“I believe you,” I said, “but I’m not the person you’ve got to convince. There’s a judge for that. And a jury.”
He nodded and stared at the ground. Like a tipped bowl of half-spilled pudding, the Axeman sat slumped half over his belly with his pudgy hands clasping one knee. The cuffs around his wrists gleamed in the uncertain sunlight. Kerenskya slipped her communicator into her slacks pocket and trotted over to the prisoners.
“We take them into custody on One,” she said to me. “We have list of charges, including trans-world slave trading.” She looked at the Axeman. “I suggest you cooperate with those who will question you there.”
He turned his head and spat on the ground. She shrugged indifferently.
“I’ve got a few questions I’d like to ask him myself before you go,” I said. “Unofficially, if that’s possible. About his daughter.”
At the word daughter, Moore looked up, his eyes glittering with rage and his mouth set in a tight line.
“Go ahead,” Kerenskya said, “before I recite his legal rights.”
I knelt on one knee so I could look the Axeman straight in the face, but I made sure to stay far enough away to avoid getting kicked if he tried to attack. He stared right back at me.
“Where’s Ash?” I said. “We know she’s on Six, but where on Six does she hang out?”
He merely stared. I could feel his SPP: rage, stubborn blind rage.
“Look,” I continued, “she’s running with a dangerous pack, and you’re not there to protect her. She could be gang-raped and murdered by these so-called Soldiers of the Risen Lord. That’s what her mother’s worried about, isn’t it?”
“Her mother!” His voice shook with the rage, and his face turned scarlet from it. “She wouldn’t listen to one fucking word I said. Oh, no, she knew best. She always thinks she knows best, goddamn her. She wouldn’t have let me hide in her goddamn cat house if it wasn’t for Ash.”
“Well, your daughter’s in danger, isn’t she?”
“Hell, no! That’s what I mean. Karina wouldn’t listen to one goddamn word I said, and then she went and set me up.”
“No, she didn’t. We worked a sting to get you out here.”
He considered this while his mouth twisted hard enough to make his gray clumps of beard tremble. Finally, he looked up and smiled, just a twitch of his full mouth, but a smile.
“She fell for a sting?” he said.
“She sure did,” I said. “I swear it.”
He leaned back and laughed, howled with laughter, while the Cal-African guy and I both watched him in something like wonder. I ran a quick SPP and realized that his rage had slackened into the generalized anger most criminals feel toward the world.
“If you tell me where Ash is,” I tried again, “I’ll do my best to get her safely off Six. Yeah, she’ll be under arrest, but won’t that be better than what those guys are going to do to her?”
“They’re not going to do anything to her that she doesn’t want done.” He turned his head and looked at the Cal-African guy. “Curtis, am I lying?”
“Hell, no,” Curtis said. “Lady, honest, he’s giving you the straight dope.”
I could tell from their SPPs that they both were speaking the truth as they knew it.
“What is this, she’s dead already?” I said.
I could sense the Axeman’s contempt for the question.
“You’re sure she’s safe,” I said. “Why?”
“That’s for you to find out, isn’t it?” the Axeman said, and all his good humor vanished. “You’re the fucking cop. You get back to Six and find out.”
Inspiration struck. “This has something to do with the Peacock Angel, doesn’t it?” I said.
All the scarlet drained from the Axeman’s face. Curtis swore under his breath.
“Yeah, she’s a cop, all right,” Curtis said. “A good one.”
“Shut up!” the Axeman said. “Okay, cop. You go back to Six and ask the goddamn Angel yourself. If you can. Yeah, if you can, and if you can find him. I’m not saying one more word. Neither is Curtis if he knows what’s good for him.”
And he meant that, too.
I got up and let Kerenskya and Hendriks take over. She had a long list of legal rights to tell them before she formally charged them with the crimes that would lock them into a cell on Terra One. Spare14 waited off to one side and listened to make sure she left nothing out while Jan stood guard, gun in hand. When I walked a little ways away to think, Willa stayed with Spare14, but Ari followed me.
“The Angel again,” he said. “You struck gold with that.”
