Immortal From Hell

by Gene Doucette

  “The wind has answers,” I said, finishing the passage. “The windy city.”

  Incidentally, I lived in Chicago when it got the name the windy city, and I’m still surprised the city embraced that nickname. It was originally meant as an insult.

  “Yes! And so, I leapt from the train to follow the prophesy.”

  “You could have told us beforehand.”

  “Oh, I knew you’d catch up.”

  Thelonius went back to spinning in a slow circle, looking somewhat skyward. I had no idea why he thought this was what he was supposed to be doing once arriving at the prophesied location, but it was no better or worse than any other thing he could have been doing, I guess.

  I looked at Mirella, who shrugged.

  “We’ll look around,” she said.

  We left Thelonius to his bench, split up, and walked a wide circle around the courtyard. There was no farmer’s market today—it was not, evidently, Wednesday, which was when it was supposed to be happening—so all we had to examine was the various individuals moving from one end of the plaza to the other, at a variety of speeds.

  Nobody seemed particularly noteworthy. I did catch the fact that at least three types of non-humans were represented in the Chicago business class—I spotted two elves, a goblin, and an incubus—but that was only a little interesting.

  After completing one clockwise circuit to offset Mirella’s counter-clockwise circuit, we met up again at the bench. Thelonius had stopped spinning, apparently transfixed by something on the top of a nearby building. It sounded as if he was breathing heavy.

  “Is he okay?” I asked Mirella.

  “You are the expert in imps, not me.”

  “Is he having an asthma attack? Thelonius, hey, are you okay?”

  He held up a finger to indicate he heard me, and continued with the weird breathing thing.

  “Oh,” Mirella said. “He’s talking to a pixie.”

  “What?”

  “There’s a pixie above his head. She’s moving too fast for you to see.”

  “Then she’s moving too fast for him to see, too,” I rightly pointed out. Imps weren’t known for exceptional eyesight. “How does he know?”

  “He probably hears her. I can’t, but his ears are better.”

  “And he’s talking to her?”

  “The wind has the answers,” she said.

  Thelonius held up his hand, and waited. Presently, the pixie landed on his finger, as a parakeet might.

  “Adam, Mirella, let me introduce you to Dee.”

  Pixies are tiny women with gossamer wings. Picture Tinkerbell—who was clearly modeled after one—only with no clothes.

  “Hello, Dee,” I said.

  “Hi,” she squeaked.

  “I’m not sure what just happened, Thelonius. Did you just tame a pixie by breathing heavily?”

  He laughed.

  “Adam, in all your time, you truly never learned to speak their language?”

  “I…”

  “And she is not tamed! She is in love! It’s quite a story! His name is Rick, and he works in one of these buildings. She’s waiting for him now.”

  “Is Rick human?”

  “I believe so, yes!”

  If this Rick person managed to tame a pixie, I definitely wanted to have a conversation with him. It wasn’t the sort of thing ordinary people did.

  “What is her story?” Mirella asked. “Try and give us a short version.”

  “I will give you the highlights. It seems she was introduced to Rick by a woman, whom she also liked, but not as much as she likes Rick. Rick liked the woman more than he likes Dee, and so Dee is glad she went away.”

  “This other woman…what did she call herself?” I asked.

  “Dee never knew her name. But she had alabaster skin and long red hair.”

  Dee explained that she spent every weekday waiting for Rick to finish work, because he didn’t like it when she went into the office with him. She couldn’t tell time, but knew he showed up around when the plaza went from busy to extremely busy, so we took that to mean five P.M. or thereabouts. That gave us an hour to try and tease out a better understanding of how a human ended up with a tame pixie. (Or, how a pixie fell in love with a tame human, take your pick.)

  It was hard to piece together. Since the time I met my first pixie, my assumption was that they were somewhere between unintelligent and naïve, but it turns out this was because I was trying to talk to them using whatever human language I happened to be conversant in at that time, rather than in their native language. I would have probably taken some time to learn it, had I known such a native tongue existed, but no pixie ever bothered to clue me in about this.

  I didn’t know how Thelonius picked it up, but assumed it was a professional requirement of some sort. Given the amount of information pixies could theoretically be privy to, being able to converse meaningfully with one had to be worth the time. It made me glad neither species took up espionage as a calling.

  We relocated from the center of the plaza to a walkway between buildings. I’d have called it an alley, but that implied something that wasn’t commonly in use, and this was. Still, it was slightly more out-of-the-way than the bench, which satisfied at least one of us.

  “We shouldn’t remain here,” Mirella said, even after we moved. “We’re too exposed.”

  She said a version of this almost every day, so our tour of Chicago, while exhaustive, had been conducted at a rapid walking pace the entire time. She didn’t want us standing still.

  “It won’t be much longer,” I said. “Besides, do you think someone’s going to fire a gun in the middle of the day in the middle of the city?”

  “It doesn’t have to be a gun. And yes.”

  This, too, was a conversation we’d had a version of multiple times.

  Through Thelonius, we got bits of information from Dee.

  She’d previously had a pixie companion, named Cee (because, of course) who became ill. The red-haired woman called Dee one night, and Dee led her and Rick to find and help Cee, but Cee died anyway.

