He paced around to the back of Kalaechai’s humanoid form, and waited for him to turn. This took some time, so Dan filled it by cricking his lower spine back into position.
“Now, I’m going to explain this as slowly as I can, but to you, it’s going to seem fast, so do us both a favor and pay attention,” said Dan, once Kalaechai was facing him. “Because I sure as shizz won’t be repeating myself.”
Kalaechai’s face began to twist in rage. It was like the coming of the dawn, all creeping shadows and not a lot really happening. “Hooooooooooooooow—?”
“Dare I? How dare I speak to you like that? Is that what you were going to ask?” said Dan, interrupting. “It was, right? You know how I know that? Because that’s what you all ask. You ‘Malwhere Lords.’”
He made half the quote marks in the air with his fingers around that last part, then shrugged and began to pace again. He walked slowly, but just fast enough so Kaleachai always had to keep moving.
He could smell the stomach acid eating away at his pants. At least, he hoped it was his pants. Fractured legs, he could deal with. Digested legs? That was more of a problem.
“See, I’ve met a few of you guys now and, well, I’ll be honest, I’m not a fan,” Dan said. “Either you end up here, or I end up in there, and one way or another, we always come to blows.”
He stopped walking. “Tusshuk of the K’trubbon. Heard of him? Real piece of work. Had a thing for young men. Boys, really. He’d use their bodies as, I don’t know, vessels or some such. He’d move in, use them for a day or two while he burned them up from the inside, then move on to his next victim, and repeat.”
Dan pointed down to where he stood. His face, which was already serious, became many shades more so. “Here. He did that here. In my city.”
The stomach acid sloshed as Dan began to circle again. “You know what happened to Tusshuk in the end? No? No one does. Well, no one except me.”
Dan smiled and pointed at the man-shaped version of Kalaechai. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I killed him. Right? Well, nope. You’re wrong.”
He stared upwards, almost wistfully. “He asked me to. Begged me to. Oh, man, did he beg me to. But nope. Didn’t kill him. Probably never will.”
The bile sloshed around Dan’s legs as he moved faster, his words tumbling out more quickly. “Transha Narr-te Assiin, ruled some shizzhole of a dark realm where they hunted people they’d harvested from other dimensions. Men, women, kids, they didn’t care. For sport, you know? For fun. Took me three weeks to finally find a way in there, then three minutes to bring their whole stinking universe down around their ears. Not that they had ears, but you know what I mean.”
Dan began to list off on his fingers. “The Norts, all dead. Likewise Brinshuk Twelve, Hondra Oolas, and the vast majority of the Jepton Intelligence. Lady Effk – you know, the soul-eater? Inside-out, last I checked, although I haven’t been to visit in a while. It’s partly because of the screaming, but mostly it’s the smell. I mean, she don’t look too pretty, neither, but… the smell.”
He shuddered, then stopped. The stomach fluids rippled as he turned on his heels. “My point is, Kaleachai… I’m going to call you Kal. My point is, Kal, you might think you’re something special. That you’re a big shot. You might think you can come over here, throw your little hissy fit, and we’ll let you do whatever you want, but you only think that because you don’t know who I am. You don’t know who you’re dealing with. And you know how I know that? Because you all make the same mistake. You’re all the same.”
Mindy bleeped softly in Dan’s coat. He stepped closer to Kalaechai so they were face to face. “Here’s the deal. This is the one and only time I’m going to offer it, so listen very closely. You took my friend, so I’m taking your daughter,” Dan said, his voice a low rumble. “She stays here. You go back to where you came from. That’s us even. That’s the end of it. Because if you don’t, then just like Tusshuk, you will beg me to kill you.”
He leaned in closer still, his voice becoming nothing but a whisper. “But I never will.”
Dan stared deep into the Malwhere Lord’s eyes for several seconds, until he was sure his point had been made.
“Also, I have a friend who, at my command, will crawl up your shizzpipe and never leave, so you might want to take that into consideration, too.”
He stepped back and waved his remaining arm, dismissively. “Now close your mouth. The slowdown wore off thirty seconds ago.”
