by Sue Perry
"For Kelly Joe to meet us. You keep yelling about him so we found him for you. He's on his way."
"Oh." Dog knows what, in my delirium, I had been yelling, but Kelly Joe's name had not come up because I wanted to see him. Never again was when I wanted to do that.
"We're really sorry, Cat Shaver. You yelled the most for Lilah and Sam, but none of the buildings can find them in any Frame."
Tears were my only reply.
"Cat Shaver, if you keep leaking like that you're going to rust."
I hated myself for laughing, but enjoyed the way the freezer cart's corners dug into my back when I did so.
"She can sit now," said a familiar low drawl, and then Kelly Joe's arms were righting me. I pulled away from his touch. His help infuriated me.
I shoved his jacket sleeve above his elbow to see his current tattoos. Books with vivid dust jackets flew above a black rain of text. As though I had not been rude, he slid his other sleeve up to show me the tattoos on his other arm. The green hummingbird, chest arched in fighting pose, rested tiny talons on the spine of a book flying through blood–red air.
"Blood and violence," I muttered.
"War begins soon," he agreed. "From this –"
I slapped my hand up in a stop. I didn't need his wisdom. "I know about you now."
"I see that you do." He met my glare with a cool simple gaze, steady until the cart hit a dip and I had an excuse to look away.
One difference between us was that my murders had meaning. Lilah and Sam were dead but now I knew the identities of the Lobotomist managers. Stopping the managers would stop the Lobotomists. Anwyl needed my information.
"I need to see Anwyl. Do you know where he is?"
"Yes, I was with him until the buildings said you needed me."
"The buildings were wrong. Take me to Anwyl." I hated Kelly Joe almost as much as I hated myself. He seemed unfazed by my attitude, which really pissed me off.
"Anwyl can't talk just now."
"Then I'll be there when he can. I have information that can't wait."
"You'll need to be able to walk first."
I got off the cart, walked two steps—okay, one and a half—and was no longer sure which way was up. I dropped my butt onto the cart again.
Kelly Joe waited until I stopped wobbling. "I'm headed back where Anwyl needs me. The buildings can fetch me when you're ready."
"Don't! Give me a block, okay? If I can't walk by then you can go."
"One block." He walked a couple steps behind the cart, pulled out his harmonica and began bending notes in that melody–less way he had.
"Can you not?" I snarled, but he kept playing. "Please stop playing."
He paused. "I heard your first request." He resumed playing.
"What, like that joke? 'God did hear your prayer, the answer was no'?"
"That's a good one." He bent notes and hummed in between. The sounds began to sooth me, making me hate him more.
Inland, we passed between buildings who were playing with a syncopated rhyme. I killed. Them. Both I. Killed. Them–both.
Against all my will, I began to cry. Fortunately, Kelly Joe was far enough behind me that he couldn't see. But the pretzel cart was so damn sensitive to my moods. It rolled ahead and yelled, "Stop that, you're making Cat Shaver sad."
For a moment, quiet spread. Then random conversations resumed.
Kelly Joe took it all in. "Can you tell me what's happened to you?"
"No."
He resumed playing, a familiar yet unknown riff that broke me. I shrieked with an anger that came from so deep inside me that only my anguish ran deeper. Kelly Joe kept playing. I became empty of all feeling—except my resolve to make Lilah and Sam's deaths matter.
I made another attempt to walk, wavered, and grabbed Kelly Joe's arm, which knocked the harmonica to the ground. He picked it up while maintaining our balance. In another half block I was steady enough to say, "Take me to Anwyl."
About that time, the buildings spread rapid chatter that sounded distressed. By the time I could understand fire and burning, Kelly Joe was saying, "Come along, we'd best hurry."
47. WHAT LESSON CAN YOU LEARN FROM THIS?
We Traveled into flames and smoke and screaming buildings. We were in this Frame's equivalent to midtown Manhattan so the buildings were tall, and many of the bottom floors were on fire. Ahead of us were human shapes, black shadows against the yellow fire.
Kelly Joe pulled me into an alcove. "Those are not our fighters," he murmured, his lips against my ear.
