He looked up when I came in, and smiled in his toothless way. "Peck, my boy. Good to see you." He nodded at Adam, who took up a post to the side.
"What's this?" I asked, gesturing at the table. Beside the dish of evil was a bucket of ice cubes, a baking torch, salt, and a fork.
"Instruments."
"For?"
"Experiments."
"Okay, so what have you found?"
Cora piped up. "It doesn't like cold. Makes it sleepy. It just seems to absorb salt. And the fork just tickled it, I think."
"Thank you, miss." Henry interrupted. "Fire. It hates fire. Just like anything else, it burns it to a crisp, and there is no regeneration."
"Okay, so we just need a few flamethrowers."
Henry chuckled. "Maybe. Or a can of hairspray and a lighter. Or some gasoline - you get the gist."
"Yep." I patted him on the shoulder, and dust puffed up. "Nice work, Henry. Now that's done, you guys should get back to the castle."
Henry looked me up and down.
"And you?"
I hooked a thumb over my shoulder. "Me and Biff Hammerfist-"
"Nice." Adam said.
" - thanks - are going to knock on a door. If it comes off the hinges, well, it's not our fault."
"Hold on." Henry moved to his corner and rummaged around. After a moment, he came back with a canister and a lighter.
I took it, and it sloshed. "Can of gas, Henry?"
"What?"
"Well, you're made of paper. Mostly."
He shrugged. "Found it out back by an old generator. Not even sure it's still flammable."
I shook his hand. "Thanks again, Henry. Get back to the castle."
"What about me?" Cora asked.
"Make sure he gets there."
I turned to go. A thought occurred to me. "Stay out of sight. I think the cops might still be wandering around. Don't let them see you."
Adam and I left.
*
We stood in front of the entrance to the Church of the Monstrum, and tried to decide what to do.
"Do we...knock?" Adam asked.
I gave him a look. He ducked his head. "Sorry." He mumbled.
"Okay, let's be genteel about this." I tried the knob. It halted at half a turn. "Locked. Plan B."
"Plan B?"
"Rip it off its hinges."
Adam stepped forward and fit his thick fingers into the seam around the door. Veins in his arms and neck stood out. His face turned three shades of red, and I thought he might pass out. Just when I thought it wasn't going to work, the hinges gave a loud, agonizing squeal of protest, and then snapped. The door came away from the frame, and Adam let out a loud grunt. He set the door against the wall, and peered inside. The lights were still on.
"Shoot for it?"
He rolled his eyes. "I'll go, Wulfy." He led the way.
*
You know the old cliché about things being too quiet? It wasn't that way in the Church. As soon as we stepped in, the door at the end of the hall was flung open, and several agitated homeless men, led by the old priest with the rheumy eyes stepped out. We paused, several feet from one another. I could feel Adam tense beside me. I put out a hand, signaling him to relax. The priest looked at us, his ratty robes still swishing a bit from his sudden appearance.
"Wolf. First Man." He nodded to each of us in turn, and then noticed the gaping hole behind us. "You could have knocked."
"See?" Adam said under his breath. I waved him off.
"Sorry, Father. I said. We're in a hurry." I scanned the crowd. Not a red eye among them, which told me that whatever Timothy and Hyde had been up to, it was either without the consent of the Church, or right under their noses. "Have you seen Timothy?"
He frowned. "Brother Timothy?" He shook his head. "No, he took the brothers from the Annex a few days ago up to the new expansion."
"Where's that?"
He pointed up. "The theater."
I looked at my watch. The day was winding down too fast. It was already past five, and I knew the full moon would be up soon. I hadn't heard any stirrings from the Beast since my run-in with the red gunk, or the tranq Reznick's goons had hit me with, but I didn't want to take any chances. The men behind the priest had started to disperse, though he still had me fixed in his sight. He interrupted my train of thought.
"Is he in trouble?"
"Ja." Adam spoke up.
"Ja - I mean, yes. Murder, mind control, etcetera. You know, usual megalomaniac type stuff."