“Yep,” I said. “I was thinking of the peacock feathers we keep finding. I wonder if we’re dealing with a Chaos master who calls himself the Peacock Angel.”
“That’s not a bad working hypothesis.”
“It’s the obvious one, which is why I’m suspicious of it.”
“Good point.”
“Your mother gave me that tip, too, about the Beni Elohim. More angels. I need to follow up on this. I really want to get home. I need to see if I can contact Bissop Keith. The more we learn about the Peacock Angel cult, the better.”
I carried a transport orb for Four in my shoulder bag. Since the links between Three and Four were stable, I could use it anywhere, but Ari and I lingered for a few minutes more to help Jan load the two prisoners into his car. Kerenskya had thoughtfully brought shackles along for their ankles to keep them from trying to escape during the short trip to One. By the time they were secured, a disgusting mix of yellow dust and gray fog had crept over the entire sky. The horizon gleamed like polished steel from the lowering sun behind the soup.
“What about the goon in Wagner’s bookstore?” I asked Jan.
“The captain and I will take him out of there once it’s good and dark. And then send him off to One to join the others before anyone can see him disappear. We don’t want the gang to know that Rasmussen’s an agent.”
“Or that you are, either.”
He smiled in honest joy. “They already suspect. Kerenskya agrees that I need to be reassigned. If there are any gods, I thank them. The only problem left is getting the transport desk into Wagner’s shop. It’s quite heavy.”
I could well believe it. Willa got into the front passenger seat, Jan took the wheel, and they drove off, heading for an overlap point nearby. Ari and I walked uphill through the scraggly second-growth trees to the dirt path that marked 48th Avenue.
“It’s a good thing we took a cab down to South Park this morning,” he said. “We can just walk home from here.”
“Ari, it’s a couple of miles! And don’t tell me I need to work out, will you? On our world level there are buses, y’know.”
He made a sour face. I took out the orb, found a fragment of pavement, and threw. We darted into the sphere of blue-green smoke and stepped out next to the flimsy little bus-stop shelter for the Number 18. Fortunately, no one was waiting, so no one saw us emerge from the middle of the air. Luck smiled upon me. The bus arrived before Ari got into full complaint mode. We made a quick trip to a stop on 46th Avenue, a few blocks from our flat.
As soon as we got off the bus, the first Venusian squid appeared, a small one, this time, floating just ahead of us as we walked down Noriega. Since they travel backward by our standards, it could fix its yellow eyes on me and wave its tentacles. I drew a Chaos ward and threw. It popped. We walked about half a block; another squid, bigger this time, manifested. I popped it, we walked, yet another, larger squid appeared—this tedious set of events repeated all the way home. By the time we climbed the stairs to our flat, I was exhausted. The last cephalopod displayed definite cuttlefish traits with a greenish roach down its back. It stretched about ten feet from beak to butt, with tentacles twice as long added on.
“You know what?” I said to Ari. “I think these ugly buggers have learned how to suck up the Qi from my wards.”
“Is there anything you can do about that?”
I conside
red. Although the ten-foot cephalopod floated on the other side of the living room, one of its tentacles reached all the way across to the head of the stairs. I took a step forward and grabbed the tentacle in both hands. I felt the thing as slime and cold air, not as solid flesh, no, but as a presence of sorts. I began to gather Qi just as I’d do if I were preparing an ensorcellment; only this time I drained it through the tentacle. The squid twisted, flapped, pulled away, and vanished.
“Hah!” I said. “You didn’t like that, did you? Then lay off, you creeps!”
Nothing appeared or answered. The palms of my hands looked perfectly ordinary, a little dirty from sitting on the ground on Three, but unmarked and free of squid slime.
“I don’t suppose you saw any of them,” I said to Ari. “This clutch of squid, or whatever the collective noun is.”
“No. I’ll take your word for it.”
I saw something moving under my computer desk. A tiny cephalopod lurked in the kneehole.
“Too bad none of them are real,” Ari went on. “I’m hungry enough to fry a few of them up, tref or not.”
