Angel Town (9 page)

I
stamped down the stairs and found everyone in the kitchen. Everyone, that is, meaning a crowd starting with an unhappy-looking pair of lionesses, Theron nursing a beer, Anya Devi chowing down at a table littered with plates, and Saul right next to her, doing his level best to destroy a mountain of beans and rice. A huge pan of what looked like beef enchiladas verdes heaped with cheese sat to one side, and between pulls off a Corona bottle he was doing very well at taking the whole load of food down without chewing much.

The house muttered and sighed, because there were other Weres now too. A bird Were bent over the stove, something sizzling, as another lean tawny cat Were—
Ruby
; I found her name with a lurching mental effort—set down a pair of grocery bags and stared openly at me. Several other cat Weres were crammed in the living room, and the only reason why more weren’t in the kitchen/dining room was because it literally wouldn’t hold any more. The first story was full to bursting, and I was lucky to be able to squeeze through the hall downstairs.

As it was, I stepped into the kitchen and let out a long breath. I had enough eyeliner smeared on to make me feel like a raccoon, and the long leather trench whispered reassuringly as I came to a halt, boots placed precisely and the three charms knotted into my hair with dental floss I’d found in the bathroom cabinet.

Hey, whatever works.

Everyone except the bird Were, feathers fluttering in the updraft in his dark shoulder-length hair, looked at me. I squared my shoulders and tried not to feel like a carnival sideshow.

Except it was too late for that. I was armed and dangerous now, and for the first time since I scrabbled up out of the sand with filth covering me I felt…

…human. Or, like I knew who I was. Or like I belonged in my skin. Even if the thought of a carnival sent another rippling shudder through me, ruthlessly quelled. I remembered
that
case, thank you very much.

Devi swallowed a forkful of paella and blinked at me. “Nice to see you up and around. Get some food, we’ve got to get out of here.”

I shrugged, rolling my shoulders under the heavy leather. The T-shirt was vintage, and the lettering on it was going to give someone a perfect target to aim at, but I couldn’t cavil. It would probably get shot off me or blood-drenched in no time at all. “I’m good. We’re headed to Galina’s?”

Saul stopped shoveling long enough to glare at me. “Jill.” A rumble filled his thin, wasted chest. “Sit. Eat.”

I dropped down into the only free chair at the table, and the bird Were was suddenly there, banging down a huge plate of steak, eggs, and crispy hash browns. Fragrant steam wafted up, and there was a fork buried in the potatoes. He took a load of dishes away, table space magically appearing. His long nose twitched once, the feathers in his hair fluttered, and he hurried back into the kitchen, dismissing my faint thank-you with a nod.

Anya grinned, the corners of her eyes crinkling. The beads in her hair chimed sweetly. “Now I
have
seen everything.” She took another huge forkful of paella and washed it down with a gulp of absinthe.

I shuddered at the thought, and stared at the plate.

Perry was trying to feed me, too.
Everyone trying to shove something down my gullet.

Which brought me back to my blue-eyed mute and the diner. I still wasn’t sure if that was a hallucination. But he and Martin Pores had been the first to feed me.

It probably meant something, but what? No clue. I’d wait until we got to Galina’s and sort everything out. Sounded like a reasonable plan, right?

Steam rose from the browned potatoes, the fluffy eggs, the strips of medium-rare steak. Anya shoved a glass bottle of ketchup over with one hand, then grabbed her absinthe and took another long healthy drag.

The sorcery will burn it out of her. Not like Leon and his constant beer-swilling, to dull the something-extra he came back from Hell with—

My head snapped aside as if I’d been slapped. The heavy butcher-block table rattled, my fingers curling around its edge and sinking in, the gem giving a subsonic thrill all through me. Plates and cups waltzed, chattering together, and Anya was on her feet, the chair shoved back with a squeaking groan that might have been funny if she hadn’t had both hands on her guns.

“Easy there.” Saul barely looked up from his methodical shoveling-in. “Both of you settle
down
. Trying to
eat
here.”

Ruby, in the kitchen, peered out with wide dark eyes. She’d gone down into a half crouch, but the bird Were simply racked dishes in the open dishwasher, hooked it shut with a foot, and twisted it on. “Pizza next!” he sang out in a light tenor. “Extra cheese. Rube, unpack those for me, will you? Then you’re on drying duty.”

