Night Prayers (32 page)

Gypsy touched the tip of his tongue to the blood splattered crescent wrench and grimaced.

"I don't know about this," he said. "I think I still prefer beer."

Chuckling, he bent down and wiped the tool off on the front of the dead officer's uniform. The second officer was lying on his back a couple of yards farther up the alley
— his legs and arms thrashing as Luci fed.

Mica swallowed the bile racing up his throat and watched Gypsy stand up and head for the squad car.

Lord, why didn't I see it coming?

Because it all seemed so believable, Mica thought he heard,
that's
why. Stop blaming yourself.

Like that was possible.

Even in Hollywood — where rape and murder and other acts of violence occurred with enough regularity to be classified as a hobby
— he should have realized something was up when the half-naked woman darted out of the alley
just as the squad car was slowing for a red light
only to be pulled back into the darkness by a bare-chested man.

He
should
have known.

It wasn't until the first officer failed to answer the second's shout that Mica realized who the man in the alley was. His own shout went unheard as the policeman pulled his gun and got three steps away from the car before meeting up with Gypsy's wrench.

"Forgive me, Lord," Mica said as the back door swung open. "I didn't see it coming."

"Neither did he, pard," Gypsy said. "Now, let's haul ass before more uniforms show up to find out what happened to their little lost lambs."

Mica stared at Gypsy's hand as it snaked into the back seat and latched onto the sleeve of his shirt. He once wished he had hands like the big biker — strong, big-knuckled, 'I don't take shit from nobody' hands.

Now all Mica wanted was for those same hands to go away and leave him alone.

They did neither.

"There, now," Gypsy said as he got Mica to his feet and dusted him off, "doesn't that feel better? I know
I
always felt like second-class scum riding in the back of those things."

Mica took a quick step to the side — trying to avoid contact with Gypsy's hands — and tripped over the leg shackles he forgot he was wearing.

"Easy, there, Preacher-boy, you'll make yourself fall."

"But not as far as
you
fell!" Mica twisted out of Gypsy's hands and fell backwards against the car. "You threw away Life Everlasting as a child throws away a candy wrapper. Shit, man… is this life so wonderful that you'd forfeit your soul to
stay.
"

Gypsy leaned against the door frame and absently dug a toothpick out of his vest pocket.

"Hey, pard," he said, sticking the pick into his mouth and shrugging, "when it's the only thing you got…"

"But it's
not
, Gyp!"

Swallowing hard, Mica reached out and grabbed the front of the man's vest — and tried just as hard not to think about the corrupt flesh he felt against his fingers.

"Shit, man, haven't you been
listening
? This isn't the only thing we've got… this isn't even part of it. All you have to do is ask the Lord's Forgiveness, Gyp. That's all. Just
ask
and He'll wipe away your sins. C'mon, man. They can't have that tight a hold on you yet. Kneel with me and we'll pray your soul back fr—"

Gypsy's thumb pressed in on Mica's Adam's Apple and brought the discussion to an abrupt end.

"Now,
you
listen, Preacher-boy. I've put up with your Holy-Roller crap this long because it was funny. You reminded me of one of those little floor mop dogs… y'know a Pekingese — all the time yapping and growling and making a fool of yourself."

Gypsy moved his thumb just enough for Mica to pull in one wheezing gasp.

"But I'll tell you something, Preacher… you
stopped
being funny a while back." Working the toothpick around to the other side of his jaw, Gypsy dragged Mica away from the curb and nodded toward the deep shadow made by a giant trash dumpster. "He's all yours, Alley-cat."

Mica's spine tried to push its way out through his skin when she stepped out of the shadow and started toward him.

Allison.

From what he could tell, she was still wearing the deceptively modest dress she'd had on earlier that night
— but now it clung to her… molding itself to her breasts and thighs.

Mica took a deep breath and looked away.

Having trouble with the old libido, Mica
? Her voice whispered inside his head as she took the interconnecting links of the handcuffs and snapped them apart as easily as a child would break a twig.
Good. Keep it up… and I'm not trying to be funny. If they think you still have a yen for me they wont interfere
.

Mica stared down at her… at the eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness… at the face that still looked like Piper no matter how much he tried to deny it.

Don't worry
, her voice whispered,
they can't hear us. In fact, I'm the only one who can hear you
.

Why?

Mica thought he saw a tiny shrug raise her shoulders as she bent down and broke the straps binding his legs.

Maybe God really does have a sense of humor.

"Really something, isn't she, compadre?" Gypsy said, smiling down at her. "But you be careful down there, Alley-cat… don't go spoiling your appetite with a quick snack."

Mica's balls jerked up into his shorts just thinking about it.

"Oh, stop fretting, Preacher-boy," Luci said, finally finished with the policeman and wiping her mouth off on the uniform sleeve she carried. Mica wouldn't have minded so much if the arm wasn't still inside it. "Our little Alley-cat isn't much into cock-sucking. Can't say that I blame her… I've always thought pussy was much tastier."

"Please, Gyp… there's still time. It's not too late, man. Fight them, Gypsy. Fight for your immortal soul."

Gypsy's laughter echoed down the inner-city canyon.

Too late, Mica
. Allison said deep inside him. But he'd already known that… known it deeper than even her voice reached.

Known it and mourned it as he shot a quick glance at Allison. She was watching Luci spin the policeman's severed arm as if it was a baton and they were in some kind of nightmarish marching band.

Marching them to the car and whatever lay beyond.

Mica swallowed and crossed his fingers. A child's game. If you crossed your fingers it meant you weren't responsible for whatever you did next.

