Between flashes of pain, Trent considered the news story. All that damage to regular folks’ homes, all those homeless and desperate living in the flood control tunnels, and all the news could talk about was the damage that the casinos had suffered. Trent wondered if he had really even saved anything at all. He looked up at Celia, who met his gaze with a smile. She still wore his Stetson.
He smiled.
“Celia,” he said finally, breaking the silence. “You okay?”
She nodded, but before she could answer, Snake cut into the conversation.
“Everybody’s fine, Trent. You’re fine, Celia’s fine, I’m fine. You did some good shit tonight. Don’t worry about your injuries. We’re heading to a clinic now.”
Trent wondered who would pay the hospital bills. It worried him that he might be indebted to the demonic cabal for the rest of his life. He closed his eyes and let darkness wash over him again. “I’m tired,” he mumbled.
“Yeah, me too,” Snake replied. “After that poker game last night, after sitting next to that hot succubus–” He wolf-whistled. “I was up all night–” He stopped mid-sentence and turned to Celia. “So kiddo, you like that apple I gave you?”
Trent opened his eyes to watch their exchange.
Celia looked a little guilty. “I didn’t eat it.”
“Really?” Snake seemed genuinely surprised.
“I gave it to someone else.”
Snake’s demeanor shifted in an instant and a worried frown graced his lips. “Yeah? Who?”
Celia shrugged. “Some woman. She was hurt, so I gave her the apple in case she got stuck in the storm.”
“Oh.”
A long, awkward pause lingered in the air between them. And then, as if nothing had been said, Snake returned to his usual irritating, but smiling, self again. “Yeah, okay. Well that’s just fine.”
“Snake, what are you doing here?” Trent mumbled.
“Came to make sure you two were doing alright, get you to the hospital. Can’t have our new boy out there crawling through the snow with a bullet in his gut.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
Snake shrugged. “Everything’s taken care of. Consider it payment for a job well done.”
“Everything?” Trent hadn’t thought about the police in a while, but suddenly wondered what was going to happen when they got to their destination? Had the demons somehow fixed that, too?
“Yeah, if you mean the cops, it’s all straightened out.” Snake shot Trent a wink. “Besides, after those guys held up the whole Luxor, one missing kid–” He gestured toward Celia. “–well, she didn’t seem so important anymore.”
“They know who I am. I was famous, remember?”
Snake shrugged. “We have ways of making people forget.” He frowned and glanced at Celia. “At least, those who aren’t dead.”
Celia’s eyes filled with tears.
“So,” Snake continued, changing the subject. “What are you gonna hunt down next, after we get you rebuilt and all? After we make you stronger, faster...”
Trent shrugged.
“Yeah,” Snake replied, as if a question had been asked. “Just watch your back. You really pissed off some folks.” Snake gestured toward the ceiling of the ambulance. “Old feathers and halos don’t exactly think highly of you anymore.”
“Did they before?”
Snake grinned. “You know, there’s others like your niece out there. Not many, but some.”
“She’s not my niece.”
“Yeah, whatever. Point is, there’s others like her. You gonna save all of them? I promise this won’t be the last time you’ll have to choose.”
“I’ll do what I can, I guess.”
“You can’t always be the savior, Trent. Keep that in mind.” He paused. “Oh, I almost forgot. Celia actually is your niece now. I set that up. All legal and shit.”
Celia’s tears dried up in an instant. “What?”
Snake turned to look at her. “Lucky-boy here is your uncle. Legally speaking, of course. Story is he came into town to care of you after your parents died in that car accident.”
“But there was no–” She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t–”
Snake cut her off. “Where else you gonna go, kid? Besides, just ‘cause Zammy’s gone doesn’t mean someone else ain’t gonna come looking for you. Trust me, this is the best setup for you both.”
“Why are you doing all this?” Trent asked.
“Jesus, you just can’t figure a hint, can you, fuckbag?”
Snake began making nonsensical hand gestures in a mockery of sign language. Each word he spoke came out with exaggerated enunciation. “You. Did. Us. A. Favor.”
He shook his head and started messing with some of the medical equipment in the ambulance. He stopped when a button he had pressed let out a loud electronic alarm buzz. His hand snapped back and he turned to face Trent again. “So now, we’re doin’ you one back. Christ, we might be lying, manipulative assholes, but we’re not rude.”
Celia spoke. “Are all the other kids– You know, like me– Are they all– Can they all do stuff like–?”
“Powers? Nah. Most of the little bastards just have crazy dreams for the rest of their lives or nasty skin rashes or whatever.”
“Are there any like me?”
“Oh yeah, there’s some. There’s always a few in the world, one for every grig that worked his mojo on a human broad. There’s a chick in New York who can set things on fire. Or this kid in Canada, right? Asshole can steal cars by just touching the door, then touching the steering wheel. Can mess around with electricity or something. Dunno what we’re gonna do about him, but he’s causing a lot of trouble. They’ll probably make me go up there and rein him in or whatever–” He put air quotes around ‘rein him in.’
“What exactly do you do, Snake?” Trent asked.
“Me? I’m just a messenger.” Snake smiled.
Trent didn’t trust the guy at all. He knew that demons lied, and he suspected Snake had made a career of it–thus the name.
He looked at Celia, whose face had suddenly screwed up in pain. She held her gut with both hands and Trent could tell that she was breathing heavily. “What’s wrong?” he croaked, punctuating his question with a bloody cough.
Celia lifted her gaze suddenly and stared at him, a hand lingering on her stomach. She looked to Trent like a pregnant woman surprised to feel the first kick. Her lips moved and her eyes widened, as if she might tell him something terrible, but then her countenance softened again. “Umm,” she mumbled, then forced a smile. “Nothing. I’m just hungry.”
Trent closed his eyes again and let his head fall back on the cushion. “Me too,” he said, but the pain of his injuries had drowned out most of his hunger. He inhaled deep, then let it out, trying to calm his mind, to wipe the images of Salvatore-turned-Zamagiel, the blizzard-wrecked city, the thoughts of Susan, smiling, laughing. The memories of their wedding day. He felt a knot tighten in his stomach.
Her voice, in the dying screams of the Render. He had heard her voice mixed into the cacophony and was absolutely certain she still existed somehow, somewhere. He pictured her in his mind and imagined where she might be. Lost, he suspected, somewhere in the dark, walking in the corridors of black, the realms Ramón had described, the realms he had felt with his own hands, had seen in the darkness behind his eyelids, if only for a moment.
I’m going to find her there, he thought, as the ambulance bounced painfully over a curb. No matter what.
No matter what.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
M. E. Patterson is an author and information technologist. He lives with his family in Austin, Texas. Devil’s Hand is his first novel. The second novel in the Drawing Thin series, Burning Cards, will be available in Spring 2012.
Get the latest news about the Drawing Thin series, find out about contests and special events, and join the mailing list at:
http://drawing-thin.com
Catch up
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Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
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About the Author
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
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3
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About the Author
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