Dead Harvest

by Chris F. Holm

  "You can't expect me to just look the other way, pretend I never saw what I saw. The world doesn't work that way."

  "Believe me, Sam, people see what they choose to see every damn day of their lives. Besides, I'm not the bad guy here, and neither are my clients. You wanna blame somebody, you blame Uncle Sam. These clients o' mine, they were perfectly happy running booze across the border, and wasn't nobody complaining then. But then Repeal yanked the rug right out from under 'em, and what do you expect 'em all to do? They got a right to make a living, after all."

  "Sure, they got a right, only I don't want any part in the living they choose to make. The catch is, now I'm stuck with a car full of dope and nowhere to put it. Or rather, you are, 'cause I'm out." I slid the keys across the table toward Dumas. They came to rest against his substantial belly, which pressed tight against the table's edge.

  "You're out."

  "That's right."

  Dumas nodded, raised his hands in acquiescence. "All right," he said. "I can see you've thought this through. I guess all that's left is the matter of your wife, then. Or had you forgotten?"

  "You leave Elizabeth out of this."

  "It'd be a damn shame if she got dropped from the program now – I hear she's makin' such progress, after all."

  "Damn it, she hasn't done anything wrong. You wanna punish me, you go ahead, but you leave her be."

  "Oh, don't worry, Sam, you'll get yours, but the deal was you work for me, your Elizabeth gets the treatment she so desperately needs. You don't work for me, she doesn't – it's as simple as that."

  "You'd really do that to her? You'd really let an honest woman die?"

  "Oh, no, Sam – not me. You. You go back on this deal of ours now, it's you who's letting her die. Her blood is on your hands."

  I dropped my gaze then, to the shot that lay in front of me, and to the beer. I stared at them a while, not moving, not speaking. Then I tossed the former back, and chased it with the latter, glugging away at the beer until there was nothing left but foam.

  "All right," I said. "Just tell me what I need to do."

  Back in the factory, Anders sat huddled beside Pinch, one arm slung around the boy's shoulders. Pinch was shaking, and tears welled in his eyes, but he bit them back. A tough kid, I thought, but still just a kid. I felt sorry for him. I felt sorry for them all.

  The sound of sirens cut through the still night air, drifting through the empty window frames and reverberating off the factory walls like an unholy orchestra. We didn't have a lot of time.

  I searched the charred wreckage of the chair for the remains of the ceramic cat, but they'd been mostly ground to dust – there wasn't enough left of them to threaten a cockroach, much less a full-sized demon. That left only the shard that I'd removed from Merihem's mouth, its slight weight in my shirt pocket an uncomfortable reminder of just how tenuous a protection it was.

  I ushered them out the door and into the van, slamming shut the doors behind them. A glimpse of flashing red and white through an alley, a siren's wail approaching. The van's engine didn't want to catch. Just a sputter, then nothing, over and over again. Eventually, though, it fired to life, and I dropped it into gear, lurching away from the curb without lights and screaming down the street.

  "Where are we going?" Kate asked.

  "Don't know. First thing is, we've got to find a spot to ditch the van – somebody might've seen us snatch Merihem, and even if they didn't, the thing's too hot to hold for long. After that, you three are gonna hafta hole up a while. I'm gonna try and get some answers."

  "But with Merihem gone, aren't you kinda out of sources?"

  "No," I said, my face set in a frown. "There is one other."

  19.

  "Collector," she said, a smile dancing across her luscious lips – lips painted a red so deep they looked black by the pale glow of the moon. The color of lust, I thought. Of blood. "I confess, I was surprised you called – and as you know, I don't surprise easily."

  "Thanks for meeting me here, Lily."

  Her smile faltered. On that face, with those lips, it was like snuffing out the sun. "You know I hate it when you call me that," she said, "and as for meeting you, it's not as if I had a choice."

  She was right, about the latter, at least. I'd ditched the van in an alley off of Lafayette. Allison Park was just a couple blocks away, all old-growth forest and verdant lawns and quiet. Once an asylum for dying sailors, the park would suit my needs just fine. I'd stashed the three kids in a picnic shelter buried deep within the trees. Just a shingled roof atop a dozen rough-hewn posts, a stack of picnic tables chained together in one corner, the structure was more concealment than shelter, but it was well away from prying eyes, so for now, it'd have to do.

  Once there, I'd sent Anders in search of a few supplies: a cast-off feather; the branch of a withered, dead tree; a night-blooming flower. When he returned, I'd set off east through the trees, my items in tow. I'd also taken Anders' knife, and Pinch as well, who looked a little ill at the request. But still he came, and when I told him what I'd needed, Pinch never faltered. His blood dripped black onto the makeshift altar I'd constructed out of stones at the center of the asylum's old cemetery, and he retreated to the forest's edge, dabbing at his arm with a kerchief.