Kalaechai’s smaller form looked down at his hands in surprise. His jaw, which had been hanging open, snapped shut, just as the larger version of himself sprung back to life, its intestinal walls shuddering and wobbling. Hissing in rage, the man-sized Malwhere Lord made a lunge for Dan, but Dan didn’t move a muscle.
“Do it,” Dan said, standing his ground. He looked almost excited, like this was what he had hoped would happen, all along. “Just give me an excuse. Please.”
Just before Kalaechai reached him, the humanoid form disintegrated into vapor. It swirled around him like steam for a few seconds, then was gone.
A moment later, the gelatinous, fleshy walls of Kalaechai’s larger form also became mist. The pool of stomach juices rolled away, spreading into a much wider and shallower puddle on the floor.
Dan looked down and saw that his pants had become shorts, and his coat was missing from below the knee. His legs were a brownish-red, as opposed to their usual greenish-gray, but otherwise undamaged. It was actually an improvement, he thought.
Above him, the broken walkways were empty. No Paradise, Janto, or any of Paradise’s remaining henchmen. No Ollie, either.
To Dan’s surprise, it was that last one that bothered him the most.
“Well, then,” he muttered, fixing the collar of his coat and making some final adjustments to his spine. “Guess I’ll go see what shizzstorm awaits outside.”
* * *
Dan limped out through the factory entrance, and almost tripped over Artur, who was running in the opposite direction.
“Hey, watch it, ye clumsy big bastard,” Artur protested. He looked Deadman up and down. “What the Hell has happened to yer pants?”
“Stomach acid.”
Artur winced. “Shoite. Again?”
Dan nodded. “Yup. Again.” He limped on. “Shouldn’t you be with Nona?”
“Ollie’s got her,” Artur said. “She said you were having a spot of bother with yer man, Kalaechai, so I thought I’d come and lend a hand.”
He peered into the factory. “But I can see ye’ve taken care of it. How’d ye manage that?”
“I told him what I’d done to Tusshuk of the K’trubbon.”
“Oh. Right,” said Artur. “And who’s Tusshuk of the K’trubbon when he’s at home?”
“Fonked if I know,” said Dan, shrugging. “Sounded good at the time, though.”
Artur grinned. “Yer a sly one, Deadman, ye know that?”
“I have my moments.”
“That ye do, matey. That ye do,” Artur agreed. “And how about that feckin’ eejit?”
“Who?”
“What d’ye mean, ‘who’? Yer man. Nona’s father. Ye took care of him, I take it?”
They heard the screaming before Dan could reply. It came from up ahead, beyond the broken fence, and around the back of the truck.
“Nona!” Artur yelped. He set off running, with Dan hurrying along behind as best he could.
“Artur, wait,” he called. “There’s something you need to know.”
He caught up with the little guy at the rear of the truck. Nona had stopped screaming, and now stood tucked in behind Ollie, her face pressed against Ollie’s lower back, her eyes screwed tightly shut.
Paradise West sat in her CareChair, flanked by seven guards. Janto half-stood, half-crouched beside the chair. One arm held his stomach, like he was afraid it was going to fall out through his rectum at any moment. The twisted fingers of his other hand beckoned to the little girl.
“…just a few tests, that’s all. I won’t hurt you, Nona,” he said, his voice like a crackle of Fall leaves. “You’ll be helping me. You’ll be Daddy’s special helper.”
“Leave her alone. You’re not taking her,” Ollie said.
“Too feckin’ right he isn’t. Deadman! Why isn’t this crispy-fried bastard dead?” Artur demanded. “And Holy Father, what’s that smell? Has someone shoite themselves or something?”
Paradise raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Do you want to tell him, or shall I?”
Dan ground his teeth together, holding the old woman’s gaze. “I owe her a favor,” he intoned. “She helped me find Nona. And now she’s taking that piece of filth with her.”
“My hairy arse she is!” Artur protested. “If ye’re not going to kill him, I’ll do it meself.”
He tensed, getting ready to throw himself at Janto, but seven blaster rifles trained on him, and he reluctantly thought better of it.
