Angel Town

by Lilith Saintcrow

  I stiffened, shut that thought away.

  The hellbreed made a small, soothing noise. He held me, arms like flexible stone, his chin atop my head. “Rest,” he said, very softly. “Just rest, Kiss. You’re so very tired. Sleep.”

  The music coming through the floor was a heartbeat, and we floated in the bed. He even stroked my dirty hair, so gently, despite the silver that hissed and crackled at his nearness.

  “Or if you can’t sleep,” he murmured, “simply close your eyes, and I will do the rest.”

  And I did. We lay there, hunter and hellbreed, and he made soothing little noises while I sobbed.

  26

  There was a shower in the white-tiled room I’d often cut Perry up in, and my skin crawled at using it. But the water was hot, the towels were fluffy, and I kept an eye on my coat and my weapons the whole time. I probably didn’t have to, because the hellbreed was playing house with a vengeance, humming to himself while he brought the towels in, arranging them just so. He brought me a stack of black silk T-shirts—medium, V-neck, three-quarter sleeve, just what I liked to wear in cotton. And leather pants, too, and I had to shudder when they crawled up my hips. They fit like they’d been made for me, and wasn’t that thought-provoking?

  He even watched me get dressed, but that wasn’t a huge deal. Dating a Were will give you a whole new definition of nakedness, and I’ve been tied down naked to an altar and almost-sacrificed. Skin doesn’t bother me.

  But the way he licked his lips with that rough cherry-red tongue was disconcerting. And even more disconcerting was shrugging into my coat and finding it clean. It also reeked of candyspiced wickedness, just like the whole Monde. My hands roamed, finding the pockets full of ammo, everything as it should be, my whip at my side and my guns heavy at my hips and everything right with the world.

  When I turned around again, blinking under the sallow glare of fluorescents, Perry was holding something. A flat case, rosewood, balanced on his palms. “For you.”

  Another present? My stomach turned over, hard. The case was just the right size for one of those shiny knives, the kind that weren’t silver because they didn’t react to him. Light and razor sharp, with hatching on the handles for a better grip.

  They were so cold.

  I froze. The iron rack was set off to one side against the wall, but if he sauntered over to it and ordered me to strap him in…

  He actually rolled his eyes. Back in the linen, immaculate, but even his tie was raw pale silk now. Those shoes of bleached suede were creamy against the white tile. “It’s not going to bite you, darling. That’s past.”

  Oh, is it? It would be idiotic to relax now. So I just stood and looked at him until he made a small amused sound and passed one hard, narrow hand over the top of the box. There was a click, and the lid opened like a flower.

  There, on rich red velvet, were the charms. Honest silver, each one running with blue light in the choked atmosphere, and a spool of red silk thread to tie them with. Nine of them, twisted shapes, fluid and somehow-wrong, creatures that walked under no earthly sun, clawed and furred and winged, vibrating against the velvet.

  The silence from downstairs was deafening. Was it the middle of the day? My internal clock was all wonky, and I hadn’t slept. Or had I? I’d drifted in and out, rocked in Perry’s arms. The familiarity bothered me.

  Well, I had so much else bothering me at this point, it was pretty academic, wasn’t it?

  “A hellbreed giving me silver.” I addressed the air over his head. “Now I have seen everything.”

  “Not quite.” Did the bland smile falter slightly? It came back as soon as it slipped. “Do you like them?”

  On the one hand, all the silver I could get my hands on was a good idea. On the other, I wouldn’t put it past Perry to make them start crawling over my scalp, digging in with their sharp little pinprick feet.

  “They’re gorgeous.” And they were, in the twisted way the damned are beautiful. I swallowed. “Thank you.”

  Did he actually look pleased? “Well.” A slight cough. “I thought, perhaps…”

  I braced myself, hands loose and ready.

  “Will you relax?” he snapped, before taking back that honey-and-butter tone he liked so much. “My dearest one, you are here of your own will. As my guest, and my own darling, lovely, oh-so-unbending Kiss. Furthermore, you are a very particular piece of a very particular plan, and I will be very vexed should you come to any harm.”

  “You wanted to kill me the other night.” I probably shouldn’t have reminded him.

