Boyfriend from Hell (Saturn's Daughters) (24 page)

Andre would say I was nuts if I told him about Sarah. I needed someone who understood. I took my sandwich into the bedroom and leaned my hands on the dresser.

Max appeared instantly in the broken shards. “
You don’t look happy, babe
.”

“Did you hear any of what I just heard?” I was probably talking to a figment of my imagination, so it wasn’t an unreasonable question.

“
Didn’t hear anything. I think you maybe have to be near it for me to see and hear you directly,
” Max said with what might have been a shrug. “
I’m making connections, learning how things work. There are different dimensions. Maybe Dante was right about levels of hell. All I know is there’s a veil between here and there. I haven’t worked out how to get past it.
”

Oh shit and crap. As long as I continued to think I was losing my marbles from stress, I could hope I
was clinging to sanity. But I was in over my head and going down fast when I started
believing
Max was facing hell because of me. Did I have to believe Sarah? Could both of us be batshit nutzoid?

“Max, I’m thinking you were sent there wrongly, and that’s why you’re not frying in eternal flames,” I said bluntly, not knowing any other way of handling this if Max truly was on the other side. “Things are happening too weird for me to grasp. So far, the only clue I’m getting is from a chimpanzee.”

I told him about the conversation with Sarah, and he frowned. I wanted his burly arms around me when he did that. It was disconcerting to have nothing but hard, cracked glass for comfort. I was perfectly aware that a shrink would say my imaginary Max was my way of coping with his traumatic death, but I was learning that the real world didn’t know a lot about this alternate universe I seemed to be occupying. Which ought to have worried me but didn’t.

“
Daughters of Saturn are real, babe,
” Max warned. “
Maybe it’s why I dug your vibes from the first. Your mother copped out by not telling you what you are
.”

“And because of that, I sent you to hell!” I wailed, facing up to my guilt.

“Or maybe you gave me an opportunity to get even,
” he corrected. “
If it hadn’t been for you, maybe I’d just be dust in a coffin right now
.”

That perspective left me cogitating instead of shouting, and Max took advantage of my silence by lecturing.

“Like I said, I’ve been asking questions. Word
is, with Saturn coming back around in a couple of years, all the Daughters born twenty-six years ago are gaining their powers. You have a little time to learn to deal with them as they grow. Your kind got a bad rep because no one has believed in Saturn in centuries, so his daughters are mostly loose cannons. Maybe you better listen to Themis. Killing people isn’t helping your karma.
”

“Planets can’t have kids, and neither can dead gods! I’m already damned, aren’t I?” I asked with a sigh. “What difference does it make if I off a few more no-goods? Maybe I’ll join you.”

He shook his head vigorously. “
Don’t go there, babe! I don’t know the alternative, but you deserve better. Maybe you have the power to dispense justice through law.
”

I snorted. “Yeah, that’s happening with your rich family breathing fire down my neck and an arrest record blotting my escutcheon. Even if I pass the bar exam, the ethics and character committee has to examine my application for a law license. Explaining away riots ought to be a joy after they learn about the rest of my questionable behavior. Make room for me down there, Maxie, I’ll be joining you eventually.”

He swore and tried to pound the glass but vanished. I was thinking maybe he should clean up his act if he ever wanted to get out of wherever he was. Temper probably wasn’t a virtue. Maybe I should ask what other questionable tactics he might have been indulging in besides using me for a spy.

I had way too many questions and never enough time to ask them.

The Zone warping me made more sense than believing any rot about planets or dead gods. Andre had said people changed, sometimes for the better, when they lived down here. Chemical imbalances could be cured maybe. Science had logical foundations. Woo-woo, not so much. If I wanted to deal in the superstitious, I could say that I got Milo as a prize after I generously went hunting for Andre’s deposit bag and that I found my apartment after saving Diane. Not buying it.

I called Cora.

“Hey, hon, what did you do to Andre? He’s fuming at the ears, and it’s not pretty,” she sang into the phone. “Amusing, but not pretty.”

“He tried to save me from the bad guys last night, but I took them for a ride instead. But because he cares, I’ve got one for him: Sarah is a full-fledged maniac and will probably try to off her mother soon. Oh, also, she’s got the hots for our fearless leader. He might want to try not taking this one to bed.”

“Why don’t you tell him yourself?” she asked in amusement.

“And be accused of jealousy? Not happening. The man’s ego is too large for his pretty shirts. But Sarah is a bunch of bananas shy of a boatload. You should take a look into her background, starting with the mother she claims killed drug dealers and was thrown behind bars.”

“Will do, because you’re making me curious.
Frank is hacking into the corporate spy company at Andre’s request. It’s looking like they’re on the payroll of Acme Chemical, among others,” she warned. “Any luck so far with our diplomatic hit-and-run driver?”

“I’m thinking Vanderventer,” I responded in answer to her question, wondering if the invisible guy was listening in. “And the really curious part—his family and Max’s are seriously in bed together, and I’m thinking they own at least part of Acme Chemical.” I couldn’t very well tell her Max had told me about his family. “It all has to wait until finals are out of the way, but it stinks worse than a chemical spill.”

“Nothing stinks worse than a spill, I’m here to tell ya. Maybe I’ll have Frank dabble a little in this. Acme is huge enough to keep the authorities off their backs even after their little ‘accidents.’ They’re dangerous. Back off, get your studying done, and let us do the snooping.”

“No choice right now, but I’ll be back on the job shortly. The Geek’s on it, too, if you want to exchange news.”

After I hung up, I realized I was really looking forward to going after Dane Vanderventer and Max’s family. It was a pity I had to finish school before I could even begin to look legal.

