The Getaway God

by Richard Kadrey

  Julie turns and goes out, slamming the door behind her.

  I want to follow her and make her take me to Candy, but if what she said about the new law is true? Then she really did do me and Candy a favor, and there aren’t many ­people who would do that.

  “You sure like the feisty ones, don’t you,” says Mason. “How’s Alice these days? Heard from her recently? I hear that things aren’t going too well in Heaven. I hope she’s all right.”

  I knock on the door to be let out and head straight for an exit. Out in the parking lot I put my fist through the window on the side of a Vigil van.

  Ow.

  I forgot they use bulletproof glass. When I pull my hand back, I’ve peeled all the skin off my knuckles. I lean against the van, pull out a Malediction, and light it up. Out in the gloom across the drowning grass, a ­couple of Vigil cops play golf under a big umbrella.

  I WAIT TWO goddamn hours, fidgeting and burning through the rest of the Maledictions. Outside, even the other smokers don’t want to be around me and the tire-­fire smell. My bloody knuckles don’t help any chance of meaningful social interaction. I’m tempted to spook these dainty fucks by lighting my last smoke off the Gladius, but I’m in too foul a mood for that kind of fun.

  I check the time on my phone. It’s close to what should be dawn. A gust of wind blows rain all over us, sending the Vigil agents back inside. Most of the good boys and girls are off to bed, leaving just a skeleton crew. If I need to go Wild Bunch on them, this would be a good time. But for now, I’ll wait and play by the rules like a good dog.

  Around seven A.M., Julie comes outside.

  “You can see her now,” she says, and heads back into the clubhouse. I follow her down to the Alcatraz end of the place, passing Mason’s cell on the way. I know he can’t see me, but I have the feeling the fucker is watching me somehow. I need to find out more about how he got out of Tartarus. What’s going on Downtown. And who I should snuff first, Merihim or Deumos.

  Julie lets me into a small cellblock that holds a series of ordinary-­looking jail cells. A sink. A cot bolted to the wall. Bars to keep the prisoners in, like any county lockup. All the cells are empty except for the one on the end. It’s wrapped in strong Kevlar netting so that whoever is inside can’t get their claws through it.

  Candy has her back to me when I reach the cell. She paces back and forth like a caged animal. Her hair is in tangles. Some of her nails are broken off at the quick. When she turns to face me one of her cheeks is swollen, like she took a rifle butt to the face. She’s mostly out of Jade mode. Mostly human-­looking, but her eyes are still black, her pupils red pinpoints. I go up and grab a fistful of the net.

  “You all right?”

  She comes closer, but stops a few feet from the bars.

  “I’m fine. Never better.”

  “You look like hell.”

  “Go peek in a mirror and then tell me how bad I look.”

  She starts to pace again.

  “They say you tried to kill a civilian.”

  She puts a hand on her chest and opens her eyes all wide and innocent.

  “I wasn’t trying to kill anybody. I was just hungry.”

  I glance over to Julie. She has one hand resting gently on her gun.

  I say, “This isn’t your fault. Something went wrong with the potion. Allegra will figure it out and you’ll be all right again.”

  Candy stops pacing and comes right up to the bars.

  “Fuck Allegra. Fuck the potion. And fuck you. You want me to feel all right? I feel great. Like I’m myself for the first time in years.”

  “Like hell you do. Doc Kinski took you out of the killing life so something just like this wouldn’t happen.”

  “Fuck Doc too.”

  That’s new. I’ve never heard her talk that way about Kinski.

  “You can’t run around taking down random ­people and you know it.”

  She flicks the bars with one of her broken nails.

  “Listen to you. All you do is kill, but no one else is allowed or you won’t feel special anymore.”

  “I don’t kill random civilians in the street.”

  “No. You kill other creeps no one cares about. I’ll have to remember that for next time.”

  She smiles and tugs at the net. Julie comes closer to the cell, ready to pull her gun.

  “You always did think you were better than me, didn’t you?” says Candy. “I was your pet monster. Something you could take home and feed and fuck so you could show your friends the wild girl you tamed.”

  “If you really think that, why are we even talking?”

  Candy goes over and sits on the cot.

  “Go and rescue someone, hero. I don’t need you condescending to me anymore.”

  She stretches out and rolls over so she’s facing the wall. I wait a minute to see if she’s going to say anything, wanting to say something else myself, but having no idea what.

  “Come on,” says Julie, and leads me to the jailhouse door.

  Before we go out I turn around.

  “You might have gone crazy, but I didn’t. I’m going to figure a way out of this.”

  From the cell I hear, “Go away, please. Just go away.”

  Outside, Julie says, “She’s been like that since we brought her in.”

  “Yeah.” Then, “Sorry about yelling at you. Thanks for what you did for Candy.”

  “You’re welcome. See how easy it is to be nice?”

  “I’m always nice. It just comes out funny sometimes.”

  “Most of the time.”

  “I know.”

  Julie leads me to the break room. I spot Vidocq, nursing a cup of tea.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Marshal Sola called me when Candy was arrested. She thought you might need someone to talk to.”

  “I need someone to punch.”

  His eyes go to my knuckles.