"Oh dear. We had no idea."
"Didn't you wonder where all of your men were?"
He shrugged. "A lot of them go on pilgrimage to the city."
"Huh."
"You are very judgmental for an immortal." He said.
My turn to shrug. I didn't have time to call the kettle black. I turned to go. "Sorry again about the door." I called over my shoulder.
We climbed the stairs back to the top of the alley. The clouds had moved in, and it was dark on Main Street. Already, fat drops of rain had begun to fall, pattering to the concrete with a sound like fruit dropped from a rooftop. We left the alley, cold drops making our skin goose pimple, and stepped into the street. The theater was just to our left. So was Hyde.
Chapter Thirty
The big man grinned, and Adam growled low in his throat. I didn't wave him off this time.
"Think you can take him?" I asked under my breath. I felt Adam tense next to me, and wondered for a moment what it might be like to be on the receiving end of those fists. Decided I didn't want to find out.
"You two are hard to kill."
"Boser hund." Adam said.
That was it. Sometimes there's no thunder before the storm. They charged each other, Hyde's urge to kill me forgotten in his hatred for Adam. They collided, and there was a sound like someone hammering on a door, and Adam fell back. For a moment, I was worried, then fury overtook his patchy features, and he jumped back into the fray.
As for me, I contemplated what to do. I'm introspective that way. I considered just setting the theater on fire, but couldn't stand the thought that I might burn even one innocent person alive in there. I made for the door, thankful that Adam was keeping Hyde's attention. I broke the glass with the canister I was holding, flipped the latch, and stepped inside. Behind me, the giants kept fighting while the rain hammered down.
*
Inside, it was warm and dry, and quiet. I made my way through the lobby into the theater proper. There were no shouts of alarm, no goons to stop me. The theater was well-lit. I stopped at the head of the aisle, seats flanking me, red carpet running down the center. At the far end, the screen had been pulled down, and the stage had been hollowed out. A tank, like an outdoor swimming pool, brimmed with a viscous red fluid that moved in lazy waves in its confines. Timothy stood to the side, looking down. I thought I could hear a sonorous voice, just below the surface of sense, speaking.
"I understand." He said. He looked up at my entrance. "Mr. Peckinpah. Last chances. They're interesting things, aren't they? One last chance to change things. To reset your little world, make it right again."
He stepped down from the stage and pulled out a pistol. "This is mine."
There was a tug in my gut. The moon was coming out, and for the first time in a couple days, I heard the Beast. It was pissed.
"Better not miss." I said. I let the Change take me.
*
The bit of metal coughs, and I slip to the side. I disappear between the seats. I can smell the man's fear. I can hear its master calling to it, demanding it kill me. Pain still infuses my limbs, but it is distant. The pistol coughs again, and I leap the seats. He is surprised when I take a chunk from his arm. Not the right arm, though.
I spin, and am too slow. Another bullet grazes my shoulder, and it burns. Damn men and their silver. I charge forward, and decide to hurt him before the kill. His blood burns in my nose, and I can taste him on my teeth. I rip a shred from his leg, and he almost collapses. Starts to
run toward the stage. I see him lift the pistol toward the glass there, and leap, but too late.
The bullet shatters the thing's enclosure, and I feel its hunger. I finish the man, who screams for redemption before my teeth silence him. I retreat as the red tide oozes from the broken tank, and begins to cover his body.
Deep inside, the Man fights, pushes his way in. He argues for both our lives. I let him win. For now.
*
I came out of the Change, bleeding and bloody, and staggered to the canister. It took me a minute I didn't have to get the top off. Gas went everywhere, and I cursed. I managed to grab the tatters of my jeans, and fished the lighter out. The wood was old, and soaked up gas. It lit even easier, and the red tide kept coming. I could see the remains of men suspended inside, and for a moment, revulsion almost froze me. I could feel its hatred, and wondered even then, what made Timothy think this was the way to peace.