“So… what?” he snapped, squinting up at Dan. “We’re letting him go? We’re letting him get away with it?”
“Oh, he’ll get away with nothing,” said Paradise. “He’ll be punished for his misdeeds, mark my words. I’m not a monster, you know? I wish to see him pay for what he did to those children as much as you do.”
“I highly doubt that, wrinkles,” Artur spat.
Paradise’s mouth formed a shape traditionally associated with smiling, without ever actually becoming a smile. “Ha. Quite.” She raised her eyes to Dan. “So, it’s agreed. I cash in one of those favors, and I take Janto here for my own purposes?”
Dan felt the heat of Ollie and Artur’s gazes on him. He ignored them both. “Agreed,” he said.
“Deadman, ye can’t be serious!”
“Artur, shut up,” Dan said. He turned away, unable to look at Paradise’s smirk any longer.
“And we’ll need the girl, obviously.”
Dan froze.
“Not for long, and I won’t let him hurt her. Just some blood samples. Tissue, DNA, what have you. She’ll be well compensated, of course.”
Slowly, his boot heels scuffing on the tarmac, Dan turned. Artur now stood in front of Ollie, providing an extra line of defense between Nona and her father.
Paradise indicated Janto with a nod. “It seems this one’s worthless without her. She has information he needs for his work, otherwise he’s of no use to me.”
Dan’s one remaining fist clenched. It did not go unnoticed.
“Don’t forget, Mr Deadman, you still owe me another favor.”
Dan turned and looked at the girl cowering against Ollie’s back. Through a gap in her fingers, he saw one of her eyes, wide and red and too exhausted to cry.
He sighed. “You’re right. I do.”
“I knew you’d see sense,” Paradise said. She gestured for one of her guards to take the girl. The man snapped to attention and made his move, only for Dan to block his path.
“I wouldn’t,” he said, meeting the guard with a dead-eyed gaze. “See, Paradise, I am going to do you that favor, just not the way you ask.”
“I’m sorry? I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
Dan placed a single finger in the middle of the guard’s chest and pushed him slowly backwards. “The favor I’m doing is this.” He loomed over her CareChair, ignoring the weapons being trained on him. “I’m going to give you a head start.”
“I beg your pardon?” Paradise snorted, her eyes narrowing.
“You heard me. I’m going to give you a head start. Let’s say three minutes. If you’re gone when those three minutes are up, then so be it. I’ll leave you to get on with your business.”
He leaned closer to her, and felt a sense of grim satisfaction when she drew back into her chair. “But if you’re still here, then your business becomes my business, and all bets are off.”
Paradise shifted in her seat. “And if I refuse?”
“You won’t,” said Dan. “Because I’ve had a really bad day, and you’ve only got seven guns.”
He straightened up. “Artur, you got a watch?”
“How would I wear it? As a feckin’ belt? No, I don’t have a watch.”
“Ollie?”
“What’s a watch?”
“Guess that’s a no, then,” said Dan. He shrugged. “We’ll just have to estimate it. Although, I should warn you, a good friend of mine recently told me I have a habit of underestimating things. Turns out he was right. So you should probably start moving.”
Paradise held his gaze for several seconds, then relented. “Very good, Mr Deadman,” she said. “Well played.”
With a wave of her hand, she ordered her guards to stand down. Her CareChair hummed as it turned, and Janto scurried along beside it as it skimmed across the tarmac towards a group of expensive-looking mag-lev vehicles parked further along the street.
“I can’t believe ye’re letting him away with everything he did,” said Artur, disgust dripping from every word. “I can’t believe it.”
Dan held a hand out, silencing him. He waited until Paradise was a good thirty feet away, before calling to her. “Oh, and one more thing.”
Paradise’s CareChair slowed, then stopped. She turned. “What?” she asked, her usual air of false pleasantry falling away.
“You said it yourself. Without the girl, he’s worthless.”
Paradise’s eyebrows dipped in the middle, then raised higher than ever. She looked Janto up and down. He practically bowed and scraped, wilting beneath her gaze. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I did, didn’t I?”
Dan stepped in front of Ollie, turning to face her.
