“You think he played us?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “There’s no reason to think Oberon knew anything about what was causing the zombie problem, or that La Calavera had anything to do with it. It’s just awfully fucking convenient for him and that makes me suspicious.”
“So how are we going to do this?”
“We try to get close. It’s a dogfighting ring, which means there’s wagering. We want in on the action. If we can get inside this thing, that’s our best chance to find the Xolos and free them.”
“And to find out if King Oberon knew about the racket and put us between him and La Calavera,” Adan said.
“Showtime,” I said. The Burning Man had stopped by the bar and was deep in conversation with La Calavera. She looked in our direction and we made eye contact. Just for a second, I saw the naked skull again. Then she smiled.
She stood and took the Burning Man’s arm, and they walked over to our table. “La Calavera Catrina,” he said, “may I present Adan Rashan and Domino Riley.” Under different circumstances it might have hurt my feelings that he introduced Adan first, but I knew his sense of propriety was stuck in 1949, just like the rest of the club.
“Master Rashan,” she said, “your father’s name is well-known here. Welcome to the Mocambo.” Her smile was dazzling.
“Thank you,” Adan said, and gestured to the space beside me. “Would you care to join us?”
La Calavera seemed to notice me for the first time since our little stare down. I smiled and tried to force as much warmth into it as I could, which probably wasn’t much. “I think not,” she said, returning her attention to Adan. “I adore this performer and I would rather like to dance. I’m sure your companion won’t mind.”
I was expecting deer in the headlights, but Adan was smooth. Maybe too smooth. “I’d be delighted,” he said, smiling. At least he slid the other way out of the booth so I didn’t have to get up. They walked together to the dance floor and every eye in the club followed them.
The Burning Man nodded to me once and wandered off. Even without the burning I wouldn’t have wanted to dance with him, but he could have asked. Instead, I got to sit there, alone, with the champagne I couldn’t actually drink because it was probably pureed human soul or something, and watch Adan and La Calavera cut a rug.
The ghost who had taken the stage looked and sounded just like Frank Sinatra early in his career. It couldn’t actually be Sinatra—from what I knew about the guy, he might not be in heaven but he probably wasn’t still playing the Mocambo. He did “Close to You” and followed it up with “Almost Like Being in Love.” There’d been some daylight between Adan and La Calavera when they started, but they were wrapped up pretty tight by the time the blue-eyed bastard got to “Some Enchanted Evening.” I considered whether it would be an unforgivable breach of etiquette to shoot the entertainment.
Eventually, they made their way back to the booth, walking arm in arm and laughing. Adan stood aside and allowed La Calavera to sit first, and then he slid in beside her. She took a long drink of champagne and her shadowed eyes glittered as she watched me over the rim of her glass. She set the flute back on the table and licked her lips.
“What brings you to the Mocambo tonight?” she asked. “Surely, it wasn’t just to share.” I saw her arm move and Adan swallowed hard. She’d put her hand on his thigh. At least I hoped it was just his thigh.
“We heard there was action here,” I said. It probably wasn’t the best choice of words.
La Calavera laughed and leaned into Adan. “More action than you’d like, perhaps.”
I grinned and shook my head. “Okay, let’s get this out of the way. I’m a guest in your club so I don’t want to disrespect you. On the other hand, there is a limit to how much shit I’ll eat just to be polite, and I’m filling up pretty fast. As far as Adan goes? Between you and me, sister, I don’t think he likes it cold. But if he’s buying what you’re selling, by all means, get your nasty on so we can stop pulling each other’s hair and get down to business.”
I got another flash of the bony hag behind the pretty face, and then La Calavera smiled. “I do believe I’m going to like you, Miss Riley.”
“Call me Domino.”
“Very well, Domino. You can drink the champagne, by the way. It’s just juice. You’ll like it.”
I was more worried about where the juice had come from and how it had gotten into the bottle, but I picked up my glass and took a drink. I probably wasn’t going to get an invitation to the dogfights if I was afraid of a little Between-style bubbly. I drained off half the glass and put it back on the table. It was pretty tasty.
