Donny's Inferno (9 page)

CHAPTER 18

A
ngela took a lot of strides in a hurry, and Donny had to speed-walk to keep up. He couldn't go faster without breaking into a jog.

She stopped abruptly and stared ahead with her mouth agape in a delighted smile. “Doggies!” she said. An elderly man came toward them down the sidewalk with a pair of bristly white terriers on leashes. She put a hand on ­Donny's chest and pushed him against the wall, then joined him there. “Act normal,” she said.

“You're telling
me
to act normal?” Donny said. He rubbed the back of his head where it had struck the brick.

“Shush now.” Angela peered sideways at the dogs and put on an unconvincing display of casual behavior. She even puckered her lips to whistle.

“What's the big deal?” Donny asked.

She whispered from the corner of her mouth. “I want to see how close they'll get. They're so
cute
!”

The dogs approached, tails wagging furiously. Their mouths were open in canine grins, tongues lolling. Donny wondered why getting close would be a problem. The sidewalk wasn't wide, and the man was about to walk right past them.

When they were still twenty paces away, the tails fell still, and the ears that had pointed high flattened against their heads. The dogs slunk low and finally spun and turned the other way. Their leashes tangled around the man's legs. The man laughed. “What's the matter with you guys?” He stared up the sidewalk, probably looking for another dog, but only saw Donny and Angela. “Something spooked my babies!” he said.

Angela scowled and grumbled. “Mmm-hmm.”

“That's because of you?” Donny asked quietly. “No way.”

“They
hate
me,” she pouted back. “Watch.” She grabbed Donny by the wrist and hauled him down the sidewalk toward the dog walker. As they passed, the dogs backed away, over the curb and into the gutter. One snarled at Angela and the other whined.

“Jeez,” the man said. “They never do this.”

“Maybe they have rabies,” Angela shot back over her shoulder. She dropped Donny's wrist. As she stalked away, Donny trailing, she stuck her lower lip out. “All I want to do is pet a stupid dog. Just once.”

Danny trotted up beside her. “Dogs don't like you? Like, all dogs?”

“Not just dogs. Animals. All of them.”

“I can't believe it. Have you tried cats?”

She glared at him. “Of
course
I've tried cats. They absolutely
freak
when I try to touch them. Once, I cornered one and grabbed it. It tried to scratch my face off.” She closed her eyes and stroked the air. “But it was so soft. One cuddle, I'd be happy. One stupid cuddle.”

“Grown-up cat or a kitten?”

“Doesn't matter.”

“How about a guinea pig?”

“They squeal bloody murder in the cage. Or they have a heart attack and go belly up.”

Donny stared. “Rabbits?”

“Likewise.”

“Birds?”

“Tell me if you ever see a bird anywhere near us, ever. Pigeons fly away, and they're
disgusting
. Even turkeys run away, and nothing's dumber than a turkey. Forget it, okay?”

“Did you ever go to a zoo?”

“Worst day of my life. It caused a riot. Every last animal went berserk. Monkeys, elephants, camels, zebras, all of them. The tigers tried to jump the fences. The pandas fainted.”

Donny thought for a while. “How about spiders?”

Her nose wrinkled. “Who wants to pet a spider? I
want to touch a sweet, fluffy thing, all right? Spiders! Cripes. For the record, bugs get out of my way too. Like I'm made of citronella. Stay near me and you'll never get a mosquito bite.”

There was an intersection ahead, where birds sat on wires that held up the traffic lights. Sure enough, as Donny and Angela reached the corner, the birds took flight in the opposite direction.

“But . . . why?” Donny asked. “What makes the animals afraid?”

“They know what I am,” Angela said quietly. She stared at the sidewalk. “And you know what else? There are some people who sense it too. And a few people, one in a thousand maybe, they get seriously unnerved. I call them canaries. I have to avoid those.” Donny looked at the crosswalk sign, waiting for it to tell them to walk, but out of the corner of his eye he sensed Angela looking at him.

“What about you, Cricket?”

“What?”

“You sense anything when I'm around?”

“Uh.” Donny thought about how to answer this one. It wasn't fear he felt, that was for sure. “No. Nothing like that. I'm fine when you're around. I feel good.” He felt a twitch in his gut. Was that the unnerved sensation she'd talked about? He didn't think so.

She narrowed her eyes and smiled a little. “Right back at you, Cricket. You know what I like about you?”

He shook his head. His legs felt a little shaky.

“Hanging with you, I feel like a kid.” She hopscotched for a couple of steps, then stomped the pavement with two feet at the end. “Now I think we need to do some shopping.”

