I need a couple of pictures to put in my daily, to show peeps the gruesome finality of what the Ice Monster does. I need to get over by Dublin Castle, shoot a few frames. Then I need to get to TDD headquarters and fire up the presses! I love printing my dailies. I got double the reason to get one out fast now. After seeing the Unseelie Princes WANTED posters, folks are no doubt worrying their butts off about me! I need to reassure them, let them know I’m still on the job.
“You must be Dani!”
I turn.
And pop up on my heel and keep turning. I’d turn all the way to bum-feck-China if I could. I spin in a full rotation so she’s at my back again and stand there, trying to compose myself. I don’t want to look at her. I don’t want her to see my face. I didn’t expect this. Wasn’t ready for it. Feck, I’ll never be ready for this. It’s one thing to know she’s out there somewhere, along with Mac. It’s another thing to have to face her.
Feck, feck, feck.
I paste on a mask, turn around and begin the pretending game.
“And you’re Rainey Lane,” I say. Same beautiful blond hair as her daughters, even though they were both adopted. Same pretty demeanor: classy feminine Deep South. She’s walking around in chilly, gloomy-ass late afternoon Dublin, dressed like somebody’s going to care she’s color-coordinated and accessorized. I guess Jack Lane does. Unlike most married folks I’ve seen—not that I’ve seen a lot—they seem to be crazy about each other. I saw them in Alina’s photo albums. I saw them in Mac’s. I’ve seen pictures of this woman holding her daughters when they were small. I’ve pored over photos of her beaming at their sides when they were grown.
Like she’s beaming at me now.
Like she doesn’t know I killed her daughter. I guess she doesn’t. I guess the last time Mac talked to her was before she found out it was me that took Alina to that alley to die.
For a second I get this stupid vision of how she’d be looking at me right now if she knew, and it kicks the breath right out of my lungs and leaves me standing there dumb. I have to clamp down all my insides so I don’t puke. She’d hate me, despise me, stare at me like I was the most disgusting, horrible thing on the face of the Earth. She’d probably try to claw my face off.
Instead of this … this … mom-love-bullshit thing glowing in her eyes like I’m her daughter’s best friend or something, not her other daughter’s murderer. I thought Mac was the worst thing I’d have to face one day on these streets.
I’m smothered in a hug before I can dodge it, which shows how discombobulated I am. On a good day I can dodge raindrops! I forget myself for a sec, because she’s got soft mom arms and hair and a neck you want to cling to. Worries melt on mom bosoms. She smells good. I’m enveloped in a cloud that’s part perfume, part something she baked lingering on her clothes, and part some indefinable thing I think are mother-hormones that a woman’s skin doesn’t smell like until she’s raised babies. It all combines to make one of the best scents in the world.
After my mom was dead and Ro took me to the abbey, I used to whiz by the house every couple days. I’d go into Mom’s bedroom to smell her on her pillow. She had a yellow pillowcase embroidered with little ducks along the edges like my favorite pajamas. One day the smell was just gone. Every vestige of it vanished without a trace. Not one tiny little sniff left for my supersniffer. That’s the day I knew she was never coming back.
“Get off me!” I eject myself violently from her embrace and back away, scowling at her.
She beams like one of Ryodan’s supercharged flashlights.
“And stop beaming at me! You don’t even know me!”
“Mac told me so much about you that I feel like I do.”
“Well that’s just stupid on your part.”
“I read the latest Dani Daily. Jack and I hadn’t heard of those bugs. You’ve been doing a wonderful job keeping everyone informed. I bet that’s a lot of work for you.”
“So?” I say suspiciously. I hear a “but” coming.
“But you really don’t need to anymore, honey. You can relax and let the adults take over.”
“Yeah, right. Weren’t adults in charge when the walls fell? And haven’t they been in charge since? Doing a real bang-up job, aren’t you all?”
