absorbed into his bloodstream。 Dan sank back into the settee cushions and took a deep breath。 Coloured balls popped behind his eyes and a landscape of unformed shape rolled out before him into oddball odd。 His right hand sought out the headset and he dragged the slim grey crescent over his head； feeding the dark end…beads into his ears。 The holophonic sound gave him headbutts。 Upon the turntable of the antique holophon a disc of black plastic turned at seventy…eight revolutions a minute。 The system's pick…up arm moved gently up and down and fed its sonic messages into the bank of electronical hocus…pocus。 Enhancing； upmoding； restructuring。 What came out of the dark beads and entered the holyman's head was a whole new world。
'Well since my baby left me； I've found a new place to dwell；' sang a voice which was ribbons of ice； frayed at the ends and breaking into wavering star clusters。 'It's down at the end of lonely street at Heartbreak Hotel。'
'We don't get a lot of visitors now。 What with the new highway and all；' said Norman Bates。 'You can have any room you like。' He turned pensively and selected a key from the board。 'Number three。' There was a stuffed owl on the wall。 Somehow Jovil knew that Norman was an amateur taxidermist。
'All on your own here？' he asked。 But Norman appeared distracted。
'Just get the key；' whispered the sprout。 'And let's get that sucker out of the trunk before he suffocates。'
Norman Bates parted with the key and then parted pany； wandering off towards a large old house which stood halfway up a hill。
Jovil opened the trunk。 Elvis was still there； bound and gagged。 Only now he was dressed in a gold lame suit； the hood was gone and his hair was in perfect shape。
'This is all making me very uneasy。' Jovil hauled the hostage from the car and dragged him into the motel room。 The room was grim enough。 There was a chair； a bedside table with lamp。 A single bed； a worn rug。 All were in shades of black and white。 The ensuite bathroom was spotless； but the shower lacked its curtain。
'I'm going to take off your gag。' Jovil sat Elvis upon the bed。 'If you make a fuss I will strike you hard。 Do you understand？'
Elvis nodded。 Jovil removed the gag。 Elvis spat out flecks of lurex。
'Who the fuck are you？' he asked。
'I am Jovil Jspht。' The time traveller bowed slightly。 'I e from a distant star。'
'You scrubbing around the guardian angel bit then； chief？' a muffled voice enquired。
'Seems a mite redundant under the circumstances。'
Elvis listened to this exchange。 He was more than a little confused。 'You some kind of schizo？'
Jovil shook his head and pulled out the Time Sprout。 'I e from another world。 Honest。 Don't you ever go to the movies？' He placed the sprout on the pillow。
'Where's your ray gun； then？'
'My ray gun？ Oh； I see。 Just stay there a minute and I'll show you something that might convince you。' Jovil strode from the room； leaving Elvis to spit sock。 He returned to the car where he pulled out his knapsack。 As he clicked the driver's door shut； he paused for a moment。 The car was now a 1958 Plymouth。 Jovil made a worried face and hurried back to the motel room。 Here he swept the nasty tablelamp aside and set up the monitor。 This is going to e as a bit of a shock to you but I feel you should see it just the same。'
'Is that a General Electric or one of those new Jap jobs？'
'It's an Abendroth Triple D；' said the Time Sprout informatively。 'Self…contained bio…system。 Audio and visual through binary intrapolation of pseudopodia。 It's organic yet non…sentient。 Although there are well…founded arguments in favour of it enjoying some primitive state of being。'
'Thank you。' Jovil tinkered with the monitor。 'But I think your explanations will like as not confuse him。 They do me。'
A sudden look of enlightenment appeared unexpectedly upon the King's youthful face。 He leant towards Jovil and whispered into his ear。 'If you untie me； I will help you kill the。。。 you know。。。'
'I do？'
Elvis made eye movements towards the sprout。 'The alien。 I'm getting this now； it's got you under some kind of mind control。 Just untie me。 I know Karate。'
'Roll the movie chief。 Let's get this over and done with。'
Jovil stroked a module and stepped back from the monitor。 Light whirled up forming a broad image which hung in the air。
'Holy shit；' croaked Elvis。 'I gotta get me one of these doodads。'
'Just watch。'
Elvis did so； and what he saw during the next half hour he didn't like one little bit。
