Brambleman (73 page)

Wyatt frowned and said, “Something’s wrong.”
Charlie glanced at Romy, who wore a serene expression. The poor
little girl had no idea of the danger she was in. He hesitated,
considering the threat to the children from the supernatural being
who hated them. But Susan was in danger, too, and there was no safe
place for the children or for him. At least here, they were in
public—and close to an emergency room.

“No fear,” Charlie muttered.

“No fear,” Romy echoed.

Charlie scooped up the girl, grabbed Wyatt’s
hand, and quickened his pace. A shadow fell from Susan’s room,
forming a puddle of darkness on the hall floor. In Room 330, a man
in a cleric’s collar hugged an old woman, patting her back as she
cried on his shoulder, both of them oblivious to the unearthly
presence next door.

Charlie braced himself and walked into Room
332 with his new kids. Trouble was sitting in the aqua chair,
wearing a battered tan jacket, reading a book Charlie recognized:
Dog Heaven
. The trickster was pallid, with dark circles
under his eyes. The room smelled of rank sweat and decay. Well, the
old death-dealer
had
been working overtime. What was it—ten
people killed in the past week? Charlie couldn’t keep track. The
storm clouds were overhead now. There was a flash of lightning,
followed by an understated
boom
—subtle, compared to what
he’d seen and heard before.

Without taking his eyes off the book, Trouble
said, “I love happy endings, don’t you?” He pantomimed wiping a
tear. When he glanced up, he recoiled in the chair like he’d been
tased. “Oh no you didn’t.”

Wyatt whimpered and pulled on Charlie’s hand.
“Stand behind me,” Charlie told him, and the boy stepped backward
into the doorway. Romy stared at Trouble wide-eyed, unblinking.

“Well, that explains what happened the other
night,” Trouble said, shaking his head in sad amazement. “I thought
maybe it was you, but I was giving you too much credit, as usual.”
He looked at the book in disgust and tossed it aside. “I was going
to tell you I killed your dog, but we’re a little beyond jokes, I
see. Kill the dog, kill the bitch. Get it? No? Humph. I wondered
why your wife—she is still your wife, no?—was so remarkably
resilient. She was supposed to writhe in agony, then die. I was
just getting ready to try again when you dropped in. Now I can see
that
ain’t gonna happen. Everything makes perfect, horrible
sense.”

Not to Charlie. He glanced toward Susan, who
wore a troubled expression in her sleep. He listened to her
breathing, a wonderful sound, since she was off the respirator.
Then he noticed that Trouble was tense, gripping the chair arms,
looking like he would spring and attack.

“Yeah, I wondered why she wouldn’t die,”
Trouble said, relaxing a bit. “Right when she was supposed to
flatline yesterday, they took her off the critical list. Now I’ve
heard about the miracle of modern medicine, but that was just
contrary to nature. It was also a personal insult. So I had to see
for myself, come in and—what’s the opposite of jump start?”

He stared Charlie in the eye. “Now I know.
You went and got yourself some kryptonite. Let me guess. You
claimed her as your own.” He glanced at his bare wrist. “I’m
guessing you locked it down yesterday at nine-fifty-eight a.m.,
give or take.”

Confused and unsettled, Charlie took a step
back. He’d told the caseworker that Romy and Wyatt were his right
around ten o’clock, of course. It was beyond belief to think—

“I’ve been trying to destroy her since she
was born,” Trouble said, pointing at Romy. “Always thought we had a
shot, with no one to claim or protect her except the whore. And
you, a fool of the major sort, latched onto her. I lost some of my
best minions the other night.” Trouble narrowed his eyes, then
shouted, “Unlike you, they do as they’re told! I said, NO COPS! And
you had to change the locks. They couldn’t get in … well, too late
now.” He shrugged. “Then again, you never were a minion. More of a
mistake, you ask me. But maybe I just don’t get it anymore.”

Seeing Trouble frustrated was quite amazing
(and gratifying) to Charlie. Was it possible that he was now
powerless? “I thought you’d be up in Forsyth County, supervising
the mayhem,” he said.

Trouble waved off the idea. “Oh, they didn’t
need me for that. The Cutchinses were bound to self-destruct once
you exposed them like rats to light. Turned on each other. Tantie
Marie informed on her brother and sister. Her son killed her and
burned down the house while he was still inside. Tried to shoot
himself, but he missed. Too bad. He burns. By the way, that
firestarter trait is genetic. You can’t teach it,” Trouble said,
sounding like a proud father.