  The snarl drifted its way across his face like a thunderstorm coming down from the mountains. “I don’t like it when you consort with beasts.”

  I’ve heard that before. I watched, fascinated, while his skin rippled a little. As if tiny little insects were running underneath the poreless, elastic stoniness.

  It drained away, the indigo threads vanishing from his whites. “After all, jealousy is a besetting sin, isn’t it. Such a lovely sin, either soft or hard, such an instructive tool.” Quiet, reflective, he tilted the case. “If you don’t like them…”

  “I do.” I even sounded like I did. “Perry—”

  I don’t know what I was going to say. But he interrupted me.

  “Good.” He offered the case. “I would tie them in your lovely hair, my dearest, but, well. Silver. Soon that will cease to matter.”

  I avoided touching him, but I took the flat length of wood. It was surprisingly heavy. His hands dropped to his sides, and I studied the charms. Bile rose briefly in my throat, Why would silver not matter? Because you’re going to do what no hellbreed ever has, and if you pull it off, well, you’re right, it won’t matter. “And why is that?”

  “It’s a surprise.” He pressed his hands together, a parody of praying—but then he bowed slightly, and his lips pursed in that bland face. Like he wanted to say more, like he held a secret too delightful to contain.

  Cold sweat broke out all over me. The box tipped, I righted it, and he backed up two silent steps.

  “Tie your shinies on, my darling, and come downstairs. We have guests, and it doesn’t do to keep guests waiting.”

  “Soul of politeness,” I muttered, and the hellbreed laughed. A deep, rich chuckle, like he was having a fantastic time. He headed for the door, while I stood there like an idiot. The blue glow running under the surface of the silver submerged, thin threads of it remaining like healing sorcery, reacting to etheric contamination.

  Halfway there, he stopped. He did not quite glance over his shoulder, but he did turn his head, and the three-quarters profile was chillingly beautiful, some trick of fluorescent light and passing shade.

  “You recall Belisa, of course.” Level and dead serious. “Always treacherous. Which is a woman’s own sort of constancy, isn’t it? And it earned her a bullet to the head. After she’d been so useful, too.”

  The sweat turned to ice. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out, and the hum of the fluorescents dug at my skull.

  Perry’s profile turned to a grinning satyr’s mask. His shoulders moved briefly as he settled himself further inside his human shell. “And cover up that thing on your wrist, darling. It’s distracting.”

  He swept the door shut, still grinning, and I found out I was shaking again. The charms rolled on the velvet and chimed together, sweetly musical. The red thread fell and hit like a blood clot on the white, white floor.

  III: Libera Me

  27

  The worst part wasn’t going down the stairs with the charms tied in my hair. It wasn’t even opening the door and stepping out into the vast daytime cavern of the Monde, tiny golden shafts of sunlight struggling through the dust and thickening. It also wasn’t the sight of Riverson flung backward over the bar, his mouth slack in an upside-down scream and his hand still dripping blood. His filmed eyes were closed forever, and the terror frozen on his dead face was enough to give any reasonable person nightmares.

  I barely glanced, storing it away for
later, because the worst thing was the ripple that went through the assembled hellbreed packed into the Monde’s throat. They filled the dance floor, brushing against the bar and its bloody cargo. The Traders at the door were grotesque slabs of muscle with submachine guns and slack mouths. There were no other Traders; it was strictly a ’breed affair.

  Hellbreed lips parted, the female mouths candyglossed and the males’ merely sculpted, and they smiled at me like a collection of dotty old aunts beaming at a favored family baby.

  “There she is.” Perry stood on the stage, his hands in his pockets. It spoiled the lines of his suit, but he didn’t look like he cared. Since he was grinning ear to ear. “Our lovely one, our own Kiss.”

  Oh, great. Every inch of silver on me ran with blue light, and the gem on my wrist muttered softly, buzzing in my bones. The hellbreed smiles didn’t cease, and under their hard, flexible skins little ripples churned. Their eyes burned, glowing with excitement.

  I swept the door closed. The sound of it catching shut was loud in the sudden murmuring stillness. The crowd was utterly still. Here during the day. Perry must have called a meeting. Why? So he can impress me?

