Poison City

by Paul Crilley

  ‘Oh, don’t look at me like that, you two-faced prick. You set me up. I wouldn’t even be in this situation if you’d kept your word.’

  ‘I wonder what you will do now,’ says Lilith.

  In answer, I leap to my feet and place one water pistol against Kincaid’s head, standing behind him to keep out of sight. The guy is huge. I have to stand on tiptoe just to get my arm around his neck.

  ‘London, this is stupid,’ he says. ‘Be nice to her. She’ll give you a place in the new world.’

  ‘As what?’

  ‘We will still need peacekeepers,’ says Lilith. ‘All supernatural creatures are not of one mind. Many will break the law. Many will need to be punished.’

  ‘Yeah, somehow I don’t think that will end well for me.’

  ‘So you plan on just walking out of here?’ asks Lilith.

  ‘Sure. If you value our old pal here.’

  ‘Be my guest.’

  I wait for the punchline but it doesn’t come. Lilith stays sitting at the table. Watching.

  I turn Kincaid around and we start walking back through the hold.

  We make it to the middle of the room before a loud screeching sound echoes around us. I freeze, looking wildly around.

  The doors to all the metal containers are swinging open.

  To reveal hundreds of vampires.

  Nosferatu, hipsters, goths, bikers, homeless, children. A cross-section of society, the only difference being these guys are all pale as maggot flesh, have black eyes, and massive fangs.

  Oh, and they all want to eat me.

  Some of them lean casually against the container doors, watching. Others drop down into the hold. They move slowly forward and more and more join them.

  I look to the hold door, wondering if I can make a break for it. Before I can make up my mind, it swings open and more vampires stream through. Those containers I saw as I moved through the ship. It looks like they all contained vampires.

  -Now might be a good time to call up your tattoos,- suggests the dog.

  -Too soon. They’ll kill me if I do.-

  I back up, but there’s nowhere to go. Kincaid gently lifts my arm from around his neck and steps away.

  ‘Coffins are so passé,’ says Lilith as the crowd of hissing and spitting vamps opens up to let her through. ‘Now, you’ve had your fun. I admit to being slightly amused. But what do you think your next move is going to be?’

  ‘A deal,’ I say quickly. ‘You tell me who the guy is that killed Armitage and Jengo, I give you his soul.’

  ‘That was never an option, I’m afraid. I need our large friend. He is important to me.’

  She holds out her hand. I reluctantly hand over the water pistols.

  ‘Now,’ she says. ‘I ask again. What do you think your next move is going to be?’

  ‘I’m going to take you to the ramanga’s soul,’ I say heavily.

  ‘Good boy,’ says Lilith.

  -You don’t know where the ramanga’s soul is,- mutters the dog.

  -Yeah, but they don’t know that.-

  -You are such an idiot.-

  Chapter 9

  It’s been said before (by Armitage) that I’m some kind of stupid mix of naivety and cynicism. It’s a pity she’s not here to see this, because it pretty much proves her point and she’d be laughing her arse off.

  It’s an hour after midnight and we’re driving along the deserted freeway. I’m squashed between Kincaid on my left and a twitching Nosferatu on my right. The Noss are old school. It’s actually pretty rare to see one hanging around Africa. They tend to stick to their European hunting grounds, shunning modern society as much as they can. They’re the Amish of the vampire community.

  Lilith is sitting in the passenger seat and a young vampire with slicked back hair and sunglasses is driving.

  I watch him for a while. He’s aware of it, his jaw clenching and unclenching in what he probably thinks is an intimidating manner but really just looks like he’s taken too many E’s.

  ‘So, are they remaking The Lost Boys?’ I ask him.

  Kincaid elbows me in the ribs.

  ‘Shut up, man. You’re going to get yourself killed.’

  -What is your plan?- asks the dog. -And I ask merely out of curiosity. You know, so I can let people know exactly how you died.-

  I had to argue with them to let me bring the dog in the car. It’s an Audi A5 and the driver wasn’t too keen on having the mutt sitting on his spotless seats. A compromise was reached and he’s now squatting on the floor by my feet.

