“One thing bothers me,” said Samantha, stepping over a shattered monochrome. There was glass everywhere and it crunched beneath her boots.
“What’s that?”
“If the First is alive, if it’s active, why isn’t it tearing through the city?”
I looked at her, frowned slightly. It was a good question.
“You know the legends, Wal. When the Aligning happened, they plunged mankind into darkness for thousands of years. We’ve seen them. They aren’t peaceful. They’re destroyers.”
“You saying this First is killing the elevated?” I said.
Samantha hummed. “No. That doesn’t fit. Cybill was ready to destroy, right?”
I nodded.
“Curwen was more surgical but he wanted to terrorize.”
“Right,” I said. “Maybe it’s waiting for something.”
She laughed. “When the stars are right and all that? Maybe. It’s hard to sort fact from fiction... I think we’re missing something.”
We moved east, rode an empty lift down a level and walked the rest of the way to my apartment in the Terraces.
It was at the top of a gray brick building on Ament Street. The building stooped on its corner like a tired old man. Its lower half dropped down through the entresol between Levels Three and Two, the basement resting on the back of a bigger building that had its roots somewhere down in the Sunk. The residents ran the gamut of trade but tended to skew poor. Most days, pitch dealers lingered on corners, and a few street gangs laid claim to the warren. The streets here would be considered rough by some standards, but I found they weren’t dangerous if you kept your head down.
But I still didn’t want to take any chances.
Shivering in the cold, we lingered behind a line of dumpsters and waited to see if anyone was watching the place. I hadn’t seen Argentum since the fight on the lift and I did not want to run into him again before I was armed. I’d feel better with the Judge at my side.
We listened. In the distance a baby wailed. A couple fought, a rodent squeaked, and a dog barked. It was quiet. Eerily so.
Samantha had mentioned that there had been a riot here, one of the first, a protest gone bad. You could see signs of it mixed in with the normal trash that cluttered the street. Abandoned banners, scorch marks, shattered glass, and the still-smoldering shell of an overturned police fourgon. The hulk smoked across the street from the entrance to my building, turning the light from the lamps that hung from the ceiling into a gloomy twilight. I guess the riot had gotten a lot closer to my place than Samantha had realized.
“This is where you live?” She sounded taken aback.
“Well, recently,” I said, hoping embarrassment wasn’t creeping into my voice. I blew into my hands and rubbed them together, realizing it’d been years since I had brought a woman to my apartment. I wondered absently when I’d last cleaned it. “I change places whenever I come back into town.”
She nodded.
I scanned the area. “Do you see anyone?”
Samantha craned her neck and looked over the dumpster. The small nubs on her chin stuck out and sharpened her features. “Is Argentum a small elderly anur?”
I laughed. “No, that’d be Mr. Audley. Let’s go in.”
We made our way up two floors, passing piles of mildewing paper and half-filled garbage bags destined for one of the city’s incinerators. I fished the key from its hiding spot behind some molding.
“Very secure,” said Samantha.
I put my finger to my lips, turned the handle, and pushed my way inside.
Tensing, I braced myself, but there was nothing. I breathed a sigh of relief. The apartment was empty.
It was also a mess. I had left the bed unmade, a set of yellow sheets were twisted on top of the mattress, the quilt half on the floor. The sink was full of dirty dishes. In one corner the radiator moaned as it quietly fought against the bitter cold. It was warmer in here than in the hall, and warmer in the hall than out on the street. So it was chilly, but not freezing.
Samantha closed the door behind us.
“This is... cozy,” she observed.
“Yeah,” I said, absently poking around on top of a small chest of drawers. “I haven’t had a chance to hang my art collection yet.”
I looked over my shoulder and smirked. She rolled her eyes mockingly.
The Judge was where I had left it, in its holster resting in a drawer in the small nightstand by the bed. I pulled it out, tossed it on the bed and fished out a shoulder holster from another drawer. The weapon would have to sit on top of the knife wound Argentum had given me but I didn’t have much of a choice. It needed concealing. The cops were already looking for reasons to arrest people, no sense in giving them more.