I picked up the fork, awkwardly. A thin lattice of golden-fried potato hung from it, still steaming. My other hand still clutched the table. “I, ah.” My throat was full of sand. “Just thought of something. That’s all.”

A long silence, broken only by the methodical chink of Saul’s spoon against his bowl. The rice and beans were vanishing at an amazing rate, and the enchiladas were going down just as smoothly. You could almost
see
the food being converted into muscle, filling him back out again. His shoulders weren’t hunched, but I thought of the way kids eat in juvie—protecting the plate, arm curled around it, and the blank look as they took it down as quickly as possible.

They eat that way in prison, too.
You
ate that way, before and after Mikhail found you in that snowbank. You only stopped when Saul started coaxing you to use some manners.

Another soundless explosion touched off inside my skull. “Mikhail. Something about him. And Belisa, that Sorrows bitch.” I searched Devi’s face. “And…Perry.”

Her
bindi
flashed, a dart of bloody light. She lowered herself down gingerly. “Yeah.” Just the single word, no more. And she, I noticed, almost hunched over her plate as well, before straightening a little self-consciously, taking another hit of absinthe, and going back to making the food disappear.

I took a bite. The hash browns crunched, salted and heavenly. I swallowed carefully. It scorched on the way down, and the bird Were came back out with another bottle of beer, so cold it smoked with vapor, and a king-sized mug of what proved to be thick black coffee.

From there it was easy. But I kept thinking of diner food, possible hallucinations, ol’ Blue Eyes, the Sorrow who killed my teacher, the gaps in my memory…

…and Perry’s snow-white table with its blood-clot rose in the crystal vase.

The burst of frantic loathing that went through me turned the food to ashes, but I kept chewing and swallowing. I needed the fuel.

The city drowned under sharp honey sunlight, dust rising on an oven-hot, unsteady breeze. A rattling, mottled-green Chevy pickup was our only transportation, Theron and Saul both hopping lithely into the bed and Anya twisting the key with a little more force than absolutely necessary. The engine roused, protesting, and I caught a shadow of movement from inside the house. Weres, peering out through the windows like frightened children.

War against Weres. I should ask about that.

Anya pumped the gas pedal, and the engine caught. “Only wheels we’ve got right now. Mine got torched, yours wouldn’t run—”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, staring out the window. Even with the leather and the pounds of weaponry I wasn’t hot, my temperature regulating itself with only a faint passing ghost of sweat touching my skin before I remembered I didn’t have to. The deep rumble of the engine was soothing, and I caught myself thinking I could probably tune this beast up. Wouldn’t take more than a couple afternoons, you can get Chevy parts easy enough. And they respond well to both threats and blandishments.

Not like that Pontiac. She was a lady, but damn she was hard to please.
Something had happened to her engine, though. It was in the middle of that blank spot in my head. I’d been working that case pretty hard, and half mad with agony over Saul…

“No worries. Jesus.” She dropped it into gear, and for a moment I considered grabbing for the dash. It wasn’t a completely unwarranted thought, because she floored it, and we jounced down the street in a rumbling roar. I thought of glancing back to check the Weres, too, but they could probably hold on. Even if Devi did wrench the wheel and send us careening down an indifferently paved cross street.

This was familiar, too, only I was used to being behind the wheel as we bounced through negligible traffic. We certainly didn’t stand out in this rig.

Not in the barrio.

Anya reached for the radio knob, drew her hand back. “So,” she called over the wind rushing in through the windows, “we’re pretty safe as long as we’re in the barrio. Outside, though…”

I actually twitched with surprise. How could we not be safe? “It’s daylight!” I yelled back.

“Of course it is.” She fished a pair of Jackie O sunglasses out of her coat, slid them on, twisted the wheel, and we slewed and bumped up onto slightly better pavement. “But that isn’t stopping
them
, Jill. Just relax. Coming back from the dead was the trick of the week, but I’ve got one better.”

“Nice to know you have a plan.” I grabbed at the door as she swerved wildly around another turn.

She must not have heard me right. “We’re heading for Sanctuary,” she called over the windroar, and reached for the radio. Snapped the knob all the way over, and the wail of a country song filled the cab.

Great.

T
he bells over the door jingled, and we piled in through a sheet of cascading redgold, energy flushing deep purple as it sealed us inside. With the Weres crowding behind we couldn’t slow down, and I was halfway across the small occult shop before skidding to a stop, guns flicking out.