“Wait, n-no, please, don’t do—” cried Janto, and then a series of blaster shots ended his sentence, and him in general.
Dan waited until he heard the humming of the CareChair moving away. He sagged a little, giving in to his exhaustion. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get this kid home.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Returning Nona to her mother was, Dan had to admit, the high point of his day. Considering the day he’d had, though, that wasn’t exactly saying much.
There had been tears, roughly equal thirds split between Nona, her mother, and Artur, who sobbed uncontrollably for most of his time in the apartment, and even offered to give Nona her dolls’ clothes back. She had declined, and rummaged under her bed until she’d found a whole box full of boy doll clothes, which Dan had been forced to carry, one-handed, down to the Exodus, after they’d said their goodbyes.
“Ye did a good thing, Deadman,” said Artur, from his spot on the dash.
“Yeah, well, I got paid, that’s the main thing,” Dan said.
“Yeah, sure. Just ye keep telling yerself that,” Artur said. He rolled his eyes and turned to Ollie. “Ye hear the shoite that comes out of his mouth, peaches? ‘I got paid, that’s the main thing.’ And the worst of it is, he thinks he believes it.”
Ollie let out a nervous laugh, and tucked a strand of hair back over her ear. She spoke to Dan without looking at him. “Uh, so, what happened with, you know?”
“Your father? Your father, who murdered my friend while looking for you?” said Dan.
“Harsh, Deadman,” said Artur.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, him,” said Ollie. “Is he… Am I going back?”
“Do you want to go back?”
“No!” Ollie said. “No. Never.”
Dan shrugged. “Then you’re not going back. We made a deal.”
“Oh? Oh!” Ollie lunged across the car to give Dan a hug. Instinct got the better of him, and he deflected the move with a crunching elbow to the jaw.
“Shizz. Sorry. I thought…”
“He’s not used to displays of affection,” said Artur. “Probably should’ve warned you about that, peaches.”
“No, no, that’s OK, that’s OK,” said Ollie, nursing her chin in both hands. “My fault. Totally my fault. Boundaries overstepped. Lesson learned. No harm done.”
She opened and closed her mouth a few times, then
lightly punched Dan on the shoulder and winked. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” Dan said. “And, you know, sorry about the elbow thing.”
“Don’t worry about,” Ollie said, her voice slurred. “I can barely even feel it.” She shifted in her seat. “So… what should I do now?”
“I’d put some ice on it, personally,” Artur suggested.
“Huh? Oh! No, I meant… What do I do now in general?”
Dan shrugged. “Well… I don’t know. It’s a big city. Lot of opportunities.”
“Drugs,” said Artur. “Prostitution, getting murdered by some feckin’ headcase with a big knife. Sure, the streets are practically paved with gold.”
“Lots of real opportunities,” Dan insisted. “If you look for them. You know, hard enough.”
“Well… good. OK,” said Ollie. “That’s… that’s good. Opportunities.”
She waited for him to say something.
He didn’t.
Ollie reached for the door handle. “OK, well… I guess I’ll see you, then.”
“I guess so,” said Dan.
The door opened, and the sound of the city filled the car. The sun was coming up, and the shift change between night people and day people was in full swing.
“Although,” Dan began.
Ollie stopped, halfway out of the car.
“You did make a promise.”
“I did?” said Ollie.
“To Ned.”
“Oh. I mean, yes. Yes! I did.”
Dan flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Seems you owe him that much.”
Ollie blinked. “You mean…? You mean you want me to stick around?”
“Well, ‘want’ is a strong word,” said Dan.
Up on the dash, Artur tutted. “Oh, just start the car and cut the shoite, ye predictable big eejit,” he said, scowling. “And take us home.”
Dan fired up the Exodus. To his surprise, it started first time.
Then died, almost immediately.
He sighed, and turned to Ollie. “Don’t suppose you’d like to give me a push?”
“What? Oh! Yeah! Sure!” Ollie said.
She pushed him.
“Walked into that one, Deadman,” Artur said, sniggering.
Dial D for Deadman: A Space Team Universe Novel (Dan Deadman Space Detective Book 1) Page 23