Cruel Zinc Melodies

by Glen Cook

  Which she paid for in good old-fashioned wet-your-pants terror.

  I was having no courage crisis. I was too damned dim to be scared.

  Furious Tide of Light snapped, “Stop that woman!” Meaning Heather. Her eyes rolled up. She went away somewhere, the way her sort sometimes do.

  “Tinnie. Help me get Heather out of here.”

  Green eyes big, freckles standing out against skin gone dead white, Tinnie got herself going. My gal. Never panics. She had enough clever still engaged to get in Heather’s way while I sneaked up behind.

  I held on tight and managed not to lose focus because of the hottie wiggling. Tinnie pried the hat pin loose, flung it through the doorway. All the while snarling, “What in the hell were you doing, telling these people that I’m your fiancée?”

  Uh-oh.

  Did I do that?

  “I don’t remem...”

  My survival instincts kicked in.

  I was caught in a cleft stick. Nothing I said would be the right answer. And silence would be a loser, too. Again.

  “Ow!” I let go of Manvil’s favorite niece. “She stomped on my foot!”

  “Which is what you’re supposed to do when a bad guy grabs you, Malsquando.” She stayed put.

  To do anything, stupid or otherwise, Heather had to go through Tinnie first.

  Oh, I’m so clever! Oh, I’m so smart! That saved me having to answer for minutes and minutes.

  Heather was in no mood to be moved. Or subdued.

  The two of us had just enough push to get the job done.

  I helped herd Heather through the doorway, gave Tinnie an encouraging swat on the behind, then went back to give the Windwalker a hand.

  Not quite the same hand. Though it was a cruel strain, keeping my favorite pair to myself. With her magic engaged that beanpole radiated sexual compulsion more potently than the wildest elfin girl. And elf girls are the lodestars of sex. They define the irresistible, compulsive attraction. In fact, the Windwalker so resembled an elfin woman that I was sure elf sap ran in her family tree. Not far back, either.

  The ghosts were all over her now, tight as a gang of constrictors. And that didn’t bother her.

  I guess she knew they weren’t dangerous.

  To her.

  Curious.

  Furious Tide of Light had no guilt. Or understood the ghosts so well that she wasn’t vulnerable.

  I fought an urge to throw her down and make her squeal. I did go grab hold and begin tugging her toward the exit. Gently.

  The ghosts felt the same attraction, I suppose. And they didn’t need to show any self-control.

  “Whoa! Hey!”

  The Windwalker had begun making little noises. Suspiciously sensual sounding. While the zinc racket took on an urgent rhythm.

  Then silence as we reached the doorway.

  The Windwalker collapsed.

  Outside, in a voice loud enough to be heard for blocks, Tinnie said, “You still got some explaining to do, Malsquando!”

  70

  Next thing I heard was “Mom? Are you all right? What happened?”

  And, right there, right in front of me, closer than the stormy-browed pyrotechnical redhead, were most of my least favorite teenagers. The backbone of the Faction, including Kevans and Kip Prose. I couldn’t tell immediately which of the others were connected with the visitors.

  Excitement across the street told me that the escape of the Bellman rated beside the end of the world with Link Dierber, who showed no interest in the kids at all. Schnook Avery, on the other hand, wasn’t much invested. He was talking to the kid they called Slump.

  Somebody mentioned Felhske in conjunction with a failure to locate the Bellman. But that sounded like something that had happened years ago.

  Odd juxtapositions arise because people with special skills are so uncommon. I needed an under the table necromancer? How many were there likely to be? Why would he be in hiding? Given his calling, Belle’s reason would be a desire not to be found by someone off the Hill. So this would be a less fierce coincidence than it appeared at first glance.

  I wondered what Belle had done to make Link Dierber go all bubbly when they ran into one another again.

  What would Deal Relway think? Might be interesting to find that out, too.

  Relway was likely to know the real story.

  “Young Mr. Prose. So not good to see you. Your timing is impeccably awful. See the freaks squabbling over there? You do? You know them? Kevans? mom brought them. To see what the Faction accomplished here.”

