“Who?”
Brigitte raises her eyes to something behind me.
He catches me with the first bullet before I can turn around. It shouldn’t go through the armor but it does. He must have used my Spiritus Dei trick. My back burns and my chest aches. It feels like a rib is cracked. When I turn to face him, Cairo empties the rest of a 9mm clip. Fourteen quick shots. I throw myself onto the floor and roll toward him. Even hurt, I’m fast and he’s hurt worse, so most of the shots miss. Still, he tags me three more times. It’s bad but not enough for this punk to kill me. When I’m close to him, I extend the na’at, knocking the gun out of his hand. Very suave, but when I try to sit up, the bullets grind in my chest, taking my breath away. I spit and there’s blood in it.
The next thing I’m looking at is the ceiling. Then Cairo’s grinning face. It’s covered in blood and road rash. There’s a nice chunk of radius bone sticking out of his right arm. One of his knees is ripped open but he’s still walking on it. That’s not healing magic. That’s Dixie Wishbone. He’s higher than the Goodyear blimp. He pushes a finger into each of the bullet holes in the armor when he talks. It feels exactly what you think having a junkie’s bony fingers in your chest feels like.
“Funnyman. You look awfully funny down there, funnyman.”
Cairo pats me down. Feels the Qomrama Om Ya in my coat pocket. He’s so pleased with himself that when he reaches for it, he doesn’t see me shake the glove off my hand. I don’t have a lot of strength but I have enough to pull him down on top of me and hold him while I stab my oh-so-pointy Kissi arm up between his ribs and into his heart. I feel him twitch and die and enjoy every second of it.
A light flares in the hall. Aelita manifests her Gladius and comes at me.
I get my legs under Cairo and kick his body up at her. She slashes down with the Gladius, cutting him in two. Blood and bile spray in all directions, ruining Blackburn’s pretty rugs and wallpaper.
The move bought me just enough time to pull the Qomrama and throw it at her. Which turns out to be exactly what Aelita wanted. She kills the Gladius and lets the Qomrama sail past. When it starts back, she catches it in an iron box studded with Angra runes.
She throws the catch and says, “Thank you for bringing it to me. You’re the most helpful Abomination of them all.”
She manifests her Gladius again and heads for me. Five shots hit her in the chest. She drops the box and falls to her knees.
I look back and see Brigitte holding the gun of the guy I killed when I came in.
She kneels down next to me and helps me up.
“Thanks,” I say. “Get the box.”
When she reaches for it, Aelita twists and kicks her in the face. Grabs the box and runs out of the room. I pull myself to my feet and help Brigitte up.
“What the hell are you really doing here?” I ask.
Brigitte goes back to Blackburn and I drop into the chair she’d been sitting in. My chest is on fire but I can breathe. At least a couple of the bullets are still inside me but the armor is holding me together.
“I’ve been seeing Saragossa,” says Brigitte. “Tuatha has been, as he said, unwell for some time. He was so depressed. And my career was not going as well as I might have led you to believe. He introduced me to people.”
“What was that about his wife’s soul?”
“Nasrudin Hodja, the soul merchant, took it,” says Blackburn. “But I know it was on Aelita’s orders. I made her head of security. It kept her close by.”
“Where is it?”
He shrugs.
“Where do you hide a soul?”
“So you assholes have been killing off dreamers to control reality and you use the Imp to do it. Was that Aelita too?”
Blackburn nods.
“And who controls the Imp?”
“Osterberg.”
“And who controls him?”
“Aelita.”
“Are you sure?”
“Fairly,” says Blackburn.
Brigitte says, “Teddy’s family had power and lost it. He isn’t Sub Rosa but he thinks like one. The world is all status with him. He had a vicious little ghost in his collection and he let her loose for Aelita so he could remain in the synod.”
“That’s not true. The ghost isn’t his. I’m sure of it.”
“I know he controls the girl. That’s all that matters,” says Blackburn.
“It makes a sick kind of sense. Someone gave him power over the ghost but didn’t give him the ghost itself. That way when I asked if she was his, he could say no and I wouldn’t detect a lie.”