“Are you saying the whole family was in the
house that burned?” Charlie asked.

“Oh, no. Your mother-in-law will die in jail.
I know
that
breaks your heart.” Trouble let out a little
chuckle. “By the way, in case there was even the tiniest bit of
doubt in your mind, she’s the one who paid to have you killed.
Twice. And the man you call Uncle Stanley has embezzled just about
all the family’s money, abandoned his wife for his mistress, and
boarded an airliner bound for parts unknown—to the authorities,
that is.”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not going to
blow up the plane, are you?”

“You think I’m that clumsy?” Trouble held up
his hands and twiddled his fingers. “I’m more of a surgeon. Or a
maestro, I suppose. These things are orchestrated, more or less.”
He shrugged and wagged his head to the side. “You’ll be interested
to know what happened to Momo was an answer to Kathleen’s prayer.
Really unspeakable, what he did to his mother, even for my tastes.
Again, it’s a family thing.” Trouble sighed. “Kathleen would have
had her vengeance, too. But you had to set her up to die happy,” he
said with a sneer. “All because of that little piece of fluff you
edited. And then you cut her and her heirs and assignees out of the
real deal on the work in question! Unbelievable. You broke the
deal—”

“Some deal. More like a trick.”

“—and made your own worthless life forfeit.
Yet there you are.”

So he could have kept all the money from
Flight
and should have shared the royalties on
Monster
. What a bunch of hair-splitting nonsense. He
suspected Trouble of running a rogue operation or just ad libbing
everything.

“Here I am.” Charlie shifted Romy to his left
arm. “Though not exactly in one piece. What about Susan? What about
Beck and Ben?”

“Well, you saved them, thanks to your
dumb-luck stunt with the little whore-child. If it were up to me,
well … I shouldn’t even say. I never could figure you out. Believe
me, it was bothersome, watching you mess everything up. Takes a
certain kind of … well, it’s not easy to do what you did and
survive, let alone get in line for a promotion.”

“A promotion? I almost died the other
night.”

“You still don’t get it. And you may not get
it.” Trouble looked to the ceiling and held up his hands in
exasperation. “That is what is so
amazing
about you. You
stumble around, and … somehow succeed. You were supposed to share
that money for the Cutchins book, but
noooooo
… you break a
deal under penalty of death and go out and get yourself a bodyguard
and a Beamer. Hardly original.”

“The bodyguard was a fake.”

“
Everything about you is fake
! From
your footnotes to your industrial chic hairstyle, you’re a fraud.
How ya gonna teach the little whore-children to do right when you
got no standards yourself, eh?”

“Watch your language,” Charlie growled.

“Shut up. I’m tellin’ a story.”

“Don’t you talk to my Daddy that way,” Romy
said.

Charlie thought he heard Susan say something
and turned his head toward the bed just as Trouble charged forward,
his fist raised, shouting, “Your mother is a worthless bitch, you
insolent little whore-spawn!”

There was a
whump
, then a loud POP!
Charlie was knocked backward. His legs buckled and he barely kept
on his feet. Romy started to fly off his shoulder, and he tightened
his grip to keep her from sailing away. A loud buzz filled the
room, along with an acrid cloud of smoke that stank of ozone and
burnt hair.

Charlie turned to look at Romy. Her eyes were
on fire with anger. It took him a second to realize that Trouble
was pinned between the top of the window and the ceiling.
Whimpering, with his hair on fire. He tried to put it out with his
hands as he slid down the glass and fell on his face. Charlie was
awestruck. The girl had her smite on.

Trouble struggled to his feet, grabbed the
water pitcher from the bedside stand, and poured its contents over
his hair, raising a cloud of steam. He glared fiercely at the girl.
If looks could kill, she would have left that room in a basket. But
his didn’t, not anymore. Trouble shook his head rapidly in an
attempt to recover, then grinned maliciously. “I bet your name’s on
her birth certificate.”

“In blood,” Charlie said. “I guess you all
ran out of ink.”

“Don’t blame that one on me. You’re operating
above my pay grade now.”

“Oh, really?” This was the second time he’d
heard that phrase recently. There was some kind of hierarchy in
play. The idea that some other power was at work gave Charlie great
hope.

“Yeah, I’ve seen this happen before. Don’t
like it much, but what can I do? That explains why the dump truck
didn’t run that red light yesterday afternoon when Raccoon-boy’s
wife was bringing her kids home from Bible boot camp.” He shrugged.
“They teach a lot of good Old Testament stuff there, by the way.
Don’t care what they say: The sequel is
not
as good as the
original.”

