Damn Him to Hell

crime, I could conceivably call in authorities, but so far, the authorities had been turning their backs on the Zone and protecting Acme. Not the most appealing of alternatives, but I had to consider it.

I hated being judge and jury. If the scientists were just guilty, I should figure out how to teach them a lesson about experimenting on people without their subjects’ permission.

I needed a repertoire of punishment to draw on. I needed to get back to Fat Chick and check out the others to see if they had any good ideas.

Too late to think of that now. Besides, I could spend a lifetime studying and never get anything done. If Gloria kept pet demons in here, I was betting no other Saturn’s daughter had encountered them or developed a better remedy.

I was right next to the head honcho’s office. I tested the knob, but he’d locked his door. I guessed he was worried about that missing tablet with his pornography on it. Stupid, but worried.

Ye Olde Credit Card Trick doesn’t work if you don’t have any credit, but the nail file on my pocketknife worked to open the feeble lock they’d installed on the cheap interior door.

Once inside the office, I studied the lab through the two-way glass. I didn’t think a bunch of research scientists could cause the earth to tremble, but it wasn’t as if I was any expert. My powers of observation were all I possessed, not magical knowledge.

I didn’t see any demons in the lab—nothing with horns and a tail, anyway. No pillars of flame. Nothing obviously evil. As far as I could tell, these were simply employees following orders. I watched them for clues.

The researchers were huddled between the rows of cots, gesticulating angrily and yakking and not in the least happy. Huh, maybe they didn’t like earthquakes, either. Maybe they actually thought they were helping their victims. People are arrogant like that.

I picked out Bill and Leibowitz on their cots, sleeping soundly but otherwise looking good. They were big men. I had no way of getting them out even if I knocked the scientists cold.

But despite my caution, my rage was still simmering. It needed an outlet. I wasn’t finding one here. Not exactly. That Bill’s jailers seemed as worried as I was prevented me from judging them and finding them guilty.

I donned a lab coat hanging on a hook. It was twenty sizes too big, but it hid my clothing and my bag, thus making me harder to identify when they checked their security cameras. I wasn’t planning on confronting the scientists. Yet. I needed to explore and find out who was in charge of earthquakes and zombie thieves.

I yanked out the scarf I usually wore under my helmet and tied it around my distinctive hair. Black scarves aren’t easily identifiable. I’d dispose of the evidence later and get a red one if I had to.

No one patrolled the dimly lit corridor. I kept my head down so cameras couldn’t catch my face and stopped at the supply closet to add a surgical mask to my dashing white coat. I didn’t normally carry weapons, but a case of surgical instruments could be useful. What the devil did any of the surgical supplies on these shelves have to do with better living through chemistry? It chilled me to consider it.

Now it was time to determine who the street wrecker was.

Sticking to the shadows along the walls, I slipped down the corridor, keeping my eyes and ears open. I knew I was underground, on the secret dungeon level beneath the public corridors. The lights I’d seen had been aboveground. I couldn’t remember if there had been windows in the normal labs the next level up. Since there was no evidence of earthquake machines down here, I had to leave Bill and Leibowitz and investigate elsewhere.

I located the secret stairs and stole quietly upward in darkness. I was wearing biker boots, so I had to tread carefully. I listened at the hidden door into the main lab, but there was no way of discreetly opening a wall to hear better. I’d have to either slide the door open and confront anyone on the other side or admit defeat. We all know how that worked out, right?

As soon as the wall opened, I heard a furious voice and froze.

“Dammit, Padraig, what in hell are you doing in here? You nearly scared the shit out of me.”

I didn’t recognize the loud voice, but I knew the owner of the mumbled reply. Paddy hadn’t been able to wait for justice, either. Or to find his mother’s will.

I wished he would speak up. I couldn’t tell if he was playing crazy or exercising authority. Unable to see either man, I hesitated, hoping they’d move on.

“Don’t question me, you old coot!” the first speaker shouted. “You abdicated your responsibility. I’ve been the one managing the lab all these years in your absence, standing up to your damned mother. You can’t just come in here and throw out years of work. MacNeill supports our research.”

I was betting Max wouldn’t like hearing that his former father thought it was fun to play with magic elements. But he probably suspected it, and that was the reason Max had been investigating Acme before his Granny Gloria had him killed. And here I was, following in his footsteps, courting hell.

Damn Paddy and his muttering. I put an eyeball to the crack, but this lab was nearly dark. A pity they didn’t make black lab coats so I could blend in better. I couldn’t see either of the players, but their voices carried just fine. I shimmied out of the lab coat and stuck it in my bag. Now I was in black.

“Padraig, you have gone too far!” the furious voice thundered.

Hooeee, that was one scary shout. Normal voices don’t thunder, no matter what it says in novels. This voice was deep and resonant enough to rattle glassware and jangle my Saturn’s daughter antennae.

Paddy the scientist didn’t know what not normal meant.

I did. I’d seen through mirrors into hell and killed demonic bats by damning them to perdition. I seriously believed in demons these days, even if they came disguised as normal people. Or bats.

To hell with secrecy. Paddy could be in some serious shit. I slid through the crack and into the darkened lab, searching for Paddy, praying his antagonist hadn’t already flung him against a wall with the strength of a thousand devils.

I wrapped a fist around the handle of one of the surgical knives I’d lifted, but I didn’t think I could get close enough to use it. My martial-arts training did not lean toward knives. Throwing stars, yes, but knives were too up close and personal for someone my size.

Too late. Glassware crashed. With a thud, a lab table rattled and hit the wall to my left. A curse and a groan followed as I eased in that direction.

I prayed Paddy had broken a beaker over the other guy’s head, but I didn’t hold my breath. Paddy is so very obviously not a fighter. I knew in my gut that he’d been taken down.

“Thornton, Lerner!” Thundering Voice shouted. He either had minions nearby or was using a phone. “We have an intruder.”

That would be me, except if I couldn’t see him, I knew he couldn’t see me. Which meant he must be calling Paddy an intruder. Not a good sign if he was accusing a part-owner of the plant of being an intruder in his own company.

Still, a scary voice, mayhem, and potential illegal incarceration were not enough for a death penalty. Think like a lawyer, Tina, I reminded myself as I eased along the wall. A task light gleamed over a desk on the far end of the large lab, and I made that my goal.

“Thornton and Lerner are currently unavailable,” a cool voice on the far side of the lab replied with a familiar wry intonation. Andre!

I bit my tongue hard on a damn. The whole damned Zone could be here. I needed answers, not brawls, although I’d have liked to take my bat to Andre’s head for not including me in his little reconnaissance mission.

I grabbed a nearby piece of heavy metal resembling a toaster. Giving up on secrecy, I pushed past tables until I could see a wide, short lab coat that was Thunder Voice, presumably facing off against Andre.

I didn’t know if Andre could see me in the darkness behind the broad girth that was my target. I only knew he was there from his voice, so I was hoping I still had the element of surprise on my side. I was allowed to defend others against a bully who had taken down an old man and threatened a friend. With the force of fury, I slammed the toaster thing down on an unfamiliar shiny crown.

Thunder Voice staggered, grabbed a table, turned, and fired a round from a nasty little gun in his hand. I ducked. Glass shattered over my head. I only registered that he had a piggy face before I whipped out my surgical knife and aimed for his balls.