“That sounds like Aelita’s way of thinking.”
Blackburn pats his pockets in a way I recognize. I toss him the Maledictions. He looks at the pack. Doesn’t like that he doesn’t recognize the brand. But beggars take what they can get. He takes one and tosses the pack back.
“People tell me that the Imp killed people who weren’t dreamers. Did you or Aelita order that?”
He shakes his head and lights the cigarette. Coughs and starts to put it out. Brigitte takes it from him and puffs gently like she’s teaching him how it’s done.
“I never ordered her to kill.”
“Jimmy, I was Blackburn’s friend but I didn’t know about any of this until today. Please believe me.”
I have to think for a minute.
Blackburn goes to where his wife is sitting, takes her hand, and holds it in both of his.
“I do.”
She says, “I think I know why other people were killed.”
“Go on.”
“If I’d known about Teddy, I swear I would have told you myself. I thought he was dead.”
“Why?”
“Because I stabbed him almost three months ago. I didn’t know he was alive until Saragossa told me he’d been at the synod.”
“Why did you stab him?”
Brigitte looks away. I’ve never seen her uncomfortable like this before.
“He wanted to eat me,” she says, shrugging. “Teddy is a ghoul. He eats the dead but he’d never eaten a revenant. Though I wasn’t a real zombie, I was as close as was left in the world and he wanted me. I thought I killed him.”
“Amanda said Teddy had been mugged. It’s what he must have told people. Does anyone else know about this?”
“I don’t think so.”
I flash on the ragged kids in the Tenebrae. So scared they form gangs and avoid other ghosts. I see their knife slashes and crescent-moon wounds. Bite marks.
I get up and feel my ribs. The armor saved me but something wet inside is sloshing against something else and it’s hard to breathe. That’s okay. Teddy doesn’t look like a sprinter. If he runs, I’ll take his little golf cart and chase him around the graveyards until his heart explodes.
“I’ll come with you,” says Brigitte. “I’ve felt dead inside and I thought it was the bite. It wasn’t. It was losing the hunt. When you killed off all the undead, my life lost meaning. Now, fighting again, I feel alive. Let me come with you and we’ll kill Teddy together.”
Sure. Candy wouldn’t mind the woman who kissed me in the bar tagging along. Maybe they can have some girl talk about shoes on the way to Malibu.
“If you want back in the game, that’s fine by me. But Teddy I can handle. I need you to get these idiots somewhere safe. If Aelita comes back, I don’t want her taking the royal assholes hostage.”
She nods.
“Just makes sure Teddy dies this time.”
“That I can promise. I’m cutting him into little pieces and burying him with the Imp. Let’s see how they enjoy each other in the Tenebrae.”
I look back at Blackburn.
“I’m sorry about your wife’s soul. I don’t know what to do about it, but if I come up with anything, I’ll let you know.”
He nods and puts his arm around her shoulders.
Pain is pain and even the rich and powerful get shafted sometimes. I want to hate Blackburn but I can’t. He’s too pathetic and his wife is too fucked up for that. But a part of me still wants to take his head. He let all those people die. He let Patty die. The Sandman Slim part of me that killed dozens of high families wants to cut a piece of revenge out of his hide. But this isn’t Hell and I’m not Sandman Slim full-time any more than I’m full-time Lucifer. I’ll stick to the Teddys of the world. The sure-thing monsters. That’s a judgment call I can make. A monster knows another monster and a real monster knows which ones need to die.
Candy gets out of the car when she sees me. I’m breathing better but walking slow.
“What happened in there?”
“I forgot to tip the maid and she short-sheeted the bed.”
“You realize you’re covered in blood?”
I look down at my shirt and armor. I’m a mess. If I wasn’t me, I’d probably be alarmed.
“Don’t worry. It’s mostly Cairo’s.”
“You’re holding your side.”
“I got nipped a couple of times but I’m fine. Just sore.”
She opens the Metro’s door.
“Get in the damn car. We’re going to the clinic.”
I shake my head.
