Damn Him to Hell (17 page)

“No harm at all, Andre,” Gloria said grandly. “If you’re concerned for your family, why don’t you move them out? We’ll campaign for industrial zoning and clear out the neighborhoods, and you can enjoy life
instead of fretting about a lot of lazy bums who will never amount to anything.”

I dug my fingers into Tim’s arm and he grunted. If she was referring to the entire area around the Zone, I was not a lazy bum. Neither were my friends. We’re weird maybe, but not lazy. Not by a long shot. She talked about us as if we were cockroaches. That’s the mentality generated by power, the arrogance of the privileged elite who sincerely believe they know best, though they never descend to the streets to meet or know us.

I’d have liked to shoot her right then, but I’d have had to justify offing just about every rich, powerful bitch in the country. Not good for my eternal health. Maybe I could visualize them scrubbing floors on an empty stomach so they would know what it felt like down here.

“You would tear down a community, throw people out of their homes, for what, Gloria? Magic gas?” Andre’s tone remained cool, but his words were edgy enough to make the goons straighten and pat their coat pockets. Definitely holstered guns.

“It’s not
magic
,” Gloria said irritably. “My son spreads those ridiculous rumors for his own purposes. It’s a new element, and Acme is the only company in the world to have it. I should think you of all people, Andre, would understand the importance of research.”

Yeah, because it had certainly helped Katerina Montoya.
Comatose
, the new fountain of youth. I rolled my eyes and almost missed the most important part of the action. The boss man was fast and way too
clever. From this distance, I couldn’t see what Andre held, but it looked more like a tiny aerosol can than a weapon.

“Then if green gas causes no harm, you won’t mind if I use it in here?” he asked conversationally. “It creates a splendid rainbow effect when applied properly.”

Before anyone could jump him, he sprayed a pink and green cloud into Gloria’s face.

Tim was muttering, “Shit, shit, shit,” and I was thinking pretty much the same.

Beautiful, charming Gloria erupted like a Fury. She came out swinging and punching, no different from the bums back home when the first gas attack hit the streets. Man, I’d never seen an old lady box like a pro. That had to hurt. She had Andre by the shirtfront and was pounding his face as hard she could with her tiny little fist.

A chemical weapon that caused violence,
sweet
. Not.

Apparently unfazed and a hundred times stronger, Andre pried Granny loose and stepped out of reach before she could grab his hair and launch him over the railing. I swear, she was that mad.

Now what the hell should I do? Andre had started this. I couldn’t punish Gloria for what he’d done. Justice was a real bitch.

The goons swarmed closer, trying to work around our raging virago to grab Andre. Gloria swung at them, too, calling them names that would make a sailor blush and smacking them around like punching bags.

“Geez,” Tim whispered in awe. “She’s a berserker.”

Viking warriors notwithstanding, I dragged Tim across the impressive foyer in some idiot hope that I could persuade Andre to move his ass. Gloria was doing such a good job of keeping her guards occupied that he could have sprinted out of there, but it seemed as if the boss was doing the gentlemanly thing and trying to prevent the mad old bat from flying over the railing.

That was some powerful gas. Superpowerdom, my ass. Drop a canister of that in the Mideast and I’d save myself the trouble of blowing up the planet.

Before we could reach the bottom of the stairs, a shot rang out. I froze and jerked my gaze back to the third floor.

Gloria had grabbed a gun from one of the goons and was shooting wildly.

This was seriously not good. Andre had his back to us. I couldn’t see what he meant to do, but he was wisely not tackling her. She was aiming at her own guards because they were wrestling with her, trying to prevent her from knocking them into next week.

The shot was apparently the final straw. One thug swung a blow to her jaw, in some dim hope of putting her out, maybe. Just like Nancy Rose after being bashed in the head with a chair, Gloria didn’t go down. Instead, she backed out of reach, shrieked in fury, flung her arm up in the air, and discharged the weapon. The force of the discharge unbalanced her, and she fell backward . . .