The room Rex Mundi now occupied was tiled throughout with octagonal mirrors。 It lacked furniture but for the steel chair into which the naked Rex was strapped。 The floor was also mirror； but reflection was made difficult by the large amount of congealed blood splashed about it。 The room smelt bad。 It smelt of stale sweat； it smelt of fear。 Rex stared up at his own image。 It didn't please him。 Small white discs adhered to sensitive areas。 These shone out amongst the grime which coated his body。 He felt terror but also a strange self…loathing。 A sense of total worthlessness。
A voice crackled down to him through an unseen inter。 'Bloodaxe； Rambo Bloodaxe。 High priest of the sub…cult Devianti。 We have no wish to prolong this interview。 So to spare yourself the prolonged agony and we the inevitable arguing with the management over waiting time； it might just be simpler all round if you answered the questions without delay。'
'As elected representative of the interrogation and security sub…mittee I take exception to that remark；' came a second voice。 'There is no need to hurry。 Give the gentleman a jolt or two as a little taster。'
'Hold on；' cried Rex。 'I'm feeling in a particularly talkative mood at present。'
'Good boy；' said the first voice。 'Now your chosen moniker is Rambo Bloodaxe； yes？'
'Well； actually no。 There seems to have been some mis…' The pain hit him from every side。 Every nerve ending was being torn from his body at the same time。 'Yes； yes；' Rex screamed； 'Bloodaxe； yes。'
'Good boy。 Easy when you've got the knack； isn't it？'
'You had the volume turned right down；' the second voice said。 'He couldn't have felt a thing。 Whack it up a couple of notches。'
'No。 No。' Rex yelled back。 'It's working just fine； honestly。 What else would you like to know？'
'How many in your chapter？'
Rex could only guess。 'About twelve？'
'Good；' said the first voice； which pleased Rex no end。
'Names？'
'Deathblade Eric。。。'
'Yes。'
'Er。。。' Rex came apart at the seams。 Pain es in many colours； this came in all of them。 'Vile Tony Watkins。。。 Killer McKee。。。 Syd the Slayer。。。' Where they came from Rex had no idea but they poured from his mouth in a great unstoppable torrent。 When he was done the voice said； 'Correct。'
Rex bit his tongue； his body shook uncontrollably。 Correct？
'Now we e to the important part。 What do you know about。。。'
Rex spoke rapidly。 'Get…my…sister…Gloria…Mundi…you…have…got…the…wrong…man…I…don't…know…anything…about…any…' His unseen tormentor cranked up the volume and then the pain left Rex。 It occurred to him almost at once that he was dying。 Had died。 Everything was gone。
He was staring down at himself。 But he wasn't alone。 A cool soft palm stroked his forehead。 A face stared into his。 And such a face。 She was beautiful。 A golden aura encircled her head。
'An angel；' Rex gasped。
'You're such a pet；' the Goddess replied。
'And that's about it。' Jovil Jspht switched off the monitor and the motel room fell back into monochrome。 'Do you want to see any of it again？' Elvis shook his brain…stormed head rapidly。 'A dismal end by any account；' sighed Jovil。
'Gross。' Elvis spoke in a strangled whisper。 'How did I get that gross？ And that sweaty？'
'Not a pretty sight； eh？ Listen； do you want something to eat？'
'No； I don't！ Something to drink。'
'Good idea。 I'll go round to the reception and see what I can find。 While I'm away the 〃alien〃 here will put you straight on the plan。 Then you can do as you please really。' Jovil slipped the gag back over Presley's mouth。 'Nothing personal；' he said。
Jovil locked the motel room door behind him and slipped down the darkened veranda。 A wan light showed through an unwashed window。 There was a chill in the air。 Jovil knocked at the door。 The sound echoed； hollow。 Norman Bates must have turned in for the night。 Jovil tried the door。 It swung in。 A single naked lightbulb dangled above the reception desk。 Jovil checked the place out。 Beneath the desk he unearthed a bottle of Kentucky Bourbon。 This was either half full or half empty depending how you felt about it。 Jovil unscrewed the cap and took a slug。 Wiping the back of his hand across his lips he went 'ah' and took another。
Just along the darkened veranda an old woman with a blood…stained kitchen knife turned the pass key and pushed open the door to room number three。
Rex refocused his eyes。 'Gloria？' His sister struck him a second time。
'Wake up；' she demanded。 Rex did so。 The security men were removing the white discs from his skin； leaving behind horrid red weals。 'Get him up and hose him down。 He smells disgusting。 Oh