She laughs, and the sound is music to my ears. Mom laughter. Melts me like nothing else can. Guess because I heard it so rarely from my own. I think I made my mom laugh three times. All before I “transported” for the first time. Maybe it happened once or twice after that. I tried. I’d memorize funny things I saw on TV while she was gone. I’d watch musicals, learn cheery songs. Nothing I did was right. Rainey Lane is looking at me with more approval than my mom ever did.
“Go. Away. No, wait. Don’t. You can’t be out here alone. I’ll find somebody to take you back wherever you go. What are you doing walking around Dublin alone? Don’t you know nothing? There’s all kinds of monsters in the streets! It’s going to be dark soon!” Somebody needs to knock some sense into her.
“Aren’t you the sweetest, to worry about me? But you don’t need to. Jack’s just around the corner, parking, honey. There’s too much debris in the streets to park any closer. I keep telling Mr. Ryodan he needs to clean up outside his club but he hasn’t gotten around to it yet. I suppose we may have to help him out with that. He’s a busy man, you know, a lot on his plate.”
“Crime is time-consuming, isn’t it?”
She laughs and I get my first suspicion she might just be totally clueless. “Aren’t you funny? Mr. Ryodan a criminal. That nice man.” She shakes her head, smiling like I’m just the funniest thing. Yep, clueless. “Dani, honey, I’ve been hoping to run into you. Mac has been, too. Why don’t you come have dinner with us tomorrow night?”
Yeah, right. Skewered Dani on the menu, served up with a side of veggies. Not. Would all three of them take turns beating me to death, once Mac ratted me out?
“There are some people I’d love for you to meet. There’s a wonderful new organization in the city that’s been doing fabulous things, bringing about some real changes.”
I shoot a big, melodramatic, beleaguered look at the heavens, then back at her. “You can’t be talking about WeCare. Please tell me you’re not talking about WeCare.”
“Why, yes, I am. You’ve heard of us!” She’s beaming again.
“Us? Gah! Please tell me you’re not part of them! You can’t be part of them! Do you know they hate me?”
“No we don’t. WeCare doesn’t hate anyone. We’re all about rebuilding and helping. Whatever gave you that idea?”
“We.” She’s slaying me. Is Mac part of them, too? “Dude, like, maybe the way they copied my paper, took over my posts, and printed all kinds of lies about me.”
“I happen to know for a fact that top individuals at WeCare are eager to meet you. They think as much of you as Mac does.”
Gee, great, so they want me dead, too. Top individuals. Lovely. They can get in line behind Christian. Who’s behind the Unseelie princes.
“They think you could be a tremendous asset. I think so, too.”
I give her a look. “You might want to recheck your facts. I think you’re missing a few. Folks in charge of organizations don’t consider me an asset. Never have, never will.” I hate organizations. Folks got to be free, able to breathe, and make up their own minds about stuff, not be fed a party line. Ritual numbs the brain. Repetition is grass for sheep.
“Mrs. Lane, so nice to see you again,” Ryodan says, and I almost fall over. Not only didn’t I hear him approach us, he’s being polite. Ryodan is never polite.
I squinch up my face, studying him. “Dude, you feeling okay?”
“Never better.”
“Why are you, like, pretending to be nice?”
“Mr. Ryodan is always nice. He was a lovely host while we stayed at Chester’s.”
“You didn’t stay at Chester’s, you were hostages.” What is wrong with everyone that they can’t see things for what they are?
�
��He and his men were keeping us safe, Dani. The Sinsar Dubh was targeting people Mac loved.”
“Was the door to your room locked? Dude, that makes you a hostage,” I say.
“Our door was never locked.”
Huh? “Yeah, but did you even know how to get out? He’s got those tricky panels.”
“Mr. Ryodan showed Jack and me both how to operate the doors.”
Huh? “Yeah, but there were guards outside. Keeping you in.”
“For our protection. We were free to come and go. We chose to stay. The city was dangerous when the Book was loose. Jack and I are very grateful for Mr. Ryodan’s help during those difficult times.”
I scowl at Ryodan, who’s wearing a smug-ass smile. He probably worked some kind of spell on them, like the kind of thing he did to me in the Hummer when he forced me to take the candy bar from him by muttering strange words. He makes people puppets. Empty-headed slaves. Not me.
