Dead to Rites (21 page)

“Until then, dear Pete’s going to be keeping me company. Aren’t you, love?”

Pete’s answering grin was absolutely empty of anything resemblin’ rational thought.

“You know how to reach me,” she continued. “I do hope you’ll come through for us. Soon. In fact, you have… Oh, what is it? Ten days? Eleven?”

I was reluctant to give her even this much satisfaction, but…

“’Til what?”

“Why, the next full moon, of course. Even
I
won’t be able to keep dear Petey in check then. I’m afraid things could get… messy.”

Damn
her!

“So do get to it, Mick. I’m sure you’d absolutely hate to disappoint us.”

Yeah. “Us.” Not exactly bein’ subtle with any of this, was she?

But it got the point across. My choice was between Ramona—who I wasn’t exactly happy with, but I didn’t wanna be responsible for her bein’ slowly,
real
slowly, tortured to death—and my best friend. I watched the two of ’em march outta my office, arm in arm, and I couldn’t think of a single goddamn thing I could do to get us outta this jam.

I got no idea how long I’d been starin’ at the door, or past the door—seconds, minutes, an hour—when it opened again and Tsura stepped hesitantly in from the hallway.

“I saw them leave,” she said.

“Swell.”

“I sensed something about him, something on him, as soon as I saw you two. I just… didn’t know what it was, or how to warn you while he was right there listening.”

“Well, maybe you damn well shoulda—!” And just like that I stopped, temper and breath deflating. This woman’d done her best to help me, from the moment we met and she foresaw an inkling of what Ramona was about to pull… Plus she
had
done everything shorta takin’ me by the arm and yanking me away from Pete to get me to talk privately, despite how much of a jerk I’d been to her last time we talked.

And here I was… what? Shoutin’ at her that she hadn’t tried hard enough?

Shit.

“I’m sorry. Why don’tcha take a seat? I, uh, can’t offer you anythin’ but milk…”

“Oh, um…” Y’know, when she wasn’t playin’ the carnival huckster, her smile was surprisingly kinda shy. It was sweet. “Milk would be great, actually.”

Wasn’t much of a grin I could work up right now, but I tried. Poured us both a glass, put mine aside to warm up a minute or three.

“Not that I’m objectin’,” I said, “but why’re you even here?”

“I didn’t wanna leave things where we’d left off.” She scooted her keister in the seat, like she couldn’t quite get comfy—or else wasn’t quite comfy with the answers she was givin’. “We’re not exactly old pals or anything, but it didn’t feel right.”

“Yeah, but that ain’t the whole of it, is it?”

More scooting. “Maybe I was curious. About everything going on. About you, Ramona, the mummy… This may be just another Thursday for you, but it’s all new to me.”

“Nah, this ain’t normal, even for me.” Then I thought over the past year and change. “Maybe every fifth or sixth Thursday, tops.”

A soft snort, then that almost-but-not-quite-bashful smile again.

“But that still ain’t the whole of it, Tsura.”

And the smile was gone. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “It’s… maybe there was premonition involved? I hate not knowing, but I just can’t always tell. I think I mentioned that.”

“Somethin’ to that effect, anyway.”

“Your friend’s in deep trouble, isn’t he?”

It didn’t even feel much like a topic change, really. “Doesn’t get a lot deeper. It’s partly my fault—he’s only behind the eight ball ’cause he
is
my friend—and I dunno how to help him. Not without someone else payin’ a pretty awful price.”

Quiet for a few, then, as we both took a few slugs of the white stuff.

Then she asked, “Do you wanna tell me about it?”

And y’know what? I did. Pretty much all of it, the whole ball of wax. Ramona and how dizzy I’d been over her durin’ the hunt for Gáe Assail. My history with Baskin, and the kinda bastard he was provin’ to be. My discovery of Ramona’s connection with him; of her and McCall’s true nature. Of the no-win bind I was in with the two succubi and Pete. Even, believe it or not, the Ottatis and Adalina—partly because I’d decided Tsura could probably be trusted, but on the square? Mostly because, after her earlier vision of Adalina and Ramona’s ease in findin’ the girl, it seemed like she could find out easy enough on her own if she really had a mind to.

