Love and Darkness (The Cause Book 2) (44 page)

So she thought about her husband, Van.  He appreciated her interest in their love life since she started doing the juice looping with Carol, but she couldn’t tell him what her fantasies were when they slept together.  Or how correct his fears were about Carol’s long-term effects on his wife’s personality.  Or how every time he followed her orders, did something nice or acted like the reasonable man she married, her instant reaction was
you loser
or
I win
.

She threw the diagram across the floor and swore.  This one supposedly moved juice to an Arm.  Wouldn’t you know, it was all quick notes.  Arm speed.  Difficult to play reliably.

The situation made her want to go out and
hit
someone.

Damn.  Perhaps she should go snuggle with Gilgamesh.  Those urges were just so damned distracting.  At least he was easier to work with now, since she decided to follow Lori’s advice about being calm, using a soft voice, and behaving in an easy, non-threatening manner.  The behavior didn’t come easily to her, but any progress seemed to help.  She hadn’t known she was upsetting him so badly with her own frustrations.

“Gail!” Van called, from the living room.  She jumped up and hurried over at his note of urgency.

“What is it?” she said, but stopped her usual ‘give me a recap’ demand when she heard the news coming from the television.

“—excess of twenty dead, including seven police officers.  Authorities are still retrieving the dead and withholding the names until the families can be contacted.  Let’s go to our reporter in San Francisco.  Terry?”

“Walter,” the reporter said, “we don’t have any information yet on what led to this massacre, but this is what we know now.  Two male Monsters and at least ten true Monsters attacked the Birds of a Feather art gallery at eight in the evening.  Witnesses reported a short and unbelievable fight that included bombs that didn’t harm anything when they exploded, snakes and sharks appearing in mid-air and vanishing, lion and tiger roars that either froze people in place or made them flee, and other magical parlor tricks common to the Major Transforms.  Unconfirmed sources report that one of the victims inside the gallery was one of the secretive male Major Transforms some term ‘Crows’.

“The situation inside the gallery remains unknown, but is rumored to be horrifying.  What the attackers did to the first police officers to arrive we know to be appalling from this reporter’s own eyewitness account, worse than anything this reporter ever saw in Vietnam.  Including cannibalism.  With me now is San Francisco Police Captain Bradley Froehlich. Captain Froehlich, what can you tell us about…”

“Shit,” Gail said, as they watched the story unfold.  “‘Birds of a Feather’ is Crow Guru Chevalier’s studio.  He’s supposed to be our enemy.  Did we do this?”  She wanted to throw up.

“Nuh uh,” Van said.  “Not if this report is at all correct.  The Nobles don’t do cannibalism, but the Hunters do.  If I had to guess, I’d guess that Guru Chevalier finally harassed the wrong Major Transform…and that the Hunters are far more dangerous than we’ve been led to believe.  If what the media is reporting is true, then a small
squad
of Hunters just attacked and killed the oldest Crow in the United States.”

Gail ran her fingers through her hair, pulling several hairs out of her braid in the process.  “All happening while the Arms and Focuses fiddle, backstabbing each other, and the Transform community burns.”

Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, and she shivered.  Chaos.  Anarchy.  The realization she didn’t know what would happen next.  Just
bad things
.

They watched the entire evening news looking for better information, but the media didn’t give any more details.  Just the dead and the speculation.  When the news ended, they changed the channel looking for more, but found none.  Finally, they gave up and turned it off.

Van sat on the couch with his arms crossed and glared at the dark television screen, his long legs extended out in front of him.

“What are you thinking?” Gail said.  Van was more emotionally distraught than she had sensed him since they got married, including the wedding reception fight.  She didn’t know what raced through his head.

“I’m thinking things are getting worse,” he said.  He either wanted to grab his handgun and riddle the opposite wall with bullets or cry like a baby.

“Worse how?”  Van just shook his head.  His words had left him.

Gail waited and let him collect his words.

“If you want to sleep with Gilgamesh, feel free,” Van said, after a long pause.

“What?”