  Kip Prose had been through a previous quarrel with smack-you-in-the-mouth reality, as a more central player. He had one set of toes stained by a dip into the real world. He knew he wasn’t invulnerable, immortal, or immune from the humors of beasts like Link Dierber, Schnook Avery, and whoever the rest of those people were.

  Meanwhile, Kevans whined because somebody had gotten into their clubhouse and wrecked it. She had no idea of the real situation. None of the youngsters understood the impact they had had because of what they had been doing. They were playing around. The world saw the foundations of civilization shifting.

  And everybody exaggerated.

  “Kip, go inside, cut through, go out one of the back doors, then haul ass to my house. Take your friends. Stay there till the grown-ups sort things out.”

  “I can’t.... I have a date with Kyra to go three-wheeling.”

  “Kip! Kid. You aren’t listening. Look over there. With Slump. Those two doing all the fussing. The stubby one is Link Dierber. Even you have to know that name. The long, tall mortician is Schnook Avery.” That pair were famous for their devotion to torture, to cruelty as personal amusement. They used their real names and didn’t care if everyone knew them. They considered themselves their own law.

  Director Relway would have them on a special list.

  “The fat woman must be Shadowslinger. She kills people, eats them, and enslaves their spirits. The only one of this whole mob likely to give a rat’s ass about you is Kevans? mom. And I wouldn’t bet a wooden Venageti denario on her.”

  “Uh... you’re wrong, Mr. Garrett. I know all of them. I’ve been to all of their houses. They aren’t any different than my mom.”

  “Just go, will you?”

  “But?”

  “Kip! Shadowslinger is checking us out. Getting interested.”

  And still he didn’t want to listen.

  His friends were even less inclined. They hadn’t listened at all. They saw no need to be afraid.

  Furious Tide of Light backed me up. “Kevans, Kip, do what the man says, please.” Over the youngsters, to me, she said, “It could be that I miscalculated when I brought the other parents. But I couldn’t know that we’d run into that man, could I? Kevans. Sweetheart. Seriously. Do go, just so I feel more comfortable.”

  And still the girl wanted to argue. Of course.

  And yet, so many do survive to become disgruntled old farts like me.

  I had, for sure, begun to understand Medford Shale, my crabby antique of an only living relative.

  Scary.

  Life was turning around on me, big time.

  Shadowslinger started toward the World.

  “Get your ass moving now!” I told Kip. Adding a hearty slap upside the head.

  You do have to get their attention.

  I asked the Windwalker, “Who comes with this one?”

  “Hard to imagine her as a parent?”

  “Yes.”

  “She’s actually the grandmother. Of Strake Welco. The kids call him Smokeman. And she isn’t a tenth as bad as the stories claim. I’m pretty sure she’s never actually eaten anyone.”

  “Smokeman? I haven’t run into that one.”

  From a little bit of over yonder a disgruntled Miss Tate watched me and my hazel-eyed friend. I felt her nurturing her need to have Malsquando do some explaining.

  Furious Tide of Light said, “This is the last time I’m going to tell you, Kevans.” In the tone that te
lls a kid there ain’t gonna be no more slack cut. Doom is a-comin’to town.

  Kip and Kevans banged into each other getting through the doorway into the World. Two others - Teddy and Mutter - decided to keep up. They were embarrassed instead of afraid. I got no chance to work out which freakish adults were embarrassing them.

  Shadowslinger kept gathering speed. I asked the Windwalker, “How did those people get down here? Two of them can hardly move.”

  “Coaches. In her case, a purpose-built wagon with the body low-slung between the wheel sets.”

  “Are you all right now?” I’d been amazed how light she was.

  “I’m recovered. I had a dizzy spell.” She didn’t want to rehash. She picked up the silver hat pin Tinnie had taken away from Heather. “This might be useful.” As an afterthought, she said, “Thank you for not leaving me.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  The owner-operator of the hat pin was being harried into the coach that Alyx used, twenty yards east of where Dierber and Avery were burning out on blame-gaming the Bellman’s escape.

  The workmen who had fled had collected in two locations, each about a hundred feet from the door. The inside guys were with Luther, to the west. The outside guys were to the east, out beyond the Weider coach. They missed no opportunity to get some joy out of that.

