Wild Ride (28 page)

“Have you
tried
?”

Ethan looked at the woman he was fairly sure was his soul mate. “No. But you did. You shot Tura when you were saving my ass. It didn't work. She just left her host.”

“Let me try again,” Weaver said grimly.

“Not tonight, honey,” Ethan said, and led her down the tunnel to the entrance.

The park was crowded as they came out onto the midway, not as many as would come for the big Halloween blast next week, but enough that the Dreamland bank account was going to be a lot fatter come midnight. They got some startled looks from park-goers who weren't expecting anybody in body armor carrying bulky demon guns. “Park security,” Ethan told anyone who looked really alarmed, and then they looked impressed. “On Halloween, they'll just think we're in costume,” he told Weaver. “Even easier.”

“For the demons, too,” she said.

They walked up the midway near the Devil's Drop, and Ethan slowed. Ray was seated on the bench next to the Devil statue, smoking a cigar and looking none too happy. When he saw them, he looked startled, but so did everybody else who saw them, so Ethan ignored that.

Weaver unslung her demon gun from over her shoulder, tense with anger. “So you're just sitting here, Ray? Chatting?
With the Devil?
”

Ray smiled. “What? I'm alone.”

Weaver gestured to the statue beside him.
“Him.”

“Oh.” Ray shrugged, folding his arms over his chest. “He's good company. Doesn't say much. My kind of guy.”

“Evidently,” Weaver said, and walked closer to the statue, as if she were daring herself to do it.

Ray's face darkened at her tone and he straightened. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Park security,” Ethan said. He looked past Ray to the seven-foot-high
Devil statue. The red eyes seemed alive with energy, and for the first time he felt some misgivings about his plan.

Ray glared at Weaver. “I don't remember hiring any women for park security.”

“Glenda hired me,” Weaver said, staring at the Devil statue. “Affirmative action.”

“You're fired,” Ray said.

Weaver ignored him. She was pale now, fixated on the statue, and just as Ethan was going to say something, she turned and walked away, up the path to the Beer Pavilion and his campsite beyond that.

“Disrespectful,” Ray said to Ethan, staring after Weaver. “Doesn't know who's boss. Get rid of her. She looks unstable.”

“Meanwhile you're talking to a Devil statue,” Ethan said, and walked up the path to the trailers, lengthening his stride to catch up to Weaver.

“I want to shoot him,” she said.

“So do I,” Ethan said. “Believe me, I've thought about it.”

She stepped off the path, and he followed her through the trees and over the last of the brush to arrive at his campsite. “So,” he began, not sure where to go next, although he knew where he wanted to go.

“I've fought a lot of demons,” Weaver said.

“Yes, you have,” Ethan said, trying to be supportive.

“But nothing like the thing that's in that statue.”

“Weaver—”

She started to shake. “My father used to tell me, every damn morning before I went to school, ‘Be sober, be vigilant because your adversary the Devil walks about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.' And now, the Devil is
here
, I could
feel
it, Ethan, it's
evil
and it's
in there
, it's not a lion, it's pain and death and despair, and that asshole Ray wants to set it
free
—”

He put his arms around her, meaning to comfort her, but she pulled back.

“I don't like being afraid,” she said, her voice close to breaking. “This is every nightmare my father ever gave me. He used to scream at the congregation about the Devil being everywhere, ready to take them down to
the flames of hell
—”

“Weaver—”

“And now it's
real.
” She shook. “I hate fucking demons, little evil bastards, but that thing in the statue, that's not just evil, it's . . . vile. It's apocalyptic.”

“Yeah, but you're with the Guardia,” Ethan said, trying to keep his voice light. “We've kicked his ass before, and we'll do it again.”

“Yeah?” she said, and let him pull her close. “Okay, then. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go all girly on you. Make me forget I did that, will you?”

“You bet,” he said, and pulled her down onto his sleeping bag and held her because she was still shaking.

“Ouch,” she said, trying to make her voice light. “Will you get rid of that damn rock?”