“I’m going to Teddy Osterberg’s. I’m not letting that corpse fucker kill one more person. If you’re going to be part of what I do, you have to understand this is how things are sometimes. I’m used to bleeding and being hurt and they don’t have a damn thing to do with finishing the job.”
She stalks away, spins, and walks back again.
“You’re such a fucking guy. I bet you never stop and ask for directions.”
“If I stopped and asked for directions, I wouldn’t end up in Hell so much and where’s the fun in that?”
Candy gets in the car, which is a good thing because the ground trembles and opens where she was standing. I go to the edge of the hole.
“Not now, Cherry.”
“The girl is on a rampage. You have to save us.”
“Up here too. She’s not going to stop until I get Teddy, so crawl back into your box and hide.”
“If you don’t kill her, I’ll never leave you alone. I’ll pull the floor out from under you and drop you so low you’ll be a cripple . . .”
I get in the Metro while Cherry is still talking. Traven looks a little alarmed.
“You were talking to a hole. Why?”
“Sometimes you need to remind the dead to stay dead. Maybe I hurt her feelings. She’ll get over it.”
“Who?”
“After we deal with Teddy, I’ll tell you all about it. Now please, can we just fucking go?”
Traven starts the car and pulls away from Blackburn’s, aiming us at Malibu.
“Why do we hate Teddy so much that we have to go there now instead of patching you up?”
“Teddy kills people and eats them and I don’t know if he does it in that order. And if he keeps killing dreamers, the world is over.”
Traven nods.
“I understand. But maybe we could stop and at least get you some bandages?”
“Also, Teddy seems to have a real taste for kids.”
Traven stops the car.
“Drive, Father.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t just leave you bleeding. I have towels in the trunk. You can at least staunch your wounds.”
“Fine.”
Traven pops the trunk and Candy grabs a couple of towels. I stuff them under the armor. The pressure feels good but I can’t help wondering a little if Traven doesn’t want me leaking all over the back of his car.
While Traven drives, Candy reaches between the seats and squeezes my bloody hand. I squeeze hers back.
What am I supposed to think about someone like Teddy Osterberg? I want to kill him but I want to understand him. Maybe that makes me weak. Maybe it’s just self-serving. Teddy is a stone-cold son-of-a-bitch killer. I want to look into his eyes and cross my fingers and hope I don’t see myself looking back. Which me would it be? Stark? Sandman Slim? Lucifer?
As much as I hate this guy, I can’t get rid of the image of those Hellion skins hanging loose and limp around the palace in Pandemonium. Maybe that’s the joke and has been all along. I go after a ghoul with all kinds of righteous fury, but looking back at all the things I’ve done, what if I’m there too, gnawing on skulls right along with Teddy? Just another ghoul in love with the dead.
I hid a lot of myself from Alice and I’ve hidden what I did in Hell from Candy. I know the monster part of myself. I love it and I hate it. Sometimes I’m ashamed of it. I don’t want to be Teddy, sitting on a hill by himself with only his ghosts and corpses for company. Being a real monster is easy enough on your own but not so much when you have something to lose. When this is over, I’m taking Candy back to the Chateau Marmont and get good and drunk and tell her a long story about how I spent my summer vacation in Hell. I should have done it earlier. It’s one thing to congratulate yourself for saving Wild Bill and maybe a couple of other souls from torture but it’s another to let someone who thinks they know you in on your dirty secrets about the bodies in gibbets and wet skins flapping like flags on the Fourth of July. That’s how you don’t become Teddy. You lay it all out and let others decide if they want to hang around the graveyard with you or catch the bus back to town.
Thank God for whiskey or the world would be so full of secrets the weight would spin us into the sun.
The front door is open when we reach Teddy’s Malibu mansion. The sky has stopped pulsing. Now clouds spin like airborne tornados, coming together in a single funnel cloud as big as the sky and then falling apart into islands of minitwisters that skim along the top of the ocean. A rain of fish, birds, and smooth ocean stones falls like hail when we reach the door. We don’t have any choice but to run inside or be brained.
