Deadtown

“Oh, yeah? Well, what about me? I—”

“You,” I said, “should be studying. I’ll come over and quiz you on the first twenty-five pages of Russom —”

“Twenty-five? But that’s—”

“The first twenty-five pages, tomorrow night, before school. Six o’clock—be ready.”

“Or what?”

“Or our deal’s off. If you’re not going to be serious, I’m not going to teach you.”

Tina kicked at the curb. “Could you at least bring your flamethrower? That was cool.”

It was my turn for an eye-roll. It was a pretty good one, I thought, for an old lady of twenty-eight.

BOTH ZOMBIES WERE SAFE IN THEIR BEDS, SLEEPING IT OFF. They’d snooze through the day and wake up around sunset, starving, but no longer craving human blood. Five or six pizzas each, and they’d be as good as new. Or as good as newly risen, anyway.

Kane put his arm around me and pulled me close as we walked. I snuggled in, enjoying his warmth, the solidness of his body. I sighed contentedly, happy to be in this moment. Safe and warm. Then I ducked out from under his arm. The things I had to discuss with Kane weren’t exactly cuddly.

He looked at me, surprised, when I pulled away.

“Kane,” I said, “I know you’re worried about that tape, but I wasn’t exaggerating when I said we’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

“Yes?”

I told him about what happened on Commodore Wharf: killing the Harpies, Difethwr’s arrival, its message and sudden departure. Goose bumps prickled my arms as I talked, and when I mentioned the Destroyer the demon mark itched. Kane listened intently, nodding from time to time.

“This is what you were talking to Costello about?”

“Yeah.” I watched for any flash of jealousy but came up empty. Kane was focused on our Hellion problem. Well, that was good. I guess. “He’s going to talk to the Witches of the Shield, see if they have any idea who punched a hole in it.”

“And whether they can find the hole and repair it?”

“They can’t do that! Not while the Destroyer is running around Boston. They’d trap it inside the city. It’ll tear the place apart.”

“From what you say, that’s its plan, anyway. They’ve got to fix the shield soon, Vicky, or more Hellions will come.”

I was worried about that, too. A legion of Hellions would attack in one terrifying strike, destroying everything in its path. No building left standing, no survivors. It was possible that Difethwr, or the sorcerer who’d bound it, was calling to others of its kind. A sorcerer would have to be insane to try to raise a legion of Hellions—but any sorcerer who’d dare to bind Difethwr was already just plain crazy or else too arrogant to be on speaking terms with reality.

Kane half turned toward me. “Was the Hellion there for you or for your client?”

“Me. Definitely me. I didn’t force it off, Kane. I didn’t fight it at all, except for throwing some salt around. It delivered a message to me, then it left.”

“Are you sure, though? It killed one of your clients already, and it didn’t speak to you then. It didn’t even show up while you were there.”

I remembered that evil presence in George Funderburk’s bedroom and shivered. True, the Hellion hadn’t spoken to me then. But it had been close by. Very close by. My demon mark tingled at the memory. That night, perhaps the sorcerer had called the Destroyer but not yet bound it. And the Hellion, searching for the source of the call, had responded to its own essence. In me. The thought made me queasy.

Kane was still speaking. “You can’t assume that the connection is you. It might be something else entirely.”

“Like what?”

“Well, both men had been suffering from demon infestations.”

“Drudes versus Harpies. Not the same at all.”

“Okay, I’ll take your word for that. So it’s not the clients’ demons. But my point still holds. There might be another connection, one we’re not seeing.”

I stopped in my tracks. “Are you even listeningto me? The Hellion said my name. It went there to find me.” My voice sounded shrill, even to my own ears.

“Maybe you’re right.” He took my hand. “Maybe I just don’t want something that nasty to be coming after you.” We walked for a while in silence. His hand felt strong, clasped around mine.

We stopped at Kane’s building on Winter Street. He folded his arms around me and drew me close against him. I pressed my face into his muscled chest. He was warm, so warm, and even here in the middle of the city he smelled like a forest after a summer rain.

He stroked my hair. “Do you want to come in?”

Yes, I thought. More than anything, I wanted to go up to Kane’s apartment and feel warm and protected in his king-sized bed. I was tired of standing alone against the demons. I wanted Kane to hold me and fill me with his strength and let me know that everything was all right. But I had things to do. I sighed, rubbing my cheek against his jacket. “I thought you had two dozen phone calls to make.”

“I can make them later.” He put a finger under my chin and gently lifted my face to his. His lips met mine, and the kiss melted through me like warm chocolate. I wanted to press myself closer to him, explore more deeply, feel those lips touch my skin all over. But I shook my head.

“I can’t. I’ve got to get cleaned up, then go back to the North End to collect the rest of my fee from Lucado.”

All that melting warmth evaporated as Kane went rigid. His arms dropped away from me as he stepped back. His eyes narrowed. “Did you say Lucado—Frank Lucado?”

“Yeah. The real estate developer. He was my client tonight.”

“You did a job for Frank Lucado.”

“I just said I did. So what?”

He made an exasperated noise. “Vicky, Lucado is one of the biggest contributors to Seth Baldwin’s campaign.”

“So?”

“So? So?How can you say ‘so’? You helped a guy who wants to drive us out of the state.”

“I didn’t help him. I did a job for him. When I’m on the job, I don’t care what my client’s politics are.”

“It’s not a matter of his personal politics. Lucado has spent a couple million dollars to support a candidate who’d strip PAs of all legal rights and protections. All of them, Vicky. If Baldwin wins, any human could kill you or me and still be acting within the law.”

“I know that.”

“And you don’t care, do you? Anything to make a buck. Even if it comes out of the pocket of a bigoted criminal.”

“Lucado’s never been convicted of anything. And just because the guy’s a jerk doesn’t mean he deserves to suffer Harpy attacks night after night. I don’t discriminate in my clients.”

“No, not you. Only if they’re poor. Then demons can torment them forever, for all you care.”

That was a low blow. In truth, most of my clients were wealthy because the wealthy had more demons. Take Harpies. Rich people had rich enemies. Hiring a sorcerer to sic a flock of Harpies on somebody was illegal, and that meant it wasn’t cheap. People with no money usually took a more direct route—like using their fists—to settle their differences. But I wasn’t going to argue that point with Kane tonight.

I glared at him. “You have no right to tell me who I can or can’t take on as a client.”

“And you have no principles.” That was Kane—he lived for peace, justice, and the American way. Oh, and turning into a huge, slavering, bloodthirsty wolf whenever the moon was full. He squared his shoulders, making a visible effort to control his anger. “Well, you’ve already done the job, so there’s no point in arguing about it. Just