  -Can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.-

  -You don’t have one, do you?-

  -I do! I’m just not a hundred per cent sure if it’s going to work.-

  ‘Neo,’ I say, ‘take the next off-ramp.’

  -Tau, what are you doing? You’re not seriously taking them to the Division, are you?-

  -What choice do I have? Don’t worry. I’ve got it figured out.-

  -London, you haven’t even figured out how much milk to put in your cereal yet. Consider me worried.-

  ‘Turn right at the dirt track,’ I say, leaning forward and pointing to the unlit road. ‘Just follow it into the tunnel.’

  Lilith glances at me over her shoulder as we exit the tunnel on the either side of the freeway. ‘I hope you’re not going to do something stupid, human. I am not the kind of person you want as an enemy–’

  Her face twists. A flash of pain overshadowed by fury. She opens her mouth in a scream of anger at the exact same moment the driver jerks and spasms, smashing his head into the side window and shattering the glass. The Noss bucks next to me, hissing in pain. Kincaid roars with agony.

  All this time Lilith does not take her eyes off mine. She reaches for me. The car veers to the left, skidding off the dirt road. It bounces, hitting deep ruts at sixty kays an hour. It ramps up and slams back into the ground. Hard. The driver’s foot is jammed down on the gas. The car picks up speed.

  Just as Lilith’s fingers find my arm the car slams into the brick wall of an old outhouse. Lilith and the driver jerk forward. I’m watching in slow motion as she hits the windscreen head first. The glass shatters into a thousand tiny pieces. She and the driver fly through and hit the wall with wet, meaty thuds.

  Always wear your seat belts, kids.

  The Noss’s face is covered in blood. It’s making a childlike keening sound. I ignore it, push the side door open and scramble over its wiry frame.

  Something grabs my leg before I make it. I turn. Kincaid. His fangs are on full display. He’s struggling with his safety belt. (Not as stupid as he looks.) His grip is tight. I kick out but I can’t break his hold. He starts to pull me back into the car.

  My fingers scramble in the dirt, trying to find a handhold. But there’s nothing to grip. I flip around, half on my back, and kick him in the face with my free foot. Once. Twice. Nothing. He doesn’t even blink.

  The dog appears behind him. His mouth is open, tongue hanging out as if he’s panting. But I know better. That’s him laughing.

  ‘A little help here?’

  ‘There is no help for you, my friend,’ says Kincaid, thinking I’m talking to him. ‘Not anymore.’

  Then the dog rips out the side of his throat.

  Kincaid lets go of my foot and grabs his neck. The dog hops delicately over his lap and onto my chest, over my face, then out of the car. I flip around and follow after. Push myself to my feet and sprint.

  I only stop running when I know I’m way past the wards that protect the Division. Even then I don’t stop for long. Just a quick look, and when I see Lilith getting to her feet at the front of the car, I dart behind an old rusted cement truck and use it for cover while I make for the nearest hidden entrance.

  Along the corridors and into Eshu’s lair. He’s already watching the monitors, all of them showing a view of the dirt road leading into the compound.

  ‘Have they gone?’ I ask.

  Eshu leans back in his chair and glances over his should
er. ‘They have now. The chick sent the Nosferatu against the wards a few time, but she gave up when he kept catching fire.’

  ‘Thank Christ. I wasn’t sure they’d hold.’

  ‘Of course they’d hold. They’re designed to withstand an attack of a thousand spiritual amps. And I’ve got backup aether batteries powered by the souls of the dead. I can plug those in if it looks like the wards are going to crack.’

  ‘Which still doesn’t say how you’re going to sort this little mess out,’ says the dog. ‘This place is supposed to be hush-hush.’

  ‘What choice did I have? I had to get rid of them. This was the only way.’

  ‘I told you going into this it was a trap.’

  ‘Yeah, thanks. Shut up now.’

  ‘Don’t take it out on me. You’re the one who’s going to have to explain to Ranson why the high-security tip-top supersecret headquarters of the supernatural police force is now known to Lilith, she-bitch of the orisha.’

  ‘That was Lilith?’ says Eshu in a small voice.

  ‘Yup,’ says the dog happily.