  Tinnie, especially, suffered a plague of eye tracks, top to bottom, and lingering. She definitely didn’t want to leave while I was stuck back by the door, within snatching range of an intriguing, exotic woman. She stopped fifteen feet from Alyx’s coach and glared my way till Miss Weider herself dismounted, came, grabbed a handful of red curls, started marching.

  Such caterwauling!

  Shadowslinger had covered half the distance from there to here and was still gaining speed. She bulled through Saucerhead’s crew, indifferent to their presence. I had to admire her self-confidence.

  The Windwalker kept making “Not to worry” noises.

  Saucerhead appealed for guidance, by gesture. Though, plainly, he didn’t want to be noticed by the Hill bunch. He knew what they were but would act if he was told to. He had taken my money.

  In a manner of speaking.

  We hadn’t had an actual payday yet.

  Tinnie vanished into the Weider coach.

  A couple more Hill types got a notion to come chat with me and my new pal. Or maybe they just got caught in Shadowslinger’s wake and pulled along.

  I signaled Tharpe to let it play.

  I wondered what Director Relway would think when he heard.

  As always, his Runners and red tops would be watching.

  Most likely he’d have me dragged in for a few intimate moments.

  Furious Tide of Light suggested, “Let’s go inside where it’s warm.”

  “Yeah. And where we can enjoy the romantic music.”

  That got me a look. Not quite “What’s this I stepped in?” More like “What language is this cretin speaking?”

  “I can’t help myself sometimes. Lead on.”

  Shadowslinger and the rest formed a scattered parade coming after.

  71

  We were near the edge of the installed floor planking. I considered Rocky’s mess, down below. “Need to get that cleaned up.”

  The Windwalker told me, “This is a good spot. Keep me between you and the old witch until we find out where you stand. And remember, none of us are as bad as our reputations make out.”

  I had reservations.

  Ghosts drifted our way, drawn by Furious Tide of Light.

  I couldn’t quite get my mind around the differences between this woman and the Windwalker who tagged along after Barate Algarda. “You aren’t twins, are you?” Her eyes had remained a steely shade for several minutes now.

  “No. I’m a role player. Like these ghosts. Only I try to be what the beholder does want to see.”

  Did that mean I was in need of a kick-ass blonde who looked like a starved teenage elf girl in ferocious heat?

  Clammy fingers brushed the back of my neck. The very sensation Morley had reported. Meanwhile, that creepy thing called Shadowslinger made an ugly silhouette coming through the doorway. Outside, unseen but heard, Link and Schnook argued genially about what news of the Bellman they ought to squeeze out of me first. Once they laid hands on, of course.

  I decided never to forgive Morley for having sent me to the Busted Dick.

  Furious Tide of Light giggled. She started breathing heavy.

  Hopefully a reaction unique to her, here, and only when Barate Algarda wasn’t around. There’d been no panting or sighing when she visited with him.

  What else might she do when her old man wasn’t there to kibitz?

  The clammy tentacle-touches kept delivering the creepy chills. Those ghosts loved me today.

  In truth, they touched me only because I was between them and Furious Tide of Light.

  What a woman. Even the dead wanted to make her groan.

  The dead? Well, not really. Something else. If these were actual shades, Shadowslinger would be the one making happy noises.

  I wasn’t sure Short, Broad, and Hideous saw the spooks. She just kept coming, muttering something about her granddaughter. The Windwalker said something in one of the gobbledygook dead languages her class use to impress the marks. Shadowslinger barked something back.

  Commenced a bit of back and forth, the old and wide sounding like a granny reprimanding people pups whose behavior failed to meet her exacting but ever-shifting standards. The Windwalker not only didn’t back down; she showed no evidence of being intimidated.

  I was.

  The Windwalker was, however, unhappy. In an aside, she told me, “She’s my father’s mother. Berbach and Berbain are her grandchildren, too. She just can’t understand why we won’t do things her way all the time, whatever she says.” Her eyes were an angry green.

  “I thought she was the grandmother of?”