  “It looks like you already found that.”

  I look at my hand. The bleeding has stopped and a scab is forming. Still, it’s pretty ugly to look at. I pull a paper towel off the roll and wrap it around my hand.

  “I’ve never seen her like this before, and I’ve seen her turn Jade plenty of times.”

  “You’ve never seen it because she’s never been this way before. She’s been poisoned.”

  I sit down across from him.

  “Keep talking.”

  “I tested the rest of the Jade potion Allegra had on hand. Not only has it been watered down, but there’s a toxin in it I can’t identify. I’m sure it’s responsible for her behavior.”

  “Now all we have to do is convince the Vigil and the entire federal government that a murderous Jade didn’t mean it and is really sorry.”

  “It’s a problem, I admit.”

  I go over to the counter and pour myself some coffee. I want Aqua Regia, but this isn’t the time for a fuzzy head.

  “If you make more of the real Jade potion, will the Vigil let you give it to her?”

  He shrugs. Sips his tea.

  “I have no idea, but giving it to her now would probably be pointless. Whatever she was given was meant to hurt her, not kill her. We need to wait until it clears her system before giving her anything else.”

  I swallow some coffee. It’s some kind of sweet caramel blend that’s been burning all night, so it tastes like a candy bar someone left on an engine block. I push the cup out of the way.

  “I can see someone poisoning me, but why her?”

  “A distraction perhaps? You’re working on very important matters. There are ­people allied with the Angra who would love to see you not in a proper state of mind.”

  “Between Mason and Candy, I guess they pretty much succeeded.”

  Vidocq leans forward and whispers.

>   “Then it’s true? Saint Nick is Mason Faim?”

  I nod.

  “Don’t go telling anyone. I want to keep this quiet as long as I can.”

  “I can understand why he would want to leave Tartarus, but why come back here?”

  “That’s what I want to know. It’s sure as hell not to teach me the ABC’s of the 8 Ball.”

  “Curiouser and curiouser,” says Vidocq.

  “Yeah, that.”

  I look around to see if there’s any normal coffee. I can’t find any.

  “You know, if it comes down to it, I could walk Candy out of here through a shadow.”

  “It’s pointless to think like that. Right now she needs rest and medication more than she needs you.”

  “She said something like that too, only louder.”

  “Go home,” says Vidocq. “You must be exhausted. Waiting here like this benefits no one.”

  I rub a knot of muscles at the base of my neck.

  “Maybe you’re right. I need to talk to Mason again later and I want a clear head for that.”

  “I’ll stay here. If anything changes, I’ll call you.”

  “Thanks,” I say. Then, “How’s Allegra doing with all this?”

  “Not well. She feels responsible for both the poisoned potion and Candy’s escape.”

  “I still think there’s an Angra mole in the Vigil. Could there be one at the clinic?”

  “The only ­people who work there regularly are Allegra, Fairuza, Rinko, and sometimes Candy. But patients go in and out all day. I suppose one of them could have done it.”

  “We’re not going to figure anything out tonight. I’m getting out of here.”

  “Rest easy, my friend.”

  “Next lifetime.”

  Later, when I’m asleep, I don’t dream about Candy. I dream about the Angra. I’m back in the cavern, but it’s not like the last time. Ten Thousand Shadows doesn’t talk to me. I just see the meat chapel and hear something faint and faraway, like noise from an old sitcom. The sound of someone laughing at me.

  I’M TEMPTED TO go and see Mason early in the day, but I want him to stew for a while, so I stay in bed and don’t go in until nearly two. Kasabian has his door propped up over the entrance to his rooms. He’s built a little barricade around it with boxes of discs. A nine-­year-­old could get through it, but I guess it makes him feel better, so I don’t say anything.

  I step through a shadow and come out in Vigil headquarters and head straight for Mason’s cell.

  This time, before letting me in, a guard goes over me with a metal detector. It must be some special Vigil tech because not only do they find the Colt, but they spot the black bone blade. I don’t want to waste time arguing, so I hand over my weapons. It’s not like I can’t snap Mason’s neck with my hands, but it feels weird. I’ve hardly been without a weapon for going on twelve years. I feel a tad underdressed. Heading inside to see Mason, I’m feeling already a little fucked with.

  He’s at the table again. This time he’s cuffed, but his hands aren’t bolted down. ­People know I’m here to play games with the psycho.

  I look back at the door and see Wells watching us. No pressure, kids.

  Mason smiles at me, but doesn’t speak. I pull up a chair and sit down across from him.

  “What’s the game today? Old Maid? Crazy Eights?”

  “It’s still the Infinite Game. If you keep thinking we’re playing different games, you’re going to lose.”

  “You never said where you learned the Infinite Game.”

  He looks away, like he’s thinking.

  “You’d be surprised what you hear when you’re alone long enough in Tartarus. I knew I was going to be rescued before it happened because they told me.”

  “The Angra?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Someone in Hell sent them to me because they knew I could help their cause.”

  “Stop. I can’t deal with your bullshit without a drink. What’s today’s game?”

  “Billy Flinch.”

