by Graeme Smith
He flushed. Again. “Ealdric.”
“Er - ?”
“Look! It’s a perfectly good name!” He flushed some more. “Or at least, it was in eight bloody ninety AD.”
I shook my head. “Maybe. But it won’t work in a High School hallway. What do they call you in class?”
“They don’t.”
“What?”
“They don’t. I was only there to tag you. Nobody else saw me.” He grinned. “Well, apart from Logan. That was a real nice move you put on him.”
I dropped a mock curtsey, making sure he got some thigh. “Why, thank you, kind sir.” I thought a moment. “But you might have to be seen. So…” I thought some more “So look, Rick…”
“Rick? I think I prefer CG.” Rick didn’t look happy. Which was fine by me.
“Rick. Well, maybe CG if we’re” I winked. “alone.” CG might be a thousand years old, but he was still male. He flushed. I grinned some more. “So look, Rick. OK. Maybe the Organisation figured Mom was a threat. But you’re big girls and boys.” I winked again, and let my eyes drop a little. “At least, I hope you are.” He flushed some more. I grinned some more. “You can take care of yourselves. But all the time Mom was training me, she was always big on the Organisation. So if she was lying to me back then, I figured maybe she was a threat to me too. And if the nastiest, bad-ass bitch in this town or any other’s a threat to me, I’d better know about it. And put a bullet in her head before…”
“Why, thank you, dear. That’s the nicest thing you ever said about me.”
If there’s one thing Mom wasn’t good at, it was losing. And it looked like this time was no different. CG was grinning. Not-dead-Mom was smiling. But at least some things were starting to make sense. L. Riiiight. We’d always laughed about it, Mom and me. We kept McGill, but Mom said she hated her real name. So Nancy was all she ever admitted to - to anyone else.
So there it was. Different day, same old same. And family or Organisation - Mom was still boss.
Sonata
Esposizione - Secondo Movimento
Washington D.C. - 350 And Down
“Start? How about we start with who killed Jack?” Prowess looked over at the man in the leather duster. “And, um, why he isn’t dead.” Her brow furrowed.
“Oh, he is.” Haures clutched his head. “And, of course, he isn’t. And she's dead too. OW! And, apparently, she isn't either!”
“She? Which she? What's he talking about Jack?”
“The she who killed him.” The Grand Duke of Hell nodded nervously at a Jack who appeared to be rather inconsiderately continuing to breathe. “Or, um, didn't. Her employers killed her after she didn't. Or after she did. Or rather, they killed her, but she's...” Haures clutched his head again.
Prowess’ brow deeper. “What?”
“I said, well, he…”
“Shut up.” Jack’s voice was flat.
The nervous look Haures was wearing decided it needed a vacation. It’s sudden replacement showed that whatever it took to scare a Grand Duke of Hell, apparently Jack was it. “Oh hell. This is where you… But you can’t! You c…!” Haures collapsed to the floor as one leg gave way underneath him, black and red smoky blood pumping from the fresh bullet wound. He looked up. “You know, you really can’t. Do that, I mean. It’s impossible. I’m a Grand Duke of…”
“We’d better be even now, Shadow. I just…” The man in the leather duster raised one eyebrow. The gun in his hand spoke again. The Angel with bright shining wings who had just appeared in the corner of the room fell to the floor, his kneecap shattered. He looked up at the man in the leather duster. “Bloody Hell…” Barbas stopped, and looked up “Er, I mean, bloody Heaven…” The Angel sighed. “Damn. Er, I mean Bless. This takes some getting used to.” He looked at the man in the leather duster. “What was that for, Shadow? I just saved your life! And anyway. You can’t do…”
“Can’t do what?” If this had been a movie, Jack would have been delicately blowing the smoke from the barrel of his gun. But it wasn’t a movie. And he was Jack. So wasn’t doing anything of the sort. What he was doing was keeping a gun two Angels clearly thought shouldn’t have been able to hurt them pointed at two Angels he didn’t seem to have any problems hurting at all.
