Nighthawk’s hand dropped down and he smiled. “Nice try.”
“What?” John Fortune asked, bewildered.
“It’s no good, Jerry,” Fortunato said. “He knows.”
“What?” John Fortune said.
“That you’re the bodyguard,” Nighthawk said.
Jerry Strauss slumped. “It was worth a shot,” he said.
Nighthawk nodded. “I suppose.” He put his glove back on his left hand. “Now where’s the boy?”
“He’s in the bathroom,” Fortunato said with sudden hope that somehow Nighthawk, with all his strange powers, might be able to help his son.
Nighthawk looked at his troop. “Wait here,” he said. He paused, looking at Magda. “Take her gun away,” he told Usher. “I don’t want her to come to pissed and armed with an automatic shotgun.”
Usher nodded. “You’ll be all right?”
Nighthawk looked at Fortunato. Fortunato nodded.
“For now,” Nighthawk said.
They headed for the bedroom, the disguised Jerry Strauss following. Fortunato stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Thank you for trying to save my son.”
“It didn’t work,” Jerry said.
“This wasn’t the only time you tried. And succeeded.”
“It’s my job,” Jerry said. “But it was always a pleasure, as well.”
“This way,” Fortunato told Nighthawk, leading the way to the bathroom. The hippie was still with his son. He looked worriedly at Fortunato and the others.
“He’s getting hotter, man. I tried to help him, but there’s nothing I can do.”
Fortunato nodded. Nighthawk stared at John Fortune as he stood naked in the shower stall. His halo was an angry aura, flickering like rays from a tiny sun.
“John, are you okay?” Fortunato asked.
The boy shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m hotter. Now I can’t touch anything cloth without burning it.”
Fortunato swallowed hard.
“We need the Trump,” Jerry said. “But there’s no damn time.”
Nighthawk looked hard at the boy. John Fortune looked back at him. He seemed more puzzled than frightened, but Fortunato knew that he was putting the best face he could on his fear. He suddenly was very proud of his son. Very proud, and very frightened for him.
Nighthawk suddenly seemed to come to a decision. “Yes, there is,” he said.
♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
Peaceable Kingdom: The Angels’ Bower courtyard
The Angel raced up the stairs, taking them as quickly as she could. At first that wasn’t too quick, as she smarted from the ricocheting slug that had bounced off her back and knocked her down and, she was sure, bruised her badly. But she couldn’t let a little thing like that stop her. By the time she reached the third floor she was taking the steps two at a time as she headed for Barnett’s office. She was sure that the Witness was after Barnett, and she wanted to head him off before he could harm The Hand.
She was breathing hard when she reached the upper floor, and went through the secret panel in the service corridor that allowed direct access to Barnett’s office, bypassing Sally Lou’s domain. She burst into Barnett’s office, and paused. Barnett was on his knees in front of his desk on his knees, praying aloud. There was no Witness.
Barnett fell silent when she came into the room and rose up.
“Angel!” he exclaimed when he realized that it was her and not some form of sudden death. “I knew you would come to me in the time of my need!”
“You’re safe,” she breathed.
“Of course,” he said. “Now that you’re here.”
She looked around the room. “Where’s John Fortune?” she asked. “Fortunato, the others?”
Barnett’s eyes looked wild. “Burning in Hell with that demon child, I suppose.”
“What?” the Angel asked. She realized that something had gone very wrong.
Barnett came up to her. He was sweating and disheveled. She had never seen him like this before. “I was in error,” he said. “I confess my sin to you, before God. The boy is not Christ, but a demon burning with Hellfire—”
”What are you saying?” the Angel asked, aghast.
“It’s true. Even Fortunato admits that the boy is out of control. That he burns not with the Grace of Our Lord, but with the flames of the Pit. Unless he is stopped he will turn the Earth into an inferno.”
“You’re crazy,” the Angel blurted, and was immediately appalled at the words that slipped out of her mouth.
