Wonder if any of the cops will notice murders dropping and kidnappings rising?
Or the Mounties. Can’t get nothing past the Mounties and their trusty wolves. I’ve watched enough rerun episodes of Due South to know that.
“That’s a van,” Val said.
So it was. Near a warehouse a ways off the container field.
All by itself at the moment, but with more parking spaces just waiting to be filled up.
The area still looked industrial. Sheet-metal walls, rolling doors. We paused at the edge of the container field, hiding in the shadows. “How many you think?” I asked.
“Same as last time,” Val said, “three.”
“Sure?”
“One to drive, one to keep watch of Christmas, and our corpusmancer.”
“Conan.”
“Names don’t matter when you’re on fire,” she whispered, face serious and black eyes burning in fury.
“Can’t believe I’m the one saying this . . . but don’t forget that getting your sister back is the most important part.”
She blinked. “I know that.”
“You didn’t look it.”
“I know,” she repeated. The rain matted her hair into a mess, making her look feral and a little wild. “I know.”
I studied the building. Not a lot of entrances or exits. Very easy to trap the people inside. Suppose I can make my own door in that metal. But it would be loud. And would delay us if we happened across any kind of handcuff or lock to break open.
Val nodded at a side door made out of thick steel plate. “There will be a guard behind that.”
“There’s an eyehole, so the door won’t even open.”
“I still haven’t used my lightning ring.”
“SDR,” I corrected.
“Whatever.”
“Why don’t I get to name my own inventions?”
“Because you keep making boring acronyms people forget instead of going for catchy titles people will remember?
I suppose it was a good point but . . . I like my boring acronyms! “How do we get through the door after you’ve knocked him out with your SDR?”
“Lightning ring.”
“Never!”
“I’ll pick the lock.”
I thought about this. It went down surprising paths in my psyche. “Not sure why but the idea that you can pick a lock really turns me on.”
Feral or not, she smiled. “You’re so easy.”
I studied the door. “Could work.”
“It will.”
“Then?”
“Then I have a pool to deal with the one guarding my sister. He dies quick.”
“Leaving Conan.”
“No . . . you were right a minute ago, my sister is more important. We leave with her, steal a car, make it back to the Asylum, and if I never see this Conan or the Curator then I’ll live happily without revenge.”
Live without revenge. Val could do it. She’s a good person. Cares. Holds back the inferno. Protects those around her.
But me . . .
I’m a monster, ain’t I?
Not sure I can live without revenge.
Not sure I can choose saving the girl over an opportunity to smash Curator face.
[CLICK]
The guard in the room with the jail cells died quicker than I expected him to.
Cells.
Plural.
Cuz you couldn’t get more disgusted by these people.
Val came up behind the guy, silent and quiet enough that she could have been a sciomancer. There was a quick flash of light followed by a slash of her hand. The guard’s head tumbled, rolled, neck cleanly cauterized. All that work making a fake lightsaber and Val always had the power at her fingertips.
She let out a steadying breath, taking enough time to watch the headless body tumble. She moved forward further into the room, going from cell to cell, checking for Christmas in the murky, badly lit room.
They lined each wall. One after another. A few feet deep, a few feet wide. More worthy of dog kennels than holding people. It stunk. The whole room. But especially the cages. This was not some quickly used warehouse about to be forgotten, this was part of an operation. An operation for funneling kidnapped and purchased mancers into the Curator’s hands.
For whatever he used them for.
I felt sick, angry.
I knelt next to the headless body, feeling revolted just by touching someone who had taken part in this. I’ve accepted bloodsuckers as allies, gangsters as my family, but this . . . I pulled a key-ring off the guy’s belt, sneering at the corpse.
Lucky you had it quick.
They were all lucky it had been quick.
Don’t let them make you a monster, some would say.
Well . . . I’m already a monster. I’m already the guy happy to see blood and feel a fist cracking over his jaw. So excuse me if I enjoy the fucker being dead. When you’re this fucked up . . . not feeling a conscience over killed kidnappers, that’s one of the perks.
Lucky you had it quick, you sick fuck.
“She here?” I called.
Val didn’t answer, instead she reached through a particular group of bars, embracing whoever was inside. I heard tears and crying from both of them.
Finally! Weres, Vamps, and Black Elves to deal with but . . . finally!
Part of me felt relieved, another part felt frustrated. No Conan. No Curator. Just Christmas. At least Val’s happy. That makes you happy too, Price.
The closer I got to the cell the more I felt Christmas with the Mancy, a scared, terrified bit of earth, shaking and shivering. Trying to quake itself free but not sure on the mechanics of it. “You okay, kid?” I asked her.
She looked okay. Same school clothes as before, little over worn, but not too dirty. Could have passed as just waking up after a slumber party. Her gemstone hazel eyes locked onto me. “You,” she whispered.
“Yeah, me.”
“You . . .” she glanced at me and then her sister. “How did you find me? They said . . .” Christmas started sobbing again.
“Yeah, I can imagine what they said. Hard to kill me, kid, harder to kill your sister, don’t forget it.” I gave my hand a shake so Val would notice what was inside of them. “Keys.”
