Red Litten World

by Alexander, K. M.

  Put a twenty lira gold piece on my pocket chain.

  So the crew'll know I died standing pat...

  I wasn’t keen on dying. Not today. It was an eerie tune for the occasion.

  I continued my progress. I expected every corner to reveal another bloody scene. Another body on the floor. Another wall covered in strange markings.

  The song followed me into the next room—a parlor—and I pushed the lyrics out of my head. Each corner revealed only more maero sparseness: square furniture, clean tables lacking adornment, simple cubes that served as stools or chairs. The walls were blank canvases painted a bone gray. Simple and efficient, the maero way. Even the bright Auseil decorations that had been hung all around on my previous visit had disappeared.

  A cold sweat dribbled down my forehead and I wiped it with the back of my hand. The sun—visible from Kiver’s unobstructed view—had begun to descend behind the Rosalias. It bathed the towers of the elevated levels in a burning red light and turned the interior of Kiver’s flat into fire.

  Something moved behind me and I spun, the gun tight in my hand. I waved it around, expecting to see Gold, Ashton, or one of the gargoyles. Instead I saw blank walls stained with sunlight.

  I let out a deep breath.

  I felt the shouts from the throng below in the floor. I looked out the window. Far below, the crowd looked like a sea that flowed towards City Hall.

  I pulled myself from the view and continued. As I moved from the parlor to the center of the main room the sound of voices greeted my ear. They were somewhere else in the house and were hurried and hushed, but nearby. Samantha’s voice.

  Momentum carried me around the next corner revealing more of the empty main room. A table sat along one wall. Papers covered its surface. I recognized this place. This was where Hagen and I had waited at Kiver’s party. It was here I had eaten from Kiver’s table, the food supplied by Elephant. This was where I had met Janus Gold, Cora Dirch, and the others.

  The voices were closer.

  Around the next corner I found a large hallway, as wide across as my small apartment in the Terraces. I eased slowly down the hall. Careful not to make any unnecessary noise. The voices continued. My eyes flicked about, expecting to see Ashton, one of the gargoyles, or even Gold coming at me.

  It was all I could do not to call out Samantha’s name or shout for Kiver—but I stayed silent. If someone other than my friend or employer was here I would lose any advantage in the element of surprise.

  Finally, I saw shadows leaking from the doorway of a back room, framed by the sanguine light that filled the rooms along the western edge of the house. I realized what this room was: the room where we found Frank Adderley, his body cut up by his own hand, his words—the pharos he placed for his god—covering the walls in his own blood.

  “I don’t understand,” said a voice. It sounded like Kiver.

  “Neither does Wal. Neither did my brother.” I was sure that was Samantha. “None of us understood. We had only half the answers. The thing is, this was supposed to happen. I wish I were here when they examined the room. I would’ve seen it.”

  I circled, keeping the gun at the ready. They didn’t sound distressed. Only scared. It wasn’t the sort of conversation you had while facing your enemies. What did Samantha mean when she said, “she would have seen it”? Would have seen what?

  The room opened up before me. Adderley’s scrawls still stained the walls though in the light of the sunset the marks had become more diffused. The dark stain where Frank Adderley had lain was still centered over the seal he had drawn on the floor. The altar, as Samantha had called it. Police tape still blocked portions of the room, and small numbered placards were scattered near various stains. Remnants of an investigation.

  Samantha and Kiver were in the room, some distance apart. Samantha moved about, examining things, her steps harried, her movement rapid. Her eyes were focused on the walls. She pointed.

  Kiver didn’t move. He stood and watched. From the side he looked tired and haggard. A large glass of brown liquor was clutched in his seven-fingered hand. His sharp features had sharpened even further and the bags had deepened beneath his piercing gray eyes. Scruff decorated his cheeks and his thin hair hung loosely around his face. He was wearing an undershirt, a pair of slacks, and some house shoes. I hadn’t seen him for a few days but the guy looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.

  “Carter’s cross, I’m glad you’re okay,” I said, exasperated.