“No, no I’m not,” Barnett said. “The revelation has come unto me. He is a child of the Pit. You must go to him,” he said, suddenly sly, “and slay him.” He looked at her, nodding approvingly. He put his arms around her and tried to pull her to him. “Then come to me, and comfort me in my hour of need, for I am in sore need of succor.”
“You fucking idiot,” the Angel said, shocking herself again, but at least avoiding blasphemy. She pushed him away, and he fell on the carpet. “I was with him for a long time. There’ s no evil in him. He may—” Her world took another lurch, but it had been doing a lot of that lately. “You may have been wrong. He may not be our Savior. But he’s not a demon. That’s just stupid.”
Barnett looked as if he were shock. “Foolish woman—”
He never finished his thought. The door to his sanctum’s secret entrance suddenly burst open, showering bits and pieces into the room. The Angel threw up an arm to deflect fragments of flying door and blinked when she saw the Witness limp into the office.
He smiled. “My prayers,” he said, “have been answered.”
The Angel stood silently, staring at him.
“I saw you enter the stairwell,” the Witness said, “And decided to follow you. I awaited outside the door to hear the revelations of this pathetic fool whom you’ve wasted your time following. It was good to hear him finally admit his error. To acknowledge that we Allumbrados have been right all along—”
”I say,” the Angel said, suddenly utterly sure that she was right, “that you’re both wrong. John Fortune is an innocent child, nothing more. Neither savior nor demon.”
The Witness laughed contemptuously. “Stupid woman. What do you know? First, I shall beat you senseless to save you for later. Then—” he looked at Barnett, cowering on the carpet—“I will slay this false prophet, this supposed man of God.”
“Ambitious,” the Angel said. “But deeds, not words, are what counts in this world.”
“Remember that when I throw you on that desk and make you beg for your life, slut in the costume of a Devil,” the Witness sneered.
The Angel shouted in righteous wrath and sprung like an unforgiving fury at the Witness. He grabbed her, catching her around the waist, but leaving her arms free. That was a mistake. Her first blow cracked his left cheekbone, her second knocked out two teeth. The third smashed his right eye socket, the fourth glanced off his forehead. Already she could feel his grip around her waist slacken.
“Ray was right!” she hissed into his face. “You’re a weakling who’s afraid of pain. But I’m not!”
She head-butted him, smashing his nose flat, and the Witness groaned and let her go. She dropped to the floor, pivoted on her right foot, spun to gain momentum, and kicked him through the wall. He hit the wall of the corridor beyond, bounced, and fell flat on his face.
♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
New York City: Jokertown Clinic
However this all worked out, Nighthawk decided that he had to try to save the boy, and perhaps the world. “Come with me,” he said to the bodyguard.
Jerry looked at Fortunato, who nodded, and then followed Nighthawk back into the suite’s living room.
“Blood,” Nighthawk said.
Jerry groaned. “Not this again?” he asked.
Nighthawk nodded, then turned to the joker/ace. “You’ve been to the Jokertown Clinic?” he asked.
“He’s been a patient there,” his handler confirmed.
Nighthawk took his leas
h. “Let’s go,” he said.
“Finn’s office,” Jerry said helpfully.
Blood turned to the nearest wall, and after a moment a black circle appeared in it. When they passed through Blood’s tunnel through space, nausea hit Nighthawk like the mother of all hangovers. Somehow he managed not to throw up as they walked out the hole in the wall in Finn’s office, right before the astonished doctor who was standing behind his desk trying to catch up on some paperwork.
“John Fortune?” Finn asked in an unbelieving voice.
Jerry shook his head. “Nope. Jerry Strauss.”
“This is John Nighthawk,” Jerry said. “I believe you know Blood.”
Finn nodded dazedly. “He’s been a patient.”
“Thank God for that,” Jerry said. “Otherwise he couldn’t find his way here so quickly. Listen, Dr. Finn, we’re on the clock. We need a dose of the Trump Virus. And we need it fast.”
Finn nodded. “Of course,” he said.
♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
Peaceable Kingdom: The Angels’ Bower
Fortunato went back into the living room, pacing impatiently, almost unable to bear the thought of what he was about to do to his son. He only had to wait a few minutes. Nighthawk came back through the hole in the wall, leading Blood. He gave him to his handler, and both he and Jerry followed Fortunato back into the bathroom where the boy was burning so hot that no one could approach him. Jerry put a syringe, already loaded with the Trump, by the side of the tub.
“Okay, John,” he said, “you’ll have to inject yourself, but that’s no big deal. You can do it.”
The boy looked at them. Fortunato could read the fear in his eyes. “I know it’s scary,” he said, “but it’s your best hope.” Am I condemning him to a terrible death, Fortunato thought, or saving him from one? He could barely breath. He couldn’t imagine how the boy felt.
“Hey,” John Fortune said, his voice cracking only a little, “I’ve beat worse odds before.”
“That’s right,” Jerry said. “You can do it, kid, I know you can.”
John Fortune reached for the syringe. His hand trembled only a little. He took it in his hand, and the glass melted like snowflakes on a griddle. Fortunato felt something like death pass through him as everyone groaned in anger and frustration.
“There’s only one thing left,” Nighthawk said. He took the glove off his left hand and stepped forward.
Peaceable Kingdom, The Angels’ Bower, courtyard
Dagon growled like a beast. He took a step backwards, and was suddenly among the Allumbrados, claws and teeth flashing. Screams etched stricken expressions on the gunmen’s faces as the Butcher moved through them.
“Dagon!” Ray shouted.
He must have heard, but he paid Ray no attention. The Allumbrados were dead in moments, all of them, and suddenly Dagon turned back into a naked tubby man.
“What the Hell are you doing?” Ray asked.
Dagon smiled. “Turning coats, right?”
“We’ve got to fight this out,” Ray said.
“Do we?” Dagon asked with raised eyebrows. “We tried that once before, and neither of us liked it very much.”
“I liked it enough to try it again.”
“Ah, but I don’t, dear boy.”
“I should kick your ass.”
“Don’t be a dolt,” Dagon chided him. “Don’t you have more important fish to fry? You shouldn’t even be wasting time talking to me.”
Ray ground his teeth in frustration. The bastard was right. “This isn’t over between us,” Ray flung over his shoulder as he rushed back into the Bower’s lobby.
“For now,” Dagon said smiling, “it is.”
♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
Peaceable Kingdom: The Angels’ Bower
“No!”
Fortunato stepped in front of Nighthawk, blocking his path to the boy. The old man looked at him with sorrowful eyes.
“You know how dangerous he is,” Nighthawk said in a soft voice. “He’ll burn hotter and hotter, but he won’t die. He’ll eat up the world, maybe even ignite the atmosphere. He has to be stopped.”
A noise came from John Fortune, a squeak of fear that he couldn’t control.
“I know,” Fortunato said replied in equally low tones. “But you can’t do it.”
“I only have to touch him for a moment—”
“He’s too hot already. You’ll die before you can touch him. Your flesh will shrivel and burn.”
Nighthawk smiled. His eyes crinkled and Fortunato could see something of the true age that was in them. “I’ve had a long life,” he said. “Maybe it was my fate to live it this long so I’d be here today to stop him.” He paused and looked at Fortunato pityingly. “It’s quite painless, you know.”
“You’ll throw your life away for nothing. But maybe I can do something,” Fortunato said. “Besides. I’m his father.”
Nighthawk looked at him steadily for a long moment. Then he nodded.
Fortunato nodded back, then he looked at Jerry Strauss and Mushroom Daddy. “I want to be alone with my son.”
“You sure about this?” Jerry asked him.
Fortunato nodded again.
“Good luck, then,” Jerry said. He and Nighthawk exchanged glances, and Fortunato was aware of the surprise they felt about being on the same side of this conflict.
“Luck, John,” Jerry said.
“Luck, boy,” Nighthawk said.
“Thanks,” John Fortune said in a small voice that could barely be heard as they went out of the bathroom.
Mushroom Daddy paused on the thresh hold, turned and said, “God bless us, every one,” and closed the door as he left the room.
Fortunato turned to his son and smiled. “Are you frightened?”