A thick rope of Shapeshifter flesh flew over Jack’s head, dropping to the floor behind the Angels. As Prowess reformed, tentacles bulging teeth that would never be able to play a grand piano wrapped tight round each Angel’s throat. Prowess shrugged. “I’m sorry.” The tentacles sprouted more teeth, and tightened. “I really don’t understand what’s going on.” The teeth began to bite. “But, well...” She looked up at the man in the leather duster. She flushed. “But there’s only ever two sides really.” She looked back down at the Angels. “There’s Jack’s.” The tentacles tightened. The teeth got sharper. Prowess looked up at Jack. “And the one I’m not on.”
The room flared bright. First red, then white.
The old man in the white vest and red overalls sighed as he looked at the frozen Prowess and two Angels. “HELLO JACK. YOU CALLED?”
Chapter Six
Wrong Number
“Right. To business.”
We were back at the ranch. Which wasn’t really a ranch. And like I said. If I told you where the Organisation’s offices were, or what, I’d have to kill you. But whatever it was, somehow ‘back at the ranch’ seemed to fit. So that’s where we were. Back. At the ranch. Mom was pulling a file down from a shelf in an office larger than some small countries. She’d always told me not to take chances, so I didn’t.
The bullet hole in the wall opposite the business end of my Glock would have been perfectly normal – if Mom’s head hadn’t been between me and the wall.
Mom sighed. “Don’t do that, dear.”
I dropped my Glock lower. This time the bullet hole was in Mom’s desk. The desk just the other side of the ass I apparently hadn’t shot my Mom in.
Mom sighed again. “No, dear. I’m not like Ealdric.” She turned round, leaning back against the desk. She looked at me, one eyebrow raised. “Well?”
The Glock kicked in my hand. It kept kicking as I emptied the clip. I looked at the splintered, bullet riddled desk Mom was very clearly not being dead on. I raised my own eyebrow. “Magic.”
“Yes, dear.”
“I mean, like – magic.”
“Yes, dear.”
“Like, bibbity-bobbity, abracadab…”
“No, dear. No magic words. No bibbity, no bobbity. Magic.” Mom sat down behind the desk. Or rather, Mom didn’t. I could tell, by the change in her voice. Mommy wasn’t home right now. My new boss opened the file in front of her. “Did you ever wonder why the world is the way it is?”
“What? A mess?”
My new boss smiled. It was the sort of smile made sharks wish they had more teeth. “It’s not a mess. It’s just exactly the way we want it to be. Because we made it this way.”
“We?”
Mom smiled again. Sharks would have grown wings, just not to be in the same room as a smile like that. She nodded towards the door. “You can always leave, dear.”
Like I said. There’s only two kinds of people got into the type of place I was in. The ones the Organisation knew were on their side, and the ones they knew weren’t. But only one kind ever came out. And even if this was my new boss, it was still Mom. My Mom. I knew if she thought I wasn’t on her side, she’d put a bullet in me and not even wince. Just like I would. I slipped my Glock into my thigh holster, pulled up a chair and sat down. “So?”
Mom slid the file over to me. “Your first job, dear. This is Margaret Spencer, New York. Three weeks ago she went to the store near her apartment. She bought a carton of milk, some eggs, a loaf of bread – and one lottery ticket. She didn’t have her numbers with her, so she took a Lucky-Pick. She has a new apartment now. Three hundred and sixty million dollars will do that for you.”
“So what’s the job, Mom? You want her dead?”
> “Dead? Damned if I care, dear. No. I want her not to win.”
“Oh.” I thought for a moment. “So. Fraud, maybe. Rig the lottery company’s files? Run up some photos showing she was playing hide the salami with one of their systems guys?”
“No dear. You’re not listening. I just. Want. Her not. To win.”
Mom smiled. Somewhere far away, I could hear sharks screaming.
Sonata
Sviluppo - Primo Movimento
Washington D.C. - 350 And Down
The man in the leather duster shrugged. “It’s not like you’ve got a cell phone.” He checked the wall calendar. “Not that they’ve actually been invented yet.”
“CELL PHONE? WHAT’S A… Damn, Jack.” The old man raised an eyebrow. “DO YOU… I mean, do you mind?”
Jack shrugged – again. “It’s your universe.”