The ride here had been spine-tingling but uneventful—if by
uneventful
you mean “almost got into six different traffic accidents, lost a cop in the industrial district, and bailed out of the truck with the tires still smoking.” Now I knew how other people felt when
I
drove.

It occurred to me to ask why the cops didn’t recognize her ride, but with the radio going supersonic and her lips moving as she cursed steadily, it didn’t seem like a good time.

Shelves of books and candles stood against the walls like good little soldiers, and there was a large rack holding crystals and stones in small bins. Another wooden rack held amulet-making materials—leather, bits of bone, beads, feathers, and less-nice things. Glass cases slumbered under falls of dusty golden sunlight, and the air quivered a little as the walls ran with purple light. My smart eye watered, trying to pierce the curtains of etheric force.

But that wasn’t what was bothering me right now. Anya let out a short sharp yell, and the Weres behind me suddenly let loose with twin growls, shelves of books and candles and other assorted trivia—including the glass cases and the racks—vibrating as the Sanctuary’s walls resounded like the curves of a gigantic bell.

Galina spread her arms, green eyes alight and her dark marcel waves slightly disarranged. She was in full robes, smoky gray silk glowing with pigeonthroat sheen, the medallion of the Order—a quartered circle inside a snake’s supple curve, cast in some light silvery metal—running with white radiance against her chest.

But that wasn’t why I had my guns out. You’d have to be crazy to draw on a Sanc inside her own walls. They settle, drive in their roots deep, and are near godlike inside their hallowed homes. Outside, they’re a tasty, almost-defenseless snack. But hunters, Weres, and even most ’breed or Traders will smack you down
hard
if you attack your local Sanc. Neutral supply of necessities is the least they provide.

No, I had both guns out and braced because of the hellbreed near the sleek black cash register, his eyes glowing sterile blue and his pale hair ruffling as he saw me—and grinned.

“
Jill!
” Galina yelled, and the walls tolled their deep bell note of restrained power again. Each hair on my body stood straight up, my skin shrinking with reaction, and I found myself suddenly hoping she wasn’t going to lose her temper.

It can get awful uncomfortable inside when a Sanc loses their temper.

“Darling.” Perry’s lip lifted, his pearly teeth bluntly human but too, too white. The silent snarl turned into a bright, bland, sunny smile, the kind a real-estate broker will use right before moving in for the kill. “
So
good of you to come.”

Galina’s open palm, flung out toward him, twitched. “Don’t make me, Perry.” Flat and loaded with terrible power, the single sentence turned the air inside the shop to frost. “Jill. Jesus Christ.
Pax
, hunter. Put the guns down.”

My breath turned to a white cloud. Every muscle in my body protested. Anya Devi drifted away to the right, and I was suddenly certain she was getting a better angle on Perry. An angle that would leave Galina out of the line of fire.

My stomach cramped, my arms aching and tingling. If I needed to know how Anya felt about me, it was all in that subtle movement. We were hunters. If I was going to throw down, even inside a Sanc’s hallowed walls, she was ready to back me.

“Stay where you are, Anya.” Galina was having none of this. “Jill, put your guns
down
.”

Perry took a single step forward. Galina’s hand twitched and he halted, a ripple running under his pale skin. Like tiny mice, begging to escape. The pale linen of his suit was dotted with black ichor, hems and cuffs sending up little threads of steam, but he looked pristine under it.

Like he could just step out from under the spatter stains and they would fall to the ground with tiny little
plash
ing sounds.

Splashback. He’s been killing other hellbreed. Because we got away? Maybe.
I took in the spatter patterns as I lowered the guns, slowly. So slowly, my arms straining, every muscle locking and fighting me.

I walked right into the Monde with nothing but plain lead in my gun. Jesus.
My skin chilled again reflexively, and I tasted copper.
What would have happened if I’d eaten something there?

There was no deciding which was worse: being helpless and mostly unconscious of the danger, or looking back and seeing how badly things
could
have gone.

Perry’s grin widened, the further down the barrels went. He shook his head slightly, white-blond hair sliding back from his face like raw silk. He changed hairstyles like some women change shoes, but very subtly. You had to look to see what he’d done each time.

And I did not like that I knew that, or how closely it meant I watched him.

“You left too soon, Kiss.” The sheer good humor, as if we were at a party and he was dropping banal gossip. A hot draft of desert wind, laden with the scent of spoiled honey, brushed every surface. “Always in such a hurry.”