“So what business do we have, you and I?” La Calavera had gone from hanging all over Adan to pretending he didn’t exist. For his part, Adan seemed relieved by the abrupt shift in focus.
“We heard you were running a game—not the kind of action we get on our side of the tracks.”
“It’s true,” La Calavera said. “I do provide certain amusements for the denizens of this place. Just as you do, I’m sure, in the mortal city. But I have to say, we don’t enjoy the patronage of humans very often—even of human sorcerers. We play big, as they say, and the stakes can be intimidating to those on a more limited bankroll.”
“Juice,” I said. “You play for juice.”
“Of course. Gold can be useful to those of us with dealings in the mortal world, but juice is the only currency that has real value here.”
“Our bankrolls are petty deep. We run an outfit—”
“I know who you are, Domino, and I know you have the juice to play with us. I simply don’t want there to be any unpleasant misunderstandings later. You’re new here and you might be excused for thinking we run a friendly game.”
“No game worth winning stays friendly very long.”
La Calavera smiled. “Isn’t it so?” she said. “Very well, where do your particular interests lie? Poker is quite popular right now and dice are always in fashion. We do have more…exotic…games, as well.”
“We’re here for the dogfights,” I said.
La Calavera’s eyebrows jumped. “I must say, I’m surprised you’ve even heard of the dogfights. I wasn’t aware your friend the Burning Man knew of them.”
“He’s not my friend, just a guy I went to see about a gun.”
“I have made every effort to maintain a certain exclusivity where the dogfights are concerned. The investment required to offer this kind of entertainment is substantial, and the stakes reflect that commitment.”
“I’d like to think it won’t be any less exclusive when you let us in on the action,” I said, and smiled.
La Calavera nodded. “No, indeed. You and your friend are rarities here, as I said, and I’m sure the others will welcome the novelty. They will relish the opportunity to wager against such a…delicacy.”
“Great,” I said, even though I didn’t really think of myself as a delicacy. “When is the next fight?”
“Tonight,” said La Calavera. “Enjoy yourselves until the party winds down. For the convenience of our players, we hold the fights on the premises. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must attend to my other guests.” She stood, glanced once at Adan and walked away.
“I feel so used,” Adan said. “Hold me, Domino.”
I laughed. “You’re a good dancer.”
“Oberon taught me. He said you had to be able to fight, dance and lie to survive at court, not necessarily in that order.”
“You’re a good fighter, too.”
“Yeah, honesty is my downfall.”
“Spoken like an expert liar,” I said. “So what was your relationship to Oberon, exactly? He abducted you.”
Adan nodded. “I was his ward—somewhere between his son and his hostage. We weren’t blood, obviously, and that means a lot in the Seelie Court. But he was responsible for me. He took it seriously.”
“What was it like? Growing up with fairies, I mean.”
“It’s
like a dream now, even after a few months. Like Oberon’s party. It’s hard to remember details. I think it seemed normal at the time—I didn’t know anything else.”
“You don’t remember anything?”
“Impressions,” Adan said. “It was…cold. Not the climate—it was always summer in our part of Avalon. But love, genuine warmth, is a rare thing among the sidhe. That’s one thing that makes Oberon and Titania unusual—they’ve got it. But for the rest of them, there’s blood, honor, duty, loyalty… There are a lot of good things in Avalon, but kindness and compassion aren’t among them.”
“It sounds like the barrio, only worse.”
“A lot worse, I think. Even in the barrio, I’ll bet there was at least some sense of community. Some basic human decency despite the poverty and hopelessness.”
I nodded, thinking of my mother and thousands of others like her. “There are good people in the barrio. The poverty and hopelessness just makes them stronger.”
