There was a tense silence.
“You said you take part in the stage show,” said Kat. “So you make yourself be seen?”
Melchior laughed. “Nothing gets past you, does it? Sometimes you see me, and sometimes my brother, but I can also move things in a limited fashion.”
“How can you do that?” said Clint. “If I tried somethin’ like that I’d end up exhausted in my crystal cocoon.”
“It probably helps that my brother is my anchor. That cocoon is inside one of yours. It is tiring, I admit. But I only do it a few times a day. In turn my brother has gained the opportunity to perceive people like us, although he often has to pretend not to.”
Kat was starting to put together a plan. A team was forming, but all the pieces were still falling into place. Once they had a good model of the casino and knew where everything was she could get a good feel for the how the heist would go down. She was already thinking they would need more of Melchior than they wanted. Persuading them to take part would be the key. “I really appreciate you taking the time out of your day to meet with us. I’m glad you can work with Vincent again. Perhaps you might even see yourself able to train Clint a little. If you can’t teach me magic, and your brother can’t help, do you know of anyone else we could approach?”
Melchior’s head tilted to one side while she was thinking. “No. No one springs to mind. Perhaps my brother might know.”
“Would you at least consider letting him help materially?”
“Out of the question. My help is on the strict terms that he is not directly involved.”
“Okay. I’m sorry. I know you want to free him, protect him. I just think you may have to put some skin in the game.”
“Hey. Careful, Kat, you heard the guy, I mean lady,” said Clint. “We’ve got more than we could ask for, let’s leave it at that.”
“Sure. Like I said. I’m sorry. I really do appreciate your help,” said Kat.
“I understand,” said Melchior. “I know what it’s like to lose something precious and feel trapped.” Melchior’s eyes changed. “Let me show you out,” Melchior said, guiding them through the rest of the museum and back to another door into the sex shop.
22
It almost felt like a cliché, heading to Louisiana to learn more about the dead. It was probably just a coincidence that this was where her Great Uncle Peter, another pastor, lived.
Lafayette was a welcome sight. After four days, and as many States, her car had done the equivalent of a year or more in mileage driving through the South. She was looking forward to standing up and walking around. It had been a pretty straight route, staying on Interstate 40 for most of it. Hitting Dallas around rush hour yesterday had been pretty hairy, but she’d made it through without shooting anyone or breaking her steering wheel. The palms of her hands were sore from taking her anger out on it though.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d met Uncle Pete, probably when she was six or something like that, at a cousin’s wedding most likely. Her Grandfather’s youngest brother, he was probably the most senior member of the Church in the USA. In reality that just meant he was old and had been ordained for many years. The Church wasn’t too big on ecclesiastical hierarchy. Not amongst the living at any rate.
Uncle Pete lived in an old wood-clad bungalow, raised off the ground, with a steeper sloping wood shingle roof than many of the low flat ranch-style homes Evelyn had passed to get there. It was near the river, but too close to the airport. She parked in the drive behind a fairly new Nissan and walked up the steps onto the veranda. A large dog lifted its head and looked at her with one eye. It lowered its head back down and closed it again.
Evelyn rapped on the screen door and heard movement from inside. Great Aunt Chloe had her wrapped in her meaty embrace before she knew it, and was smothering her with her bosom. “Evelyn! Let me look at you. My goodness, you’re a young woman now. You need to eat more though, you’re just skin and bones. Pete said you’d be here soon. Come on in. Do you have any bags?” Once Chloe started it seemed that she wouldn’t stop. The house smelled of something fantastic and savoury. Evelyn’s stomach grumbled and she realised how long it had been since she’d eaten a proper meal.
Uncle Pete wheeled himself in from a back room. Evelyn covered her surprise and half crouched to hug him. His thick dark hair had turned to sparse snowy straw. She bumped the small oxygen bottle that sat in a plastic holder on the back of the chair. It was easier to kiss his forehead than move the thin oxygen mask. “Hey, Evey.” He tried to smile, but it turned into a grimace. “Good, to see you again. After all these years. Chloe’s made us, some dinner. Let’s eat. Then, you can tell me. How your Church, is doing.”