  Both started, and turned to see me.

  “Wal!”

  “Mister Bell!”

  I holstered the Judge, and let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Tension eased from my shoulders.

  “Wal, are you okay?” Samantha broke away from Kiver and hurried over to me, her hands playing against my face, gingerly touching around my eyes, my lips. I winced, I had been socked harder than I realized.

  “Yeah, yeah. I think so. I’m sure my stitches are torn open again. Hurts like hell.”

  Samantha frowned and moved to touch my shirt but thought better of it. “What happened to the gargoyles?”

  “Gargoyles?” Kiver asked. His voice seemed higher than normal, it cracked and wavered, and I detected a bit of a slur. He was drunk, drunk and scared. “You’re not talking about statues, are you?”

  I shook my head.

  “What are they?” he asked.

  I saw Samantha swallow.

  “Still trying to figure that one out,” I said. “Look, we got to get you out of here. Ashton is on his way. Gold might be close behind. He didn’t like being uncovered.”

  “Ashton? Gold? Janus Gold?”

  “Didn’t you tell him?” I looked at Samantha.

  “Found him back here. Got lost in translation. Wal, there is so much more here. So much more than what Hagen recorded.

  “He captured what he recognized, but he missed all of that.”

  Samantha looked over my shoulder, to the wall behind me. Her dark eyes scanned what was written. When she turned back to me her face was drawn, her lips pressed tight. I could see lines form at their edges, and could hear her nervousness in her sharp exhalations.

  “What is it?” I asked, turning and looking at the wall. “What does it say?”

  “Adderley knew. He knew what was going on, knew it would all lead here. This was part of the plan.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. I stepped into the room and spun. Marveled at the amount of space the dying doctor had been able to cover in the time it took him to bleed out. Bouchard had been along too quickly for us to really take it all in.

  “He knew it would come here. He organized it. The trail he left led here for a reason. It was part of the plan.”

  “I don’t understand, Hagen—”

  “—didn’t get everything. Only a small portion, but this,” she motioned to the wall where the doorway sat. “This was Adderley’s manifesto. He wasn’t just a doctor. He wasn’t just a part of Gold’s curious little clique. He was something else. Something we’d only heard of. This was him laying it all out, explaining the process. We’ve been so blind.”

  “Okay, but how? What’d we miss?”

  “It’s when you start to link them, that’s when the pattern is revealed. Adderley is working for Ashton’s freedom. That’s the key. He’s very specific about that: freedom is the key. As with all of his family, all of the Firsts, he was awakened by the Kindler—by Cybill—and he was empowered by his uncle: Chaos—”

  “Curwen,” I said.

  “Right, with Ashton we have the first step.” She pointed to the wall. “The re-Aligning is happening, and it will begin with the Herald’s—with Ashton’s—release.”

  I thought the re-Aligning had been stopped with Cybill’s destruction. But clearly that had been wrong. Curwen was proof of it. I ran through the numbers in my head, tried to figure out when Curwen had started his siege on Methow. Panic and exhaustion made it difficult.

  “The Herald?” I asked.
/>   “Ashton’s title.”

  “Right. And he’s bound to Gold.”

  “For now,” Samantha said, her words carrying a tone of finality.

  “We need to get out of here,” I said.

  “What are you two talking about?” asked Kiver.

  I took a deep breath and ran my hand through my hair. Kiver had a right to know. “Do you believe in the Firsts?”

  He rubbed his stubbled chin with a seven-fingered hand. His eyebrows raised. “Like the monsters of legend?”

  “One and the same,” I said.

  He started to laugh but caught himself as he saw the expressions on our faces.

  “They’re very real,” said Samantha.

  “One’s after you right now: Ashton. He’s being controlled by Janus Gold who has ordered him to come after you.”

  “Under Gold’s command he’s been killing the wealthy. It was Ashton who committed all the recent gilded murders... and many others,” said Samantha. “Gold and his cronies have been using him to eliminate their competition.”

