bones.
'Good thing Garrett thought to call me. Helping out is the least I can do.' He held up his right hand and used his thumb to wiggle a black and gold ring. 'Considering I owe the Society my life.' Then he went back to work.
'Who's the Society?'
The doctor paused, fingers on the bandage. 'Excuse me?'
'The Society. What is it?'
'The Grimnoir, of course.' A look crossed Rosenstein's face, partway between confusion and embarrassment. 'I thought you were…' He grew even more troubled. 'Oh my. Excuse me a moment.' And the chubby man leapt up and hurried from the room like he had just discovered his patient was inflicted with a highly contagious plague.
Sullivan sighed and watched the ceiling. He was a patient man.
Three minutes later the German entered the room, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Rosenstein stayed in the doorway, fidgeting nervously. The German pulled up the chair, knocked the bloody towels on the floor, and sat on it backwards, arms resting on the back, studying Sullivan. 'I will handle this, Doctor,' he said finally. The doctor gladly fled, closing the door behind him.
The new visitor was young, with extremely short hair and a neatly trimmed goatee, the guy he punched out on the blimp. He waited a minute before grinning. 'Ira is worried he said too much about us. Very good surgeon, but he's always fretting about something.'
The smile seemed genuine, but Sullivan knew better than to trust anyone. 'Who are you?'
'Heinrich Koenig, at your service,' he said. 'Fade extraordinaire and all-around problem solver.'
Sullivan nodded. The German was probably in his early twenties, so at least a decade younger than Sullivan, but behind that easy smile was something dangerous. Sullivan could recognize a fellow traveler of the hard life, a survivor. Underneath the friendly veneer lurked the soul of a killer. 'Thanks for stepping in there.'
'We did the world a favor by ending that man, perhaps more than you will ever know,' Heinrich replied. 'No thanks necessary. That is what we do.'
'We?'
'I cannot say that yet.'
'What are the Grimnoir?'
'That isn't my place to explain. My associate will be back soon, and he is supposed to give you the pitch. Believe it or not, the reason we were at your hotel room was to make you a job offer. Daniel's the one that's good with words. Me, I'm more a man of action.'
'I got a couple of G-men who'd agree with that.'
Heinrich shrugged modestly. 'I have my talents.'
So did Sullivan. 'How's the jaw?'
The smile left. 'You broke it in two places. Luckily we have a Mender on staff. She put it back together, fixed Francis's knee too. Having a Healer around is nice.'
'The blonde on the blimp?'
'Yes.' Heinrich reached up and rubbed his jaw. 'A very good one. It still hurts though.'
'Yep. Imagine it would.' Sullivan grunted. He wasn't the apologizing type, and he was still waiting on some answers. 'So you going to tell me what the straight deal is, or are you just here to waste my time?'
The German chuckled coldly. 'The straight deal is beyond your comprehension. You have no idea what you have just walked into. We are in a war, the likes of which even you have not seen.'
'Don't get lippy,' Sullivan replied. 'I managed to stack a few of your relatives back in the biggest war ever, so don't tell me what I haven't seen, kid.'
The German frowned. He was too young to have fought in the Great War, but Sullivan knew the country had fallen apart after the armistice. There were some tough feelings there, he could tell, but Heinrich kept his cool. 'I just ask that you be patient, and your questions will be answered.'
'I'm about done with this nonsense.' Sullivan gasped as he tried to sit up, all of the stitches pulling in his chest and arm like strands of fire. 'I'm walking out that door, and don't you try to stop me.'
Heinrich uncurled his arms from the chairback, paused as if in thought, then reached into his grey suit coat and pulled a revolver from the inside pocket. Sullivan tensed, ready to Spike, but Heinrich just smiled again as he flipped the revolver around and handed it over butt first. 'I believe you left this at the hotel. Your big gun was unfortunately smashed to bits.'
Sullivan warily took his Smith amp; Wesson. He swung out the cylinder. It was still loaded.
'You wish to go? Your clothes, or should I say, the bloody remains of your pants and your shoes are under the bed. Unfortunately, neither I, nor my associates have anything that will fit you, my large friend. Feel free to leave at any time. I believe we are in Kansas by now. You should have no problem wandering around the Midwest, especially missing half your blood. Oh, and the police are looking for you. Apparently Herr Hoover is a little upset about you destroying a downtown hotel in a rather newsworthy manner and wants you brought in. I am sure he will understand why the mob and an Imperium assassin were trying to murder you.'
He would also want to know why exactly Sullivan had gone to meet with Torrio. Hoover would more than likely send him back to Rockville just for being a pain in the ass.
The German continued. 'Or… you could continue to rest until my associate returns, and then everything will be explained in full.'
It hurt to move. It hurt to think. Just rising this far had made him dizzy. Sullivan glowered and slowly lowered himself to the bed. He kept the.38 in one big hand.
Heinrich stood. 'Very good. Daniel should be back in a moment.' He turned to leave.
'Answer me one thing,' Sullivan said just as Heinrich reached the door. 'You say we're in a war… what side are you?'
Heinrich paused. 'This war is in the shadows beyond nations. I am on the side of righteousness, of all that is free, or holy, or good, Herr Sullivan… Rest. You look like death.' He closed the door.
Of course, the Grimnoir thought they were the good guys. Everybody thought they were in the right. The evilest bastards he had ever met had still thought of themselves as the good guys. It was just his dumb luck to blunder into a bunch of true believers. Sullivan closed his eyes and went back to sleep.
Chapter 7
MAGIC LEADS TO TERROR – City Firemen were unable to contain the FIRE that ripped through a Mar Pacifica estate on Sunday evening until there were only charred remains of the home, belonging to famous big game hunter L.S. Talon. A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY was made once the DEADLY flames were extinguished. So far, SEVEN human bodies have been recovered from the scene. Local residents say that there was a great commotion and much GUNFIRE before the conflagration spread. RUMOR is that Mr. Talon was a supporter of MAGIC and was himself an ACTIVE. He has been missing since Sunday and is believed to be amongst the DEAD.
– Article,
San Francisco Examiner, 1929. San Francisco, California The address on Grandpa's note was on the far west side of the city. The neighborhood was called Richmond, and a lot of things must have changed from when Grandpa had drawn his little map. The area was filled with new houses, stores, and churches. Every now and then they would pass an area that was nothing but sand dunes, but then quickly enough there would be more homes. Some of the larger places had been started, but then abandoned when the developers' money had run out along with everyone else's.
'Lots of Jews and Irishmen in this part of town,' the driver told Faye helpfully. 'The Russians built a great big church up over that way.' Faye just kept watching out the window. As Grandpa had always said, her brain would just get to spinning sometimes, and the real world would fade away. She lost track of time as the town turned into suburbs, and then into an area of gentle green hills as they went south.
She snapped back to reality as the cab stopped. 'We're here. This is the address you gave me.'
'This? This is it?' she asked, staring out the window. 'Are you sure?'
'Yeah,' said the driver. 'Not what you were expecting, I guess.'
There had been a house here once, that much was obvious, a really large one from the remains of the