  Only one of them didn’t look happy. He was a tall stocky ’breed with glare-yellow eyes, his skin dappled with inky stains. Frayed designer jeans, sharp bony claws, and the handsome face of a pimp who can afford to slide the knife in once a wrinkle or two shows up on a working girl’s face. He stared at me, his lip lifting, but before he could open his mouth there was a low, rumbling growl.

  The dogsbody lumbered out of the darkness behind the bar, slinking along. It had matured, and its close blond pelt was wiry and glossy. Its eyes were crystalline, flicking over the assembled ’breed as it placed its paws just so. There was something wrong with those eyes, but I couldn’t think of just what.

  The gun drew itself free, my finger on the trigger and my pulse dropping into the steady rhythm of impending action. It would be just like Perry to have a dog attack me in full view of his little throng.

  But there was a whisper next to me, and Perry’s fevered fingers on my wrist. “Hush, darling one. Wait.”

  I could still feel the thing’s throat against my whip as I choked it, my coat was still flapping from its claws, and he wanted me to wait?

  The dogsbody padded forward, its claws snicking softly on the floor. Perry’s hand tightened. It was too close, if it bunched its hindquarters and sprang…

  It was terrible, the way you could still see the shadow of human hands under its paws, and a weird roll to its humpbacked gait showed you it had been bipedal once. Its head dropped, snaking at the end of its adapted neck, and it slowed. It was close enough to spring, and I didn’t want to die here in the Monde. It would mean breaking Perry’s arm, or worse, but—

  The dogsbody gave a sigh, settling down on its haunches. It lowered its front end, and it crawled belly-down on the floor, whining, until it reached my feet. Its tongue was black, too, and it lapped at my boots, still stained with hellhound ichor. The slimy trails it left behind glistened, and revulsion jolted up my legs to engulf the rest of me.

  A huge retch filled my stomach, crawled up my throat. I swallowed so hard the effort left me blinking. A sigh went through the hellbreed, and a mutter of Helletöng like faraway thunder in the middle of a flint-cold night.

  “See?” Perry, slowly releasing me, one finger at a time. “We’re all at your feet, my darling.” More loudly now, playing to the audience. “Do any of you worms doubt me? She’s hunter, she’s human, and she’s mine, here of her own will. With her to wield it—”

  “It’s a long way from owning one of the monkeys to coaxing it to wield that,” the piebald hellbreed piped up. “And she stinks of the Other Side. What are you playing at, Hyperion?”

  Perry turned, and there was a general drawing away. The ’breed were packed in here like sardines in a can, but they managed to find the space to leave the piebald standing alone.

  Dominance, I realized. This kid’s looking to take a bite out of Perry. Interesting.

  What was even more interesting was that he was a ’breed I hadn’t seen before. I knew all the players—or at least, I had a couple months ago.

  “Oh, the Other Side.” Sarcasm dripped from Perry’s words, and the floor groaned sharply. “When have they ever taken an interest? Fear of them restrains us, is that it? I am no longer content to be restrained.”

  “Your lord father—” Piebald hesitated, because the Monde had gone still, and hot air breathed along every surface.

  Father? Oh, my God, you mean someone actually gave birth to that? Hellbreed reproduction is not my area of expertise—I just kill the motherfuckers—but I supposed it was possible. And the thought made my stomach turn over again, harder this time.

  “Oh, yes, my dear Halis. Let’s mention him. Really, you’re a bad guest.” Perry’s smile was wide and utterly chilling. He bore down on the piebald, hands still in his pockets, his shoulders square. The dogsbody had finished licking my boots and whined, deep in its throat. The sound was a glassy squeal, diamond claws on a mirror.

  The Other Side. Wield it. Betcha ten bucks he means la Lanza, according to Melendez, and I have to find out where he’s keeping it. I couldn’t look everywhere at once, and I didn’t want to. I watched Perry’s linen-clad back, and when the dogsbody hunched itself up to crouch against my leg I almost retched again.