Evelyn sat cross-legged on the deck of the veranda, her back to the balustrade, idly stroking Casper’s back. His hair was short and kind of rough. It was almost getting too dark to see. She had told Uncle Pete about Kat and how her arrival had thoroughly disrupted the tranquillity of Evelyn’s church. He’d been particularly interested to hear about Kat’s story and how she had lost her heart, although he’d tried not to show it. Once she started to talk, it had been good to feel like someone understood what she was going through. Evelyn had even gone so far as to tell him that she suspected Kat was going to use the ghosts to get her heart back. He’d chuckled softly.
Feeling well fed and contented it was hard to put her fears into words. It felt like a secret she knew would rupture the family unit, like accusations of child abuse. Here, in Louisiana, not far from plantations, where hurricane damage was still a raw wound, the accusations of depraved acts in the Superdome never retracted, it felt trivial. But if her faith held the dead up to be more than human, then her Church’s treatment of the dead mattered. It came down to a question of faith, and that was what really troubled her – the idea that she had not only become part of some abhorrent practice, but that her life’s work was empty and cruel. Apart from directing a few worse for wear visitors from the Strip on to other help, what good did her Church do?
“Uncle Pete, there’s something I need to ask you,” Evelyn said. She had to let it out. The pressure was getting too much to bear.
“Yeah. I guessed you might.”
“My friend accused me, the Church, of treating the dead like ‘uppity slaves’. Are we really enslaving the spirits of the dead? Are we just keeping them from moving on for our own selfish needs?”
Pete nodded to acknowledge her question, but kept quiet for too long, only the slow stream of oxygen from the tank and a chirp and the flap of leather wings showed that time was still moving around them.
“We really should’ve. Had you, over more often,” said Pete, shifting in his wheelchair. “My brother wasn’t, keen on you. On a woman. Being ordained. He left you. Knowing enough, and no more.”
Anger darted through her. Not because of her grandfather’s sexism. She’d learned to accept that. Leaving her untrained though, that was unforgivable. Evelyn couldn’t believe there were secrets that would kill her because she was a woman. Ignorance on the other hand… She stood up, feeling stiff from sitting so long, and leaned back against a post. “It’s probably time to get me up to speed.” Before it was too late. Uncle Pete didn’t look like he had long left in this world.
“Yeah, we should’ve. Should’ve had you, over more often…” Pete seemed to be beyond the darkness. “So much. So little written down.”
“What about the basics? We’re helping them Remember, helping them keep the Message in the world, right?”
“Yes, of course.”
“But are we chaining them here?”
“That, is an area. Of dispute. My brother. We disagreed. I thought we should. Shepherd, the holy ones. He wanted, to keep them here. Control them. Stop them from joining. The Legion. I thought, we should send them, to Elysium.”
“What Legion?”
“The drones. My brother, believed they, were increasing. I didn’t see it, that way. They seemed harmless. There will be, too many soon. Th
e End of Days, will come. The Church, called them drones. As a way, to dismiss them.” Pete stopped for a rest. “Something, controls them. It is subtle. But it is there. Also, more holy ones, are forgetting. Falling. Better, to have them, move on. Than stay, to be recruited.”
Evelyn didn’t have to think too hard to remember the wall of drones wrapping around her. She felt a cold draught across her neck. If these seemingly dumb ghosts were being organised then that was a truly scary prospect. Who was doing it? Danton? For what purpose? But she could see her grandfather’s position. It wasn’t just a matter of keeping the Message in the world. The living couldn’t, for the most part, see the dead. They couldn’t do anything about the drones. “Grandpa wanted his own army.”
“Yes,” said Uncle Pete. “There are times. Wars, natural disasters. The Legion’s ranks swell. The drones forget, everything, eventually. Balance is restored. Now they seem to stay. And there are, ever less of us. My brother, had no choice. I’m glad he did. Ordain you.”