  Really, I don't know what the hell I was thinking, bringing her there. I'd considered taking the seraph up on his offer of calling upon him should I need anything, but I didn't know what constituted cause for summoning an angel. Besides, what I needed was the skinny on who could've framed Kate, and as far as that went, So'enel played for the wrong damn team. All of that sounded plausible enough, and all of that paled in comparison to the simple fact that the reason I hadn't summoned the angel was because he scared the shit out of me. That left me with no option but Lilith.

  For all my effort, I wasn't at all sure she'd show – these sorts of invocations are more the domain of the living, and my Sumerian ain't exactly up to snuff. But show she did, strolling out from a copse of trees in a sheer nightgown that only served to amplify the graceful, feline movements of the body it was intended to conceal.

  "So," she said, strolling barefoot toward me and running a fingernail down my face, my neck, "what is it I can do for you, Collector?"

  "I need some information."

  "Ah. I see. Tell me, are the stories true? I hear you've grown yourself a conscience. That you've gone rogue. That you've defied the Maker and the Adversary both."

  "I'm just trying to do my job."

  "You are." She smiled again. My heart skipped.

  "I am. Only I'm not sure this is my job to do."

  A frown settled on her face, delicate and adorable. "I'm not sure I understand. You are a Collector. Your job is to collect. More specifically, your job is to collect those souls I tell you to collect. Honestly, I'm having difficulty understanding why I shouldn't just report this little revolt of yours the moment I take my leave of you, and wash my hands of this whole sordid affair."

  "Lily, what if this girl isn't meant to be collected?"

  She laughed then, a throaty purr I could feel in my socks. "Tell me, Collector – is she beautiful?"

  "What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

  "I'll take that as a yes. So what, you think if you can save the girl from hell, you'll become a real boy, and the two of you will ride off into the sunset?"

  "I know damn well it's too late to save myself. But this girl's an innocent. It's not too late for her."

  "Is she nearby?"

  I hesitated. I wished I hadn't. "She's safe."

  "Of course she is. I only asked because you could not have brought me here without the blood of an innocent willingly given, and we both know yours hardly qualifies…"

  "I found another volunteer. This isn't exactly my first day."

  "Ah," she said, "very prudent. Keep the poor unfortunate soul far away from little old me. Or is there perhaps another reason you brought someone else? Perhaps you didn't care to discover her blood was n
ot so innocent as you'd hoped?"

  "Could be I thought that. Could be I figured whoever set her up might have worked some mojo on the girl that woulda kept her blood from doing the trick. Tell me, what do you know about a demon named Beleth?"

  "Of Beleth I know volumes. I know he's a demon of great influence and power. I know that he's a fierce warrior, and a fiercer lover. I know that he's taken quite an interest in you of late. But none of that is what you wanted to know, now, is it? What you really want to know is could Beleth have orchestrated the girl's collection? What you want to know is what he would stand to gain should the girl be taken? Really, Collector, you should know better than to play coy. That invocation of yours binds me to secrecy– your equivocating accomplishes nothing but the waste of both our time."

  "Fine, then. Did Beleth set up the girl?"

  "I haven't the faintest."

  "Could he have?"

  She thought a moment. "I suppose. I mean, obviously, it's never been done before, so I couldn't say for certain, but a being of his power could certainly make a go of it. The question, though, is why?"

  "Maybe he was bored. Maybe he had grown tired of the truce. Maybe he's a fucking demon, and this is just what demons do. His motivations really don't concern me much – what concerns me is undoing what he did."

  She was peering at me now, as if for the first time. A puzzled frown darkened her exquisite features. "Tell me, Collector – why the past tense?"

  Fuck. Rookie mistake. Best to play dumb: "I don't follow."

  "He was bored. He had grown tired. What do you know that I don't?"

  "Nothing," I said, a bit too quickly. "I only meant –"

  She cut me off. "He's dead, isn't he? He's dead and you killed him."

  I said nothing for a moment, just squirmed beneath her withering glare. "Yes," I said. "I killed him. Merihem, too."

  "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

  "They would've done the same to me," I said.

  "Yes, I suspect they might have – as would have been their right. But for all your talk of protecting the balance by refusing to collect an innocent, you sure have a funny way of maintaining it. This could well lead to the very thing you claim you're trying to avoid."

  "Yeah, but if Beleth set up the girl–"

  "You idiot – Beleth couldn't have set up the girl! For a creature of his kind, his power is inextricably linked to his being, his essence. If he had set her up as you claim, his death would have released her, and I assure you it did not." Lilith saw my face drop. Again, her smile came out to play. "You really thought he did it, didn't you?"

  "I hoped he had, yes," I replied.

  "Then tell me, why on Earth did you kill Merihem?"

  "Merihem's death was an accident. We needed information. He was something shy of cooperative."

  "Should I take that as a warning, Collector? Perhaps I should endeavor to be more forthcoming. Still, I thought the two of you were… not friendly, exactly. Collegial, I suppose. I'm surprised you had it in you to kill him."

  "I did what I had to do."