Val went to work on the lock while I focused on Christmas. “Be a minute, no freaking out, alright?”
She nodded, wiping at her face. “They said . . . that you were dead, that they shot you.”
“Obvious lies are obvious.”
“And . . . they said Mom and Dad . . .”
“They’re fine, kid. Everyone’s fine but the guy on the ground back there.”
Christmas glanced at the body, then at Val, who was trying yet another key. “What else can you guys do with . . . it?”
I grinned at her. “Shit . . . after today, even I don’t know that answer.”
The cell clicked open and Christmas was quick to get out of it. She hugged Val, then hugged me as well. Teenagers: only takes abduction to correct their attitude. “Thank you so much!” she sniveled into my coat.
“Yeah . . . well . . .”
Urgh. Wards. Always making me having feelings. Even the unlikable Wards—feelings all over the place. Ronnie, Peter, Val, Christmas—feelings all over the place.
It’s horrible.
“You can pay me back by listening to your sister and going to the Asylum.”
Christmas nodded, smiling up at me.
Val wasn’t smiling. She was still in hunter-seeker, badass mode. She glanced all about, like she expected an attack to ruin our little moment. “Have you seen the leader lately? The big one?”
Christmas paled. “He went to get someone! The one they’re selling me to! They said . . . he has a . . . an asylum . . . where he keeps us.”
An asylum .
A real asylum I was betting.
Shit.
“We need to leave . . . now,” I said, my own body going into overdrive. One door in and out, but the wall wa
s the same metal as the outside of the warehouse. Did that mean it was the outside of the warehouse?
Christmas shook her head at us. “We can’t leave the others!”
“Others?” Val asked.
“Others?” I asked at the same time.
Christmas pointed at two of the other cages.
Oh . . . double shit.
Inside one was an Asian girl, probably Chinese. She looked ten, maybe eleven, but given how small she was, she could have been older. Inside the second was a pair of boys no older than nine, both Indian. India has itself some serious Mancy problems. Overpopulation will do that for you.
“I’m going to kill them,” I said. “Gonna fuckin’ kill ‘em. Don’t care how scary they are.”
Val shook her head but didn’t dismiss the idea as a bad one, though she did point out some facts to me, “Four kids to take care of, King Henry, no time for that.”
I grunted.
Yeah.
Four kids.
Evil fuckers.
Making me feel . . .
Making me hate . . .
Making me want to crack the world for just one shot at seeing them fall in the hole.
“Anyone know Chinese?”
Christmas immediately launched into some Ching-Chang. She turned to me afterwards, “I told her you’re my family, that you’re rescuing us.”
“Where the fuck—“
She glared at me. “Twenty-first century, only idiots won’t know Mandarin.”
“And Indian?”
“We know English,” one of the boys said.
I stared at them.
Why the fuck not?
“Want rescued?”
“Please,” they both said.
Val unlocked the cells, all the kids gathering around her.
My ears perked up.
The rain had stopped.
The warehouse creaked and moaned, water sliding off its sides. I thought I heard a car engine not far off. Seagulls getting on with their annoying caws. Footsteps? No, no footsteps. Silence outside of the cages swinging shut.
I turned to the room’s door. Good place to trap us, I thought again. “Stay back,” I whispered behind me.
I slid up beside the door, listened some more.
Val motioned everyone to follow her into a far corner.
What I wouldn’t give to be Miranda or Vicky Welf at the moment. So sensitive to all the Mancy I know when a mancer is in the next room.
If it was Conan out there then the guy was just a corpusmancer, not even an Ultra, but . . . guns and all that. Really have to figure out a way to eliminate bullets as a threat to me. Something better and quicker than the SEM-DEW. Some kind of geo-pulse maybe, expand the cartridge in the chamber.
I hate guns.
Every asshole thinks he’s a god the moment he’s got a gun in his hand.
Trouble is . . . every asshole is a god the moment he’s got a gun in his hand.
I know mankind well enough that playing god is never one of our better urges.
One nice-sized pool for me. Val was out, working her way back up, but . . .
I studied the back wall some more. I was pretty sure that across that small bit of aluminum was freedom and open skies. A whole dockyard of shipping containers to get lost in. A whole city to find a car in . . .
But . . . on the other side of this door . . .
Conan?
The Curator?
I grabbed the handle of the door, yanked it open really quick and then slammed it shut. The report of a gunshot followed instantly, a bullet pinging off the steel frame.
I cursed, threw myself on the ground as another double-tap went through the wall where my head had been. On the ground, I motioned Val to stay where she was.
She looked furious from across that room. She knew me. Knew what I was thinking. Knew what I wanted to do more than anything else.
“Don’t you dare,” she told me.
I threw all the anima in my pool against the wall, right next to her and the kids. The metal peeled back, showing night.
“I can’t . . .” she said.
We shared a soul-bearing look. “Four kids,” I said.
“No . . .”
“Four kids ain’t outrunning these guys.”
“No!”