“Do you know he’s forcing me to work for him by holding Jo hostage?” I tell Rainey. She needs to wake up and smell the coffee.
“You mean that lovely young waitress? I’ve seen the way she looks at him. She’s crazy about him,” Rainey says.
And that pisses me off even more. Mac’s mom can tell Jo’s stupid crazy about this psychopath just by looking at her? Gah! Just gah! On top of it all, said psychopath has Rainey so fooled there’s no point in even talking to her anymore! Not that lack of a point would shut me up. “Do you know he has private clubs under Chester’s where—”
“I just spoke with Barrons,” Ryodan cuts me off. “Mac’s on her way to meet you, Mrs. Lane. She should be here any second now.”
I give him a suspicious look. He’s probably lying. And he knows perfectly well I won’t risk finding out.
Rainey gives me a warm smile. “Dani, she’ll be so glad to see you! She’s been looking for you for weeks.”
I’m sure she has.
I lock down my mental grid to freeze-frame, make like folks on Gunsmoke and get the feck out of Dodge.
TWENTY-FIVE
“I don’t know who he is behind that mask”
“What are you doing.”
“Why do you care?” I got belligerence stuck in my craw and I don’t even know why. Sometimes just standing next to Ryodan makes me feel that way.
“Because if there’s no point in what you’re doing, you’re wasting my time.”
“Dude, got eyes? I’m collecting evidence.” Finally! I been trying to get out for a second look at the exploded scenes for just about fecking ever but things keep coming up, like me almost getting killed. Oh, and me almost getting killed again. There’s never a dull moment in the Mega-verse. The Ice Monster would freak me out a lot more if my world hadn’t been jam-packed with monsters of all kinds since pretty much my birth: big, small, human, not.
“In Ziploc bags.”
“I think they’re Glad.”
“They look impartial to me.”
I start to snicker then stop myself. This is Ryodan. I hate Ryodan. Lying deceitful dickhead. Tricking folks into thinking he’s really nice so I look stupid. “Think my sword’s unfrozen yet?”
“No.”
I stoop and scoop. I know a thing or two about myself. I see a lot. But sometimes there are small things going on that even I miss. Ergo my impartial ziplocks. I’ll fill one at each scene. Go deep into the frigid center of the exploded debris, scoop up handfuls of icy detritus, stuff it in, and label it all neat and tidy-like. Later, me and Dancer will sift through the ziplock bags and look for clues. I pull a Sharpie from my pocket and write on the white strip “Warehouse, North Dublin.” Then I tuck it carefully away in a backpack slung over my shoulder. Collecting my ziplocks makes perfect sense to me.
“It doesn’t make sense. You could examine the detritus thoroughly right here at the scene.”
“Dude, do I ask you to explain yourself?”
“Kid, are you ever not prickly.”
I root around in the rubble, making sure I got some of everything, keeping my back to him because sometimes looking at him is more than I can stand. “Sure. Like, when I’m not around a prick. We investigating or having a conversation all personal-like? ’Cause I got business to take care of today and you’re wasting my time. It’s going to be dark soon.”
“Observations.”
“I got two. The scene blew to smither-fecking-reens and everything’s still cold.”
“Give me something I can use.”
“I wish I could, boss, but this is … well, this is a mess.” I rock back on my heels, shove hair out of my face and look up at him. The sun’s nearly level with the horizon, right behind his head, making this weird halo effect around his face—as if! I’m surprised he doesn’t smell like brimstone. He probably has a red pitchfork and hides horns under his hair. Making it weirder, the sun’s got a sparkly gold tint to it—thank you fairies for changing everything in our world—and he looks—oh, who cares how he looks? Why am I even noticing?
I look away, focusing on my investigation. We got a Fae that appears out of a slit and arrives with a lot of fog. It ices everything in its path then disappears back into another slit. Sometime after that the scene explodes. But why? That’s the big question. Why is it icing what it ices, and why does the scene explode afterward? And why does it take varying amounts of time for the different places to explode?