“I said sleep with him.  Don’t expect me to like it, though.”

“What brought this on?”

He waved his arm at the television screen.  “The world’s going to hell.  You’re working on some big plan to save the day.  Fine.  If you need to sleep with Gilgamesh to save the world, I shouldn’t stand in your way.”

“Van, please, don’t be like this.”

“Be like what?  You’ve got a great cause, you do what’s necessary.  Even I can see that you and Gilgamesh are made for each other.  I even like him.”

“I love you,” Gail said.  She didn’t want to sleep with Gilgamesh, not if sleeping with Gilgamesh screwed up her marriage.

“Good.  See if you can remember that when you’re humping somebody else.”

“No.”  Gail shook her head.  “I’m married to you.  Gilgamesh can just find somebody else.  He seems to manage that just fine.”

“Bullshit.  You need to do this sacred Major Transform conjugation crap.  The household needs it.  Untold Transforms you’ll be adding to the household need it.  We both know this.  You need to get pregnant, too.”  He paused, and when he continued, his voice came out as a broken whisper.  “You do your fucking job and I’ll do mine.”

“Van…” Gail said.

“Just leave me alone, dammit!  I’m going to go play bridge with Kurt and Sylvie.”

He vanished before she could answer, and he left Gail with nothing but the slamming door and one thought echoing unbidden through her mind:
loser
.

Then the tears came.

Carol Hancock: December 4, 1972

I slit the throat of the last one and laid the body down on the floor.  Not the way I wanted to do the job, but I didn’t have time for anything more ornate.  I would restock tomorrow night.  Afterwards, I tried again and still couldn’t drop the Bass tag.

My basement was a cesspool, blood and gore and other repulsive substances all over everywhere.  My passions had overwhelmed my reason too many times in this place, spurred on by Bass’s tag.  Even now as I remembered my deeds here, I got aroused.  I went and picked up a stray eyeball in the northeast corner, shaking my head.  Outside of the moment, such things sickened even me.

Keaton and Bass were winning.  I loved this too much when I got
into the moment
.  Keaton had missed an opportunity; she should have delayed her other plans after Bass tagged me, and ordered me to do nothing but feed my beast.  Before too much longer, I would be willing and eager to dance with them in their anarchy dance and watch the world burn.  Without trying, I had already taken Lori with me down into the darkness.  Sky and Gail were close themselves, and I couldn’t make up my mind whether I wanted to fully awaken their beasts or let it happen naturally.  Gilgamesh was my only companion who wasn’t being sucked into my beast, but only because he fell into his beast long ago, when he decided to follow my path.  He was, I feared, one side-step away from going Rogue Crow and taking Enkidu up on his latest offer, becoming the Crow Master of the Hunters.

Hell, if Enkidu offered to make me his chief Arm and gave me a captive Bass to torment as part of the offer, I would join the Hunters right along with Gilgamesh.  Despite my history with Enkidu.

If I didn’t find a way to stop this soon, my entire contingent would follow Bass’s dark path.  I would be Keaton’s strategist while we destroyed the world.  Already, the thought appealed.

Not tonight, though.  The beast would spend the night caged, and I would attempt to resurrect the old, rational Carol.  I wished I could wash my basement down with a fire hose and a ten gallon drum of bleach.  Cleaning this place up in a normal fashion wouldn’t be enough.

“Mary Beth,” I said.  She appeared from the living room, startled.  “I’m going to be out for an hour or two, and then I’m going to reappear with a guest.  Clean up the basement as much as you can in that amount of time, and then lock the door tight.  Get Fred to dispose of the bodies.  And make yourself scarce when I come back.”

Mary Beth winced in distaste, but she nodded.  “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.”

I took a deep breath and hoped I had the beast thoroughly reined in, because I had business.  Gail did something she needed to do, but in the process she left an important loose end dangling, and the loose end would cause all sorts of problems if not handled properly.  My self-appointed job was to nail the loose end down.

Without killing him.