And before I could even think of taking the bar, I had to find someone respectable who could clean up and explain my arrest record. I was pretty sure my apologizing for egging the provost and staging a protest that caused the administration building’s roof to catch on fire would not pacify any ethics
committee, especially if they found out about me starting fights in funeral homes, working at Chesty’s, and offing rapists. Maryland is kind of picky about who can become a lawyer.

Maybe I’d better start playing nice to Andre. I needed to find a good lawyer to give me a reference, and Andre was the only person I knew with enough money to pay a decent salary so I could hire one.

Did that mean I was planning on staying in the Zone instead of getting the heck out of Dodge?

O
n Monday I called a locksmith to change the front door lock and rig up window locks, and I asked Pearl to let him in. The locksmith would cost me my tip money from Saturday night, but I needed my sleep.

I wheeled into school on Max’s Harley, handed in a final paper in one class, and got off for good behavior in another. I took the extra hours at the library to wrap my head around confusing case law that I feared would be on the next exam, then motored back toward the Zone. Milo had opted to stay home, and
I needed to check on him and park the bike before going to work.

Milo was growling when I arrived. I picked him up and carried him to the bedroom, where the locksmith was working on the sliding glass door.

“Not a lot you can do with glass doors,” he complained. “A key isn’t a good idea in case of fire. Just locking it and putting a stick in the bottom is your best bet. Same with the window. The broomstick is good. You could call a security company, but breaking glass will wake you up as fast as alarms.”

“Maybe I can stretch electric wire across and just fry intruders,” I said grimly.

“As long as you don’t forget and fry yourself,” he agreed, handing me an invoice and new keys for my front door. “You need a big dog.”

“I have an attack cat.” Milo stood on my shoulder, still growling.

“Looks like a baby bobcat with those whisker tufts, but he won’t deter thieves. Get a good handgun.” Whistling, he took my cash and let himself out.

“I’m darned well not shooting anyone,” I declared aloud, in case the Universe was listening. I’d had time to get real nervous about hell. An extra few inches of height and good hair weren’t worth eternal damnation, even if the outer rings allowed me to look through mirrors.

Realizing I’d never given hell a thought until Max showed up in my mirror, I seriously considered finding a shrink, but I didn’t want to end up in solitary
confinement, either. A prison is a prison, even when it’s called a loony bin.

“C’mon, guard cat, let’s see if the food isn’t better at Chesty’s.”

Forgetting evil locksmiths and forgoing his sunny spot in the bay window, Milo took his place in my messenger bag. I’d have wished for a cat’s easy life, but given my weird experience of the past week, I held off actually vocalizing wishes, or even thinking them.

Since I’d been riding the bike, I was wearing cutoffs instead of jeans that hit above my ankles. I needed a new wardrobe if I meant to continue biking. I hated to give up my lawyerly preppy skirts, but practicality won out. I’d either end up mopping floors or wearing a ho costume by evening, so I donned a pair of leather capris that Max had bought me and added a black spandex halter top. Maybe Ernesto would let me wear this outfit instead of a skirt.

On the off chance that I might fit in some studying, I picked up my backpack of books and strolled down the back alley to Chesty’s, wearing my new heels. Learning to strut after years spent wearing corrective shoes was a bit of a challenge, especially when dodging mobile gargoyles. The creepy feeling of being followed by gutter ornaments worked my nerves badly, but it’s not smart to punch out concrete.

The Miata was parked behind the club when I walked up. I’d have to find a safer place to park it—maybe some fancy condo complex. That ought to
keep the spies busy and guessing for a day or two. They couldn’t know for a fact where I lived unless the gargoyles told them.

Sarah wasn’t around when Milo and I bummed our lunch in the kitchen. I wondered if Cora had passed on my message to Andre and if he’d taken action. Or if he’d promoted Sarah to head honcho over me. Since I hadn’t been told differently, I took up my usual position at the bar, donned my reading glasses, and began counting the club’s weekend revenue while waiting for the other deposits to show up. I’d much rather have been out in the great spring day.

Sarah arrived sporting hair the color of an orangutan and
lots
of it, stacked high and frizzy on top of her head. She looked like some kind of unpleasant throwback to a prior century. I’m not talking about Madonna with her missile-breasted body armor—because
that
worked—but serious beehive hairdo. She grabbed a broom and looked equal parts defiant and self-conscious as she began her routine.

I was glad I didn’t read newspapers. I didn’t want to know if a serial drug-dealer killer had died in her prison cell. I didn’t like justice being dispensed for perks, but could I honestly make that argument after killing a rapist? No judge or jury had been involved in the rapist’s death. At least Sarah’s mother had been convicted honestly. Judgment calls are hell.

“Has Andre come in?” Sarah asked when she got close enough to where I was working to talk without shouting.

“Not that I know of. Word to the wise . . .” I
glanced over the top of my glasses to her hair. “He likes to do the chasing.”

Which was the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and Andre owed me for putting her off like that. She grimaced a little and returned to sweeping.

She preened a little when Andre strolled in wearing one of his fitted silk shirts, a tie, and a sexy fedora that belonged in the 1940s. He threw Bill’s deposit bag and the Miata keys on the counter, took one look at Sarah, winked at me, and strolled on out the back without saying a word.

Damn, that man was hot. And annoying. I pocketed the keys. Sarah went back to drooping. I guessed even killers could have self-esteem issues.

To my surprise, Boris the Geek stopped by to inform me he had the information I wanted.

“I’ve had extra expenses this week,” I told him. “It may be next week before I can pay you.” I was hoping really hard he’d go ahead and give me the names anyway.

He took a stool at the bar and covertly watched Sarah work. She was apparently growing used to people coming and going and didn’t perform her startled-chimp act. After watching Andre stroll through, she didn’t notice poor nerdy Boris, but the Geek was better off staying off her radar. I poured him a glass of water and threw in a lemon to soften him up.