'Oh, yeah,' she said. 'He saw me every day I was in the hospital, and he helps me with my PT. He says I ought to learn to shoot a bow and arrow-you know, an Amazon.' She looked down at herself, where the chest wound was hidden. Then she grinned again. 'When I got so I could sit up, he said he was making plans to bust me out of the hospital-you know, go over the wall at midnight, like in the movies. He made me promise that if he was ever in, I'd-' Her voice caught. '-crash him out. Funny thing to say, huh.'
Doc flashed on the end of High Sierra, with Bogart shot down in the desert, and the girl trying to understand his last words, asking what it meant when a man crashes out.
That's a funny thing to ask, sister, the cop replied. // means he s free.
He had a sudden terrible certainty of what Norma Jean's grandfather had meant.
'You could meet him,' Norma Jean was saying. 'I think he'd like to meet you. I'm sure he would. He's never really been to Town, and keeps saying he should. He calls it Old Town-you know the song? 'There'll be a hot time in Old Town tonight'…?'
'In the old town.'
'No. That was later, when people weren't singing about this city anymore. When the song was written, it was about Old Town here. Really.'
'I didn't know. Sorry.'
'Nothing to be sorry about. Even people who grew up here don't know that. Lucius Birdsong, the reporter, told me. Do you know Lucius?'
'Yes.'
'Oh, of course you do-someone said he wrote about you. He's such a swell guy, but, you know, so odd-I mean, you wanna carry a torch, okay, but do it for someone who's at least on your side of the street.
'
Doc waited, but that seemed to be the end of that discussion. Then she said, quite from nowhere, 'You living alone?'
He took her meaning at once, somewhat to his own surprise. 'I'm seeing somebody. Pretty regular.'
He saw lights fade within her. 'I'm glad,' she said, earnestly. 'Do you ever see Chloe Yadis?'
'Sometimes at the club.'
'I heard one of her girls ran away. Jolie-Marie, the little one. I mean, petite, you know.'
Doc nodded stupidly.
'My mom would die,' Norma Jean said, to no one in particular, and then painfully, 'No, she'd die'
Then Doc understood. Norma Jean was stuck in the World now. and she wanted back-back with Mr. Patrise, or somebody close to him, like Doc. Even working for Chloe the madam would be a way back to the bright lights.
But there she was, in that chair. Just like Robin had been.
Floundering, he said, 'I'll tell Mr. Patrise that you're better. I know he'll be glad to hear it. And-I really would like to meet your grandfather.'
She nodded.
Doc tried to think ahead. 'Some night we should… spring him. Get him to the Mirada, at least. My car won't hold three, but I could borrow one of the others.'
'Oh, wouldn't that be great?' The light returned to her face, briefly. 'Unless he-it might not be like he remembers. Wants to remember. I just don't know.'
In that moment Doc knew the meeting was over. In the next moment Norma Jean was telling him how much fun she'd had. how great it had been to meet him. She touched the control and rolled her chair back from the table; Doc stood up hastily.
She was offering him no hand to shake, and even a small kiss on the cheek would have required him to swoop and bend over her in the chair. So he just stood. The man in the dark suit reappeared; he seemed to take no notice at all of Doc.
She stopped, rolled back toward him. 'Granddad said I should be good to you,' she said unsteadily. 'That somebody who does- what you do-was really special. You'll tell everybody I miss them, won't you?'
'Of course.'
'And tell your girlfriend you're special,' she said then, in a voice full of agony and venom. She turned away and was gone.
As he drove back, a windblown winter rain began to fall, that scattered the ghost fires of the Shade far across the real city.
Friday afternoon, Doc went upstairs to see Patrise. He was sitting behind his silver desk in a long violet dressing gown, feet up, a large book of art reproductions open in his lap.
'I don't expect we'll need you tonight, Hallow,' he said. 'Have a pleasant evening.'
Doc hesitated.
Patrise said, 'Was there something else?'
'I was thinking,' Doc said, 'you know, with all the stuff I carry in my bag, it's a wonder I haven't been jumped before this.'
'Do you think so?' Patrise said, sounding interested.
'It makes sense. I mean, I drive a car everybody can recognize, and they probably know I don't carry a gun.'
'You haven't wanted to carry a gun.'
'I still don't. I just… guess I ought to be more careful, from now on.'
Patrise's voice cut right across the nonsense. 'Who do you think it was that set us up, Hallow? Are you afraid it was Ginevra?'
'No, it couldn't have-she didn't know anything about what was happening, any more than I did.'
'You don't know that,' Patrise said, calm. 'You don't have any way of knowing that.'
'No,' Doc said, and stopped while he still had his voice.
Patrise put his book on the desk, sat up in his chair facing Doc. 'But / know, Hallow. And she did not.'
'Then… do you know-who?'
'Let me tell you something about people, Hallow. If you give people work that makes them feel strong and useful, then they will become strong and useful. Their strength, through you, is power, and astounding things can be done with that power. Impossible things.
'Keep the same people in fear, and you may still get use from them, but never strength. If they find strength despite you, the first thing they will do with it is bring you down. No matter what it costs. Understand that very well, Hallow: any being with a real soul will prize it above anything-certainly above life.'
'A soul.'
'I am not excluding the Truebloods. If Cloudhunter has no soul, then souls are surely overrated.' He leaned back. 'Have you thought about where to take Ginevra tonight?'
'Oh… the movies, probably.'
'Why don't you take her off the Levee?'
'Is something wrong?'
'Not that I know. You should visit the World now and then. The Art Institute is open late tonight. It's not far. Barely past the Shade. Made dinner plans?'
'No.'
'The Berghoff should do. Here.' He scribbled a note, signed it, folded it. 'Please, take it. Let me have my fun.'
'Thank you, sir.'
Patrise waved. 'And think about the Art Institute.'
'I'll ask Ginny.'
'Yes. Tell me, Hallow, if you don't mind… do you make her laugh?'
'Uh…' Doc had to turn his thoughts sharply around. 'She-laughs at the movies. And other times too.'
'Good,' Mr. Patrise said. 'It is an extraordinary thing, that half the human species should need laughter so much from the other half. It is no small gift, you know. Hallow. Magic and Klrland have no substitute for it. Now, the best of nights to both of you. Hallow.'