Flames spread in a greedy wave, and the heat rocked me back on my heels. The thing surging toward me hesitated, its sudden halt sending ripples through the red mass. Another wave of psychic loathing rolled off it, and though it was directed at the fire this time, I recoiled from the splash. I blinked, and the thing pulled out a new trick, splitting its mass to the left and right. I watched at it tried to circle and flank me, my mind racing. Panicked, I looked around and caught sight of the seats to my right, blazing like Roman candles.
The blob had almost completely encircled me when I did the only thing I knew. I ripped a chair from its moorings, calling on the Beast for strength. The chair resisted, and then the bolts in the floor sheared off as I went after it with a snarl. The fabric was hot, and had already begun to run, the plastic in it past the melting point. It bonded to my skin, and I screamed a little as blisters formed on my skin and almost immediately burst. With an effort, I turned and flung the chair into the mass between me and the door. It hit the red goop with a viscous splash, and there was another wordless scream. The blob retreated almost instantly, the parts where flame had touched turning black and falling off into ash.
I ran, leaving the theater behind as it blazed to life. The lobby was still empty, and I burst out into the rain, naked and bleeding. Adam was standing there, holding his jaw. Hyde was nowhere to be seen. We both started talking. After a moment, I took a breath, and let him speak.
"He ran, Wulfy."
I cursed again.
"Also, why are you always naked?"
I shrugged, despite the pain that worked its way through me. "Clothes hate me."
There was the sound of tires and a low humming engine behind us, and we turned. It was at that moment that Sheling decided to pull up, Mack in the driver's seat. Of all the shit timing in the world, his was the best. He got out and sauntered over to us, an eye on Adam. The theater was in full blaze by then.
"You do this?"
I nodded. He looked around, and then at both of us. Adam, big and bruised and still looking a bit punchy, bolts sticking out of his neck, and me, bloody and naked, and shook his head.
"Probably not going to catch the guy who murdered Reznick's kid, huh?"
I shook my head. I wished he'd wrap it up. The rain was getting cold.
"Fuck it. Not worth the paperwork." He got back in the car, and they turned around. Before they got too far, the car rolled to a stop, and Sheling stuck his head out the window.
"Calling the fire department. Not sure they'll give much a shit about a piss pot like this, but you might not want to be around if they do."
The window went back up, and the car rolled away. Adam and I watched it recede in the distance, and then I looped an arm around his shoulder. We started the long walk back to the castle. Behind us, the roof of the theater caved in to the sound of a high, keening wail.
Chapter Thirty-One
I sat in the dark of Vlad and Adam's living room while Adam bandaged my hands, and told them the parts Vlad hadn't already. They listened in the dark until I finished. We had to keep the lights off to keep the firefighters from getting too curious. Henry peeked out the window, twitching the curtain to the side.
"They've just about got it out. Looks like the store next door went up before they did, though." He let the curtain fall.
The room was dim, but I could see Adam's face. It was set in concentration, and he had a goose egg over one eye that was steadily turning black, and his upper lip was split and puffy. He wrapped the bandages around my hands, and secured them with a couple of clips.
"How's that?" He asked.
I flexed my hands. Truth was, the pain was already gone, due to my accelerated healing, but I didn't have the heart to tell him. He was trying to keep his mind off the fact that a boy's killer and a psychopath were on the loose.
"Will the Brothers be okay?" He asked after a moment.
I shrugged. "The tunnels go on for miles. Enough provisions, they'll be good 'til Doomsday."
Adam stood and walked over to Vlad. They leaned on each other. Henry twitched the curtain to the side again, staring out. Cora was sitting on the couch, chewing her thumbnail and staring into space. Something seemed to occur to her, because she stopped, and looked at me.
"What's next?"
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You got Timothy. Thanks for that, by the way. But Hyde and Reznick are still out there."
I shrugged again. "Cops don't care. They think the killer is dead, and Hyde is a fairy tale."
"You know better." She paused, and I could feel the others agreeing with her. "You told us you think Reznick killed his own kid. You gonna let him get away with it?"