This seemed to answer her question, in a roundabout way. Her Grandpa, and by extension Evelyn herself, had gone down a route of controlling the ghosts. But Evelyn had never known the real reason why. It wasn’t slavery so much as conscription.
“What was that?” Pete said. “Yes, yes. I know. I’ll tell her.”
While talking to people that weren’t there was quite common for Evelyn, she didn’t normally run into others who did it. Evelyn looked behind her, but could only see the darker darkness that was the tall drooping willow in the front yard. “Tell me what?”
“You’re not. Not going to like this,” said Pete. “Not at all.”
“Better just rip that band aid off.” It couldn’t be that bad, could it? Not after what she’d learned already.
“This heart thing. It isn’t, a common skill. Taking it out, of a living person. But it was part. Part of the, early church teachings. Helped bring, new recruits. Showed them, the truth. Ones who, couldn’t see, for themselves. The ones who, couldn’t just, have faith.” Pete stopped to get his breath back, get some strength to go on. Evelyn’s breath caught in her chest. Her church was no better than the Inquisition, or the witchfinders. “It was also, for the dying. Helped, move them across.” He paused again, more reluctant than out of breath. “My brother. He could do it.”
“Grandpa knew how to take out hearts?” It was that bad. Evelyn felt like she’d been punched in the gut, her breath as short as her uncle’s.
Her Grandpa hadn’t done this to Kat, but had he done it to others? Did he train someone else? Did he work for Danton?
She’d already been given a lot to process. She was hurt, she was horrified. She felt more insecure than ever. She didn’t know a thing, really, about her faith, about her family, about the holy dead.
“Was it…Did he intend to use it, was it part of his plan, to make an army?” More people who could see the dead could do something about them. But if too many people knew the truth that could be much worse.
Uncle Pete didn’t say anything.
Then she heard herself speak the words with a steel she didn’t recognise. “Can you train me?” Only a few days before she’d been regretting ever getting involved with the church. She’d been accused of being a slaver. Now she wanted to know how deep the rabbit hole went.
In the darkness Uncle Pete nodded, the hiss of oxygen mixing with a mosquito’s whine.
23
Someone was banging the door again. It was too early for that, whatever time it was. Living two lives was really starting to take its toll on Kat. She practically sleepwalked through her shifts. Not that anyone seemed to notice.
The banging stopped, and there was some kind of argument outside. Sounded like Connie was giving grief to someone in Spanish, who was giving as good as they got. Dammit, she was awake now. Kat got up slowly and peeked through the gap in the curtains. It was Carlos, again.
Kat pulled on her jeans and a top. “Hey, I’m trying to get some sleep here,” she said, opening her door. “You guys wanna argue further down?”
“This guy’s sneaking about, bothering you,” said Connie. “We’ve been keeping an eye out after the last one.”
“Thanks, Connie. I really appreciate it. I got it from here.”
“Hey, I’m not the bad guy here,” said Carlos. “I just came to apologise.”
Connie moved away, but hovered a few doors down where her cart was waiting.
“By waking me up when you know I’m asleep? Bye bye, Carlos.” She bent her fingers in a half-wave. “You’re really making me regret ever helping your dad.”
“Is he here?” Carlos tried to see into Kat’s room as though he’d suddenly be able to see the dead.
“Seriously, Carlos, will you please just fuck off and leave me in peace. You’re behaving like a love-sick jilted schoolboy.”
“Look, I really did come to say sorry. I got you something.”
“I don’t want anything from you but space and quiet.”
Carlos dug around in his suit trouser pocket. “Here.” He handed her a plastic object with a metal stud. “It’s a key,” he said, when Kat frowned.
“I can see that,” she said, pushing the stud. The key itself sprung out of its recess like one of Jack’s blades. “What does it open?”
“I’ll show you.”