Another bullet slammed into the door. “Give up!” Conan bellowed. “Don’t know how you found us, stupid to do it either way, brave too, but you’re trapped now! Surrender to me or you’ll have to face him! I swear I’ll kill you quick! He won’t! He’ll keep you for years!”
I nodded at the gap in the wall. “Go.”
“No,” Val said again.
“You know me,” I told her, “Ain’t doing this cuz you’re a woman, ain’t doing this cuz I . . . got a thing for you. Doing this because if anyone I know can get those kids out of here—it will be my Boomworm.”
“King Henry . . .”
“Go, Val.”
She breathed in deep, accepting the situation and my choice. That I couldn’t do anything but stay behind and fight this out. “Only because if anyone I know can survive the Curator—it’s King Henry Price.”
I showed some teeth. “Fuck yeah, sister. Don’t ever forget it.”
Session 32
“Then whoosh, the whole thing goes up in flames, dude! Blackjacks didn’t even try to attack us, we all just watched it go. It was crazy! Most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. Makes your whole pancake thing look like amateur hour.”
“I was with her, I know . . . I remember all of it. Why do you all seem to be forgetting this fact? Did you not see the smoke lines on the back of my coat from where I had to crawl through the last bramble patch, dragging Val behind me? Keep the fire off of us, if that’s her idea of keeping fire off its damn too close for my taste.”
“Come on, dude, don’t be wimpy!”
“My ass still feels toasty, Pocket. You don’t want a toasty ass.”
“The fire was amazing,” Raj disagreed with Pocket, ignoring that I existed, “but when Miss Yukimura gathered the cryomancers together and we put it out—that was more amazing. And she knew my name!”
“I bet you could see the fire for miles!” Pocket gushed . . . fucking gushed, “I heard the Lady had to put in a call to the fire department or forest rangers or whatever they are up here to let them know everything was under control.”
It had been like this for hours now. Boomworm alright. Fire all around us as we ran and then crawled and then scurried like rats. But she kept it back. So tired at the end of it that she couldn’t stand without me helping her, but she kept it back. And I pushed the button. And Class ’09 won the Winter War—first Bi class ever to do so.
But that’s not what people talked about.
All anyone could talk about was the fire.
They hadn’t been in it.
All I wanted to do was forget it.
I don’t often get scared. I can be a coward about things like personal emotions and the like . . . but I don’t get scared. That scared me. Not the fire itself. But putting that much trust in one person. One mistake on Val’s part and we’re gone. Nothing but carbon-shaped corpses for the teachers to find. It made me see her in a whole new way. I mean . . . awesome girl before. But now . . .
I’m too young for this shit.
Why I got to find the woman of my dreams at fifteen? There’s tons of untouched pussy out there, man! Roaming around me day in and day out and fucking Fate gives me THE ONE bullshit this quick?
“We should probably take showers and get dressed now,” I said, the whole room turning to look at me and each person nodding that yeah, it’s about time.
Half the people usually in our common room were gone, on account of them having vaginas. Only the cocks were left . . . cuz a cock takes less effort to get sparkling than a vagina . . . or something . Not that you ever really want your cock to sparkle . . . cuz . . . that would be a little weird . . . sparkling cocks, that is . . . this thing have an erase button on it?
No erase button.
Us guys got left to put on our tuxedos alone without the help the girls had. After all the Winter War victory celebration died down and students got ordered back to their rooms, the girls had been whisked away by Miss Foster to some undisclosed location. We hadn’t seen them since and weren’t supposed to until the Ball.
I’m sure all the girls were excited, probably more excited about the Ball than they were about winning the Winter War. The guys were the opposite.
Couldn’t stop talking about the fire.
Couldn’t help but put off the tuxedo thing for as long as possible.
Me . . . I just wanted to see Val again, actually talk about what had happened. Miss Strange had taken her to the Infirmary after the cryomancers put out the fire. Anima Exhaustion she’d said, and there Val went. Hero of the hour gone—King Henry standing there with his pecker in his hand as everyone cheering me in her place.
I felt like I had this void. Like I’d missed some catastrophic change in the world. Some sci-fi timeline changing shit. I don’t know how we survived that bonfire. Just kept my head down, just kept running, pulling on Val’s arm . . .
Welf walked in from outside the dorm room just as the lot of us guys made for the showers. Two showers in one day—can’t say I approve, but we all did smell like smoke and snow and Mancy knows what else.
Welf had been visiting with his parents since the match and looked happy for once. Heinrich Welf smiling . . . scary shit. Guess mommy and daddy finally gave him a pat on the head. “I have news!” he announced. “The Three Queens are sulking about their beating and have refused to leave their dorm for the dance!”
That got a cheer.
“No worrying about Blackjacks all night?” Estefan asked.
Welf nodded, still smiling smugly.
Estefan gave a fist-pump. “Day keeps getting better!”
“And here I was ready for game three in a tux,” Jason joked, cracking knuckles the size of sledgehammers.
We all laughed.
When Jason makes a joke . . . you fucking laugh.
The Foul Mouth and the Troubled Boomworm (The King Henry Tapes) Page 34