  ‘London, what did you do?’ Eshu’s voice is filled with awe. Or wonder. Or amazement at my stupidity. Not sure which.

  I head to the door. ‘Call me if they come back.’

  ‘Yeah, sure.’

  Jaeger is sitting in her office spooning congealed yellow gunk into her mouth. I wonder what it is. Pureed flesh? Manifested mana?

  I hesitate in the doorway, unsure whether to go in or not.

  ‘What are you waiting for?’ she says without looking up. ‘An invitation?’

  ‘Uh . . . yeah, actually.’

  ‘Come in.’

  I enter and sit down on the other side of her desk.

  ‘What’s that?’ I ask, not really sure I want to know the answer.

  She looks down at the cup, then at me. ‘It’s custard,’ she says.

  I blink. ‘Oh. OK.’

  ‘Never got the hang of making it. It always comes out lumpy.’

  ‘You have to keep stirring,’ I say. ‘If you leave it, that’s when it all goes to shit. Wait, are we talking about the powdered stuff? Because I have no idea how to make it from scratch.’

  ‘Is that why you’re here? To discuss custard-making techniques?’

  I flush. ‘No. Sorry. It’s about Armitage. When you saw her last – at the Ramanga’s post-mortem – did she discuss anything about . . . backing up her soul? Putting it somewhere for safekeeping?’

  Jaeger just stares at me for a moment. ‘You know, I’m pretty sure she didn’t? That kind of thing would stick in the mind, make me think it might be relevant.’

  I note the sarcasm. Couldn’t help but. It drips from her words like . . . well, like congealed custard.

  ‘Sorry. OK, different question. If someone had . . . removed their soul from their bodies. Would you notice? I mean, while doing the post-mortem?’

  ‘No,’ says Jaeger. ‘The reason being I only do autopsies on dead people. And dead people aren’t known for having souls.’

  I sigh and rub my face. ‘Look, I’ve been told that both the ramanga and Armitage had stored their souls somewhere for safekeeping before they were killed. That they knew they were in danger and took steps. I’m wondering if it has something to do with those coins. Did Armitage give any indication why she was excited by it? Anything to explain a connection?’

  Jaeger thinks about it, then shakes her head. ‘No. She ducked out of here pretty quick after that.’

  I sigh in frustration. ‘Thanks.’

  I leave the office, fishing around in my pocket for the old coin as I go.

  The Division is empty at this time of night. The glow of screen savers flicker and flash, illuminating the dimness. Pictures of someone’s kids. Someone else’s fantasy art slideshow – dragons, Lord of the Rings, that kind of thing.

  Me? I still use the moving pipes that came with Windows 95, the operating system we still use, shored up with Delphic Division proprietary patches and software installed over the top, all of it stored behind firewalls guarded by the ghosts of dead software programmers.

  I sink into my chair and flick the desk lamp on. I check my watch. One forty a.m. I don’t want to leave yet, just in case Lilith and Kincaid are lurking around outside. I’ll take the alternate route out anyway. Better safe than sorry.

  First things first. I pick up the phone and call Becca.

  The phone rings for a long time before finally being picked up.

  ‘Hello?’ A man’s voice. Annoyed.

  I swallow. ‘Uh . . . yeah, I need to speak to Becca.’

  ‘What the fuck time is it?’

  I resist the urge to ask who the hell it is I’m speaking to. ‘Late. It’s an emergency.’

  ‘Who is this?’

  ‘Gideon. Gideon Tau.’

  A pause. Then the phone line goes dead.

  ‘Son of a whore!’

  I dial again. It rings and rings, until finally Becca answers.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Becca. Listen, you have to get out of the house.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘You’re in danger. Some people know your connection to me. They . . . they want to use you to make me do something.’

  ‘Tau, I can’t deal with this now. Tomorrow—’

  ‘No! Not tomorrow. I’ve pissed them off and they know about you. Do you understand? If you stay there you will die. I’m not kidding. You and your boyfriend. Get the fuck out of there. Go to a hotel or something.’

  A pause. ‘You haven’t changed, have you? Still the reason people get hurt.’

  ‘Yeah, really not the fucking time for this, Becca. Just promise me you’ll go.’

