Black City Saint

by Richard A. Knaak

  She will die . . .

  “All right!”

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, a part of me screamed not to do this, but all that mattered to the rest of me was that there was nothing else I could do to prevent Claryce from becoming the latest incarnation to die.

  I was and wasn’t the dragon this time. Unlike in the church, he didn’t dominate so much as mingle. Even then, the next minutes passed as a blur. I remember seeing the lights of the city below me, but nothing else of the actual flight until a roadster appeared in the emerald world of the dragon’s gaze.

  And just as abruptly, the speeding auto filled my view as we dived toward it.

  I landed atop the roadster. Me. No dragon. No hint of dragon. I barely had time to acknowledge what he’d done for me again before someone perforated a good portion of the Packard’s soft roof and nearly me with it.

  The gunner leaned out of passenger side. He wasn’t Doolin, but he could’ve been his cousin, so huge and ugly was he. The tommy’s barrel pointed right at me.

  I let the Packard’s jarring swing me around. My foot caught the barrel and shoved it high. The tommy slipped from his grip, dropping into the street.

  He tried to seize my foot but missed. I didn’t. Foot met face. The roadster’s door swung open, and the thug fell out backward. He hit the pavement so hard there was no doubt he’d be joining Deanie O’Banion either at the other Gate or in Dante’s Inferno.

  Clutching tight, I swung down into the roadster, just in time to meet an automatic pistol pointed directly at my head. I’d already expected the worst and ducked before the driver fired. Two rapid shots temporarily deafened me in one ear, but otherwise left me untouched.

  Grabbing the hood’s wrist, I pointed the gun skyward. At that point, I already knew I’d been had. There was no sign of either Claryce or Fetch in the roadster. I’d already been concerned when I’d been close enough to see how small it was.

  “Where is she?” I demanded, twisting his wrist almost enough to crack it.

  He let out a yelp, but otherwise didn’t answer. The Packard swerved onto the wrong side of the street.

  I tried again, squeezing as I twisted. The automatic fell between us. “Last time!”

  He jerked the wheel . . . then went stiff.

  I felt his skin grow icy. It didn’t take him slumping over the wheel for me to know that not only was he dead, but he’d died through Feirie means.

  And that left me in a speeding car veering toward an oncoming truck.

  I pulled at the wheel as best I could. The truck’s horn blared loudly as the two vehicles just missed each other.

  The Packard spun in a circle. I dove for the brakes. The auto came to a screeching halt. Now, all I had to do was pray that no one would hit us.

  But when I got up, the street was mercifully clear. I leapt out of the auto, came around the other side, and shoved the body to the passenger seat. A moment more, and we were on the way back to Our Lady of Guadalupe.

  I was afraid that Oberon had already had someone tip the cops as to the murder in the church. Even when I saw that things were still quiet there, I didn’t waste time. I headed inside and searched for the black bird. It wasn’t around. My hope was that it’d followed the actual kidnappers. The pair I’d followed had been more of Oberon’s expendable pawns. Goons that Moran had probably dredged up just for “William Delke’s” needs and not a major part of the North Side gang. Just like the ones in the other auto. I could guarantee that there’d be no evidence tying them to Moran and Weiss, but I still had a need for both the body and the Packard.

  Returning to them, I pushed the body back to the driver’s seat, then halfway out the door. I left the automatic next to the stiff. The police would find poor Juan Alonso Perez dead and one of his likely killers cooling outside. I decided to let them puzzle out just how the thug had died. It’d give them something to occupy themselves with while I hunted for Claryce and Fetch.

  The tires on the Model T were another problem. I’d been tempted to switch autos, but there was a chance that somehow I’d still be linked to the T despite the shunning. Oberon had shown me that everything I’d trusted in could be easily overcome on his end.

  With silent apologies to Heaven and Our Lady of Guadalupe, I used the rectory phone. All the while, I wondered where the local priest was but had to hope that his body wasn’t one I’d just missed.

  “Yes, who is speaking?” a rough-hewn voice asked.