“Yeah, the First Church of Varmintville is
heavy on the hell,” Charlie said.

Trouble shifted his gaze to Romy, who
continued to stare at him with unblinking eyes. “Went and got
yourself a rich daddy, didn’t you, you little—”

“Watch it,” Charlie said.

“I can’t touch you now. Oh, I can touch you.”
Trouble reached out and slapped Charlie’s face, then jumped back as
Romy swatted at him. “But I can’t hurt you.”

It
did
hurt, but there was no
supernatural shock, just the pain from a garden-variety bitch slap
to an injured face. Trouble gave him a sour smirk. “Like I said,
you got kryptonite.”

Romy reached out and tried again to hit
Trouble, but he stayed just out of reach. Charlie stepped toward
him, and Trouble found himself forced into the corner. “All right,
I know I’m not wanted. And having failed to terminate you, I got to
pay up as if you’d actually fulfilled your contract. Completely
unfair. No vengeance or justice in that.” Trouble grinned. “Sadly,
you asked for the impossible.”

“I didn’t ask you for anything, you murderous
lunatic.”

“On the contrary.” Trouble pulled out a tiny
pad from the back pocket of his grimy jeans and scrutinized it,
then rattled off a list. “There’s the first one, with a note that
says ‘to discuss later,’ then a million wishes, a go-kart, to see
Jesus, to make the football team, getting in Annie Sutton’s pants,
passing the chemistry final, granting you the serenity—wait a
minute, that’s plagiarism—ah, this sounds more like you, not
letting the check for your engagement ring bounce. Eww, sorry about
that one. Baby number one born with all toes and fingers, Baby
number two born with all toes and fingers. Now, that’s just luck,
by the way, I don’t do toes and fingers. I mean I don’t put them
on
. Quitting drinking. You’re welcome.”

Charlie laughed. “Most of those things I
didn’t get.”

“Don’t go Yoda on me. Ah, here it is: Wife
down on both knees begging you to come back. Hmm, like I said,
that’s a problem. The second part, that is. I mean, who would want
you back? Especially now that you’ve got the little
whore-child.”

“Sweetie. This is a bad … uh, man,” Charlie
said. “Don’t listen to him.”

“I’m not a man.”

“Sorry. My bad. Demon.”

Trouble gave him a hurt look. “I’m not a
demon. I’m an angel. I thought you knew.”

“You’re an
angel
? I gave up on that
idea a while back.”

“I’m an
avenging
angel. People get us
confused with demons, I admit. There’s a little bit of
overlap.”

“A trickster,” Charlie said. “That’s what you
are.”

“Whatever. Distinction without a
difference.”

Romy reached out and swatted at Trouble’s
head.
Zzzt
.

“Stop burning my hair!” Trouble shrieked.
“Mine doesn’t grow as fast as yours, you know!”

“Get his nose,” Charlie whispered to Romy as
he advanced on Trouble, who backed away and ducked out of the
little girl’s reach.

“Truce! Truce! You win, dude. Just let me
grant your prayer, and I’ll be on my way.”

“I don’t want you to grant my prayer. I’m not
working for an angry God anymore. I renounce you and your boss, if
you have one.”

Trouble stood up and stroked his chin. “Hmm.
It
was
an impossible prayer,” he mused, looking out the
window at the storm clouds, which were dissipating as quickly as
they’d formed. “I can’t make her love him. That is
definitely
not my specialty.” He looked up to the ceiling.
“I mean, I can’t get her to do it, if he can’t get her to do it,
see what I’m sayin’? No? I gotta try?” Trouble’s face wrinkled in
disappointment.

“You should leave now,” Charlie said. “And
don’t come back.” He feinted Romy toward Trouble, who danced
backward. “You have no power here anymore. You can’t even make it
rain. Look! Your clouds are breaking up. I’m working for a new boss
now. Be gone!”

“A new boss.” Trouble glowered. “You’re not
out of the woods. And knowing you, you’ll find a way to screw it
up. But hey, no hard feelings, and congratulations on getting this
far. Sorry I didn’t consider your wretched life worth saving. But
hey, what does it matter what I think, right? They say you live.
Excuse me. She says you live.” He gave Romy a sneer. “And that
changes everything. If they want to deal with her, they gonna have
to get a bigger boat.”