The squid swung itself around to face him. It spread its tentacles in horror.
“You know,” I said. “I think it heard you. Very interesting.”
“At the moment I’m more interested in dinner. I wonder what we’ve got in the refrigerator?”
“Moldy leftovers, probably.”
“I’ll order Chinese delivery.”
“No. Italian.”
“All right.” He glanced my way. “What? You’ve got that look again.”
“You bet. I want calamari. Calamari appetizer, the deep-fried kind. They take the live squid and slice its tentacles one cut at a time while it writhes in agony. Then they plunge them into bubbling hot oil. Oh, nom nom nom!”
The under-desk squid made a small squeaking noise and disappeared. Ari had the look of a man wondering if he should call the Psycho Squad.
“Are you serious about the calamari?” he said. “You know, I doubt if the creatures are still alive when they cut them up.”
“Of course not, but they always say that the best defense is a good offense. I want a salad with that.”
Ari opened his mouth, shut it again, and shrugged. “Whatever you’d like,” he said eventually. “As long as you’re eating, I shan’t complain.”
He ordered, the food arrived, and I managed to get some of the squid down. The pieces had been breaded and fried, so I could make myself think of them as onion rings. I’d started on the salad when another squid appeared, this one about four feet long, floating over the kitchen sink. I picked up a fried tentacle and chomped on it. The squid pulled its own tentacles back and retreated down the counter. I got up, strode over, and breathed the scent of cooked squid right into its ugly little face. It bubbled in terror—I heard it distinctly—and vanished.
“What in hell are you doing?” Ari looked up from his pasta dish.
“A magic ritual of squid banishment.” I smiled sweetly at him and returned to my chair. “Showing my enemy its worst fear come true.”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head, but no more squiddish apparitions appeared that evening, which allowed me to write my reports to the Agency in peace. I had a lot of material to send concerning the multiverse, various deviant levels, and of course the Venusian cephalopods themselves. I also tried several times to contact Bissop Keith, but no luck. I did pick up vague feeling the that he was distracted by something boring. I assumed that bissops, like bishops, had all kinds of official meetings to attend.
Although I finished and delivered the reports for the Agency that evening, I was too tired to write Y a more personal account of the problems still facing us in our hunt for the Peacock Angel cult. The squid image attack had drained enough Qi to make me go to bed early.
When we got up in the morning, I intended to write that final report, but my cell phone rang before we even left the bedroom. I’d just put on my engagement ring when Aunt Eileen called to invite Ari and me to a family lunch.
“It’ll be part of the family, anyway,” she told me, “Sean isn’t coming, or your mother, and Jim’s at work.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “Brian’s at baseball practice.”
“Yes, of course, and Sophie’s off running with her friends.”
“Friends” was as close as Aunt Eileen could get to saying “werewolf pack.”
“At any rate,” she continued, “Flann’s gone to bring Maureen and the children over to my house. It’s got something to do with that gate upstairs.”
“We’ll be there,” I said. “By the way, I weighed myself this morning, and I’ve gained another pound.”
“That’s wonderful, dear! I’m so happy for you.”
I probably put on another pound at the lunch she served, macaroni and cheese, salad, two kinds of pie for dessert. Every time I swallowed a mouthful, Ari and Aunt Eileen both smiled beatifically at me. It began to get on my nerves, but I did my best to ignore them. I noticed that Maureen ate very little, but out of nerves, not my kind of problem. She looked very businesslike that day, with her hair pulled back from her face and minimal makeup. She also wore a blue skirt suit with low heels—the very picture of a job interviewee.
With the meal over, we retreated to the family end of the living room. I snagged one of the comfortable armchairs, and Ari pulled up a wooden chair next to mine. Michael, bless him, lured Caitlin and Brennan upstairs to play computer games. Dad and Maureen exchanged a conspirator’s smile and left for the hallway that led to the storage rooms—and the gate upstairs.
“I take it,” Ari said to Aunt Eileen, “that Maureen’s considering that housekeeping job.”
“Oh, yes,” Eileen said, “but of course, she hasn’t been offered it yet. We’ll have to see.”