  When I asked Dee how Cee died, she said that the red-haired woman did it, but only because she had to, because Cee was suffering.

  “What was she suffering from?” I asked.

  Thelonius whistled back and forth with Dee for a few seconds, then looked rather grave.

  “Cee was melting,” he said.

  “Well, we’re definitely in the right place. Ask her—”

  “Hang on.”

  She wheezed something and then flew off.

  “Rick is here,” Thelonius said.

  Dee disappeared into the crowd in the plaza.

  “I’ve lost her,” I said.

  “I have her,” Mirella said. “Near the bench. Do you see that tall black man?”

  There were a few tall black men among the masses, but only one near the bench. He was standing still, while everyone else was in motion, which also helped with the identification.

  He looked alarmed.

  “Did you tell her to introduce us?” I asked Thelonius.

  “Yes!”

  “And that we’re friendly?”

  “Certainly!”

  “I don’t think that’s translating well.”

  “He’s running,” Mirella confirmed.

  Rick took one look at the three of us, turned, and ran in the exact opposite direction.

  “He’s athletic,” Mirella added. She wasn’t wrong. The man was in a suit and tie, and shoes that were definitely not meant for sprinting, and yet he was sprinting quite well. “Am I allowed to damage him?”

  “Try not to,” I said.

  “All right,” she sighed. “Keep him headed in that direction and I’ll circle around. Look out for snipers.”

  She took off to the left, while Thelonius and I ran straight ahead. Well, I ran; he sort of just tumbled. Native athleticism is not what one keeps an imp around for.

  It was a little easier getting through the crowd than I exp
ected, because people were getting out of the way, on seeing us running directly at them. It helped that once I reached the bench I was heading down a path Rick had already cleared. This also made it easier to nearly catch up.

  The far side of the plaza was defined by the street we’d originally crossed when exiting the L. Traffic on it was considerably worse than before, which actually made it easier to cross on foot; none of the cars were moving.

  Rick got to the other side, went under the tracks, then crossed the street on the other side of the tracks, and entered what looked like a residential neighborhood.

  When I lived in Chicago, high-end residential addresses that were also downtown were decently rare, in that while they definitely existed, they weren’t exactly all over the place. I didn’t recall what this section looked like a hundred years earlier, in other words, but if it was residential back then, those residences were probably slums.

  I made it across both streets and to the neighborhood side in time to see Rick disappear halfway down the street. It looked like he’d ducked into a proper alley. It would have been a better decision had I not seen him do it, because in theory I could have just run right past. I did see him do it, though, and so I turned in behind him.

  It turned out I was underestimating exactly how on top of things this guy was. If anything, he’d lagged a little in order to make sure I saw him cut down the alley, which he hadn’t picked at random.

  Halfway down, he stepped behind a Dumpster. I was about to shout something like we mean you no harm, I just want to ask you some questions, when he popped back up again, holding a shotgun.

  “Hey man,” he said. “How about if you fuck off?”

  I stopped, and raised my hands.

  “That’s a good choice,” I said. “Wide spread, you could clear the whole alley with one shot. Very smart.”

  “Yes, thank you, I know. Wanna see me do it? Get outta here.”

  I have had a lot of guns pointed at me in my time. More arrows than guns, but still, a lot of guns. I wish I could say it’s easy to tell how likely it is that you’re going to end up getting shot, by recognizing one or two specific characteristics, but since so far nobody’s actually shot me, I couldn’t say for sure. I do tend to find the ones who are legitimately freaking out while also pointing the gun to be more alarming. The barrel could shake all over the place, which improved the odds that if they did fire, they’d miss, but they always seemed the most likely to fire. The ones who presented as calm and cool—as Rick did—came off as the least likely to shoot, but most likely to kill me if they did.

  They were also the type that seemed easiest to reason with.

  “Is this how Chicago is nowadays?” I asked. “Shotguns just lying around in alleys?”

  “Let’s say I figured somebody would come for me one day.”

  “All right. So it’s your gun. I guess that means you already know it’s loaded and not likely to blow up in your face.”

  “I notice you’re not fucking off,” he said.

  “No, but I will soon.”

  “It’s okay, we can wait for the other two to get here, save me the trouble of reloading.”

  “I really think you have the wrong idea.”

  “Sure. I’m gonna believe someone that just chased me through town now that he’s got a loaded gun in his face? What is it I have the wrong idea about?”

  “A couple of things,” I said. “We really are friendly. I think your pixie probably missed part of the explanation. Also, we’re only waiting for one of us to get here.”

  Mirella’s sword touched the side of Rick’s neck. He froze, and also didn’t pull the trigger, which I appreciated.

  “You should put down the gun,” she said.

  “How long have you been behind me? I didn’t even hear you.”

  “The gun.”

  “Dee, how come you didn’t say anything?” he said, to the air above his head.

  Mirella stepped around him partway, so that she was in his line of sight. Her free hand was a closed fist.

  “She tried for my eyes, an attack I anticipated. She’s fine, but if you don’t put down that shotgun, as I’ve asked you very nicely to do, I will squeeze.”