  She appraised me a moment, frowning. "You're lying. It's written all over your face. You didn't kill him, did you? It was the girl."

  "One of his kind killed her family," I shot back. "She saw a chance to even the score, she took it. You can't blame her for that."

  "Of course, of course. Or perhaps the girl worried that Merihem might expose her for the charlatan she is? After all," Lilith said, caressing my cheek with the back of one blood-colored nail, "how long do you think she'd last without her big, strong protector watching over her?"

  "You're wrong about her," I said.

  "Maybe, maybe not. It hardly matters. They sent another to collect her, you know."

  "I suspected they might. Collectors I can handle."

  "Don't be so sure. This Collector is one of Beleth's own. A thousand years he's walked the Earth since Beleth first sired him, and not a shred of humanity remains. He's more demon now than man."

  My stomach dropped. "Bishop," I said. "They sent Bishop, didn't they?"

  She raised an eyebrow. "You know him?"

  "We've met."

  "Ah, but of course you have! Then you know full well what the girl is in for. You, too, I'd imagine. As I understand it, he was something of a pet to Beleth. You see, he thinks of Beleth as his Savior – his one true God. What do suppose a creature such as he would do to the man that killed his God?"

  I said nothing – just stood there, stunned. She approached me then, and draped one arm around my neck, pulling me close. Her body pressed against mine, and my head swam with the scent of her, all jasmine and spice and sex. I clenched shut my eyes to steady myself, but it wasn't any use. As her lips brushed against my ear, she spoke.

  "This vessel suits you, Collector – we could have had such fun with it, don't you think? It's a pity they will flay it alive for what you've done. And who knows? Perhaps I'll see you then. One way or another, I think I'd like to hear this body scream."

  Then, suddenly, she was gone – and with her, her warmth, her dizzying scent. I stood shivering in the darkness, alone.

  • • • •

  A frost had settled across the cemetery, the blades of grass crunching beneath my feet as I trudged back to the treeline, and to Pinch. He paid me no mind as I approached, instead staring at the spot from which I'd come. He stood wide-eyed and mouth agape, his forearm streaked with blood. The kerchief lay forgotten at his feet.

  "Who was that?" he asked, his voice small and faraway.

  "Nobody. We have to go." I crunched past him, into the forest. He didn't budge.

  "She was beautiful," Pinch said. "Bring her back."

  "Maybe later. Right now, we have to move."

  "I could give her more blood," he said. I watched in horror as Pinch fetched Anders' knife from his pocket and dragged the blade once more across his forearm. Fresh blood welled, glistening black in the moonlight.

  I grabbed him by the wrist, trying desperately to still the blade. He struggled against my grip. That's when I hit him. A backhand blow across the face, hard enough to knock him down. Pinch glared up at me from the ground, eyes full of cold fury. At least it beat the moony stare of a moment before. I extended a hand to help him up. Reluctantly, he took it.

  "Her name is Lilith," I said. "And believe me, you want nothing to do with her."

  "Lilith," he repeated, in the reverent tone of the devout. "Who is she? What is she? Is she a god?"

  "A god?" I laughed. "Pretty fucking far from. As to what she really is, that's complicated. Some say that she's the night. The southern wind. Some believe that she was the first woman to walk the Earth – that she was cast out of Eden because she refused to be subservient to Man. There are some who say she is the mother of demon and djinn, to incubi and succubi – to all the creatures who walk the night, and prey on your kind."

  "So which is it?"

  I shrugged. "Who knows? The books were written long ago, most by folks like you, struggling to make sense of things we weren't meant to know. Not a one of them is right, or maybe they all are, I don't know. Either way, the lot of them, Christian, Egyptian, whatever – they're all just dim reflections of the world beyond, offering nothing but distorted, funhouse images of what they attempt to explain. What I do know is that Lilith is powerful, a creature of great influence and even greater beauty. Which is to say she's dangerous. You felt what her presence was like, and that was from forty feet away. Up close it's even worse. You'd do well to stay away from her – she's corrupted even the bravest and truest of souls, and she'll try to do the same to you, if you give her half a chance."

  "Why doesn't she affect you?"

  I laughed. "Believe me, she does. But in my case, it's only incidental. See, I've got nothing left for her to take. Now come on – we've got to go."

  We set off through the woods. My muscles ached from exertion and from the cold, but still, I set a brisk pace. Pinch struggled, panting, to keep up. The path was lazy
and meandering. I had time for neither. I left the trail behind, plunging into the forest proper. I hoped to God I was headed in the right direction. Now was not the time for mistakes.

  Sneaker scraped against wood, and Pinch yelped, tumbling. A tree root, thick and gnarled, had blocked his path, sending him to the ground. Reluctantly, I stopped and gave him time to find his feet.

  "Jesus, Sam – where's the fire?"

  "No fire – we just have to go, is all."

  "This about that Bishop guy?"

  I pondered lying. I figured – what's the point? "Yeah," I said. "It's about Bishop."