CHAPTER 19

A
ngela dragged Donny into three separate stores. She picked out clothes for both of them then thrust piles of bills at the bemused cashiers. In a grocery store, they cleared out the entire stock of vanilla extract. Then they walked to Madison Square Park, bought cheeseburgers and shakes for lunch, and found a bench.

Donny looked over his shoulder now and then, still nervous he might see someone he knew. But he reminded himself what a huge, crowded city this was, and how few of his friends tended to venture into Midtown from Brooklyn.

Angela finished her burger and leaned back on the bench with arms spread wide. “So, Cricket. What about your parents?”

Donny dropped his gaze. “What do you mean?”

“You haven't said a word about your mother or father
since we met. As in, ‘I want my mommy' or ‘I want my daddy.' Shouldn't a kid your age be freaking out, torn away from the parental bosom? Any particular reason you're not talking about them?”

Donny dropped his gaze. “No reason.”

“Maybe it has something to do with you hiding in a filthy brick heap in the middle of the night?”

Donny sagged in his seat. The cheeseburger was delicious, but suddenly he didn't want the last few bites. He rolled it up in the wrapper and dropped it into the empty paper bag. “No. I mean, yeah. Sure. Of course it does.”

“You wanna tell me about that?”

“Do I have to?”

“Not at all.” She leaned toward him with glittering eyes and a tiny smile. “I'm just so darned curious.”

Donny rocked his head back and let out a deep breath, straight up. It occurred to him that it might be a relief to talk about it. “It was just me and my father.”

“No mother?”

“Well, there was. My dad said she just left one day. Without saying anything. She just . . .” The words trailed off as dark thoughts clouded his mind. He was young when his mother left, so young that he only had the dimmest memories of what she looked like. He and his father had talked about her over the years. His father always said she hadn't been happy being a wife or a mother, and that was why she'd left. But now, after what Donny had learned
about his father, he wondered if that was the real story. What if she'd made the same discovery he had?

“Something on your mind?” Angela said.

He lifted his head and shook it as if coming out of a dream. “No.”

“So your dad raised you by himself?”

“Yeah.”

“How nice of him.”

“Wait until you hear the rest before you decide how nice he is,” Donny said. He stared at nothing for a while, and then went on. “When I was growing up, though, I never really missed having a mom. I had the coolest dad in the world. All my friends were jealous.”

“Really. What was so cool about him?”

“He looked like an action movie star. Dressed like one too. He had a mysterious job that he said he couldn't talk about much. The most he ever said about it was ‘security consultant.' My friends used to joke he was a spy or something. It paid really well, because he had a lot of money, and we lived in a great place in Brooklyn. It wasn't far from where you found me, in one of those brownstones with the big flight of steps in front.”

“Love those,” Angela said.

“Uh-huh. So he had to travel for his job a few times a year, and he was gone for weeks. He hired a nanny to watch me while he was gone. We changed nannies a lot—he said he didn't want me to love any nanny more than
him, but now I think he just didn't want any nanny getting to know
him
too well.”

Angela arched an eyebrow. “Good story. I'm hooked.”

“When he was back, all he wanted to do was have fun. We played cards, we went to the movies, we went to ­basketball and football and baseball games, and we always had amazing seats. But it wasn't just fun stuff. He always told me, he wanted me to be smart.”

“You
are
smart,” Angela said. “I can tell by the way you talk. And you're confident, too. A lot of kids your age are insecure dopes.”

Donny smirked. It made him glow a little inside, to get a compliment from her. He could thank his father for those qualities at least. He made a mental note to use big words in conversation. “Yeah, my dad said I should speak up for myself but not be obnoxious about it. But mostly he wanted me to know stuff. He made sure I did my homework and got me tutors if I ever needed them. And we went to all kinds of museums. We traveled a lot too. He wanted me to see the world.”

“Really. Have you ever been to Europe?”

“Oh yeah. My dad took me one summer. The whole summer. He said he had the kind of job where he could take as much time off as he needed. Now I think he had to get out of the country for a while. But it was great. We went everywhere. Edinburgh, London, Paris, Vienna, Prague, Rome . . . I'm forgetting some.”

“All that travel? But you're so young. You're like a fetus.”

“It was cool. And my dad was with me the whole time.”

“Well,” Angela said. “That does sound delightful. Your friends were right about your father. Even I'm a little jealous. So how do you go from that to the top of a burning building?”

Donny cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “I found out what my dad's real job is.”

Angela leaned in, staring avidly. “Hmmmm?”

“He kills people for money.”

