"How?" Sun asked.

The demon hovered, saying nothing.

"Maybe he needs a little radiation therapy," Andy said. "And a plutonium enema."

"Your deaths will beeeeeeee painful, Dennisonsssssssss. We will eeeeeeeat you allliiiive."

Dr. Chandelling looked up from his notes. "The faustling hadn't spoken until you arrived. But if it retains the memories and intellect of the demon from Samhain, it's incredibly intelligent."

"It's smarter than we are," Andy said.

"And uglier," Jerry said.

The batling bashed itself into the glass. Everyone jumped back.

"Bite your tongue, boy. Or weeeeee shall bite it for yoooooooou."

"Go wank yourself," Jerry said, the false bravado obvious, but admirable. "You're in there, I'm out here, so bite me."

Bub smashed into the glass again, so hard its pig snout burst open in a bloody mess.

Jerry screamed falsetto.

Bub grinned, rows of jagged teeth stretching wide, and began to lick its blood off the window.

"I say we irradiate it until it talks, then kill it," Andy said.

"Seconded," said Sun.

"Yooooooou can't kill meeeeeeee, Dennisons."

"Denison-Jones."

"It bleeds," Jerry said. "If it bleeds, we can kill it." Everyone looked at him. "You guys didn't see Predator, I take it?" No one answered. Jerry grimaced. "Christ, doesn't anyone watch movies anymore? We're right in the middle of Cabin in the Woods right now and I keep expecting to see Joss Whedon pissing about behind a camera."

The batling descended slightly, hovered at head height beside Dr. Chandelling. "Helloooooo doctoooooor. Caaaaan you heeeeeear ussssssss?"

Chandelling dropped his notepad on the floor. His pockmarked jaw dropped open. "W-what did you say?"

"Hoooooooow issssssss your heeeeeeearing? Think it will laaaaaaaaast?"

"Doctor, are you okay?" Sun asked.

"Yes, I'm... I'm fine. If you'll excuse me I have to go and compile this data." Dr. Chandelling picked his notepad off the floor and hurried away.

Bub began to make a croaking sound, like a sick bullfrog.

"Is it choking on something?" Jerry said.

Andy shook his head. "It's laughing."

"I hate this thing. How big was the other one?"

"About ten feet tall."

"Jesus. It's a wonder you got out of there alive."

Bub banged into the glass again, hard enough to make everyone jump.

"Yooooou won't thissssssss time," the demon said.

Chapter Thirteen.

Dr. Chandelling holed up in his office and closed the door. The first thing he did was open up his prized StereoMatic 564 record player and put on the soothing tones of Bing Crosby. Chandelling had been born in the 70s but had grown up to the backdrop of his father's records. The music of his own generation had lacked the sophistication and class of the decades before. Russ Columbo. Peggy Lee. Frank Sinatra. Ethel Merman. Perry Como. Matt Monro. Ella Fitzgerald. Rudy Vallee.

Music that eased the mind and healed the soul. Ear Valium, he called it.

And Chandelling knew how lucky he was to be able to enjoy it.

As a youth, he was plagued with ear problems. Chandelling had had constant ear infections-otitis media with effusion-aka glue ear. During his first seven years of life, he barely heard half of it. A combination of never-ending antibiotics, and two tympanostomy tubes, finally restored his hearing, but he'd missed so much school he was behind in his studies until he caught up at age twelve. Other children continued to make fun of him through high school-glue ear would discharge fluid, which was smelly and gross and not the fast track to popularity.

Chandelling had taken solace in his old-fashioned music, and finally came into his own in college He'd grown enough that his Eustachian tubes no longer clogged constantly, which not only brought his hearing back to within normal ranges, but alleviated the social stigma. Though Chandelling continued to be shy and wary of people, he'd done well at the university, eventually earning his doctorate. The days of pain and humiliation were long gone.

So how did that creature know about his biggest fear?

Chandelling sat down at his desk and flopped into the soft Italian leather of his office chair, watching his goldfish, Satchmo, swim around in his aquarium. As the music played, Chandelling thought about the batling. Bub. Very few of the other occupants of the Spiral talked. That suited Chandelling just fine. He didn't like to talk, either. He maintained professional, if aloof, relationships with his co-workers, and hadn't discussed his personal life with any of them, with the exception of Dr. Gornman's required weekly therapy sessions. And those were supposed to be confidential, like speaking to a lawyer or a priest.

Perhaps Bub could read minds. Or was somehow supernatural.

The track changed to Don't Fence Me In, but it failed to sooth Chandelling like it usually did because of the last thing Bub had said to him.

"Hoooooooow issssssss your heeeeeeearing? Think it will laaaaaaaaast?"

Chandelling touched his ear, and couldn't help but believe he'd just been threatened. And the threat was not only serious, it was legitimate.

Chapter Fourteen.

While Andy and Sun verbally jousted with the hellspawn, Jerry decided to walk up and down the corridor and check out the various other creatures imprisoned behind the glass walls. It was scary, for sure, but it seemed to be the 'okay' kind of scary, like a horror film or a rollercoaster. They were locked up. He was safe.

Supposedly.

He passed by a misshapen bear-like creature with long arms and ropey white body hair. It looked like what Jerry imagined a yeti to be like, but the text on the LED screen read: Grendaline Historicum. Long yellow claws. Long yellow teeth. Tiny curled horns, like a ram. It watched Jerry, its bright blue eyes following him as he passed Another cell gave off a stench worse than rotting meat. Homo Romero. It was humanoid, green with decay, and lumbering around like the living dead. Which, Jerry guessed, was exactly what it was.

"So are you a slow zombie, like in all the 80s Lucio Fulci movies, or a quick one like 28 Days Later and the Dawn of the Dead remake?"