Aunt Eileen handed me a letter from my oldest brother, Dan, who was about to graduate from the Army’s Officer Candidacy School. He made a few cryptic remarks about not being able to tell us his next step. I took that as meaning he’d followed my advice and applied for Army Intelligence or whatever it is that they call it. Although he’s almost normal, he has enough of the family talent overlap for it to come in handy in difficult situations. He also mentioned that when he came home on leave, he’d be glad to help Ari “dispose of” Chuck Trasker or do the disposing himself. Maybe, he said, Ari could provide him with an alibi.
I had just decided to not show Ari the letter, lest he take Dan up on the idea, when I heard footsteps coming down the hall. Back already? I thought. A bad sign, if so, but Dad walked in, leading Beth by the hand. Behind them trotted the little green lizard-thing, her Chaos critter pet. Beth looked at me, grinned, and yelled, “Aunt Rose!” When I held out my arms, Beth pulled free of Dad’s hand and raced across the living room to throw herself into the hug. I lifted her onto my lap, then handed Dan’s letter back to the hovering Eileen.
“Donnie’s a scaredy-cat,” Beth announced. “I came down.”
“Donnie’s probably as normal as our Dan,” Dad said. “Here’s our O’Grady girl.”
Beth turned sideways in my lap and snuggled into my arms. I realized that I’d made a few false assumptions when I’d met the Terra Six version of the Douglases. Would a doppelgänger of Donnie have been my child if I’d grown that lump of cells into a baby? Maybe, maybe not—in the genetic crapshoot across the multiverse we called family relations, there was no way of telling whom I’d have ended up with, maybe a girl like Beth, maybe someone entirely different but still recognizably part of my extended family. I glanced at Ari, who was watching the pair of us with intense eyes and a small smile.
“No,” I said. “I know what you’re thinking. No, nein, nyet, nope, uh-uh.”
He wiped the expression away, not that I believed him. Everyone talks about maternal instincts. Well, there are paternal longings, too, even if our American culture does downgrade them. Ari, of course, came from a different culture. I’d seen it very clearly in that look.
“Aunt Ma
ureen’s going to come live with us,” Beth announced. “And my new cousins are going to come, too. I know it.”
“Good,” I said, “then that’s one thing settled.”
“You believe me.”
“Yep. I sure do.”
“Would you like to meet Cattie and Bren, dear?” Aunt Eileen said. “I’m your new Great-aunt Eileen, by the way. They’re upstairs playing a game.”
Beth slid off my lap, took Eileen’s hand, and trooped happily upstairs.
“Trusting child,” Ari said.
“She knows us all already,” I said. “Or maybe I should say, she recognizes us now that she’s seen us.” I glanced at my father for confirmation. “We’re all connected somehow, aren’t we, Dad?”
“Some of us are,” Dad said. “I’m not sure how we are or why, mind, but I’m beginning to see it. And speaking of seeing to things, I’ve got to go back upstairs. The gate’s a fair bit more stable than it was, but I’ll just be keeping an eye on it.”
Some twenty minutes later, Dad and Maureen returned. She looked thoughtful, a little frightened, but when I ran an SPP, I sensed that she was, above all, determined.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m taking the job.”
We variously clapped or cheered our approval. I made a mental note to write Dan immediately and tell him that he didn’t need to risk his career by murdering Chuck Trasker, even though I had to agree that Chuck would be no loss to humanity.
Now that she’d made up her mind, Maureen moved fast. In a couple of days she and the kids had moved across to World Level Six. The Unpleasant Ex could prowl around Four all he wanted. He’d never find them.
I still had a long list of unsettled questions. For example, where was Ash Moore? And did she shelter under the Peacock Angel’s wings? The biggest question, would the Agency allow me to go back to Six to try to find out, got itself answered the day after Maureen’s move, when I had a much-needed trance session with Y. Eventually, after hearing my meager handful of facts and larger handful of speculations, he admitted that he would have to allow me to continue working with TWIXT.
Love on the Run Page 30