I feel the ground with my palm. It’s freezing. There’s a chill that hasn’t dissipated. I wonder if it ever will. Might be kind of cool if it didn’t. You could clear the ground, build a house and never need air-conditioning. It’d suck in the winter, though.
I survey the scene. Where the warehouse used to be are piles of crumbled bricks and mortar and splintered framing, with twisted girders from steel racking everywhere, some bent, some poking straight up at the sky. Chunks of Unseelie flesh are plastered to pretty much every—
I smack myself in the forehead. “Holy priceless collection of Etruscan snoods, they’re not moving!” I exclaim.
There’s a choking noise over my head somewhere. “Etruscan snoods?”
I glow quietly inside. Some accomplishments mean more than others. I am officially the Shit. Now and forever. “Dude, watch your question marks. I just pried one out of you.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Admit it, you lost your eternal fecking composure.”
“You have an obsession with a delusion about how I end my sentences. What the fuck are Etruscan snoods?”
“Dunno. It’s just another of Robin’s sayings. Like, ‘Holy strawberries, Batman, we’re in a jam!’ ”
“Strawberries.”
“Or, ‘Holy Kleenex, Batman, it was right under our nose and we blew it!’ ”
There’s another choking noise above my head. I could go on for hours.
“Check out this one, it’s one of my faves! ‘Holey rusted metal, Batman! The ground. It’s all metal. It’s full of holes. You know, holey.’ ” I snicker. Gotta love the dudes that wrote Batman. They had to sit around cracking themselves up all the time. “Or, ‘Holy crystal ball, Batman, how did you see that coming?’ ” I look up at him.
He’s staring at me like I have three heads.
The truth dawns on me. “Holy prostrate rugs, you lied! You’ve never even read Batman, have you? Like not one single issue. You never even watched an episode on TV! That was, like, your only redeeming quality and it wasn’t even true. You been pretending we’re superhero partners and you don’t even know the first thing about Robin!” No wonder Ryodan’s no fun to hang with. I’m so disgusted I can’t stand it!
I skirt my irritation and get back to the important stuff. “The Unseelie parts are motionless. Dead as the humans. Look at them. Unseelie don’t die. Nothing but my sword and Mac’s spear kill them that dead. Unseelie are immortal. You can slice and dice them with human weapons, and the pieces will flop around forever. These ain’t flopping. This thing is killing them dead. And we never even noticed.” P
reconceptions. They trip you up every time. When something explodes, you expect to see dead things. Maybe there’s something to my idea it’s after folks’ life force. Kind of like the Shades, sucking them empty but instead of leaving husks, it leaves the whole shell of their bodies iced. “And notice something else: none of the pieces, human or Unseelie, are rotting. Why is that?”
“I’ll be damned.”
“I know, right?”
“And you didn’t notice this before.”
I glare at him. “You didn’t either. And I tried to recheck scenes twice but you made me sit in your office while you did paperwork. The third time I was thinking about rechecking a scene, I stumbled on a fresh one and almost got exploded myself.” I stand up and walk away to get a good bird’s-eye view of the destruction. I pull out the new phone I grabbed to replace the one I smashed and snap a couple pictures. “So,” I say crossly, “where to next?”
As we head for the church where I almost died, I realize Ryodan’s been keeping me so busy asking the questions he wants answered that I never get around to asking any questions I want answered. “So, what happened to me when I got frozen that night? When I came to, Dancer was there with you and Christian. Talk about unexpected. How’d Dancer get there? Who saved me?”
“I got you out of the church or you would have died right there on the floor.”
“You’re the one who took me into the church to begin with and didn’t warn me what would happen if I touched something. You’re why I almost died, dude. So, who saved me?”
“I had to take you out slow or you would have had afterdrop.”
“Yeah, but did Dancer tell you about afterdrop? ’Cause that sounds like something he would know.”
Iced: A Dani O'Malley Novel (Fever Series) Page 25