What are you going to do with me
? he asked.

Allison's head turned just enough to let him know she'd heard him.

But she didn't answer. She sneezed.

And Mica didn't feel up to Blessing her for it.

Miriam had closed the Club with the excuse that it was booked for a private "Party".

Except the guest of honor didn't seem to be enjoying himself all that much.

Allison could see Mica — gagged and hogtied to a chair in the first row — staring up at Luci as she danced,
sans fur and all flesh
, to the revoltingly sentimental strains of Neil Diamond's "Listen".

Once upon a time
… she had loved that particular song. Once. A long time ago… in a galaxy far, far away.

Swinging the stool back toward the bar, Allison lifted the blood filled crystal goblet to the mirror and saluted
— nothing.

The goblet looked like it was floating in mid-air.

"Well," she said to the nothingness where her reflection should have been, "if
this
gig doesn't work out you can always get a job doing special effects.

"Here's looking at
you
, kid."

The clotting blood went down like warm jello.

Because it was to be a "Special" night, Luci sent Gina out on the prowl. The panther-woman returned less than ten minutes later, smiling and laughing, her arm protectively around a hispanic teenage girl with purple and green hair and a pierced nostril.

A brave little girl of the streets — hardened by life and able to handle any and all situations.

Except the one with fangs that ripped out her throat.

Luci had done the pouring herself, tossing the girl's limp body over one shoulder like she was a jug of cheap wine.

Five glasses. Four for them and one extra,

For Mica.

Once he was turned.

Allison licked the gill's short life off her lips and swallowed. The memories were as grainy as her life had been.

"Rest in peace, kid," she said, crushing the goblet between her fingers.

You still with me, Mica?

She watched his reflection in the glass. He was ignoring her — staring into the empty ice-blue spotlight. Except Allison knew it wasn't empty. And judging by Gypsy's reaction, she knew Luci must really be going to town. The Watcher was shouting and hooting and making more noise than an entire room of Furverts.

Allison flipped the broken stem around in her fingers and stabbed it into the bar.

Alley-cat! Stop being an old stick in the mud and get over here. You re missing all the fun!

Ah, hell, let her stay over there
. Gina.
We don't need her
.

We need who I say we need. NOW, Alley-cat. And smile pretty, your boyfriend's waiting for you.

Allison spun the stool and stepped down. Luci and Gina were "69-ing" each other like starving minks. Miriam was eating another kind of
pussy
— this one a moth-eaten tabby — and Gypsy was giving the performance a standing ovation.

Mica had his eyes squeezed shut. Allison could hear his hushed prayers racing through her mind.

"
What you don't see can't hurt you only works for kids
," she said as she crossed the empty room.
Believe me, I know
.

Help me.

Allison's hip collided with a chair as she jerked to a stop.
Who are you talking to
?

Allison… help me.

He turned his head and stared at her. The cross-shaped scar seemed to glow in the reflected blue light. Radiant.

Allison. Please.

"Well, what are you waiting for, Miss-Knocks-Into-Furniture, a written invitation, maybe?"

Allison sniffled and walked to the chair directly behind Mica. She didn't want to have to look at that scar anymore than she had to.

Allison.

Allison!

Do what you do best, Preacher-boy
, she whispered back.
Pray
.

He turned to look at her and Allison's own quick glance told her the suggestion only helped so much. It had always been her experience that True Believers
— of
anything —
wilted slightly in the harsh light of reality.

Allison…

She sat down and reshaped the flowing dress into something more appropriate for the occasion: A blood red bustier with matching garter-belt and stockings. Making sure he had a good view of all her most endearing charms… including the wounds on her throat.

Just the thing for a whore of Satan, don't you think, Preacher-boy?

A single tear followed the curve of his cheek down. She watched it until it soaked into the gag.

"All
right
, Alley-cat!" Gypsy said, clapping his hands — momentarily distracted from the cardinal sin being performed on stage. "Damn, you're one hot little chili pepper!"

"And I used to
love
chili peppers," Luci said as she sat back on her haunches and wiped Gina's juices off her chin. "
Ate
them all the time if I remember correctly."

Allison giggled and blew a kiss… much to Luci's delight and Gina's snarling anger.

Allison, don't
! Mica's voice was so loud she almost jumped.
Gina's dangerous. Don't get her mad at you
.

Worried? About one of the undead? I'm honored, Mica
. He looked so hurt she almost stopped. Knock it off, Allison, she told herself, this ain't no school picnic.
Divide and conquer, Preacher-boy… nothing personal
.

His eyes softened.

You are still praying, aren't you?

Always.

Good
. Allison stood up and wiggled her way toward him.
This is still nothing personal
.

Understood.

Yeah, she thought looking down at the bulge between his legs, your mind may be saying that but your body definitely has other ideas.

Running one hand slowly through Mica's hair (and willing herself not to sneeze), Allison cocked her head and smiled.

At the Watcher.

"See anything you like, Gypsy?" she asked, aiming her .38's at him.

"Everything."

Ignoring his other charges, Gypsy unbuckled the wrist band and held his arm out to her. The swollen flesh made her mouth water.

"How 'bout a quickie?" he whispered.

Taking Gypsy's outstretched hand in hers, she leaned over Mica's suddenly tense body and ran her tongue over the tender meat.

Allison… don't do this! You're NOT like the others. I know it… I can FEEL it! You're different.

She let a drop of blood bubble from the corner of her mouth as she drove her fangs into Gypsy's flesh.