“Look, I’ve been meaning to say... thanks,” Samantha said.
“For what?”
“For putting your trust in us. In me. For telling us everything,” said Samantha. “I know it’s not easy for you.”
I looked up at her and smiled. “Well, you were right. I can’t go at this alone. I need you guys.”
She smiled and I could see something else in her expression. Something that could move beyond friendship. It stirred up old feelings.
“Sorry about all the trouble again,” I said.
I pulled off my coat, tied my hair into a loose bun, rolled up the sleeves of my shirt, and began to pull on the shoulder holster.
“I’m starting to get used to it,” Samantha said. “Trouble finds you.”
“Guess that’s what comes with being the Guardian,” I said.
“Yeah,” she said, frowning slightly.
She moved slowly about the room, and I watched her as I buckled the holster in place. Her long fingers traced over the dresser and she frowned a little as they came up dusty.
I went to work cleaning the revolver, letting my hands disassemble it. Feeling the oiled rag play over the chambers and cylinder. I needed it reliable. Who knows what else is out there?
After a few moments Samantha said, “It works.”
“I beg pardon?” I looked up. She stood an arm’s length away. Her coat was unbuttoned and she had removed her keff.
“This apartment. It feels like you. I can’t place what that feeling is.”
“Oh?” I said, continuing my work but looking at her.
“Yeah. It’s... grounded.”
“Huh,” I said, dwelling on that. Was that a compliment?
“I just mean... ” she laughed. A bright laugh that sent my heart racing. “I’m just surrounded by so much extravagance all the time. But sometimes it’s nice to be around someone that shows himself. No hiding... Sure, you keep secrets. You can be brash, but... you’re who you say you are.”
“And what do I say I am?” I asked, snapping the cylinder into place and giving her a quick smile.
“A dusty caravan master.”
She stepped closer.
I was overcome with a different emotion. Was it guilt? I hadn’t told her about Essie. What was there to tell? Nothing had ever happened with Samantha. I had been too dumb, too scared. Times were overwhelming. I moved on. But the ice between us had thawed. That much was clear.
She needed to know about Essie. That, too, was clear.
“Look, I...” I started to say.
Samantha looked up at me, tilting her head slightly to one side. Her hair slipped from behind her neck and fell across her shoulders as she waited, a little smile playing across her lips. It would make things a lot easier if she didn’t... look like that.
My old man always told me it was better to tear the bandage off rather than draw out the agony. “I’m sort of... seeing someone. We’re not together, but... well, I don’t know where we stand right now.”
Smooth, Wal.
I wasn’t sure what I expected as a reaction.
Samantha blinked and her smile disappeared.
“I should have told you earlier. You’re a friend. But... I haven’t seen you for months.” I rubbed my neck.
“I see,” said Samantha. She nodded and took a step back. “What do you mean, you don’t know where you stand right now?”
I scratched my cheek. “Well, I went to see her after I ran into Elephant. We were talking. I told her a little about the Broken Road. I left off the bits about Curwen being a First, and the gargoyles. I explained about the collector after me and she flipped out. Kicked me out of her place. It left me sort of stunned.”
“She sounds great,” said Samantha. She had folded her arms across her chest and she was looking out the window to the streets below.
I rubbed the back of my neck and let out a long sigh.
I loaded the Judge and slipped it into the holster. Then I pulled on my wool coat and dropped the remaining box of shells into a pocket.
Samantha hadn’t moved, she was still looking outside.
“Look, I am just telling you this. No more secrets.”
“You kept secrets from this... Essie. You told her about the Broken Road but left out the First and the gargoyles. Is she someone you care about?”
I nodded.
“Then you need to tell her about all of this. How deep it all goes.”