She pushed his shoulder and nearly toppled him off the bench. “Shut up!”

“It's true.”

She shook her head with a little smile. “A
hit man
? This is just like the movies! How'd you find out?”

“I was supposed to sleep over at my friend Kevin's house, but he got sick and started throwing up, so Kevin's mom drove me home. My dad didn't hear me come in—I actually snuck in because I thought it would be funny to surprise him. He was talking to some guy. . . . First I thought it was a joke. But it wasn't. They were talking about somebody my dad was supposed to kill, and my dad was arguing about the price and talking about all the other people he'd killed, and that this one would be hard and it would cost more.”

“Golly.”

“Yeah,'” Donny said. “I just stood there and listened. And then I tried to leave, and my father must have heard me, because he came running with a gun in his hand.”

Angela listened with her mouth open.

Donny closed his eyes and rubbed them with his fingers. “He looked so mad until he saw it was me. I never saw him look like that before. I just ran, with him after me, telling me to stop. I didn't know what he would do. I don't think he'd ever hurt me. But what about that other guy? Maybe he'd do something, even if my father didn't.”

He felt Angela's hand on his arm. She pulled Donny's hand away from his face and clasped it in hers.

“I didn't know where else to go. If I went to a friend's house, I might've put him and his family in danger. I thought about going to the police, but I wanted to think first. So I ran to that brewery. I knew where it was because Kevin and I had been there before, just exploring. And that's how you found me.”

“Aw, Cricket. That's terrible. No wonder you haven't talked about it.” Angela squeezed his hand. “But look at the bright side.”

“What bright side?”

She grinned and leaned in. “Stick around Sulfur long enough, and you'll probably see your daddy again.”

CHAPTER 20

A
ngela led Donny to a handsome old building a few blocks away on Fifth Avenue. She used a key to get into a lobby, and used the key again once she'd summoned the elevator to unlock the button to the highest floor.

“This is your place?” Donny asked as the elevator hummed ten stories upward.

“Mine to use,” she said. “I don't technically own it. We have to hide our tracks pretty well with fake companies and aliases.”

“You can do that?”

“We have clever people like my friend Howard to do it for us. If you have enough money, they can do anything.” The elevator chimed and opened into a foyer with a ­single door. Angela unlocked it, and Donny stepped inside a jaw-­dropping apartment. It looked like it belonged in an
architectural magazine. The ceiling was absurdly high. The kitchen was vast and gleamed with polished wood and stainless steel. Against one wall was the biggest television Donny had ever seen.

“Drop the bags anywhere,” she said. “And make yourself at home. I have some errands to take care of, but I'll see you in a bit.”

“Errands?” Donny tried but failed to keep the sound of disappointment out of his voice.

“Check the place out! The guest room—the one with the blue walls—is over there. And don't miss the round room, up those stairs and through the door. Watch TV, play some music, pig out, whatever you want. I'll be back by dark.”

“By dark?” That was hours away.

“Have you gotten hard of hearing? Yes, by dark. You might want to get a nap in. We'll be out late tonight, and you'll need your energy.”

She was gone a moment later, shutting the door behind her. Donny stared at the door for a while. He heard the ding of the elevator and the subtle hum of its machinery as it took Angela down.

There was a terrace outside the main room. He went onto it, leaned over the railing, and tried to spot Angela on the street. If she was there, she was lost in the crowd.

He killed the afternoon wandering around the place. The apartment was beautiful but hardly lived-in. He
opened cabinet doors and bureau drawers, but almost all of them were empty. The kitchen at least was well stocked, but only with items that wouldn't go bad. He found a bag of Oreos, checked the expiration date—still good for a few months—and opened it up. As he munched on the cookies, trying not to spill black crumbs everywhere, he looked at the views from the terrace and every window, and appreciated the familiar skyline. The dazzling ­Chrysler Building was visible to the north, the soaring new Freedom Tower to the south.

He wandered up the stairs, went through a door, and found himself in a remarkable room—round, with tall windows around its perimeter. A little gas fireplace was in one wall, unlit. The ceiling overhead was domed, and painted white and gold. He whistled to himself. He didn't know much about New York real estate, but a place like this on Fifth Avenue had to be worth millions.

There were weird, modern pieces of furniture all around. One sofa looked odd, with its wavy contours, but when he lay down, it was surprisingly comfortable. The sun fell across that spot, but despite the warmth, a chill swept over him. He thought about the city outside and his house not far away, just over the bridge to the south. Was it really possible that Brooklyn wasn't his home anymore? That he didn't belong to this world at all, but to Sulfur instead?