There were nine of them and they worked in trios. One swung a sledge hammer into a display window, two kicked glass out of the smashed window, three tossed a jar that exploded in sooty flames. The trios moved up the street, attacking buildings as they advanced. One of the trios moved more slowly and got left behind. They ran into the street and almost immediately, one of them fell to pieces in a brief rain of text. A survivor yelled up the street, "Our own books killed one of us!"
From up the street a wide shadow stomped this way, yelling to the sky, "You're leaking. Save your text for the enemy! And don't fly so close to the flames!" The wide shadow kicked the new corpse and yelled to remaining members of that trio, "Can you help this one? No! What lesson can you learn from this?"
"Always know where your books are."
"Yes. Now catch up and work as a team of two."
Firelight caught their faces and I saw the distinctive inert expressions—like too many cheap facelifts— of Lobotomists. Maybe the managers were here, too!
I converted my fear to revenge–lust but before I could inform Kelly Joe that Lobotomist managers might be nearby, he said, "Stay close," and brandished a long–nosed metal tube, something like a barbecue grill lighter. He flicked a switch and it shot flame for two stories above his head. Pieces of incinerated books fell in the street.
The wide shadow, who must be a handler, had his back to us until Kelly Joe shot a lick of flame that ignited the handler's hair. The handler shouted "Attack!" to his other trios, while spinning and leaping to find his foe. Kelly Joe sprinted forward and kicked the handler in the chest, then fell on him briefly. When Kelly Joe resumed standing, the handler lay in a position that said he wouldn't be getting up again.
Kelly Joe studied the sky, then shot a long stream of flame far overhead. Eventually, book pieces fell—from books that must have been flying much higher than the previous ones.
By now the remaining Lobotomists were almost on top of us. Seven to two. Kelly Joe strode forward to meet them, showing no concern for their numbers, which bolstered my confidence until I remembered his death wish. However, our foes' snarls were superficial. When they realized their handler was dead, their attack lost conviction and before they rallied, Kelly Joe had killed two more, with a brute–force martial arts style I couldn't identify.
"Books behind us three stories up," I called. In one fluid motion, Kelly Joe reached the flamethrower tube over his shoulder, charcoaled more books, then turned to face the remaining five Lobotomists, who ran toward us in an inverted V formation. One of the Lobotomists held a bomb jar. Kelly Joe aimed his flamethrower at the hand that held the jar, which dropped, shattered, and blasted sooty flames.
Two Lobotomists were still alive and apparently meant to keep it that way. They ran south at the next intersection.
Kelly Joe checked the sky then slipped the flamethrower inside his jacket. He had us walk single file along the base of the buildings, skirting flames as necessary. Meanwhile, he instructed, "Books have poor aim when they cannot fly free, so they don't fly close to buildings, so that's where we should stay. Thank you for your warning, I didn't see those books," he concluded with the warm tone I'd savored during our training days.
I couldn't bring myself to reply and instead gestured south, the direction the surviving Lobotomists had fled. "Are they meeting up with more Lobotomists downtown?"
"Perhaps, or they may be headed for a Connector. We can't know, so we'll expect ambush from above, beside, and be
low."
"Where is Anwyl?"
"Wherever our foes are thickest."
I spotted Anwyl's silhouette two intersections later, directing activities in conflagration. He led about thirty allies. Closest to us, a few allies blazed flamethrowers into the sky, back forth high low, which kept the air space clear of books and full of smoke.
There were dark lumps all along the street—bodies. Down the block, the allies had a cluster of Lobotomists surrounded and after the allies closed in, there were additional lumps on the street. I was soon to learn that we never took Lobotomists prisoner—they killed one another in captivity, starting with the weakest, that is, those whose brainwashing might be reversible. Like Sam.
Some allies had a shelf's worth of books trapped with flamethrowers and tried to capture them, alive and unburned, in metal nets. I had seen Anwyl try this before—that time, when the book leader squawked a command, all the books flew into flames, destroying themselves to avoid capture. Today, when the leader squawked not all the books responded immediately, and a few were netted.
