The Prophecy Machine (Investments) (27 page)

A high and piercing shriek brought Finn to a halt, brought the hair up straight atop his head. He went to ground again, slipped his blade free, and peered through the stand of brittle grass.

There was scarcely any cover on that damp and barren plain, other than a thicket of weeds, of dead and tangled trees, huddled close against the house. Finn saw something move there, something very fast fleeing through the grass.

Another shriek, another horrid wail. Finn had heard nothing like it, such a grate, such a screech, such a raw intrusion on the nerves, such an unworldly shrill. He came up in a crouch, saw the weeds tremble, saw the twisted branches shake.

The form moved again—when it did, Finn moved swiftly, determined to cut it off and bring it to a halt.

The creature had extraordinary senses. It froze the instant Finn made his move.

“Whoever you are, you can halt right now,” Finn shouted, “I'll brook no more nonsense this day—”

The words were scarcely out of his mouth before something burst through brittle foliage, shrieking and whining, an assault upon his ears. Finn stepped quickly aside, raised his weapon—stopped in his tracks, stood there and stared.

Julia Jessica Slagg scuttled past him, lizard legs a-blur, moving at a speed Finn had never imagined she could go. Just behind her came something with a hop, something with a gimp, something that scuffled and staggered and dipped, something dark and damp with a pinched little face and shaggy ears. Something, he saw, no less than Squeen William himself, clutching a wretched broom, swatting at Julia, shrieking and shouting and gnashing wicked teeth.

“Hold it, you, hold it right there!” Finn took three long steps, grabbed the Vampie by the scruff, jerked him off his ugly feet, leaving him swatting air.

“I don't know what you're up to or why, but it's over right now. Drop the broom, Squeen, and stop that noise before you ruin my ears for good!”

Squeen's answer was another shriek, even shriller than before. He spit, spat, ground his razor teeth, stared up at Finn with his fearful Vampie eyes.

“I can't blame you for being thick-headed, considering who you work for. Now get out of here while I've still got a kindly mood to spare.”

With that, Finn loosed the wretched fellow, dropped him to the ground, gave him a kick and sent him on his way. The Vampie whined and whimpered, sniveled and yelled, fell in the brush, rose and hit a tree, stumbled to his feet and scampered toward the kitchen door.

Finn turned away in disgust. “Julia, where might you be? Call out or something, I can't see a thing in this tangle of desiccated grass.”

“Move an inch with that dirty boot of yours, and you'll step on my head …”

Finn looked down, startled by the croak, by the too familiar squawk, by the cranky voice right at his feet.

“Will you tell me what that is all about?” he said, squatting to the ground. “Why is that fleabag after you with a
broom? What are you doing out here with Letitia up there all alone?”

“I'm fine, I'm not hurt badly, thank you for your gracious concern. Would you turn me over, please? This is undignified and crude, a plain humiliation at best.”

Finn tried to keep a solemn face. Julia did indeed look somewhat improper lying on her back, legs churning in the air.

“I'll have to look at that,” he said, setting her aright. “I'd guess a balance wheel is somewhat off the track. Possibly a spinner gear, it's hard to tell which. If you wish, I'll carry you back to the house.”

“I don't wish, Finn. I am quite accustomed to taking care of myself. Which is lucky indeed, since I seldom get any help.”

“Whatever you like,” Finn said. “And you haven't answered my questions, being so busy crying about yourself—”

At that instant, a familiar howl erupted from the house, a howl and a scream and some other sounds as well.

Finn raced for the door, Julia on his heels, slightly off center, but clearly under sail.

At the entry, at the shabby front steps, Finn paused, listening to the clamor, then raised one foot and kicked the door in.

The door nearly vanished, crumbled into powder, scattered into pulp, back to basic dust. Finn stopped short and drew a breath, taking in a most peculiar sight. Squeen William writhed on the floor, flailing about, caught in the tangle of a cruel corded net that had dropped from above. The net was laced with barbs, hooks, nails and broken glass.

Sabatino stood back from the trap, not even looking at Squeen, venomous eyes locked entirely on Finn.

“Don't stand there gawking,
craftsman
,” the younger
Nucci said. “You've a blade, help me cut this miserable creature out.”

“This is a terrible deed,” Finn said, guessing at once who the trap was really for. “The poor fellow could've been killed.”

“True enough,” Sabatino said, shaking his head, “nothing ever works the way it should …”

H
E HELD HER VERY CLOSE, SO TIGHTLY SHE
feared he might crush her in his joyous embrace. He smelled to high heaven, smelled of mold, smelled of onions, smelled of Bowsers and Foxers and primeval sweat.

Letitia didn't care. She was just glad to have him safe again, glad to have him there.

“Rest,” she told him, “you're practically asleep on your feet. We can talk after that.”

Finn, bone-weary and ready to drop, started to babble and couldn't stop. It all came at once, the whole thing from the start: Foxers, Bowsers, Nicoretti and the seer. The Bullies and the stone. The Coldies and the storm, Hooters hooting in the night. And, finally, poor Squeen William setting off the trap Sabatino had laid for Finn.

“I knew it,” Letitia said, clenching her fists till her palms turned white. “That old man told me his son was up to something.
Bragged
about it, can you believe that?”

“I can indeed. That, and any other madness you have to tell.”

“I couldn't warn you, love. There was nothing I could do.”

She glanced at Julia, giving her a nasty stare. “I
might've
had some help, if Miss Julia hadn't run off for fear she'd get taken apart.”

“What?” Julia raised her snout, blinked her red eyes. “Who's going to take who apart? Anyone tries, they'll come away without a hand!”

“Don't lie,” Letitia said. “If you lie, you don't get an afterlife. Though I don't know as you would, being what you are …”

“Wait just a minute here.” Finn clapped his head between his hands. “Who's going to take Julia apart, what are we talking about?”