Kat sighed. Why couldn’t he have parked it outside her room, this was a motel after all. She grabbed her key and shut the room door. Around the corner sat an almost anonymous compact car. It didn’t seem to have a particular colour, maybe grey? There were a few scratches and some small dings in the bodywork. It was a few years old. Kat still hadn’t figured out the US registration system, but she was pretty sure the code had nothing to do with the car’s age.
“The plates are registered to me, but I’m willing to take a chance you’re not going to do anything that’ll cause me trouble,” Carlos said. “It’s all yours.”
Kat pushed the button on the key fob and the door locks clunked. She pushed the lock button too, just to check.
“I figured it was a good car, but wouldn’t stand out in the neighbourhood, draw too much attention.”
She didn’t know what to do. It was a thoughtful gift, but if she took it would she owe him, somehow?
“Really. It’s just my way of saying sorry for the other day and it’s not much I know, but it’s a thank you, too. Oh and before I forget, I got you this too. A driving license. Fake of course.”
He didn’t look too comfortable even holding it so Kat took it from him. The car would be good for getting to the casino and she wouldn’t have to take the bus anymore. Although she’d miss seeing some of the people she knew on the commute. Gas was still stupidly cheap in this country however much they grumbled.
“Thank you,” Kat said. “Why didn’t you park it outside my room?”
“I didn’t want the engine noise to wake you up.”
She laughed.
“What?”
“It’s very kind of you, Carlos,” Kat said. “I really appreciate the thought you put into this.” She gave him a peck on the cheek. “You’re still an asshole for waking me up though.”
“There’s someone we’d like you to meet,” said Fingers.
Kat was looking at the drawing of the casino layout that Vincent had helped her to create, adding in the areas known to have supernatural protection. When she bought the pad of paper and the pencils she hadn’t expected to put it to this use. She was proud of what she’d achieved, though, if a little surprised at what she could do. She looked up and realised they really needed to meet elsewhere – her room was getting very crowded, even if some of them stood through the bed.
Fingers had brought along a girl, probably in her late teens, although the makeup could be making her look older. “Kat, this is Amy. Amy, meet the boss.”
“Hi,” said Amy, who gave a wave even though Kat was right in front of her. Then again it wasn’t like they could have shaken hands.
“Hey,” said Kat, raisin
g an eyebrow. Dressed in fashionable jeans and a plain t-shirt, with long dark hair, Amy didn’t seem to belong to any easily identifiable group, although the dark eyeshadow could make her a Goth, or Emo, or whatever they called themselves now. She could just as easily be a wannabe on some model show using Chrissie Hynde as a reference. Hopefully not a prima donna.
“She’s our Fritzer,” said Jack, hunched over, dancing his blade along his knuckles.
“You could’ve at least let her guess,” said Fingers.
“Where’d you find her?” said Kat.
“I’m right here,” said Amy. “I can go back to playing Galaxy Battle.”
“I think I remember playing that in the games room at uni,” said Kat, smiling. “If you’re here to get your ego stroked, or to give up at small challenges like waiting a moment, then you’re welcome to go back to trying to improve your score.”
“Fingers was right, you really don’t ‘ave an ‘eart,” Amy said, mimicking Finger’s accent.
“Everyone here is a volunteer. They all have their motives, but so far none of them have got in the way of us doing the job. Fingers has told you enough to know what we’re trying to get. Has he also told you who we’re working against?” Kat knew he was trying to help, but Fingers had been a little forward with what they were trying to do. It was only a matter of time before word got back to the Dantons that they were looking for someone with a particular skillset.
“I figured it out. Think just about anyone who needs to know has heard about your situation. You should keep a low profile, else someone might notice you’re up to something.”
“Thanks for the advice. What, if you don’t mind me asking, have you got against him?” Kat was careful to use the right gender – she wanted see if it would throw Kat.
Amy shrugged. “Danton? Nothing at all.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I like helping the community. Doing good deeds. Maybe I’ll get into Heaven.”
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