John Fortune nodded. His halo danced like the rays of an agitated sun. “Yes.”
“I am too. That was why I went to Japan, you know.”
“You were afraid?” John Fortune asked, as if surprised at Fortunato’s admission.
“Yeah.” Fortunato sighed. “Afraid of losing more pieces of myself. More of the people around me. Afraid of being the most powerful ace in the world, yet in the end being alone.”
“You’re not alone now.”
“Neither are you.” He held out his arms. “Come to me, son.”
“I’ll hurt you.”
Fortunato shook his head. “I’m Fortunato. Nothing can stand before me. Not the Astronomer. Not the Swarm. Not even the wild card virus.”
John Fortune got out of the bathtub. Fortunato could feel his eyebrows curl and singe as his son stepped closer, but he didn’t flinch. There was a nanosecond of horrible pain as they almost touched. Then Fortunato stopped time.
His astral form fled his body, but maintained a thin thread, a tenuous link to draw energy through, for it would take tremendous amounts of energy to implement his plan. Fortunately, size was a meaningless concept on the astral plane. Fortunato went down into his son’s body. He propelled his consciousness through his son’s bloodstream, flashing like a corpuscle through his veins.
Searching, he found the changes wrought by the virus in John Fortune’s brain, nervous system, and all the cells throughout him. Fortunato wasn’t an expert, but he knew that it didn’t look good. The cells were twisted abnormally, blasted and sickened. This will be rough, he thought. The enemy was almost numberless, and he was only one man.
He broke himself into a million fragments and ordered them into battle against John’s body. He fought it cell by cell, shifting, rearranging, and cleansing, but never harming. He burned energy at a prodigious rate as he willed John Fortune’s cells to repair the damage the wild card virus had done. Thankfully, he didn’t have to guide them in the process, to tell them exactly what to do. They knew themselves, wired deep in the mysteries of their DNA, how to correct themselves. He just had to supply them with the energy they needed, and the time. He gave freely of both. He hoped he had enough.
He settled in for the longest, most diffi
cult battle in his life.
♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
Peaceable Kingdom: The Angels’ Bower
Ray knew where he would find the Angel. He went to Barnett’s headquarters as quickly as he could. The corridor leading to Barnett’s office sanctum was empty. Ray rushed into the reception area to see Sally Lou sitting behind her desk and the two Secret Service agents crowded around the door leading into Barnett’s office, looking in but afraid to enter.
Ray brushed by them as if they were children, and they didn’t even protest. He took in the room with a single glance. Barnett was on his knees, praying loudly. Angel was standing by him with her hands on her hips and a frown on her face. He also noted that a hole had been punched through one of the sanctum’s walls. The Witness lay in the corridor beyond. He didn’t look too good.
Ray rushed up to Angel. “You had me worried there—” he began.
“Sometimes,” Angel said, “you think too much. Kiss me.”
He did, with enthusiasm. He could have kept it up for a long time, but he realized that things weren’t finished, by any means.
“John Fortune—” he said, somewhat breathlessly as he pulled away from her.
She nodded. “He’s in Fortunato’s suite. There—something’s wrong with him,” she said with a concerned expression. “His temperature is rising. The Hand—Barnett said that it was out of control.”
Ray glanced at Barnett, who was loudly praying for guidance and forgiveness. He nodded. “Let’s go.”
♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
Peaceable Kingdom: The Angels’ Bower
Time was meaningless on the astral plane. Fortunato couldn’t tell how long he’d been fighting. It seemed like forever. He gave of himself with every single battle with every single recalcitrant cell of his son’s body. He knew that he didn’t have much left. He needed help, but there was no one to give it. If he’d had a physical body, he’d be exhausted. Even without one, he was still exhausted. That was a sign of the desperate state he was in.
But all throughout a hard life, Fortunato had never given up. Never once. Not even when he’d gone to Japan, he finally realized. It had been a step in his evolution that he’d had to take. A time to rest, reflect, and learn. It had not been a wasted sixteen years if it had enabled him to do this.
Death Draws Five Page 39