  “Nick here. Your friends. A Model T. The tires.” I gave him the church address. “Have them leave it near you.”

  “They will attend to it as they always do, Nick. Thank you for this opportunity.”

  I grimaced as I set down the receiver. Like Kravayik and Fetch, there were others who felt they owed me a lot. Not all of them were exiles like that pair. Some were people who’d gotten in too deep in matters they should’ve known to leave alone. Barnaby was one of those. He did owe me big, especially for keeping his son from becoming another victim—intentionally—in the Winged Foot Express crash six years ago, but I still didn’t like using him any more than I did Kravayik.

  “There must be at least a dozen sins surrounding your work this evening,” Diocles declared from behind my back.

  “If you’ve nothing useful to say, just vanish. I’ve seen enough of you of late, anyway.”

  He appeared in front of me, dour as ever. “Is it my fault you’ve chosen to visit every church in the city?”

  I glared at him. “Do you have to make your presence known each time?”

  His gaze widened and he looked even more dour, if that was possible. “There is a mirror behind you. Please take a look.”

  I did and saw nothing out of the ordinary save that I still had the dragon’s eyes. “What do you want me to see?”

  “You never kept them like that for so long . . . except that night.”

  He meant when the Dragon Breathed. The great fire. I’d had no choice then, not with Oberon involved. “You know why.”

  He is correct . . .

  I’d scarcely believed that the dragon would not only join the conversation—one-sided as it was since Diocles couldn’t hear him—but that he agreed with the late emperor. “I might still need them.”

  My former lord and master was swift in recognizing that I wasn’t talking to him. His brow wrinkled deeply, but he said nothing.

  Eye will be there . . . when needed . . .

  I took a deep breath. Already aware of my willingness, the dragon withdrew. As he did, the room darkened. Only Diocles remained perfectly visible.

  “You were speaking to that devil.” To the reformed emperor, the dragon was nothing less than an offspring of fallen Lucifer. I’d stopped trying to correct him centuries ago. “Speaking in a familiar manner.”

  “We had to come to a few agreements today.”

  The ghost sneered. “Never trust the devil.”

  “As opposed to my good friend and master who removed my head?” I cut off his incessant apologies as something occurred to me. “Were you here the first time I entered?”

  “In spirit.”

  Not certain as to whether he was answering straight or making some poor attempt at humor, I continued, “Did you happen to see outside?”

  “I barely know what the outside looks like anymore, Georgius. You know that.”

  I was disappointed, but not surprised. There’d been a small hope that he could tell me more about the kidnapping—

  The telephone rang.

  I didn’t believe much in coincidences. I picked up the receiver. “Yes?”

  “Nick! Oh, thank God! At last! I’ve called every other place I knew to! I tried this number on the off-chance you went back to look for a clue!”

  “Claryce?”

  “Nick! I barely got away! He sacrificed himself to help me escape!”

  I could only imagine she was talking about Fetch and, while I wanted to know more about that, I needed to make sure I reached Claryce before Oberon’s goons did
. “Where are you now?”

  She gave me the address. It was several blocks north. “It’s all right, Nick! This isn’t near where I was held! I found a taxi after I got free and had him take me somewhere familiar! There are people all around me!”

  Claryce sounded fairly safe but not enough for my tastes. “I’ll be there as quickly as I can. Stay as visible as possible.”

  As she hung up, I considered my choices. One became very obvious.

  “Do not do it, Georgius.”

  “I can get to her in no time. I’ve done it before.”

  The ghost formed by my side. “And it gets easier and easier to accept it. There are other ways, though. Safer, sufficient ways.”

  “Such as?”

  “The chariot outside.”

  He meant the one I’d already set up to make this look like a rubout by some overzealous bootleggers. “It won’t be fast enough—”

  It will be . . . and if it is not, Eye will be there for you . . .

  I no longer knew what to expect from the thing inside me. He could’ve kept silent. I would’ve given him another chance at partial freedom.

  “He agrees with you,” I commented to Diocles.

  “Does he?” The late emperor looked as if he’d just eaten something that’d disagreed with him.