I stumbled as we stepped around the nets. "Why do we capture books?"
"Sometimes their allegiance can be switched. We'll need all the books we can get."
How could we switch book allegiance? I didn't get a chance to ask.
Allies ran out of the nearest burning building with humanoids in brightly colored robes. Anwyl shouted orders about moving them west, and pointed in our direction. He spotted us and suddenly was beside me.
"Nica," he said, as though we were alone in my bedroom. "These are not dangers you must share." He prised something from my arm: a curled singed clump of book, with characters of text poking out. Stuck to the text was a piece of my shirt and glistening on it was my blood. Now that Anwyl had removed the book shard, my arm stung and blood soaked my sleeve. He pressed his hand against my arm to staunch the flow.
"That you brought her here tells me this visit has grave urgency." He spoke to Kelly Joe but he continued to look at me, with a proprietary tenderness I filed to enjoy later. Even I couldn't think about Topic A just now.
"Nica said it couldn't wait," Kelly Joe replied.
"We can stop the Lobotomists before they kill more. I found out the identity of the managers."
Anwyl looked surprised and skeptical.
I talked fast, before the rush of memories could grind me down with guilt: I told him about scouting then infiltrating Lobotomist meetings, I told him about Mathead and Scabman, I told him about everything. Except Lilah and Sam. Kelly Joe matched Anwyl's skepticism with sympathy, which made me talk faster. "I don't know where the managers are this instant but we'll get them!" How eagerly I planned that bloodshed.
I had thought Anwyl would be proud of me. Okay, also pissed about my ignoring direct orders, but when it came to stopping the Lobotomists, the end had to justify the means. Instead, Anwyl reacted as though I'd just given a weather report. He took his hand from my arm, checked that the blood flow had stopped, and barked an order to the allies with the book nets. "Take those to a Neutral Frame and once there, bind and lock them."
He turned back to me. "You have risked much for little. You know not their identities, but only their Neutral disguise, which tells us nothing. Come, give safe transport to these allies." This last he said to Kelly Joe, who nodded and followed Anwyl to the group with the bright robes.
I was catatonic on the outside while I raved on the inside. I had learned nothing of value. I had gotten Sam and Lilah killed for no reason. No reason. No reason.
Anwyl's face loomed. He touched his forehead to mine and called my name a few times, bringing me back from the Hiroshima in my skull. He touched my face like he was making a promise, then shouted an order to someone and strode away.
I caught up with the bright robes as Kelly Joe led the group down the stairs to the E M line station at 53rd Street. The leader spoke to Kelly Joe with a voice that was far from trustful. She shrilled, "Anwyl son of Reyn arrives without invitation, then offers alliance. Yet, before we can evaluate his offer, Lobotomists attack and Anwyl rescues us, demonstrating why we need his alliance." When Kelly Joe said nothing, she demanded, "Do you take us for fools who would call that coincidence?"
Kelly Joe didn't answer until everyone was through the turnstile and on the platform. "I take you for lucky. Warty Sebaceous Cysts are attacking Frames that have opposed Maelstrom. Anwyl and Anya have been visiting the same Frames to recruit allies. Sometimes they find a Frame destroyed. You got attacked while Anwyl was here."
The leader stepped from her group to stand beside Kelly Joe. "You must see why our trust is difficult to bestow."
"I've known your people through the cycles. You are honest and courageous. Your trust is hard to win, but worth the effort."
The leader's shoulders dropped. Assuming this was a universal body language, Kelly Joe had reassured her.
The train arrived and we filled an otherwise empty car. Kelly Joe had mad powers. He Traveled the subway car and all of us inside it through several Frames without breaking a sweat. When we left the subway, Kelly Joe led the robes to a Connector in the building that—on Ma'Urth—housed the Museum of Modern Art. The leader went into the Connector first to check its safety, then gestured her group forward. As the last of her people passed out of Frame, she told Kelly Joe, "We accept Anwyl's offer. Safe Travels."
"Happy to bear that news," Kelly Joe replied. "Safe Travels."