He always had a general idea of how his life was
supposed to go. Middle school, high school, college. Get a job. Start a family. Something like that, anyway. But suddenly he could not imagine what the next day would bring, never mind the next year.

As he worried about what he'd gotten himself into, he felt his pulse quicken. His thoughts swirled like a tornado. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself with Doc's breathing trick. In the nose, slowly. Pause. Out the mouth, even slower. He did it over and over until the sun warmed him again, and he finally fell asleep.

•  •  •

Even after a long nap, he had time to watch a few movies before Angela returned. It was after dark, as she'd predicted. She came in holding a big brown paper bag. “You like Thai food?”

Donny nodded. “Definitely.”

“Great.” She unpacked an absurd number of white boxes and sauces. “Let's eat—and then it's game time!”

When they were done, she told Donny to change into the black jeans and black hooded sweatshirt she'd bought for him. When he came back, she was at the kitchen counter, holding a tiny glass jar with an eyedropper for a lid. The stuff inside swirled and glowed like a miniature lava lamp. “You need some demon drops for tonight,” she said.

Donny shook his head. “I'm not swallowing that.”

“Of course not. It goes in your eyes.”

He took a step back. “Nuh-uh. You're not putting something called ‘demon drops' in my eyes.”

“Oh, did I say demon drops? I meant fuzzy bunny juice.”

“No way.”

Angela puckered her mouth to one side. “For crying out loud. It won't do any permanent damage.”

“Oh, just temporary damage?”

“No damage at all. In most cases.”

“Most cases!”

“I'm
kidding
. It's harmless. And it's the only way for you to see.”

“I have twenty-twenty vision.”

She scrunched her face. “I have no idea what that means. But
this
is the only way for you to see the creature we've come to catch. Your mortal eyesight isn't enough. You need a little help.” She waggled the tiny bottle.

Donny eyed it doubtfully. “You're sure it's safe.”

“Absolutely,” she replied, wearing one of her wicked grins. She unscrewed the top, squeezed the bulb on the dropper, and lifted it. The thin glass tube glowed with the liquid inside. “Now tilt your head back and don't blink.”

Donny took a deep breath and did as she'd asked. Her hand came into view, and the shining eyedropper was poised above his eyeball. “Wait,” he said as second thoughts occurred, followed by third, fourth, and fifth thoughts. He closed his eyes. “What's that stuff really made of?”

“Oh, this and that,” she said. “Come on, open up and hold still.”

As soon as he did, a glowing drop hit his left eye. Then another hit his right. His eyes grew warm, almost until it was uncomfortable, but the heat soon faded. He blinked, and looked at Angela and the room around him. Everything had taken on an amber hue.

“Thank goodness,” Angela said. “You're still alive.”

Donny's mouth fell open. “What!”

She laughed. “Just joshin'. I told you, it's perfectly safe. How does everything look?”

“A little not right.”

“Perfect. Wait till we get outside.”

•  •  •

“The drops will wear off by dawn,” Angela told him as they stepped onto Fifth Avenue. It might have been after midnight, but this was New York, and the streets were still lively. Cabs sped past, a distant siren wailed, and a light crowd roamed the sidewalks. “Look at the people,” she said.

Donny watched a group go by, young men and women dressed mostly in black and gray, talking about music. Each was surrounded by a glow, mostly orange, that pulsed like a heartbeat. One of the women smiled warmly at Donny as they went by—her glow was the brightest and most orange of all. The last of the group was a man who peered at them sideways as he passed. His glow was different: a dim, grayish purple, like a bruise.

“What'd you see?” Angela asked once they'd passed.

“There's light coming out of them,” Donny said.

“Auras,” Angela said. “That was a pretty decent bunch, if you ask me, judging by their light.”

“But one of them—”

“Yes. That last fellow better watch himself. He's either done some things he shouldn't have, or he's thinking about it. With an aura as ugly and purple as that, he may end up on a slow boat to Sulfur.”

Donny watched the group move down the street. They stopped to wait for a crossing signal. “Why don't we tell him?”

Angela sniffed and shook her head. “We're not here to fix people.”

The pedestrian sign glowed white, and the group crossed the street. “But what if he does something bad? Maybe those people are in danger.”

“Donny, I'm not running around fighting evil like some comic book character. We don't intervene. We let life happen then check the scorecard after the buckets are kicked.”

“But—”

“But nothing. Butt out. Right now you and I are here to collect a troublemaker from downstairs who's gotten loose in the mortal realm. When
that
happens, I step in. You people get into enough mischief on your own. You don't need a nasty little demon stirring things up. Let's go.” She strode off quickly, as usual.