Van was pretty damned fucked up if he was watching The Bob Newhart Show.  He sat there and glared as if his eyes could bore holes in the screen.  I couldn’t sense either Gilgamesh or Gail, which most likely meant that they were in Gilgamesh’s room already, under his defenses.  Lori and Sky were having another of their nuclear arguments, and through my tag to Lori, I sensed I didn’t want to be involved in this fight.  Lori was attempting to talk Sky down from going Rogue Crow.  The Hunters had hit Chevalier’s art studio last night, and Sky sensed weakness, thinking far too much like an Arm.  He knew of quite a few older West Coast Crows who would be better off dead, and I guessed he had the bright idea of offering their severed heads to Keaton as a peace offering or as an ‘in’ for her new Transform order.

Hell.  He wouldn’t even eat meat, and now he wanted to murder Crows in number.

The veneer of civilization was spread too thin over all the Major Transforms.  I had passed Crow La Brea’s information about Fingleman to Arm Bartlett to take to Keaton.  Bartlett still saw me as the Commander and remained uneasy about Bass’s influence on the Boss.  A couple of more instances of ‘the Commander is reasonable and powerful but the Boss is not’ and Bartlett would wear my tag, not Keaton’s.

However, the idea of a faction of Crows wanting to join Keaton was unexpected.  Keaton had sown the dragon’s teeth, without a care in the world for the consequences.  If a miracle didn’t occur, we would end up redefining words like savagery, horror, and genocide.

Round and round and round went my thoughts.  The Hunters’ Law consuming their minds.  Fingleman’s faux cooperation with Wandering Shade as an attempt to spark a Crow civil war.  Bass as a tool of some first Focus, perhaps Fingleman.  Hank’s fear that Bass caused Keaton’s psychotic attack on Arm Svensen.  Focus faith healers…

Gaah.  Back to the business at hand.

“You shouldn’t have turned down Melanie,” I said.  Van jumped and whirled to face me.

“Commander Hancock.”  His heart beat far too fast and he could barely breathe.  He revealed his diplomat instincts, putting on his friendly diplomat game face and covering over his fear.  Instead of reaching for his firearm.

I sauntered over to sit beside him on the upgraded couch.  Somebody had been thinking when they swapped this in for the cheesy reject from a second-hand store Van and Gail used to keep in their living room.

“Gail arranged the assignation properly,” I said, a wry smile dancing across my face.  “Melanie would have been glad to make you happy.”  A bag of pork rinds lurked among the chips and beer surrounding him.  I snagged a handful and munched.  He was still on his first can of Bud, fortunately.  It wouldn’t do for him to be too sloshed to perform.  I extracted the half-filled can out of his hand and dumped it in the trash.

“I’m not interested in Melanie.  What are you doing here, Commander?”

“I’m saving your marriage.  You’re all set to be self-righteously jealous, and I’m going to completely ruin your plans.”

He just stared at me, wide eyes behind round glasses.  I smiled, and let my carefully tuned predator effect slip under his defenses, to stroke into action some primitive urges.

“I don’t want to sleep with you either.”

I smiled wider and let my voice sink low.  “Oh, yes you do.  Very much, from the first time you laid eyes on me.  All you Schubers are Arm groupies; you’re just less demonstrative about your attraction than Daisy.  Relax and enjoy yourself, because you’re about to have more fun than you ever dreamed possible.”

I wiggled sensuously on my bed, lazy and still a little interested.  Van studied me with wide eyes as he recovered his energies, his eyes unfocused without his round glasses.  He was a sweet man but a lousy lover.  Long and gaunt, wiry strong from years of Transform household manual labor, he wore hair so long he needed to bind it back in a ponytail.  He and Gail clearly had a piss-poor love life for him to know so little about sex.  He was no more competent than any average human normal.

Which was a sad, sad thing.  I sighed as I ran my finger down his narrow chest, wondering if I should make him ready for a third round.  A hell of a thing, Transform Sickness and bad sex, too.  Low juice screwed the Focuses so badly; I suspected Gail hadn’t been truly interested since before her transformation.  She probably didn’t know any more about sex than Van did.