Toward the railing.

Time slowed. I had a distinct impression that Andre
tried to grab her, but he’d backed too far away when she’d hauled out the gun. The goons didn’t even seem to be bothering. Maybe they were waiting for her to fall unconscious so they could tote her off to bed. Or an asylum.

She fell against the railing with arm still upraised. She didn’t stumble and collapse on the floor but rammed the rail with the momentum of all her weight. The wood cracked and tilted, and the force of her swing tumbled her over. Backward.

Her head hit the marble floor a million seconds later. Dropping pumpkins would have been less messy.

“Damn you to hell,” I muttered without thinking, horrorstruck by both the blood spatter and the awfulness of dying in such gruesome ignominy. How could this ever be explained to her family?

Unable to drag my horrified gaze away, I watched in astonishment as the burning fires of hell blazed red in Gloria’s dead and staring eyes. To my revulsion, it was as if her Botoxed and plastic face momentarily melted, morphing into a fiendishly blackened skull. And then there was nothing but blood and brains.

I had the urge to hurl.

Even Tim gagged and quit saying shit.

Andre stared over the railing, his usually amused expression transformed to one of horror. I didn’t know if he’d seen what I’d just seen or was even realizing what would go down next. He was simply seeing an old family friend and suffering regret. He had worse to worry about.

I released Tim’s arm for a nanosecond. Andre’s dismay
at seeing me was gratifying. I pointed firmly at the rear of the house, then grabbed Tim again before he could slip out of reach.

I dragged him in the direction of what ought to be the kitchen. My fine legal mind was ticking wildly. I would make a very bad witness given that no one had seen me until after the fact. I was pretty certain it would be better if the police didn’t know Tim and I had been trespassing while invisible. And if someone wasn’t calling 911 right now, I would. This was not the Zone. No way in hell was the death of Gloria Vanderventer getting swept under any rugs.

While the goons above were shouting at each other and into cell phones, security crashed in from every door. We didn’t have much time. I stepped out of the way of two guards barging in from the rear, stuck my invisible foot out, and let one trip and the other fall on him. I needed amusement, and these guys or ones like them had harassed and kidnapped me a while back.

Andre was a bright boy. He was right on my heels. He dodged before the guards completed their tumbling act, then stepped over them.

He refrained from shouting my name. I was still invisible, but tumbling Keystone Cops gave him the evidence that I was damned well there. He intelligently locked the kitchen door behind him.

Once in the kitchen, Tim eagerly strained toward the refrigerator.

“Cameras,” I hissed. I’d been spied on by Vanderventers enough to be familiar with their love of security
equipment. They’d have Andre entering the house on video but not Tim and me. I doubted they had cameras on the private third floor, more’s the pity.

I glanced around, found a slightly open closet door, and dragged Tim that way. Pantry, bingo. Even security guards got hungry occasionally, or wanted a smoke break. I smelled cigarettes as we stepped inside a closet almost as big as my kitchen.

I released Tim and let him rummage for Cheetos. He was still invisible but I could see boxes and bags wink out as he shuffled through them. I don’t know how the boy could eat after the spectacle we’d just observed, but I doubted any of us was operating on rational. If I thought about what I’d just seen, I’d gag and freeze in horror. So I blocked it out.

Andre glared at me when he joined us, tugging the door almost shut. “I’m not even going to ask,” was all he said. “I think I’ll just wring your neck. You have no business—”

“Call 911.” I interrupted his tirade. “They’re up there getting their shit together, and it’s not going to look good for you.”

Grimly recognizing the truth of that, he produced his phone and called in a report. Putting his phone back in his pocket, he ran his hand through his glorious hair. “I meant to kill her,” he declared defiantly. “If it came down to her or my mother, Gloria was going out.”