"He's got an army. For fuck's sake, the man had his own personal torturer, like a goddamn Bond villain."
"What are we, chopped liver?"Adam asked.
I shook my head, and opened my mouth to speak, but Adam cut me off.
"No bullshitting, Wulfy. We're helping."
I sighed. Sometimes you had to take the hand offered to you. "Fine. They've got Hyde, though. Which means they know our weaknesses. We're going to have to do this smart."
Vlad spoke up. "I have some ideas."
*
Vlad made a few calls, and got an address. It was in the Hills, the same area where Vlad kept his bungalow, but higher. Which meant it was in a part of town too rich for even Vlad. The Hills have cliques based on which tier of the hill you're on, and from the sounds of it, Reznick was on top.
There was a little bit of bickering over the next part - who was actually coming. In the end, we decided everyone could come - we'd just need to leave a couple of them in the van when it came down to hammer time - it also wouldn't hurt to have a getaway driver handy when we needed one. Which made me realize - I needed a van.
Vlad couldn't help on that one. When I asked why, he patiently explained to the detective that having an unmarked panel van delivered to the middle of nowhere was problematic, not to mention the whole issue with the driver, so we sat around the parlor while downtown smoldered, and racked our brains.
"We could just buy one." Cora said.
"So, we're going to fracture several laws in a newly registered and licensed and easily tracked vehicle?" I said.
She grimaced. "You're a jackass. A jackass with a good point, but I stand by my opinion."
"So?" Henry asked. "Better idea?"
I shrugged. "We'll nick one. Unless someone has access to a line of untraceable vehicles."
"How's that going to keep the cops off us?" Vlad asked.
"Well, it's the middle of the night, so hopefully they won't miss it for some time. I'm thinking we hit someplace with lots of vans - supermarket, school, church - that sort of thing."
"You'd steal from a church?" Henry said, sounding shocked.
I sighed. "Henry, I'd steal from a one-eyed orphan right now if it made this any easier."
The room was silent for a minute. When no one protested any further, I stood and pulled on the loaner shirt Adam had given me. I rolled up the sleeves, and pretended I didn't feel like a kid
wearing his dad's clothes. I took a breath and looked around the room.
"Okay. I'll be back in a couple of hours. Keep an eye out."
I walked out the front door of the castle. I tried to make it look cool, confident, John Wayne like. Despite having very little plan and a knot in my stomach, I like to think I succeeded.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Shit luck or not, I was thankful for dumb cops. They'd left my car at the top of the hill, the keys still in the ignition. I drove to the city, the Lot dwindling behind me while Been Caught Stealing blared on the radio. I really hoped the title wasn't prophetic. After a while, I held the steering wheel with one hand and unwrapped my bandages with my teeth. My palms were starting to itch, and I didn't have the patience to drive, worry, and scratch.
I made it to town and sat through two red lights before realizing I should've invested in one of those satellite GPS things a long time ago. Another fifteen minutes of driving finally brought me to a grocery store tucked away from the highway by a screen of trees. The sign on the front read Culver's in big block letters. The store and the letters were dark, and I thanked whoever was listening. I cut the lights and pulled into the lot, wary of surveillance cameras, but my luck held. The store was either too cheap or too poor to afford them, and I was able to glide the cavalier to the back of the building without incident.
The store did have a small fleet of vans, but that was a generous description. To be accurate, it was closer to four, with rust on the quarter panels and fading logos painted over scraped-off logos. The paint itself was suspect, as the closer you got, the more it looked like someone had spray-painted it on. I considered going somewhere a little more flush on cash, and looked at the clock on the dash, then reconsidered. This was going to have to work.
I pulled out of the lot the way I had come, and drove until I found an abandoned alley. I ditched the Cavalier, said a prayer to the gods of parking, and made my way on foot back o the store. Confident no one was watching, I made a beeline for the back lot and least shitty of the vans, an old GMC with big round headlights and an honest to God spoiler. Somewhere in the back of my mind, the A-Team theme started playing.
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