I nodded again. “Look, before we head back to Saint Olm, I want to check in on her. Make sure she’s safe. That okay? I’ll walk you back to the shop if you—”
“No,” she snapped. “I told you, I’m coming with you. You get into too much trouble alone.”
I wanted to reach out. Squeeze her arm. Something. But I could see it wasn’t the right time.
“Let’s head to Cedric’s. If it’s open, she should be working.”
The windows of the diner were dark. The tiled counter and tall-backed booths were shadows behind the glass. The neon sign was off, the tubes dingy and black.
Cedric’s clearly wasn’t open and the entresol was immersed in shadow. From somewhere deep in that middle space between the levels there came a hacking cough, wet and raw. Closer I could hear the scurry of rats, and the rolling shuffle of centipede feet on the metal floor.
Samantha shuddered next to me. Bits of light caught in her eyes as she hugged her coat close to her chest and looked around.
A sign hung on the door of the diner among the Auseil Zann hymns. Handmade and crude, it read:
TEMPORARILY CLOSED
NO FOOD
“What now?” Samantha asked.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s check her place.”
We climbed the stairs that led back to street level and walked down the cold blocks turning where necessary to find ourselves in front of Essie’s building. I looked around, double and then triple checking to make sure Argentum wasn’t lurking nearby.
His words rang in my ears and rattled around inside my skull. I will always find you, Mister Bell.
Let him come. I was ready.
A few people milled about. A human and a dauger still sporting red Breakers armbands scuttled down an alleyway and out of sight. A hunched figure completely enveloped in a dirty coat rocked slowly on a bench down the street, steam billowing out from below their collar where they breathed.
I shouldered through the door and led Samantha up the stairs to Essie’s apartment.
The door was open when we got there.
I drew my gun and held it pointing upwards. I maneuvered next to the door like they always did on police serials. Samantha moved behind me, and we stood flattened against the plaster wall.
“Essie?” I called out cautiously.
I peered through the crack of the open door. The lights were on. There was no movement from inside.
“Essie?” I said, a little quieter. “You in there?”
I waited and counted to ten. My heart hammered three times as fast.
When I got to ten I pushed my way in, trying to cover the angles. I probably looked ridiculous.
No one in the upper corner.
No one along the back wall.
No one near the bed.
No one was inside. The apartment wasn’t big.
I stepped further inside and checked the tiny bathroom, even poking my head behind the shower curtain.
Empty. Sort of.
The place was a mess. Clothes were strewn everywhere. Drawers had been pulled free from their cabinets, the mattress had been flipped. One of Essie’s lamps had fallen and shattered on the floor. Bits of blood dotted the ground around the jagged pieces.
Oh no. Oh no, no, no.
“Essie! Essie!” I shouted. I could hear the panic in my voice.
I had a mental image of Argentum shouldering his way into the apartment, tearing it apart as he chased Essie around the room. I imagined him catching her and using the lamp to subdue her. Smacking it across the back of her neck.
“Someone was here,” I said. “Look at the lamp. Someone took her.”
“Wal, you’re leaping pretty quickly to some serious conclusions. Maybe she just... cut herself on the lamp?”
“Argentum was here,” I said coldly. I held the Judge at my side, and looked down my arm. The gun felt heavy in my hand. It felt good. A numbness creeped in behind my ears.
“Wal, you don’t—”
A knock at the door.
Samantha’s eyes went wide. We froze, and heard the sound of feet padding into the room. A voice called, “Hello? Who’s there?”
My eyes narrowed. Essie’s attacker? I spun, bringing the gun up.
“You son of a—” I shouted.
“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!”
A large anur stood in the doorway. His already enormous eyes widened further as his many chins quivered and his wide mouth dropped open. His cigar dropped from his mouth to the carpet. He raised his big webbed hands awkwardly.
“Don’t shoot! Please don’t hurt me.”
“Who are you?” I growled.
“I’m the super. You r–robbing the place? Take what you want!” he said. “I’ll be no trouble.”