“Wise choice. Did you see what I saw?” I was curious. Maybe I was the only one who could see men in hell, but it sure seemed as if Andre had sent Gloria there.

I couldn’t see Tim’s reaction, but Andre stared at me, waiting for explanation. Shoot, he hadn’t seen what I’d seen.

Well, either I was crazy, or I’d just seen my very first demon. And watched her die. If demons were running Acme . . . that explained a
lot
, including magic gas. I shuddered in horror.

I
’m a lawyer, not a priest. I don’t read about demons much. I always thought they were fairy-tale characters, like witches. So it wasn’t as if I could positively identify red burning eyes and crispy-black features. My brief brush with Max in hell was my only basis for my very weak conclusion. Until I had a better word,
demon
worked better than
not normal
or believing I was crazy.

I waved away the horrific image of demons on earth and returned to our very scary reality. A woman had died. There would be repercussions beyond the immediate, but we didn’t have time for more than that. I sure wasn’t going to waste time mourning a Vanderventer.

“The guards weren’t doing anything but their jobs,” I warned Andre. “Granny essentially killed herself, and that’s your story. Stick with it. Give Tim that damned can so he can disappear it when we leave here. I don’t know what’s in that gas, but we don’t want the police getting their hands on it.”

Or the world, but that was well beyond our concerns right now.

Andre handed over the tiny can. Since I couldn’t see Tim, I shoved it in my bag with Milo, who had remarkably just watched instead of roaring into bobcat mode. A bag of kitty treats rattled on the shelf. I got the message and helped myself, feeding them to Milo for his good behavior.

“How am I going to explain her rage?” Andre asked, rationally enough.

I grinned evilly. “You need a porn pic of Dane. That would send her around the bend. I don’t suppose you can arrange that? The police will understand protecting a U.S. senator if you decline to reveal it. They won’t like it, but it’s better than a can of pink rage.”

Surprisingly, he answered, “I can get some of Gloria with the pool boy. I just can’t produce them now. Protecting a senator’s grandmother ought to be enough, right?”

Oh, ugh
. Not going there.

“Burn something on the gas stove,” I suggested. “Say you came down here and burned the photo because you didn’t want the world to see it.”

“You should be a novelist,” he said sarcastically.
“Now get the hell out of here. I hear sirens. If I get locked up, I need you out where you can help my dad.”

I hated abandoning him. I knew the police routine well enough to know it wouldn’t be pretty, especially with a hugely wealthy, respected society matron involved. But he was right. He didn’t need hand-holding.

Amazingly, I wrapped my arms around Andre’s neck and planted a big one on his cheek. For a very brief moment, his arms closed around me, and he hugged me as if I might be someone valuable. Even special. That didn’t happen often, and I treasured the ridiculous idea.

I kissed his cheek again, then stepped away. “We have your back. Just get your story together and stick to it.”

He nodded, tugged my ritzy new hair, and departed to burn paper on the stove. I waited until an expensive box of chocolates returned to sight, and grabbed the air near it. I caught Tim’s arm and, invisibly, we slipped out the back door.

As we hurried down the delivery-entrance drive toward the road, I called Schwartz to tell him what had happened. He was a lieutenant now. He probably didn’t have jurisdiction out here, but he’d know best how to protect Andre. He wasn’t happy. He even used a swearword. But he was a Zonie now, whether he liked it or not.

“You can stay out if you like,” I told Tim when we reached the bike and I released his arm. I didn’t know if he could even turn himself back on. We’d seen some
pretty scary stuff, and Tim was, well, timid. “Even if someone notices me, you won’t be involved.” I handed him a helmet. It disappeared when he took it.

“Just don’t grab for me if I take a bend too fast!” I shouted, bringing the Harley roaring back to life.

The disappearing trick was highly entertaining, but a seemingly riderless bike would cause wrecks all over the freeway. Malicious mischief was only my style if the parties involved were nasty. Really, I’m a boring gnome in normal life.