No reply.

"Do you eat whole people or just brains?"

No reply.

"Can you even hear me?"

The zombie leapt at the glass, much faster than Jerry would have guessed, and grunted out, "Braaaaains!"

"Okay, questions answered. Cheers. You can go back to your lumbering now."

The next one actually made Jerry laugh. It was nothing more than a banana, lying in the middle of the cell. According to the LED, it was called Mu.

"What do you do?"

The banana didn't reply.

"Why are you on subbasement 5? How are you dangerous? In case someone walks on you and slips?"

"Nobody likes you," the banana said. "You're a loser and you're ugly and stupid. It's no wonder you're a virgin."

"Hey! That's mean!"

"Ugly. Small cock, too."

"Stop it."

"Ugly virgin with a baby dick. And such a disappointment to your family. Whoops, no family."

Jerry's eyebrows furrowed and his hands involuntarily clenched into fists. "Enough!"

"Nobody likes you, and if you ever want to have sex you'll need to pay for it. Double the asking price."

"You fucking dick!"

"Sticks and stones, ugly," the banana answered. "You can try some beauty sleep, but it won't help."

Jerry quickly moved on, feeling pretty bad about himself. No wonder Mu was on the bottom level. That banana could really say some terrible things.

The most frightening creature on subbasement 5 was the thing in cell 6 named Nosferatus Hominic. The monster looked mostly like a man, but its jaws were more like a shark's with rows upon rows of lethal dagger-like teeth, so many they tore through its lips and cheeks. When it saw Jerry it threw itself at the glass, clawing and snapping, its black eyes crazed with bloodlust. Jerry was glad for the six-inch barrier separating them.

In the next cell was Wolfie, or Lycanus Canini as the LED display noted. When the hairy, dog-like creature saw Jerry, it too came closer to the glass, but it wasn't in a threatening manner like the occupant of cell 6. Its breath fogged the window.

"Hey, there." Jerry placed a hand against it, as if petting the beast's snout. "Do you want to eat me? Or are you just bored?"

Wolfie sat down, its ears pricking up like a border collie's.

"Yeah, I think you're just bored. How long they have you caged-up down here? Years, I bet."

The creature let out a soft whine. It was somewhere between a begging sound and one of barely-contained excitement.

"I used to have an old dog named Betsie." Part of Jerry knew it was silly talking to a giant wolf, but he didn't care. "My mom was always working and I was at school, so Betsie would get left alone a lot. Whenever I walked through the door she would go completely barmy. She would run around the flat back and forth between the rooms, whining and yelping. When she finally calmed down she would sit on my lap with her legs in the air and I would tickle her belly. I can't imagine how miserable she would have been if we'd locked her up and just never came home."

Wolfie sat down, wagging his tail.

"I don't think it's right that they have you down here. You don't look dangerous to me. You may have bitten that General dude, but he's an asshole."

To Jerry's surprise, Wolfie let out a bark. It was the friendly, yippy bark that Betsie had used to make when he would come home from school.

Jerry grinned. "Dude, I would so adopt you if I could. Ben would shit his pants if he saw me walking you around the block. Oh yeah, right. You don't know about Ben."

Wolfie began to wag its enormous tail.

"Ben's been my best friend since, like, forever. We grew up together, were in the same class in first school. I think I used to get on his nerves sometimes. He was smart, had his shit together, you know? I've always been a bit of a disaster zone. He always stuck by me, though, through thick and thin. Thing is, he wasn't just my best friend, he was my half-brother. Only he didn't know about it. My mom had an affair with his dad when they were both really young. Mom got pregnant but he didn't want anything to do with it-the prick. He was getting married to another woman who was pregnant with Ben at the time. So I grew up without a dad. Through some crazy coincidence, I ended up making friends with Ben on our first day of school. Of course, I didn't know then that we were brothers. It wasn't until I was older that my mother came clean-although it took a bottle of vodka to make her tell me. I was shocked at the time; upset, you know? But in the end I decided to keep it to myself. Ben and I were so close anyway. What difference would telling him have made?"

Wolfie whined again. Ben stroked the glass.

"Ben's dad used to treat me like shit whenever he caught me hanging around with Ben. Used to warn him that I would bring him down. Who he was really slagging off, though, was my mom. He had money, a business, a nice little family. My mom had me and a crummy council flat. Ben's dad-huh, my dad-looked down on me and my mom like shit on his shoe from the moment I was born." Jerry took a moment to catch his breath. He was breathing hard and felt anger in his veins. "When my mom died he didn't even come to the fucking funeral. I was so mad." Jerry took a breath and let it out in a bitter chuckle. "I showed him, though."

Someone stepped out of the elevator at the end of the corridor and startled Jerry. It was a young bird with auburn hair and pale skin. Her red lips pursed when she smiled at him.

"Oh, hi. Sorry," he said. "I know I'm not supposed to be walking around here on my own, but the Dennison-Joneses are just down the hall."

"It's okay. Don't see what harm you could do anyway. General Kane is just being overly cautious. Being a hardass is kind of his job."

"Yeah, I suppose so. Doesn't mean I have to like him."

The girl giggled. "I'm Nessie. Pleased to meet you. You must be Jerry."

Jerry took her hand. It was soft and small, like holding a rosebud. "Pleased to meet you too. Take it you've been warned about me?"

"Nope. Dr. Chandelling just told me that we had a young Englishman on site. Love your accent by the way. Reminds me of my daddy a little. He was from Belfast. Not the same, I know, but it's still a nice change from all the American accents I'm used to hearing."

Jerry smiled. He wanted to say something funny, or at least interesting, but nothing came out.

"So, what are you up to?" Nessie asked him.