  She sighs. ‘Fine.’

  The phone goes dead. I tap it against my chin and stare up at the ceiling.

  ‘You’re a lucky bastard, you know that?’ says the dog.

  I look down. He’s sitting in his bed beneath my desk. ‘I don’t feel lucky.’

  ‘Then you’re an idiot as well. You just walked into a vampire nesting ship, shot Lilith with a water pistol filled with holy water, and you got away to talk about it. So yeah, I’d say you’re a pretty lucky guy.’

  I thought about this. I can’t help a little weary grin. ‘Yeah. It will look good in my memoirs, won’t it?’

  I examine Armitage’s token beneath the desk lamp. What did she find so interesting about it? There are no identifying marks, nothing that says what it is. It’s so old it’s been worn smooth of any writing.

  I frown, holding it close to the light, tilting it this way and that. Is that a line? Barely visible? I’m not sure. I nudge the dog with my foot and hold the coin out.

  ‘Sniff this.’

  The dog obliges, then puts his head down and closes his eyes.

  I nudge him again.

  ‘Do that one more time and you lose your toes.’

  I snatch my foot back. ‘Sorry. But did you smell anything on the coin?’

  ‘Desperation. Sadness. Fear. And that’s just from it sitting in your pocket.’

  ‘Yeah, laugh it up, fuzzball. Anything else?’

  The dog sighs. ‘Hope. Relief. But those two are buried under the desperation. And I don’t mean yours.’

  I stare at the coin, rubbing my thumb over it. I can feel slight indentations. I have a thought, and head over to the office scanner. I put the coin onto the scanning bed and scan both sides into the PC at 300 dpi, then I open up the image in Photoshop.

  I push the contrast way up, then fiddle with the brightness and saturation levels.

  I sit back and stare at the monitor.

  A picture has been revealed, outlined in harsh black and white lines.

  It’s a symbol. A tree.

  I run it through GHOST’s image search and it brings up a hit.

  I read the entry with growing excitement. The tree is the symbol of Tiurakh, the orisha of treasure and hoarding. Wealth and success. His place of worship is at the foot of a tall tree
.

  I follow the hyperlinks embedded in his name and find out he runs a bit of a pawn shop empire crossed with a safety deposit business. He looks after people’s property in return for a hefty fee. The tokens from Jengo and Armitage are chits used to reclaim the items left with him.

  I do a bit more reading and discover that Tiurakh operates out of a tower block in Pinetown, about twenty kays from our current location.

  Is that what happened? Did Jengo store his soul with Tiurakh?

  More to the point. Did Armitage?

  Something occurs to me and I pull up the crime scene photographs from Armitage’s house. I scroll through them until I get to the one where she wrote Tau in her blood.

  Except, now I’m looking at it, I can see it doesn’t say Tau. It’s Tiu. She was writing Tiurakh in an untidy scrawl, but died after the first three letters. Anders saw Tau because that’s what he wanted to see.

  I frown. Even if they did store their souls with Tiurakh how does that help? Can we talk to the souls? Communicate with them? Lilith must think so. Why else would she want to know where the ramanga’s soul is?

  I clear the search bar in GHOST and look up the entries on souls, removal of, communicating with, survival of. Anything that will help with figuring all this out.

  There are multiple entries on communicating with ethereal entities and souls. I brew myself some coffee and start to click through them. First up is your basic astral projection. Going into a trance state and leaving your body behind while your consciousness floats around the astral plain. I don’t fancy that. I can’t even still my mind long enough to meditate. Plus, it doesn’t say how you communicate with a soul once you’ve managed to project.

  Next option is drugs. Peyote cacti, mushrooms, acid, that kind of thing. Again, not my thing. I was the guy who was never allowed drugs back in college. My friends said I was too tightly wound. They were worried what would happen if my inhibitions suddenly vanished. They were probably right.

  The next entries are about experiments going on with brainwave stimulation using audio waves, pushing the brain into trance states. The page links to articles on EEG, brainwaves, neural oscillators, wave spikes, that kind of thing. Too much info. Next page.

  Ah. The good old-fashioned Ouija board.