  “Excuse me.” I barged through Diocles without a pause. As I exited the church, I heard faint sirens. I didn’t know if they were headed here or somewhere else, but it didn’t really matter. I dragged the thug’s body from the Packard and made sure to leave the automatic near his side . . . and without my fingerprints on it. That done, I shoved the top down, so that no one would get a good glimpse of the shot-up roof, and drove off to where Claryce said she was.

  I assumed that I’d have to go searching for Claryce, but to both my relief and concern, she was on the corner near the address she’d given, already watching for me. Behind her, some good jazz that Armstrong himself might have been leading danced out of the club from where she’d apparently called.

  I pulled up the Packard. She wasted no time in climbing in.

  “Nick, this isn’t—”

  “No, it’s the one I followed. They cut up the tires on the rental.”

  She looked frightened . . . for me. “Won’t they trace it back to you?”

  “I’ve got someone taking care of it.” I had faith that the rental would be gone before the police arrived. Barnaby hadn’t let me down yet. “Before we go anywhere, though, I need you to look me directly in the eye and not flinch.”

  Claryce didn’t understand, but she did as asked.

  Show me . . .

  Just for the briefest of glances, his eyes returned. I not only saw Claryce through his emerald world, but anything about her that wasn’t a part of hers.

  Nothing. I’d been half-certain that Claryce’s quick escape hadn’t been what it seemed, but there was no hint of Oberon’s influence about her. It wasn’t a hundred percent guarantee, but it was near that. I looked away, blinked my eyes back to normal, then faced Claryce again.

  “I wanted to see if Oberon had magicked you in any way. I didn’t want to tell you that until after I was certain things were well, just in case.”

  “Did—did you notice any problem?”

  “No.” Ironically, that made me feel worse about what I intended. “Do you know where they took you? Can you describe it?”

  Naturally, Claryce had taken the time to remember that address as well. It was an area with plenty of empty buildings and just perfect for nefarious activities. I made a calculation. I hoped Fetch wouldn’t hold it against me, although I would’ve.

  “First, you’re not going with me. I’ve got a friend with whom you’ll be safe . . . I swear.” My record thus far hadn’t been very good, but I had more confidence this time, even if in some ways I was also bringing her to the very last place I should’ve.

  I was bringing her to Holy Name. To Kravayik.

  And, unfortunately, to the card.

  CHAPTER 16

  Kravayik, of course, was happy to be of service to me, even though I was bringing a woman—an unmarried one at that—into his personal quarters. Neither of us were worried about the clergy, since most of them barely even recalled that he lived there. However, I still didn’t like bringing her to the vicinity of the card, even though it was as secure as ever.

  “All will be well, Master Nicholas,” the exile quietly assured me. “I long ago made up the attic just in case some poor wayfarer needed a roof over his or her head.” He shrugged. “Perhaps another sin on my shoulders, but even though I also had to make certain that my dear employers wouldn’t think of going up there, I thought at the time the benefits would perhaps balance the scales out.”

  “You thought right.” I was pleased by his planning ahead. It made me feel a little better about what I was doing. “I don’t think St. Michael’s is secure enough. It’d take Oberon much more effort to do anything here, even with his thugs.”

  Kravayik put his impossibly long hands together as if in prayer. “The poor benighted souls. This war cannot go on. The news said another one was bumped off last night, the stiff left on the street—” He frowned, but not at the death. “Dear Lord, I begin to sound like that noisome Fetch, if you and Heaven can forgive me for saying so.”

  He already knew what I planned and despite his words had already said a prayer for the lycanthrope’s safety. I wasn’t sure if one prayer was enough for Fetch, but I wasn’t about to turn away any type of help, including divine intervention. Not that I’d ever received any of the last before. I seemed to be a saint in exile in more ways than one.

  Claryce had been warned somewhat about Kravayik and so she accepted him with a grace he honestly appreciated. I was so used to being alone most of the time that I’d forgotten that someone like Kravayik had once been of such stature that he’d constantly been surrounded by those seeking his favor. Now, he had only his new beliefs and his prayers. I knew that they were more than enough to satisfy him, but Claryce’s company was certainly an added pleasure for the exile.