  “All right, all right.”

  He lowered the gun to the ground, slowly. I appreciated this too; it’s not the kind of thing you’re supposed to drop from a height.

  Then Thelonius arrived.

  “Goodness!” he gasped. “Did I miss anything?”

  “Look,” Rick said, “I’m just trying to scare you off, okay? I don’t know who sent you or what you’re supposed to do to me, but as long as you’re a threat, your lives are in danger.”

  “How very altruistic,” Mirella said. “Explain.” She’d neither lowered her sword nor released Dee.

  “She won’t let you hurt me.”

  “The pixie?”

  “No, not her.”

  “He means Eve,” I said.

  He looked at me, and nodded slowly. He looked haunted by a memory; I recognized the expression well enough.

  “Last goblin to hold a sword up to my neck ended up with her arm bursting out of his chest. I’m not kidding.”

  “I believe you. But she isn’t here.”

  “Sure. If you know what she can do, you know there’s no way either of us can be sure she’s not here, or not going to be here in a minute or two.”

  I was starting to get the impression Rick had spent a lot of his free time worrying that Eve might do exactly that. I’d assumed he was a friend and perhaps lover—he was certainly attractive enough. (I didn’t know what her type was, but ‘attractive, young, muscular’ was probably about right.) But if they were friends and/or lovers at one time, that time was probably over, as clearly, he was afraid of her.

  What was sort of interesting was that he wasn’t afraid of what she might do to him; he was afraid of what she might do to us.

  Whatever he’d gone through, it must have been pretty interesting.

  “I’m very sure she isn’t here right now,” I said. “Because the last time I saw her she was in a coma, and I don’t think that’s changed.”

  “A coma?”

  “She’s sick. That’s why we’ve come to Chicago. We’re trying to understand why.”

  He laughed.

  “Now I know you’re playing with me,” he said. “She can’t get sick.”

  “I know, but she is. How well did you know her?”

  “Well enough.”

  “Maybe she mentioned me, then. My name is Adam.”

  “You mean, bringer of all terrible things in this world Adam? Person she hates more than anyone Adam? And you want me to believe you just left her, she’s sick, and you’re just trying to help? Come on.”

  I laughed.

  “Yeah, I agree, that sounds like a stretch. Mirella, lower the sword and let the pixie go. I think it’s probably sending the wrong message.”

  “He had a gun trained on you.”

  “Sure, but he didn’t pull the trigger.”

  She lowered the sword, with great reluctance, then held her fist up to her mouth.

  “I like my eyes, little one,” she said, before releasing Dee. “Don’t try that again.”

  The alley was filled with a frantic buzzing for a few seconds, as Dee dive-bombed the air around us, before settling on Rick’s shoulder.

  “You okay?” he muttered. I admit to being slightly relieved that Rick didn’t speak pixie language too. It was awkward enough already.

  “Okay,” she said. “Go home now?”

  “Nearly.”

  “You weren’t expecting us with that gun, were you?” I asked.

  “I was expecting someone. Not you specifically. I figured somebody would turn up one day, after what I know.”

  “That’s interesting. We’re here because of what you know too. Only, we didn’t plan to get violent about it. Who’s the someone you were expecting?”

  “I dunno. They, them, somebody.” He looked at Mirella. �
��You’re a goblin, right?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “I hate that I know that. I hate that I can’t look around and see just people anymore.” He nodded down the alley. “You, big guy. Human?”

  “I am an imp, sir,” Thelonius said.

  “Yeah? Super. Didn’t know about you. That’s some crazy ears.”

  Rick turned back to me.

  “How is she sick?” he asked. “Is her skin all sticky?”

  “Yes,” I said. “You’ve seen it before, right? Dee’s companion.”

  “Yeah, her. But, I mean, look around. Everybody’s got it.”

  He turned to Mirella to add: “Talk to your people about it, it’s no secret. And if Eve’s sick…damn. Maybe we’re all going down.”

  “So, it’s an epidemic,” I said.

  “Nah. Not really. Sure, if you want to call it that, but that’s not the word I’d use. It’s a genocide is what it is.”

  Well, that was considerably different from an epidemic. I suddenly felt cold.

  “At whose hand?” I asked.

  “They. Them. Somebody,” he said.

  “I need more than that if I’m going to stop it.”

  He laughed.

  “It’s already happening, man. I think you’re too late. I’ll tell you what: look up a company called Holitix. They used to have a facility on the edge of town. Burned down last year. I don’t think it’ll help any, but that’s all I’ve got, so if you feel like torturing me or something to get more information, anything else I have to say will be made up to get you to stop torturing me.”

  “It’s a start,” I said.

  “Great. Can I go now?”

  “Yes, but we may need to get in touch with you again.”

  “I would very much rather you didn’t. But look, if Eve pulls through…tell her I was thinking of her. She still scares the hell out of me, but I was thinking of her anyway.”

  “You want me to tell her all that?”

  “Yeah.”

  He started heading down the alley.

  “Do you want your gun back?” I asked.

  “Nah, you keep it. I’ll just remember to run down a different alley next time. I got ‘em hidden all over.”