“I didn't even know about that. I left when the old man came in. And where was I going, one might ask? I was going to look for you, Finn.”

“You had better be talking true this time,” Letitia said.

“What old man? Calabus, you mean? He was in here? You didn't say a thing about that.”

“Now when would I, dear? With all your tales, who'd get a word in? That man—you won't believe this,
I
didn't—He wanted me to work with him on that—whatever it is. As if you could get me down there again … Oh, Finn, you don't know what I'm talking about, I scarcely do myself.”

She paused to get a breath, led Finn over to the bed and sat him down. “You're soaking wet. Get out of those clothes and get into something else.”

“Like what? I don't
have
anything else.”

“I don't care, I'll wrap you in a sheet. Finn, that man is scary. He so much as told me he doesn't know what he's doing down there. All that—that awful machinery, and he doesn't know? He wants help from
me?
He said he had a
dream. I thought I'd come out of my skin, listening to stuff like that.”

“It simply doesn't make sense.”

“You think I don't know? That's what scared me to death. Oh, Finn …”

Finn looked down at his basket and grasped her hand in his. “I'm sorry about the food, I really did my best.” The rain had done its job, and there was nothing left but a soggy layer of mush.

“I couldn't get you anything to wear. Shops aren't the same over here.”

“You got back, love.”

“Captain Pynch said hello.”

Letitia made a face. “You told me that.” She studied the amulet the Mycer had sent, ran the polished chain through her fingers, touched the tiny stone.

“I hope she's not angry at me for using her name. I didn't know what else to do.”

“She's not mad. She's greatly concerned, is all.”

Finn watched her, trying not to shiver in his clothes. His heart nearly broke with the joy of seeing her again. Still, he was filled with sorrow and dread. He hadn't told her, and certainly never would, all the seer had said. That, and the grim account of the Coldie that Letitia would surely perish here.

He would never let that happen, no matter what. He would see her out of here, safely home again. And who could credit a dreary apparition, a thing with no more substance than smoke? Why, the fellow had no idea if this was tomorrow or today. And even if a seer and a shade had dire things to say, that didn't mean they were so. Especially the dead …

One thing he believed, a thing he couldn't let go, the words the Coldie had said:

There is something in the Nucci house, something that's more like us than you …

He became aware, then, that his thoughts had taken him far away. He glanced up quickly, hoping she hadn't read his fears, that none of the horrors in his mind had come her way …

“All right,” he said abruptly, as if a great plan had taken shape in his head, “we're getting out of here. I shouldn't have waited, no matter what.”

He ran his hands through his hair, tried to cast the weariness aside, and, now that he'd begun, wondered what he ought to say next.

“I take the blame, though that won't help a whit. We have held
ourselves
hostage here—for as loathsome as it is, it seemed a sanctuary from the madness outside. Our fears were real enough, I don't have to tell you that. There is still great danger out there, danger very real.

“I am convinced, though, we must face those dangers, for we are surely not safe here. Letitia, Calabus' behavior toward you is alarming enough. The old man's daft. That device down below has scrambled his head. And Sabatino has such a hatred for me—and a lewd obsession toward you—I feel he's a greater menace than Calabus himself.”

And why don't you tell her there is something so dread and unspeakable here, that even the dead fear it? Are you doing her a favor, keeping her in the dark?

“There can be no more waiting for a ship. If I knew one would sail into the harbor tomorrow, I would not wait it out. And if we can't stay here, if we cannot stay in that— that open asylum they choose to call a town, then we must go somewhere else still …”

For a moment, silence met his words. Letitia's eyes told him nothing at all. She worried at a pitiful chunk of nearly petrified bread.

“All right, I'll be the one to say it,” Julia said, with a rattle and a croak. “If not here or the lovely village, where? Are you aware your flair for the dramatic drives others to the limit, Finn? Up the wall, right to the edge—”

“You do, you know,” Letitia put in, “not that I don't like the way you talk, because I do.”

“Oh, well I'm sorry if I do my best to make matters clear. I regret I'm such a bore.”

“Stop it, dear. We don't need that.”

“All right, I'll get to it at once,” Finn said, grateful for the intrusion, which had given him time to discover several new thoughts.

“We will not stay here, and we will certainly not go into town. It is senseless to wait for a ship. We will—we'll travel over land. Away from the coast. Entirely the other way. If anyone pursues us, and I really doubt they will, we— should get a good start before any Foxers or spiritual zealots know we're gone.”

“How on earth are we going to do that, Finn? Would you please tell me that?”

Letitia sat cross-legged on the bed running her hands through her hair.

“We don't have a map, we scarcely know where we are now. We have no provisions, and—don't take offense, dear—it appears they're quite hard to get.”

Finn pretended not to hear. “We have no knowledge of the country, I'm aware of that. But this is clearly not the only village in the land. We'll follow the road. It has to go somewhere besides this.”

He hoped the folly of his plan did not appear as fragile to Julia and Letitia as it did within his head. He regretted now that he hadn't thought this out before, that he hadn't asked the crew of Coldies, for most of them had lived or died nearby.

“We can't be sure there won't be Hooters and Hatters in
the next place too,” Julia said. “Quite often, religions aren't confined to one town.”

“She's right about that,” Letitia said.

“We don't even know where the next town is.”

“We don't know if there
is
a next town.”

“If there is, it could be worse than this one, how do we know?”

“What if there's no one but Foxers there?”

“What if there's Vampies? Vampies with brooms? Why, I could've been squashed completely flat!”

“All right, that's quite enough, both of you.”

Finn stood, leaving a wet spot on the bed. He'd slipped off his shirt, but kept the damp trousers on.