Adan got a faraway look in his eyes. “I do remember something. I remember the first time Oberon took me with him on a hunt. We were hunting wild boar in the woods, maybe a day’s ride from the city. I must have been about ten years old. We were mounted and we had these short, heavy spears with broad, silver points. The dogs—your barghests—would flush the boars out of the bush and we’d spear them. I could barely even lift the spear.”
He laughed and looked at me. I just nodded.
“These boars—they weren’t like normal animals, obviously. They could get as big as the barghests, and a lot heavier, a lot more powerful. They had thick, coarse fur and tusks as long as my forearm. Their hides were so tough and they were so fierce, it always took a few good throws to bring them down. Anyway, you probably know how this story goes. I was a decent horseman for my age and size, but you’ve seen the sidhe horses. I got thrown and a boar charged me. I lost my spear when I fell. All I had was my sword and a short, wide-bladed knife. The rest of the sidhe—including Oberon—just sat their steeds and watched.”
“Jesus Christ. What happened?”
“I killed it,” Adan said, and shrugged. “I don’t remember how. When it was over, my sword was broken off in the boar’s chest and my knife was buried to the hilt in its eye. And I was covered in blood, like someone had dumped buckets of it on me. Not all of it was the boar’s.”
“And they didn’t do anything to help?”
“They just watched. They didn’t even say anything—no cheering, no encouragement, no advice. They just waited to see what would happen. But that’s not really what the story’s about. I’ll never forget what Oberon said to me when it was over. He said, “The horse sensed your fear. Master your fear and you’ll master the beast. You’ve proven yourself a man, now, so don’t expect any more coddling.”
“Coddling? Son of a bitch!”
“Yeah,” Adan said, laughing. “That’s what I thought—someone must have neglected the coddling part. He was true to his word, though. After that I was always on my own. I could have just about anything I wanted, as long as I was strong enough and clever enough to take it for myself.”
Oberon as Adan described him reminded me a lot of Shanar Rashan—maybe that’s why they hated each other. My boss had taught me a lot and I’d always be grateful to him for it. But he’d also been more than willing to let me learn the hard lessons on my own. And if I didn’t survive one of those lessons? Well, I guess in six thousand years you see a lot of people die. Adan and I were a lot alike, too, with one big difference: I’d always had my mom. Adan never had anyone. Even now, after he’d returned from Avalon, the first thing his father did was go on vacation.
“What do you think of the mortal world so far?” I asked.
Adan nodded and gave me a little smile. “Honestly? So far it seems a lot like Avalon. Our little corner of it, anyway.”
“The more things change…”
Adan just looked at me, waiting for me to finish the thought.
“Uh, the more they stay the same. It’s just a saying. Adan, how is it you know Jude Law movies but you don’t know shit like that?”
“It was a good movie,” he said, laughing. “No, I hear you—it’s weird. The Seelie Court has been watching this world a long time. That isn’t news to you—Oberon had to know what was happening here in order to set his plans in motion. But watching a place isn’t the same as living in it. Think of a place you know a little about but have never visited, a place you’ve never lived.”
I nodded. “Like Japan. I know a little about the popular culture, and I maybe have an image of what it looks like— Tokyo, anyway—but I’d be fucking clueless if I actually went there.”
“Yeah, that’s what it’s like for me. Parts of this world are familiar to me. Most of it is alien.”
I held up my glass. “Well, here’s to two well-adjusted individuals who survived lost innocence and childhood trauma to lead healthy, happy and productive lives.”
Adan raised his own glass and touched mine. “They sound like amazing people,” he said. “I’d like to meet them someday.”
We laughed and drank. We finished the first bottle of champagne and ordered another. It was definitely juice—I got the same buzz off it I got from spinning spells. We couldn’t be sure who was listening so we avoided talking about zombies, Xolos or demons. We talked about the outfit, instead, and I realized it was because neither one of us really had anything else going on in our lives. There just wasn’t much else to talk about. I didn’t mind. It was nice just to talk to someone.