  Kiver’s expression changed from one of amusement to terror.

  “Janus is behind this?”

  “Which is why we have to go! We caught him. Samantha and I. He was performing some rite down on Level Two with a group. They marked you as the next target. They won’t be far behind us now.”

  Kiver stared at us blankly. “Assuming I believe you, where would you have me go? Out there? Have you seen that crowd? They’ll tear me apart!”

  “Where’s your family?” I asked.

  “I sent them away. A week ago. After the Auseil party. They’re at our summer home, on the islands.”

  “Why didn’t you go with them?”

  “I have business here. In a crisis every business, even one as successful as Renna Monochromes, needs strong leadership.” He paused and thought. “This is precisely the time it needs strong leadership.”

  Outside, Lovat burned. I had just explained how a killer who also happened to be one of the great old ones of legend was gunning for his life. Two people had been found dead in two different apartments owned by him in two different buildings. Yet, he felt the need to preach about the values of strong leadership. Bravery and stupidity are often two sides of the same coin. I should know.

  “We can get around the crowd,” I said, hoping it was true. I wondered where the gargoyles went. Could we use the pale tunnels of the entresols or would those things show up there as well?

  “He is coming here. After you. Gold wants you dead and now you’re being hunted. We need to go, the farther we can get from this city, the better.”

  I considered our options. If the blockade in the South had really been broken the smaller city of Destiny could be an option. Samantha’s father lived there and had some sway. If we wanted we could move even farther out into the country. Hide Kiver among the small farming communities scattered between here and the broad flow of the Rediviva.

  I will always find you, Mister Bell. Argentum’s words sprung up from somewhere inside of me. I hadn’t seen my would-be assassin in a while, I wondered where we would face off again. He had told me that I couldn’t escape the city. Now I had to try.

  “Come on,” I said.

  “Let me get my—” Kiver began.

  “No!” I shouted, spinning to face him. “We don’t have time to get anything. We need to go, and we need to go now!”

  Kiver blinked, and nodded. “Okay.”

  I turned, feeling the blood surge through me, and drew the Judge again, moving out of Adderley’s death chamber and back down the hallway. I was careful and quiet. I studied the way ahead expecting to see an enemy emerge from around every corner.

  Kiver and Samantha followed, staying close behind. Careful not to make a sound.

  Something felt off, like we were being watched. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as we exited the hallway and returned to the main room that stretched along one side of the apartment.

  A quick glance in Samantha’s direction told me she was also sensing something. Her eyes fixated on mine and then danced around the room as if she expected to see creatures hanging from the corners.

  I kept holding my breath, then realized I was doing it and tried to correct myself. The sound of the record player still warbled throughout the flat. I tried to hear anything past it.

  Nothing.

  I waved with my gun toward the other side of the apartment, beckoning Samantha and Kiver to follow. I continued to move forward. Circling, checking, double-checking, and leading us back towards the elevator.

  We stepped from the main room into the parlor where the record player sat. From the parlor we moved into the kitchen, and from there we slipped through the hallway into the atrium where the elevator doors deposited residents and guests. As we approached the gleaming metal doors I felt a bit of relief. One elevator ride down and we’d be in the lobby. There we had the Shangdi’s security to help us smuggle Kiver away. I felt better. Like we were going to pull this off.

  I reached to press the elevator’s call button.

  “Did you turn on my record player?” Kiver asked.

  Before I tapped the button, the light above the sliding door had clicked on. The glowing plastic circle glared down at me like the judgmental eye of some mythical beast. Its meager light had changed in the setting sun, shifting from a dull yellow into a hateful angry red.

  “Wal, the light,” Samantha said.

  My mouth went dry.

  The doors slid open.

  In the same instance a metal mask reflected the sunset. The yellow metal caught the light and bent it, causing it to flare hot and bright. I raised a hand to shield my eyes.

  The record player skipped. A raspy anur voice filled the apartment. Singing Father Armstrong's old song:

  ...I want six boneshooters to be pallbearers.