“Sorry.” He pulled it out and threw it into the bushes.

“From now on, we're doing this in one of those trailers. No rocks.”

Her voice was still high, still tight, so Ethan pushed himself up on one arm. “Glenda fixed up Hank's trailer for me. We can go now if you'll feel safer there.”

“No,” she said, looking into his eyes. “I want to be right here with you.”

“You're safe with me,” he said. “I swear it. The Devil comes near you, I will send him back to hell.”

“All right, then,” she said, and pulled him down to her, and he did everything he could to make her forget that she'd been afraid.

 

“T
hat bitch,” Ray said when Ethan and Weaver were gone. “Talking to me like I'm nothing. Calling me Ray like she has a right. That's
Mayor Brannigan
to you, bitch.”

SHE IS INSIGNIFICANT.

“Yeah, well, she may be insignificant, but she knows I'm talking to you. My cover is blown.”

THE MINION DEMONS WILL KILL THEM.

“There's some bad news there,” Ray said. “They're supposed to already be dead. I heard Ethan talking about going into the Keep, so I sent the minions there to wait for them, and now here they are, still alive. So I'm assuming we're down another dozen of the little bastards.”

Kharos thought of several ways to make Ray suffer slowly.
YOU ARE NOT DOING WELL.

“It's not me, it's the minions,” Ray said. “I tried to organize them. Took them to the Keep, told them the plan, put one of them in charge—”

NEVER PUT ONE OVER THE OTHERS. THEY DESPISE THOSE THEY THINK ARE ABOVE THEM.

“Hell, everybody's above them,” Ray said, and then stopped. “That's probably why they're so mad all the time. That kind of crap can get to you. Okay, no more organizing minions. I'll just . . . point them at the targets. I'll tell them you're issuing the orders. They're terrified of you.” Ray sounded a little petulant about that.

IS YOUR NIECE DEAD?

“Probably. I just poisoned her.” Ray stubbed out his cigar on the bench. “It's not easy at the top. I'm not going to sleep well tonight.” He stood up. “I can't wait until Halloween is over.”

FIND FUFLUNS AND TURA. HE'LL BE WITH LAUGHING PEOPLE. SHE'LL BE SURROUNDED BY MEN.

“I told you,
I looked
,” Ray said.

The end of his cigar fell off.

Ray brushed the ash off his pants and looked at his truncated, limp cigar. “Sure,” he said. “I'll go find your bimbo and your joker for you. I have nothing
better to do
.”

He threw his cigar down in disgust and walked off down the midway.

Kharos realized he had one thing in common with Ray.

He couldn't wait until Halloween was over, either.

B
y the time the twentieth woman had come into the tent and asked to know about her true love, Mab was cranky. It wasn't so much that they all wanted to know about the same thing; she sympathized with that. She wanted to know about that, too. It was just that they were so depressingly similar, full of doubt about being in love, if they were loved, did they want
this
love, some of them full of longing for a baby more than a man, some of them afraid they were having a baby, terrified and exhilarated and desperate for answers.

It was like watching the same movie over and over with an open ending because, as she kept telling most of them, it depended on what they wanted and what they did. Except for three of them. To those women, she said, “He's a bastard. Run away.”

“How can you tell?” the last of the women said, indignant.

“I don't have to tell, you already know,” Mab told her. “I heard it in your head, that's how I know.”

The woman stood up furious and left the tent, but she didn't take her ten bucks back.

The next woman who came in was Glenda.

“You've got quite a line out there,” she said, sitting down as Frankie cawed his welcome from up in the rafters.

“I don't know why,” Mab said. “I'm just telling them what they already know. It's not like I can see the future.”

Glenda smiled faintly. “Of course not.”

“So give me your hand,” Mab said.

“We have to capture Tura tonight, Mab. The Guardia needs you.”

Mab felt exasperation rise. “We've had this conversation already. No. A thousand times,
no
.”

Glenda hesitated, and then reached in her jeans pocket and pulled out some bills. She sorted out a ten and put it on the table and crammed the rest of the bills back in her pocket. “Okay.” She held out her hand.