The old man winced. “Not exactly, Jack. But that’s… never mind. We’ll get round to… I mean, you’ll… er…” the old man shook his head. “And Haures thinks he knows about headaches.” He sighed. “Excuse me?” The old man walked over to the Grand Duke, and waved his hand.
Haures woke with a start. He looked at Jack. He looked at the old man. Then he looked at the old man again. “Oh. Bugger.”
The old man sighed. “I think that’s my line, Grand Duke. Now. Cell phone. Apparently I haven’t got one. What is it, and why would I…?”
“Cell phone? But… but they haven’t been inv…” Haures winced, clutching his head, and a gentleman who had up until that moment been buying frozen shrimp to cook dinner for his wife suddenly found himself standing on Sixth Avenue, talking to his hand. “Joel? This is Marty…”
“Oh. I see.” The old man sighed. “Jack. Jack, Jack, Jack. You work for me now, remember? You know you don't need a cell phone to call me, Jack. You don't have to say anything, and you don't have to do anything. Not a thing. Oh, maybe just think. You know how to think, don't you, Jack? You just put your lips together and...” The old man stopped, a confused look on his face.
The slam of the gun in Jack’s hand was not, unusually, accompanied by the sound of a scream or that of a body hitting the floor. Not that the absence of either seemed to disturb the man in the leather duster. “For you? Let’s just say I’m not working against you. Yet.” He raised an eyebrow and nodded at the Grand Duke.
The old man waved a hand, and Haures stood, once more frozen in whatever wasn’t passing for time in the room under the Empire State Building. “So why the bullet holes, Jack? In the - the Fallen?”
The gun in Jack’s hand disappeared somewhere into his leather. “Like I said. You don’t exactly have a cell phone. So I figured Angel blood – you’d notice. And maybe come find out why they were bleeding. Since it’s…”
The old man smiled. “Since it’s impossible to hurt them at all, Jack? Like, a Paradox maybe? Yes. Of course I’d notice. So how’s your friend?
“My friend?” Jack didn’t play Poker. He’d found it too easy. So the wary look he wasn’t wearing stayed in the wardrobe he didn’t have, and as far away from his face as possible.
“Yes, Jack. Your friend. The one you make sure nobody knows about. The one who makes your toys for you. Like your nice new gun. Your friend with the limp. How’s Heffy, Jack?” The old man sat down on the chair that hadn’t been there a moment ago. He raised an eyebrow.
Chapter Seven
It could happen to you
“Eeeeew!”
Mom had told me to go find CG in one of the little lab rooms the Organisation keeps for purposes best not enquired into, and to do it before I grabbed lunch. She said it with one of those ‘Mom’ smiles – now I knew why. CG looked up from the thing in his hand that might have been a pestle, if I had any idea what a pestle was. Which I didn’t. So ‘thing in his hand’ was probably close enough. He shook his head. “Sorry. Unicorn Horn. That’s unicorns for you. Great PR – lousy personal hygiene. Not that that’s the problem.” He picked up a very tiny bottle of liquid. It shone a faint green. “Virgin’s Tears.”
I ran my mind over my less-than-dear fellows at Middle-of-Nowhere-High. Off the top of my head, I could think of a few I’d seen crying – mostly the football squad when some smart ass teacher was dumb enough to expect them to do something hard, like spell their names maybe. Or the cheer squad when someone didn’t try to look up their skirts. But I couldn’t think of even one who’d be worth tapping to fill the little glass bottle. This was Small Town USA. Everybody in town was practicing to be everybody else’s relative. It’s not like there was much else to do on a Saturday night – or any other night come to that. So nobody qualified. On the other hand, I hadn’t actually noticed any unicorns either. So I did the smartest thing I knew how to do at times like these. I said nothing, and waited.
CG sighed. “I know. No unicorns. But that’s normal. They’re big city hunters, mostly. More lost and lonely types in cities. Folk who never had so much as a friend, never mind...” CG flushed “Well, never mind anything else. It’s not like here, where half the town are their own grandparents. So cities are where you find them. Unicorns. Hanging round near every street corner, looking hopeful. It’s not generally a problem. We get the few people who can see them locked up by the people who can’t.”
“So how do you…?”
CG flushed. “I… well. When the boss needs supplies, I go get some.”