“Carter’s cross. No, we’re not robbers,” said Samantha, exasperated. “Wal, put that thing down, you’re scaring him to death.”
I slipped the Judge back into its holster.
“Sorry,” I apologized.
The anur’s face screwed up and he glared at me.
“We’re looking for Esther Cove. She lives here,” I said.
His expression softened. He nervously looked from me to Samantha and back. Finally he cautiously bent down, picked up his cigar and returned it to his wide mouth.
“I’m a friend of hers,” I explained. “I’m looking for her.”
He eyed me, sized me up, and stuck his hands into the pockets of his cardigan. He began to rock on his heels. “A friend, huh? What kind of friend breaks into an apartment armed with a gun and trashes the place?”
“The door was open when we got here!” Samantha said.
“Hmm. Well, I heard you hollering. I guess thieves don’t holler.”
“You know where Essie is?” I asked.
“What’s it to you?”
“I’m her friend.”
He has her. Argentum has her. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
“Well, you aren’t any longer. She’s gone.”
“Gone?” I blinked. “What do you mean gone?”
“Gone! Took off. Skipped out on her lease. Handed me a wad of lira and said she was leaving.”
I sat back slowly, settling next to the overturned mattress, and looked over at Samantha. The cool expression she had been wearing had given way to concern.
“Did she say where she’s going?” I asked, my voice sounding wooden in my ears.
The anur shook his head. “Nope. Even if she did, I wouldn’t tell you. Don’t know you from Carter.”
“Wal, it sounds like she got out. Like she’s okay,” said Samantha. Her tone had changed, slipping back into priestess mode. Care and concern welling up to overcome any emotions that had been there before.
Had she gotten out? I could only hope she hadn’t been captured by Argentum or rounded up by riot police. I h
oped she had found passage on a transport or a caravan, someone willing to take her somewhere safe. Some place not eating itself alive. Regardless, the truth rang hollow in my chest: Essie had disappeared.
NINETEEN
ZANN HYMNS TORE FREE from their wax seals and fluttered around our feet as we walked back to Saint Olm. Samantha hadn’t said anything since Essie’s apartment. I half-expected her to chastise me for sticking the gun in the super’s face. She never liked guns and abhorred violence, but I had seen her kill to save and seen her kill to free. This time, no words of chastisement came and so we walked in silence.
A bitter wind cut at us, carrying with it more papers and trash. Copies of the Lovat Ledger fluttered about like dead leaves. Headlines reading: “RIOT IN SOUTH DOME!” and “SIX DEAD IN BROADWAY HILL DEMONSTRATION” flicked past like pictures on a monochrome. I put my head down and pushed into the wind.
Essie occupied my thoughts. Why did she leave Lovat? What did I say that had struck a nerve? I went through the scene over and over in my head. Talking about the Broken Road and explaining the rescue of the refugees had been fine. But it was the collectors that had set her off. What had she said? “You can’t stay here. You can’t bring those people here. You shouldn’t have come here.” She had been so angry. What sort of trouble was she in?
I hardly noticed the marching protesters as Samantha guided us past the crowd. The farther we moved away from her apartment, the more I worried. My stomach was in knots wondering what had happened. I tried to remember our conversation from the night we got loaded but it was too hazy. She knew so much about me and I knew so little.
Lovat felt abandoned, but you could see people, watching from windows, poking their heads out from behind doors. The homeless, who usually sat on the streets, now lurked in alleys, ducking behind overflowing dumpsters whenever someone walked past.
Maintenance people worked at some of the damage. Many businesses were closed, their security gates drawn. Some shops had been temporarily boarded up to protect their plate-glass storefronts. A few shopkeeps stood outside doorways and surveyed piles of wreckage.
We were halfway to Saint Olm, in the central business district near Lovat Central, City Hall, and a few other official buildings when the sodium lamps above us went dark.
Red Litten World Page 20