“I don't need the ten,” Mab said pushing it back to her. “Professional courtesy, you get a free one.”

Glenda pushed it across the table again. “I want a real reading, not a pro bono.”

“What's the difference?”

“You have to tell me the truth if I pay.”

“I'd tell you the truth anyway,” Mab said.

Glenda put her right hand across the table, palm up.

“Other hand.”

“The left's for love,” Glenda said. “My question is about business. Right hand.”

“That I didn't know,” Mab said. “You want to know about the park?” She put her palm down on Glenda's right hand and then almost pulled it back, Glenda's palm held so much energy. And then—

Images this time: darkness, the park in ruins, the Devil's Drop fallen, the Dragon splintered into the lake, the carousel collapsed, shattered wooden horses everywhere—

Mab snatched her hand back.

“What?” Glenda said.

“What's your question?” Mab said, trying to shut out the carnage. “I know what you're worried about, but that's not going to happen. Nobody would do that to the park.”

Glenda blinked. “Do what to the park?”

“What's your question?” Mab said, her heart pounding now.

“This Weaver,” Glenda began.

“I know. Camouflage and spike heels.” Mab relaxed a little. “For what it's worth, she seems to be on his side. And she knows demons.”

“She's the black-ops person who shot him,” Glenda said.

“For Ethan, that's true love.”

“He wants her along on the capture tonight. She has a demon gun and demon goggles—”

“Demon goggles?”

“—and he wants all this high-tech stuff on the capture. He thinks it's better than the old ways. I told him no, but I know Ethan. She'll be there.”

“If she shot Ethan, she's probably going to be useful. What are you afraid of?”

“The captures aren't high tech; they're magic, Mab. I don't think mixing the two . . . I know you won't come with us, but we'll be down in magic force already and then adding this stuff . . . I think things are going to go terribly wrong. And you can see the future, you know. Just glimpses of it and then you have to figure out what it means. It used to drive Delpha crazy. But I can change the future if I alter the course. I want to know what's going to happen tonight so I can change course if I have to.”

“I don't read the future,” Mab said.

Glenda stuck out her right hand again. “Then just read my palm.”

Mab hesitated, and then she put her palm on Glenda's again.

Emotions this time: confusion, fear, a fair amount of anger toward Mab, a lot more toward Weaver, a terrified sense of things spiraling out of control, a paralyzing sense of responsibility . . .

“You're in hell,” Mab said, feeling guilty.

“Tell me something I don't know,” Glenda said. “Go deeper.”

Mab closed her eyes and tried harder, reaching for places she hadn't before. The emotion was terrible, aching lost love, terror for a child in battle, grinding concern for the park and its people—

Mab pulled her hand back. “Jesus. You need a vacation.”

“It's not working, is it?” Glenda said. “You can't see tonight?”

“No.” Mab considered it. “Maybe I'm trying too hard.” She looked up at Frankie in the rafters and his calm drifted down to her. “Maybe . . .”

She put her hand back on Glenda's without thought or pressure, open to whatever happened, and images hit her like bullets, Weaver with a gun, Glenda falling, a black helicopter, Gus screaming, blue-green vapor everywhere, Glenda again, sightless eyes staring up at the top of a tunnel—

Mab pulled her hand back. “Oh my god.”

“What?”
Glenda said.

Mab pushed the ten across the table to her. “You win. I'm going with you tonight.”

Frankie cawed his approval.

Glenda swallowed. “It's that bad?”

“Not if I can help it,” Mab said.

 

A
t six, Mab let her last customer out and called out, “That's it for today, folks. Sorry!” and then stopped when Joe stepped out of the line and said, “How about me?”

“You, I'll take,” Mab said, smiling.

“Hey,” the first person in line said, and Joe said, “Chill, I'm the boyfriend,” and pulled Mab inside the tent.

“The boyfriend?” Mab said, trying not to giggle. She was not a giggler, but around Joe, everything seemed to be funny.