Kelly Joe grabbed my wrist and Traveled me back to Ma'Urth. After so much stress and Frame Travel, I wasn't entirely upright, so he leaned me against the plate glass outside MOMA. "Anwyl needs me," was all he said, and then he was gone.
I had so much to think about that I didn't know where to start, so I didn't, which gave me some minutes of peace.
48. YOU DON'T WANT TO BE SEEN WITH ME
Jenn and Hernandez were making out on my couch until I walked in on them and started bawling. Like a cartoon baby. Waaa waaa waaa. They smothered me with concern and put me on the couch between them.
Jenn stroked my scalp fuzz and cooed, "They're motherfucking losers, whoever they are, whatever they did." However wrong I might be, she was always on my side.
Hernandez studied my face and got the idea. "Life during wartime. All worries. It's all bad." He twisted the clichés with a sarcasm that refreshed me.
Jenn clapped and added, "It'll get worse before it gets worser."
"Every cloud has a lead lining," Hernandez offered.
"Damn, you're good at this. After every dawn comes more dark." Jenn thought for a bit. "Does that one work?"
They went on to blacken and corrupt every earnest hopeful saying any of us could remember. Jenn and Hernandez were soon laughing hard. I snorted sporadically. The session ended when Jenn racewalked to the bathroom. "No more belly laughs until I take a whizz! Hello, kitties."
Dizzy and Leon strolled from the bathroom to the front room and by the time Jenn returned, Leon was purring behind my head and Dizzy was in my lap. Jenn noted, "Unsolicited cat sympathy. You must have had a butt fuck of a day."
I slammed my head against the back of the couch, which inspired Leon to groom my scalp. Even that couldn't cheer me much. Reality was back. "I hate me."
Hernandez squatted in front of me. "We're at war. Whatever you did, it was what you had to do. You'll doubt yourself but you're strong enough to keep doing what you need to do." He crouched there until I nodded.
"Question?" Jenn raised her hand as Hernandez took his seat again. "With whom are we at war?"
"It's what I explained back in L.A.," I said. "We are among a small but mighty alliance that spans many dimensions to fight Maelstrom and his evil minions, Warty Sebaceous Cysts."
"It was a serious question, bitch."
As I let that go, an unbaked plan came to me. "I note you both smell discreetly of gasoline," I began.
Jenn looked toward Hernandez like he was a saint and she was a believer. "We've been doing so much illegal shit, the crack whores are jealou
s."
"Then you're just the ones to help me. I've got a building that needs torching." I pretended I had something to do in the kitchen, to give them a chance to think about it. But they didn't.
Hernandez said, "Check it out while we've got daylight," and Jenn didn't even change clothes before we left the Julian. These are two people I love and respect enormously. That they trusted me on this, without details or explanation, made me think a little better of myself, until I remembered how Lilah had trusted me.
Hernandez and Jenn had a rental car they used to transport demolition materials and we drove to Flushing just before sunset. While Hernandez drove past the meeting house, I hid on the backseat floor and explained, "You don't want to be seen with me. It's the building with the black and pink stone." I didn't think the building could see in this Frame, but there might be a Lobotomist around.
Hernandez parked around a corner in a loading zone. "There's no construction site at that building."
"It's a building that intentionally helps the Cysts." I pulled myself up to lay on the back seat but kept below window level.
"It looks occupied."
"No one lives there. The downstairs pastry shop is out of business. There's a meeting room upstairs but the meeting is earlier in the day."
"There could still be someone around." Hernandez wasn't budging.
"Anyone in that meeting room might as well be dead. They've done terrible things and are training to do worse."
"Holy shit. When did this become Judgment Day and who made you the grim reaper?" Jenn demanded.
"Not to mix metaphors." I failed to lighten her tone. "It'll be dark soon. If no lights go on we can assume the building's empty, right?"
"Whatever these people did to you –"
"They're not people and we shouldn't linger here, it's more dangerous than you can imagine." That was for effect. Hernandez could imagine plenty of dangerous.
"Too risky," he said. "Torching Cyst construction sites has limited risk—Lantana and Digby cover up what we do, claim the fires are workplace accidents, because they want no cops involved."