I grinned. “CG! So you’re a…? You should have said! I could have taken care of it for you any time!”
He flushed again. “Look. I may be a thousand years and change, but I’m still eight. Sort of.” He flushed again. “Well. Where it counts, anyway.” His face went flat. “Besides. It’s one less to worry about.”
“Worry about?”
“Weren’t you listening? I said cities are where they hunt. And a unicorn without its horn is a dead unicorn.” I dropped the eyebrow I had up, and raised the other one just for practice. CG sighed. “Look. You ever meet one? A virgin, I mean? Who’s met a unicorn?”
“CG, I don’t know if I’ve ever met any virgins at all. Well, apart from you.” I winked. “But like I said - we can talk about that.”
“No we bloody can’t. You have any idea how many pacts I’ve signed with demons? There’s a price to pay, and being eight makes it a lot easier to pay it. OK? Anyway. You never will.”
“Never will?”
“Meet one. A virgin who’s met a unicorn.” CG reached onto a shelf and took something down. He tossed it to me. The spiral twist on the horn sparkled like mother of pearl. The point was sharper than my best knife. “People never ask why unicorns want to hang out with virgins. You ever get horny, Maya?”
I grinned again. “Why, CG. I thought you’d never ask.”
This time it was CG’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Riiight. Ever wonder where the expression came from?” He nodded at my hands. “Pretty sharp, you think? But it makes getting the tears easier. Still, you’ve got to be quick. They don’t last long.”
“The tears? Or the girls?”
CG raised an eyebrow. “Girls? Unicorns don’t gender discriminate. Where there’s a way, there’s a horn.” He nodded at the tip of the horn in my hand. “And unicorns aren’t exactly known for, um, taking their time. So if you want Tears, you gotta be quick. And we’ve got a squad in most cities. They clean up.”
It wasn’t like any of the fairy tales Mom was supposed to have told me when I was a kid. Though Mom’s stories weren’t ever short on blood, or even horn come to that, they tended to have a lot more lead in them. “So that’s unicorns, huh? Getting their honey’s for nothin’, and their kicks for free?”
CD sighed. “Remind me to assign you some more reading. Why do you think I’ve signed my bloody soul away to…” his lips moved for a moment “… sixty three different demons? Though that’s demons for you. Big on power, lousy at book-keeping. Look, unicorns are magic, right? Hells, there’s nothing much more magic. Well, apart from…”
“From what?” If I didn�
��t know about it, it was a possible threat. That’s what Mom said.
For a moment, CG looked frightened. “Never you mind. If you ever have to go up against one of the Unborn, you’re dead already.” He shook his head. “No. Unicorns are more than bad enough. We don’t need drag…” His eyes went to the mirrors. “Right. So if you’re a unicorn, you need power, just to keep being one. And there’s nothing with more power than a soul. Especially the fresh ones. The pure ones. Capiche?”
I looked at the blood still oozing from my thumb where I’d touched the point of the horn. And I told myself if I ever came across any unicorns, we were going to have a nice little chat. And it would be my Glock doing the talking, even if I hadn’t ‘qualified’ for unicorn interest in a long time. Which made me I wonder if Mom had had more than hormones-not-screwing-missions on her mind when she brought Sven and Maria home. I shrugged. “Point…” I tossed the horn back to CG “… taken. So what’s the big deal then?”
CG raised his other eyebrow, as though I’d done something clever. “Big deal?”
I had no idea what I’d done right, but wasn’t going to boost his ego by asking what it was. I nodded at the horn. “Horn. Tears. Deal?”
“Oh. She didn’t tell you. Figures.”
“Tell me what?”
“Your new job.”
Sonata
Sviluppo - Primo Movimento
Washington D.C. - 350 And Down
The man in the leather duster shrugged. “Heffy? Never heard of him.”
“YOU’RE A LOUSY LI… er, I mean, you’re a lousy liar, Jack.” The old man paused. “Actually, that’s not true. You’re damn good at it. But there aren’t many who can get their hands on Chaos – never mind make it into bullets, and a gun to fire it. Or all the other nice toys he’s fixed you up with. Heffy’s about all there is.”