  Billy Flinch is a favorite game among the highly intoxicated and the clinically insane. It’s William Tell, only you play it by yourself. Take potshots at the far wall and try to ricochet a bullet so that it breaks the glass on your head. Most ­people only play Billy Flinch once. It doesn’t have an Old-­Timers League.

  “They took away my gun, so forget it.”

  “That’s disappointing,” he says.

  As hard as Mason is to read, this time his pupils constrict a millimeter or two, so I know he’s lying. He wants to play something else.

  Two upside-­down plastic cups sit on his side of the table. He pushes them into the middle and lifts them. A ­couple of scorpions make a break for it, but he corrals them back under the cups, laughing as he does it.

  I look at him.

  “Where the hell did you get scorpions?”

  “What’s the scarier answer? That I had them all along or that someone snuck them in to me?”

  Neither one’s a comfort, but this is Mason. Nothing about him is comfortable.

  “What are we playing?”

  “Lady Sonqah’s Wedding Night. Have you heard of it? The Luderes can’t get enough of it.”

  “I’ve seen them playing at Bamboo House of Dolls. I don’t know how it works.”

  “Give me your hand.”

  I put out my right hand. Mason bites off part of the scab over the sigil he cut into his hand yesterday. He squeezes his palm so that a few drops of blood fall onto my fingers.

  “I’m glad this isn’t our first date,” I say. “What’s the blood for?”

  “It excites the scorpions.”

  “There’s still time to switch to Candy Land. I’ll even let you go first.”

  “Maybe next time.”

  Mason doesn’t wipe the blood off his own hand, so if the game is what he says it is, at least so far he’s playing fair.

  He lifts one of the cups, but before the scorpion can run out, he recites some hoodoo and it freezes in place.

  “As you see, I’ve tied a slip of paper to this scorpion’s tail. The other one has a similar note. Your job is to get the note off your scorpion without getting stung. Each time you’re stung you get a point. At the end, we add up the points. Low score wins.”

  Mason snaps his fingers, releasing the scorpion from the hex. He puts the cup down over the bug and pushes it to my side of the table. I tap the cup with my finger, listening to the scorpion scrabble around inside.

  “What if I just squash the damned thing and take the note when it’s dead?”

  “That’s an automatic loss and I get to hurt you.”

  “Who poisoned Candy?”

  “Shouldn’t you be asking about the Angra instead of trying to fix your love life?”

  When I don’t make to pick up the cup, Mason reaches across the table and raises it.

  “You might want to concentrate on the game.”

  The scorpion sits there for a minute, looking as pissed as I feel.

  “You made her crazy and almost got some poor street slob killed for nothing.”

  “I got a lot more than nothing out of it. I got you to play with me. Just like old times. Your little friend is moving. Play or forfeit.”

  Now that the scorpion has decided to move, it’s all over the place. Darting in one direction, then another. I try to follow it, but it never goes in a straight line for very long. Finally, I catch the rhythm of its turns. Get my hand hovering right over its stinger. I’m fast when I want to be. I snap my hand down to the bug, then back again before it can sting me. But I miss the paper. I do it again. And miss again. The third time I come really close, but still miss.

  I see the problem. While I’m fast enough to outrun the scorpion, if
I go full speed I’m going too fast to grab the paper. The trick is to slow down. Feel the bug’s rhythm and move in at just the right moment.

  Which is exactly what I don’t do. The fucker stings me on my first try. I always heard that scorpion stings feel like bee stings. Whoever said that never met this particular scorpion because this thing stings like a hornet with a blowtorch.

  I pull back my hand and try to shake some of the pain out of my fingers.

  “Will Candy recover?”

  “Jades are sturdy beasts,” says Mason. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  I go for another try. And get stung again. I slow my breathing. I’m rushing things. Mason didn’t say anything about a time limit on the game. I’m going to follow the scorpion and wait for just the right moment.

  “Still, attempted murder,” he says. “That’s the kind of thing that sticks to a person. Even if the Vigil ever releases her, which they won’t, there won’t be many places she’ll be able to show her face in L.A.”

  I get stung again.

  “Maybe you two can get a little cabin in the woods. Take up a trade. Pig farming. She can cook biscuits and you can learn to whittle.”

  Okay. I admit it. My concentration really is shot. I’m worried about Candy and so fucking mad at having to be here I want to get my knife and take out Mason’s tongue and feed it to him.

  I get stung three more times before I get the goddamned paper off the goddamn bug and corral the thing back under its cup. Welts are coming up all over my fingers. Mason didn’t say it, but I have a feeling that healing hoodoo is against the rules, and I’m not about to ask and admit that his little pincered fucker hurt me.

  I think when I cut off Mason’s head I’ll put it in a bowling bag and drop him back in Tartarus. Maybe collapse the joint on top of him so no one will ever find him. Let him talk to ghosts all he wants down there.

  “So, who poisoned her?”

  “Now it’s my turn,” Mason says.

  With his cuffed hands, he knocks over his cup and lets his scorpion loose. Like mine, it looks confused and after a few seconds starts running randomly across the table.

  He waits, tracking the scorpion’s moves, trying to figure out the best moment to strike. He takes his sweet fucking time about it.