There was never a last call in the shadow world, but eventually the crowd thinned and the staff turned from serving to cleaning up. There were only about a dozen spirits left in the club, and they huddled together in small groups, no doubt discussing the forthcoming entertainment. Before long, La Calavera reappeared and ushered us all through a door by the stage to the back room where the fights would be held.
In the real world, underground dogfights were usually held in vacant lots or buildings, and rarely in the same place twice. The “pits” were really nothing more than small, portable enclosures built from plywood that could be pulled out of the back of a van or truck and set up in a few minutes. La Calavera had done some redecorating and her pit was the real deal. The room behind the stage was like a small amphitheater, with rows of low stone benches encircling the pit. The pit itself was only about four feet deep and fashioned of cut, pale stone mottled with dark-brown stains. There was an open space between the stands on the far side of the room, and half a dozen cages were placed there, side by side. Inside the cages were the Xolos.
They didn’t look anything at all like Caesar. In the Between they were made of light, like a master artist had sculpted a sunrise in the shape of a dog. They were beautiful, magnificent, and to look at them was to know peace. And they’d been driven mad.
One of the Xolos threw itself at the bars of its cage, over and over, until white-gold light spattered the insides of the cage and the stone floor like blood. Another sat on its haunches and howled, a mournful lament that worked its way into the center of me and filled me with despair. Another Xolo lay on the floor of its cage, its eyes wide and staring, its light dull and dim. One of the creatures turned in circles inside its cage, first one way and then the next, whimpering quietly.
It took everything I had not to draw Ned and start shooting. I glanced at Adan and saw the muscles of his jaw clenching and unclenching. The spirits in the room didn’t even look at the Xolos. They talked quietly in their little groups and drank champagne. They laughed. I saw the woman in the red dress and barbed wire and the man with the skin mask. The others I didn’t recognize, but I vowed to remember them.
La Calavera walked over and stood in front of the cages. She raised her arms and the other spirits quickly took their seats. Adan and I sat close together on the stone bench. I took his hand and he held it tightly enough that I couldn’t reach for my gun.
“Welcome, friends,” La Calavera said. “Most of you are regular
s here, but we do have some newcomers—Domino Riley and Adan Rashan, who come to us from the mortal world—so allow me to explain the rules of our little game.
There will be three fights—two dogs in each fight pitted against each other. All of you must place a wager on each fight, but you are, of course, free to choose the beast on which to place your bet. You may not place a wager smaller than the last bet on your chosen beast. The order of betting will be determined randomly. Each fight will continue until one dog is unwilling or unable to continue. At that point, all wagers will be settled and the winners will be paid by the losers in proportion to their original bet. The house takes any remainder. If there is anyone here who does not understand these rules, let him speak now.”
It was a clever betting scheme. There were no odds, but the rule that your bet must equal or exceed the one that came before it created an incentive to bet on the weaker dog since betting on the favorite would quickly escalate.
“How are the bets placed and the winnings recovered?”
I asked. I didn’t really want to draw attention to us, but the spirits were all eyeballing us anyway and the only stupid question is the one you don’t ask.
“That shall be demonstrated shortly,” La Calavera said, and everyone laughed. Everyone except Adan and me. “I will allow your names to be placed aside and drawn last for the first fight, so that you may see how the others wager.”
Given that the betting was going to escalate, betting last wasn’t an advantage—just the opposite. “You are kind, La Calavera,” I said, “but that won’t be necessary. If one of us is chosen first, just tell us what to do.”
La Calavera inclined her head. “As you wish. If there are no further questions, let us begin.”
The dogmen—both of them ghosts—went to the cages and looped heavy silver chains over the necks of the first two fighters. The Xolos were dragged to the pit and thrown inside, restrained by the dogmen behind the scratch lines carved into the stone. The Xolo on the left was the one that had been lying on its side in the cage. When its handler lifted it and dropped it into the pit, it collapsed again. The other Xolo strained against the chain around its throat, baring its teeth and growling.
Skeleton Crew Page 15