  The piebald ’breed seemed to shrink, hunching his shoulders as sallowness rose on his pale parts. Even his hair was patchwork. “Don’t be hasty.” He swallowed, visibly. “I know where it is, I’m the one who can get it for you—”

  “Oh, but I think we’ll do quite well without you.” Perry’s sheer goodwill was terrifying. I still had the gun in my hand, loosely pointed at the floor. “I know where the Lance was, too, and even now I know where it is. Because it happens to be in my keeping, along with my darling Kiss.”

  Stop him. Judas to a hellbreed. The caretaker’s eyes, bright blue now, and the dogsbody’s teeth at my throat. He’d been stroking the thing’s head, scratching behind its ears. Its eyes had been blue, Jughead Vanner’s eyes with hellfire dripping through them, but now they were colorless crystals.

  Just like the gem in my wrist.

  “Really, Halis. Did you think to challenge me? Here? Now?” Perry made a little clicking sound, tongue against teeth, and stepped mincingly past the piebald ’breed. “Kiss?”

  It took two tries before my voice would work, because I knew what was coming. “What?” At least the word came out right, bored and flat.

  But whatever it was Perry wanted, Halis decided it was better off unsaid. He was deadly silent about it too, blinking through space with the stuttering speed of a hellbreed who means business. I was already tracking him with my right-hand gun, whip loosened and chiming as it flicked forward, one hip cocked and ready to swing back.

  28

  I didn’t even see the dogsbody move. One moment it was right next to me. The next, it hit the flying ’breed with a boneshatter crunch, and several ’breed shrank back as ichor splattered. The dogsbody’s jaw crackled, and it made a sound like a hyena late at night.

  I ignored a cramp of nausea, backed up a few more steps to get some room in case the piebald threw off the dog-thing and came for me.

  I shouldn’t have worried. Because a dogsbody, like a hellhound or a ronguerdo, knows its work. The crunching of teeth settled into wet chewing slurps as it settled down to its feast, crouching, only the gleam of one colorless gemlike eye as it watched me. One flat ear was pricked, too, standing alert.

  Like a good dog with a bone, waiting for his master’s call.

  Oh, Jesus. The world paled, came back in a rush of color. I actually staggered back, regained my footing, and gave myself a sharp mental slap. Looking weak in the middle of a crowd of ’breed is not a good way to go.

  “How nice,” Perry murmured. “Our Kiss has a pet. Well, would anyone else like to dispute our little plan? No? Good. Then you are all excused t
o work my will.”

  They didn’t move. Some of them stared at me, avid, mouths slightly open and eyes burning. Another ripple ran through them, titters and half-heard whispers.

  “Oh, yes. That reminds me.” Perry half-turned, looked at the stage. “I want that Were’s head. If the other beasts will not give him up, move into the barrio.” His grin turned wide and white, his tongue flickering once. “Kill them too.”

  “It’ll be difficult.” This from a tall female, so skinny the alien bones rubbed against the inside of her parchment skin. “That’s their ground, they know it better than we—”

  “Nevertheless.” Perry waved a hand. “Children, children, you are Hell’s scions. I trust you’ll find a way.”

  I found my voice. “Perry—”

  “You may leave us now,” he said quietly, and Helletöng filled the spaces between the words with misshapen drowning things bubbling in a cold vault. The hellbreed moved for the exits in a wave of seashell hips and painted eyes, chitterings and moanings and sighs behind them.

  “Perry.” I am still a hunter. And this is my town. “Leave the Weres alone.”

  “If they would hand over the one that shared your bed, my dearest, I would. But no, they’re intransigent.”

  I almost choked. “What do you—”

  “I had him once before, and I would have kept him after you were mine. Now I don’t need him, so I won’t keep him, but I want him for just a few moments, Kiss. Can’t you guess why?”

  “So you can take lessons on how to be a decent human being?” I probably shouldn’t have said it. Judas to a hellbreed, sure, but he wasn’t going to touch my Weres.

  Especially Saul.

  The hellbreed were slipping away, and I still had my gun out.

  But Perry had simply hopped up on the stage. ’Töng grumbled and swirled through the sun-pierced dimness, and all the hellbreed were scurrying to their cars under the assault of the cleansing light of day. “Too late now.”