Read Online Infernal Angel by Edward Lee - Free Book Online

things were going. Colin looked like a geek in the same way that Walter looked like a geek, but Colin didn’t give a shit. When you were a multi-millionaire, you didn’t have to. “Hey, ass-bags,” Colin had said to the perpetrators of Walter’s torment that night. “Anybody who fucks with my brother gets his ass kicked.” One of the students had challenged back at Colin’s frail physique: “Oh, yeah? By who? You?”
    “No, not by me,” Colin informed him. “By these guys.” Then Colin’s hand gestured to the other gentlemen who’d just entered the dorm room after him: four very psychotic-looking bikers with a local motorcycle gang called The St. Pete Decapitators. One of them promptly punched a hole in the wall, as if on cue. Then another snapped open a ten-inch angel-blade. Did the knife’s edge have rust on it, or dried blood?
    “Walter’s our friend,” he told the wiseacre student in a voice scorched by years of PCP-toking. “If you ever give him a hard time,” the biker grinned through black teeth, “I’ll cut your cock off and make your mama suck it.”
    No one ever bothered Walter again. See, Colin merely hired the bikers to make his point—paying them quite well—and he’d hire them again if more severe services were ever needed. They never were.
    But by the time that Walter realized he wasn’t likely to be socially accepted by anyone, he met Candice.
    The girl of all my time-held dreams, he thought yearningly now, love in his heart and a 12-gauge pumpkin-ball in his hand.
    Yes. Candice.
    Adriatic-blue eyes, long blond hair down past her waist, five-foot-ten and a half. Beautiful as one of those bikini models in a hot rod mag. Candice was a general studies major and at age twenty-six could boast of being the oldest sophomore currently enrolled. Her parents were putting her through school—to help her find her true aptitudes, and to keep her shenanigans—and her physical body—out of their North Hampton, New York, beach mansion. In truth, though, her aptitudes were more oral than academic, as just about any male athlete at the school could attest, and damn near every male instructor. She knew, in fact, that if she really made the effort, she could probably fellate her way to a quicker graduation, but her view was: What’s the hurry? Even though Candice existed as the embodiment of every sexist cliche, she was quite happy with that lot. She loved it.
    And Walter loved her. He truly believed in love at first sight because what else could these feelings be but love? He knew he loved her the instant he’d first seen her at the student lounge watching Hollywood Squares reruns instead of doing her homework. Walter had been having a Mountain Dew and whizzing through the day’s chapter on the molecular possession of cesium and its relation to low-ionization energy fields. It was a piece of cake. When he’d looked up, though, the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen in his eighteen-year-old life was sitting at the same table, right across from him. She smiled at him—it was a distressed smile but a smile just the same—and then she pushed some of that shimmering blond hair back off her brow and said: “Hi.”
    Walter nearly had a grand mal seizure when she’d said that single, simple word to him. Instantly he was sweating, shaking even, and when he opened his mouth to respond to her greeting, what came out sounded like, “Huh-huh-huh-huh—”
    “My name’s Candice,” she told him next. “What’s yours?”
    “Wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh—” Then he finally got it out. “Walter.”
    She scratched her head, and pulled out a spiral notebook. “Damn, I got this take-home quiz, it’s due next period, and I just can’t remember! Isn’t math a bitch?”
    “It‘s-it’s-it’s the only quantitative philosophy,” Walter spewed. “Math is the meaning of life.”
    She giggled. It was the cutest giggle he’d ever heard. “Do you know a lot about math, Walter?”
    “Yuh-yuh-yuh—”
    “I just