Buzzing pressed itself inside my skull, tiny insect feet prickling over my hands and face. I even felt them
inside
, chitinous bodies and dragging stingers pressing behind my cheekbones, running lightly over the surface of my brain as the buzz became a roar. They were crawling and eating, and my fingers almost shook with the urge to rip at the skin of my face and peel them off—

“Back
off
, Perry!” Galina’s walls shivered again, the bell-gong sound rattling through my bones. “If I toss you out, you’re never coming back in. Settle
down
.”

“I just want to talk to her.” He sounded so
reasonable
. I blinked furiously, my left cheek twitching as if a seamstress had her needle in and was plucking at the flesh. “Just a little tête-à-tête with my darling one, surely it can do no harm?”

“Galina.” Devi, her tone slicing through his. “Get him the fuck out of here, or I won’t be responsible for what happens.”

All those threats. Blandishments. Pulling on me like dogs with a bone, except I was armed and ready the way a bone never is. The machine inside my head started calculating whether or not I could aim and squeeze both triggers before Galina twitched and made all of us mighty uncomfortable.

The machine returned a number I didn’t like, no matter how many times I ran it.

“Everyone just simmer down.” The air hardened, pressing against all of us, Galina’s temper fraying. “I can separate you all like toddlers at the lunch table if I have to. Perry, you’re done here. Leave.”

“I don’t have what I came for.” Soft, deadly, the sliding sound of another step. “Kiss. My dearest. I have all the answers you could ever want, and I
ache
to give them to you. All you have to do—”

I fought to keep the guns down. Because sooner or later I was going to chance it, no matter what the numbers in my head said.

It wasn’t surprising someone interrupted him. What was surprising was that it was Saul.

Weres don’t take on ’breed. Traders, yes, because Traders are still at bottom human. But there’s no corruption in Weres that can track and anticipate a ’breed.

The thrumming growl under his words said very clearly that Saul didn’t care. “Step any closer, hellspawn, and
I will kill you.”

The world narrowed to a pinhole of light, darkness crawling around the edges. Galina’s shop trembled like oil on disturbed water, afternoon sunlight suddenly brittle and chill through the windows. Air-conditioning soughed, the humming in the walls oddly distorted, shimmers of energy cycling up. Galina’s arms tensed, and her green eyes flamed. Red-gold Sanctuary sorcery smoked in the walls.

“Little puss.” Amused, disdainful, Perry’s chin lifted. His face had changed, cheekbones turning to blades and severe handsomeness rising from under the blandness. Helletöng grumbled, its flabby fingers picking at the strings under the surface of the visible. “I will deal with you in my own time. Go back to lapping milk and clawing at walls. Kiss…” The sibilant turned into a hiss. “When you’re ready,
come and find me
.”

When you’re ready.
Silver spat and crackled with blue sparks, bleeding free of the metal. My aura rippled, the gem vibrating against my wrist. The rattling hum rippled and crawled over my shoulders, sliding under my clothes. Leather rustled, my hair ruffling on a breeze that came from nowhere, Galina’s shop trembling around us both. The wooden floor groaned sharply, once.

Perry
winked out
. A
pop
of collapsing air, a draft of rotting, spoiled honey, an obscenely warm breeze caressing my face. My guns jerked up, but there was nothing for them to track, and the Sanctuary shielding made a low overstressed noise, rocks shredding under contradictory gravitational pulls. Galina chanted something, low and furious, and my fingers cramped.

I was sweating, great clear drops of water standing out on my skin. And shaking too, like a horse run too hard.

“What. The fuck.” Anya sounded puzzled. “Lina?”

The world righted itself. “Well, that was unexpected.” The Sanctuary blew out a frustrated sigh. “Jill?”

I thudded back into myself. My arms were straight, and even though I shook, the guns were absolutely steady. They were up.

Maybe I would have been fast enough, after all.

Training. Goes bone deep.
“Jesus,” I whispered.

Galina skidded to a stop right next to me. I almost twitched. Hunters don’t like it when someone gets too close. But I lowered the guns, and my fingers eased off the triggers.

And Galina, wonder of wonders, threw her arms around me. She hugged me, her walls suddenly tolling a greeting instead of a threat. She was rounded at hip and breast the way I was not, and her hair smelled of incense and green growing things. The murder under my skin retreated from that softness.