it rounded. He dropped the snake on the floor and it shot for his ankle—sidestepping, he then lunged, caught the snake again, this time at the rattle. His shoulder turned involuntarily and he flung it onto the table. Its bright orange designs gleamed like blood and honey as it slithered away in a tight S-shape. Archbishop Pager fell forward and pinned the snake behind the neck.
    Paul’s heart felt punctured. Every beat hurt. “Now you’re going to tell me the snake’s venom isn’t even fatal, aren’t you?”
    “No,” replied the Archbishop, “I’m not going to say that at all.”
    Paul watched as Sandeus wrangled the snake and the sentinels hooked wires from the phonograph to Ray’s exposed vocal cords. Paul hallucinated that it was himself that sat there with his throat opened and wires clamped to the fleshy strands inside him. Paul started to cry and his tears began to scream.

EIGHT
     
    Melissa Patterson had to tread lightly now. If Paul passed the trials and ascended to Bishop, her past would follow her around, ad infinitum. Things could get tricky with all her dishonesty to Cole. Lying wasn’t something that came easy for her, but she’d had good reason to make herself a twenty-five-year-old virgin; it wasn’t a good idea to test the jealousy waters with Cole Szerszen . Once she saw him slap the teeth out of some young guy who made the mistake of asking her the time. It wasn’t