  “Teddy lives with her. Teddy is Kevans? second cousin. She’s Kevans? grandmother, too.” And that was all the time she had to explain which of the Faction were related to who, and how, because the rest of the parents? club began to form up between us and the doorway. Link Dierber continued evaluating ways of getting me to tell him all about Belle Chimes.

  Furious Tide of Light growled, “Knock that crap off, Link. We aren’t here because of something that happened between you and the Bellman fifteen years ago. Which, from what the rest of the family says, was your fault, anyway.”

  That little lump actually shut up. The others did, too. Amazing. Some of the ugliest pustules on the body politic ever. Walking nightmares to us down on the mundane streets. Apparently mostly related and all just worried parents.

  Dierber sputtered suddenly, unable to control something that had to get out. The gist being that the disrespect shown him by the Bellman had been so egregious that the only possible response had to be orchestrated atrocities.

  Schnook Avery tried to calm him down.

  So Dierber had asked for trouble, had gotten it, had gotten the worst of it, and had carried a murderous grudge ever since. He wasn’t the sort to sleep in a bed of his own making without complaining.

  His spite had been such that the Bellman faked his own death and went underground.

  I asked the Windwalker, “Who is Belle Chimes?”

  “Link’s brother. Half brother, actually. Link hates him because their mother always favored Belle. Link’s father didn’t ask permission before he got her with child.”

  More family nutso stuff. I’d fallen into the weirdest dream ever.

  I was premature when I concluded that the ghosts weren’t interested in Shadowslinger. It just took them a while to find her and connect with her secret self.

  A phantom laid hands on. It took plain form once it did. Not a human form, but close. It had a face like an ape, but less dark. Its eyes rolled up in ecstasy.

  Link Dierber shut up. Aghast. He stared at the creature enjoying Shadowslinger. Which changed slightly,
I presume to resemble what he thought his father looked like.

  I tried to ask Furious Tide of Light.

  She made a whimpering noise. A couple of ghosts were snuggling her up again.

  Shadowslinger suddenly cackled like she was auditioning for wicked witch.

  Furious Tide of Light reclaimed her self-control. She shoved one of her ectoplasmic suitors away. She had that spook so blue-balled it didn’t care who it mated. It clamped on to Shadowslinger, too. The witch loosed a startled, long groan filled with undertones of abiding amazement.

  Schnook Avery, beset by ghosts of his own and definitely not in an erotic zone, began to ooze around Shadowslinger’s left flank. I don’t know what he thought he saw but he had blood in his eye. He didn’t have family matters on his mind. He looked like he expected to have a whole lot of fun playing games in which the Windwalker or I would do a lot of screaming.

  “Not good. The monster has taken over.” Furious Tide of Light startled me by wrapping her right arm firmly around my waist. Then she skewered her remaining randy specter with Heather Soames’s silver hat pin.

  That got results. Loud results. The rattle and volume were overwhelming. The ghosts on Shadowslinger didn’t fade, though. They didn’t stop. They didn’t give up. And they didn’t run away.

  Distracted by that horror show, I didn’t notice that I was dancing on air until I realized that I was looking down at a troop of panicking sorcerers.

  “Stop wiggling,” the Windwalker told me. “You don’t want to fall.”

  No. I for sure didn’t want to do that.

  “Don’t tense up, either. Just relax.”

  Easy for her to say. This was what she did.

  “If you don’t relax it’s harder for me to lift you.”

  We reached the high balcony used for managing the upper vents. The Windwalker released a long sigh. “That was hard work. You’re big.”

  She didn’t turn loose right away.

  Me being me, I didn’t get it till after the fact. Till after we’d both had a good look at what was happening forty-some feet below, where everybody but us was getting a great big “Love you long time.” To thunderous, chaotic metal music.

  The show changed. It became the horror fest I would expect to see with people like those down there. With Furious Tide of Light off the floor the ghosts lost interest in love play. Shadowslinger howled in the clutches of things that filled her with terror. Blood and gobbets of flesh flew but didn’t discolor the floor or pile up the way Rocky’s bug scraps had. Nor did any real damage accrue to the ugly people inside the scarlet whirlwind.