  And a chorus girl to sing a song.

  Stick a big jazz band on my hearsewain.

  Raise hell as I stroll along.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  THE SETTING SUN TURNED EVERYTHING RED. It poured its light around us, turning our shadows into black pools that stretched across the floor and climbed up the walls.

  Two crimson figures, stained with gore, stepped out of the elevator into Kiver’s foyer. Janus Gold’s mask wore the same placid expression, but the eyes beyond looked panicked. He gripped a hatchet in one hand and his other was balled into a fist. Beside him Caleth stood armed with a thick club and an evil expression that was all furrowed brow and twisted sneer. The bloody handprint Gold had placed on his forehead was now dry, the drips like frozen waterfalls on his face. He breathed in long heavy breaths that inflated his shoulders as much as his chest.

  My Judge was raised and leveled at them before either could speak. Everyone froze. Each group trying to get a read off the others.

  “B–Bell,” stammered Gold. He scratched his dirty hair with his free hand. “This isn’t what it seems.”

  “Yeah? Is that why you look like you just came from a murder scene? And that?” I pointed at the hatchet with the barrel of the Judge. “How are you going to explain that?”

  Gold looked down at the weapon and his eyes widened as if noticing it for the first time. He lowered it slightly, clearly unsure of what to do.

  “I saw you send that thing after Kiver,” I said. I trained the gun back and forth between the two of them. Every time I pointed it at Gold he shied away. Caleth was bolder. He was large and mean and had nearly a foot and a half over me and probably weighed twice my weight. Every time the gun stopped on him his frown deepened, I could hear his teeth grate and see the muscles of his arms tense.

  “What is going on? What did you get yourself into, Janus?” asked Kiver. The edge in his voice was clear. “And you, Caleth? This is what I get after all my time, all my investment in you? I expected better.”

  Caleth pointed his club at the other maero. “You keep quiet, forsha.”

  Kiver gave a guttural growl behind me. I didn�
��t know the meaning but I could recognize Elano, the maero native tongue. It was a language most maero didn’t speak anymore. Wensem couldn’t speak a lick of it and most folk preferred Strutten. However, it was clear from Caleth’s tone and Kiver’s reaction that it was offensive.

  “He hasn’t been here, has he?” The dauger looked from the gun to a space over my shoulder and shook his head. “No... he hasn’t. If he’d been here you’d be dead.” He looked at me and then at Samantha. “All of you.”

  “Janus, we’ve always been competitors but I thought we were also friends. Carter’s cross, we went to school together,” said Kiver.

  Gold scoffed. “It was in school when I learned how poisoned you were. As we got older I saw how it spilled into your business. You’re a cruel and vindictive maero, Kiver dal Renna. You want to take shame? Imagine what your father would say if he saw how you ran the corporation that bears his name.”

  “Business is business,” said Kiver, his voice a rumble. “It’s not personal.”

  Elephant’s words.

  “Business is business, eh? Was it business when you fired my brother? Was it business when you forced out the leadership of First Lovat Bank? You know they forced me into default! You move about with no regard. You don’t care! You don’t think about anything but yourself. So we’ll play this your way. We can consider this just an extension of business. A hostile takeover, as it were. It’s not personal.” Gold’s voice had a mocking tone. I tensed. How did I end up in the middle of this?

  I kept facing Caleth and Gold. I was sure Kiver was livid but I couldn’t let my guard down. Both were armed and seemed willing to use their makeshift weapons.

  “How’d you get up here?” Samantha asked. “The crowd outside—”

  Caleth waved the question away dismissively and gave me a wicked grin.

  “And the others?” asked Kiver. “Have you been behind all of those deaths? What did Bonheur do to you? Osmiyum, Styer... old Blake? Were they just other hostile takeovers?”

  “The ranks of the elevated needed a purge. Too many old families with too much power, stifling those of us with fewer holdings,” said Caleth. “You’d be amazed what grieving families are willing to part with for a pittance.”