Donny took one more look at the group, almost out of sight now, and then ran to catch up to Angela. “Did you say nasty little demon?”

“Yes. A specific kind of demon,” she answered. “A murmuros, we call it. It's a weak, pathetic creature. It chooses a human victim and pours poisonous thoughts into his or her ear. The person doesn't even know it's there. You'll see.” She turned into a subway entrance and hurried down the steps. “You ever ride the subway?”

“I grew up around here—of course I rode the subway. But usually not this late.”

“Why not?”

“It just . . . It feels kind of dangerous.”

“Kiddo, you're singing my tune!”

Angela hummed and checked her phone as they waited on the platform. Headlights glared in the tunnel, and then the train roared into sight. It slowed with a whine and hiss of brakes as it neared the platform. They stepped through the doors and took a pair of seats. There were only three other people on the car with them—a trio of unkempt, unshaven men who stopped talking and stared at Angela as she took the opposite seat. Their auras were like that of the man in the group they'd just seen. They were an ugly, grayish sort of purple, but even darker. Donny sat beside Angela. He wished she'd moved to the other end of the car.

Angela hummed to herself and glanced at the trio. “I
wonder if I have enough cash on me,” she said, more to herself than to Donny, and louder than Donny would have liked. She reached into her bag and extracted one of the thick stacks of hundred-dollar bills held together with a blue rubber band. Donny's eyes widened. Angela thumbed through the bills and counted to herself. “Eight hundred, nine, a thousand, eleven hundred . . .”

The men stared at the cash. Donny lowered his eyes but knew they were watching. He saw the one on the right move his foot over and tap the boot of the man in the middle.

“Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen hundred . . .”

Donny felt sweat bloom on his forehead. He nudged Angela with his elbow and whispered out the corner of his mouth. “Put that away.”

Angela looked at Donny with her eyebrows raised. The postures of the men across the car shifted. One uncrossed his legs. Another put his hands on his knees and leaned subtly forward. The one on the left glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone else was in the car, and to the upper corners, maybe looking for security cameras. Donny sensed their hungry energy.

Angela smiled at the men. “What are you guys staring at? The money?” She riffled the stack of bills with one finger. “Sure is a lot of cash, isn't it?”

The man in the middle stood up. He seemed to be the leader. There was a faded tattoo on his neck. “Sure is.”

“You think
that's
valuable?” Angela asked. She dropped the money into her bag and lifted her gloved hand, exposing the thick golden band around her wrist. “Did you notice this bracelet, Mr. Neck Tattoo? Solid gold. Thousands of years old. It really ought to be in a museum. I can't imagine what it's worth.”

The other men stood up. The one on the right was alarmingly muscled. The man in the middle reached inside the front of his jacket to some inner pocket. The jacket bulged as his fist closed around something. “We're gonna have to take that,” Neck Tattoo said. The hand came out with a gun.

Donny groaned, and Angela laughed. “I don't think you really want this bracelet. Because I'd have to take it off, and you don't want that, I promise you.”

“Next stop's coming up. Let's do this,” the muscled man said to Neck Tattoo.

“Give it up,” Neck Tattoo said as he curled the fingers of his free hand.

Angela stood, radiant and excited, as if she'd been asked to dance. Donny started to stand too, but she pushed him down with two strong fingers and stepped in front of him. There was a strange sound in the air—a low tone almost beyond the range of human hearing. It was like distant thunder, or the crackle of power lines overhead. Donny felt a wave of gooseflesh sprout on his arms. He held his breath.

The men sensed it too. The hand that held the gun began to shake. The muscled man's face twitched madly. The third man uttered a strangled, high-pitched noise, the kind a puppy might make. He backed away from Angela and Donny, toward the door between the subway cars.

“Frankie, I don't like this,” the muscled man said to Neck Tattoo.

“Frankieee!”
Angela repeated, like it was the name of an old friend. “You pull that trigger, Frankie, and things will get a lot scarier in a hurry.”

Donny peered around Angela. She was projecting something at the men, a beam of pure terror. He sensed it emanating from her. It was focused on them, but it still leaked out in all directions, and brushed against him, too. It felt like spiders crawling up his spine.

Tears trickled from Frankie's eyes, but he gritted his teeth and tried to hold his ground. The muscled man stared with his eyes practically exploding from their sockets. The third guy pulled open the door between the cars and darted through, and the squeal and slam of the door finally broke the spell for the other two. They turned and bolted. Frankie looked over his shoulder with animal panic in his eyes, and the side of his head clipped the door as he ran through.