  “Have you eaten yet?” he asked her, as he led her to her hiding place. “I have been dabbling with local dishes. I am especially fond of Italian food. I would be delighted if you joined me in a meal. Today, I cooked an eggplant dish . . .”

  I marveled for a moment how talkative Oberon’s former hunter suddenly was. He knew better than to speak about the card, fortunately.

  I looked around for Diocles and was gratified to find that for once he wasn’t waiting in some corner for me. Why he’d decided to leave me be for this once, I didn’t know or care. I had enough to deal with.

  The drive to Holy Name had given me time to question Claryce about what had happened to her until Fetch’s surprising intervention. She hadn’t been a prisoner too long, but even a few minutes in the company of Oberon or his stooge Doolin was more than enough. I’d seen Oberon destroy the mind of a man in only a handful of seconds, leaving a babbling, drooling shell in the wake.

  And Oberon himself had been there, accompanied by Doolin and four other hoods. When I’d asked Claryce about anything odd concerning Doolin, she’d mentioned his thick gloves, too large and too heavy for the weather we were having. I guessed that now Doolin wore a match to the gauntlet he’d had on when he fought with me, and that the only reason he’d not had both in the first place had been to secrete Oberon’s toy on me, the one that’d kept me from being able to draw Her Lady’s gift.

  I still hadn’t found it, but I couldn’t let that stop me from trying to do something for Fetch, if belatedly. I did have the dagger and a few other items. I hoped they’d be enough.

  Still looking like William Delke—probably to keep everyone other than Doolin from being spooked—Oberon had questioned Claryce about one thing . . . well, two things that were very similar. The statuettes. There was the one I’d assumed he already had, the dryad. Why he’d asked her about that one at all, I couldn’t figure. What I found more intriguing was his intere
st in the one stolen from Our Lady of Guadalupe. I’d assumed again that he’d it taken, but he seemed to be in the dark concerning its whereabouts.

  When Claryce hadn’t given good enough answers, Oberon had turned her over to Doolin, which said much about the goon’s talents for torture, if Oberon was willing to sit back and watch rather than enjoy the task himself. Thankfully, Doolin had never had the chance, for that’s when Fetch had given himself for Claryce.

  I’d thought Fetch injured and taken along with Claryce, but all that’d happened to him initially had been the equivalent of the butt of a gat against his skull. Unfortunately for Oberon’s puppets, they didn’t know the truth about Fetch and had probably assumed him some tough but very mortal hound. The true kidnappers had barely taken off when he’d recovered enough to give pursuit. There’d been no time to warn me, of course, but Fetch had done his best to follow their trail all the way.

  He’d fallen behind a little, but thankfully not enough to let Doolin get to work. Fetch had crashed through window, landed behind Claryce, and used one paw to rip through the ropes. I’d seen him use those paws before and could picture just how easily the thick bonds had given way.

  The only positive aspect of Oberon being in the room had been that, like with me, Fetch could speak in his presence. He’d told Claryce to scram and then hit like the Bears’ defensive line into Doolin.

  That was all Claryce could tell me. She’d been smart enough to figure out that she couldn’t help Fetch in any manner except to make good on her escape and then find me. That hadn’t taken her as long as she’d feared, but long enough.

  And I’d only made it longer and more certain that Oberon had had plenty of time to entertain himself with Fetch’s screams.

  I fought back my growing guilt as I pulled the Packard up on a darkened street just a block from where Claryce said she’d been held. By that time, I’d also been able to think about what Oberon had done with the sword. A simple thing by Feirie standards, so simple I should’ve caught on.

  The tiny strand looked so weak, so thin, that it shouldn’t have bound Her Lady’s gift where it was, but being of black silver inside it’d been more than enough. All Doolin had had to do was find the hilt, then wrap the strand around it. He hadn’t even had to do it well. Touched by Oberon’s power, it’d completed the work itself for Doolin.