Sure, yeah, I focused on the last year or so, told her almost squat about me from before then. And it ain’t as though I spilled
everything
from the recent past, or told her alla even my most recent secrets. Still’n all, by the time I wound down, I figure she probably knew more about yours truly than any full-blooded mortal in the Windy City other’n Pete himself.

Which is sayin’ less than you might assume, since even Pete was ignorant about most of my life before the Depression or thereabouts, but… I guess even a self-exiled loner needs to open up to somebody now’n again.

When it was all said’n done, Tsura took another moment to polish off the last few drops in her glass. Then, in what I gotta confess was a pretty good imitation of me—or how I try to sound these days, anyway—said, “But that ain’t the whole of it, is it?”

The sound I barked probably qualified as a laugh, though I wouldn’ta sworn to it.

“I’m steamed at myself,” I admitted to her. “I been blind to too much. I shoulda tumbled a long time ago to what Ramona actually is…”

“Isn’t that part of her emotional power, though? To manipulate you into
not
figuring it out?”

“Yeah, maybe, but there was a time I coulda seen through it anyway. I was too taken. Got too comfortable here in this world. This life. And then I got fixated on Goswythe. Spent so long diggin’ around for the damn
phouka
, God only knows what clues I missed that coulda put me wise to McCall, coulda helped me protect Pete.”

“And…?” she prodded.

And?
And what? There was no
and
. Was there?

Except there was. Is this how it feels when I do that to some mortal sap? Sense or taste or just figure out they ain’t singin’ the whole song and keep pushing until they do? Because if so, it’s
really
irritating.

(Which doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop. Just means I don’t much care for it bein’ turned around on me.)

“Guess I’m… feelin’ guilty, some. I had Adalina’s cure in my paw, or near enough, and now it’s gone. Poor girl’s been out for over a year now, and I’ve been useless. I was so close…”

Tsura reached over the desk like she wanted to take my hand, then froze halfway—whether because she realized she couldn’t reach, or suddenly wasn’t sure it’d be a welcome gesture, I couldn’t tell ya.

“But you never really
were
close, Mick. You said so yourself; it was never a cure you could have used, not in good conscience.”

“If I hadn’t known…”

“You couldn’t have come this far, gotten so close to doing what McCall wants,
without
finding out. And not knowing wouldn’t have made it right.”

My sigh was for her sake, an easy way to convey what I was feeling.

“Yeah, I know that. Ain’t how it
feels
, though.”

“I understand.”

Yeah, sure. Everyone says they under—

“Imagine how I feel every time something awful happens around me that I
didn’t
sense or foresee in any way.” Her voice was steady, but I could taste the tremblin’ emotions pouring off her at the memories she’d just invoked. “A car accident. A mugging. It’s always the same.
I should have done something
. I—I was actually grateful, in a small way, when I sensed what was about to happen to you. I know that’s awful, and I don’t mean I’m glad it happened, but…”

Then again, sometimes somebody actually does.

“It’s okay,” I told her. “I get it.”

She gazed into her glass—wishing it were full, I think, just so drinking it would give her something to do. Then she said, “Why do you suppose she told you? That the elixir involved a soul?”

“Well, you just said. I couldn’ta come this far without gettin’ suspicious. Once she knew I was wondering, she probably figured I wouldn’t fully believe her if she said no—and she’da been right to worry—so I guess she just decided to get ahead of it. What with her havin’ an ace up her sleeve already.”

“That makes sense.” And then, “I think you should go find the mummy.”

This time, it absolutely
did
feel like a topic change.

“You’re kiddin’ me, right? I got bigger things to worry about right now than a missing stiff, however old he is. I gotta focus on gettin’ Pete outta hot water before he cooks!”

“Yep. And you’ve, what? Come up with a brilliant plan to do that in the last minute and a half?”

“Uh…” As responses go, I thought it was fairly eloquent, myself.

“You still don’t want Baskin getting his mitts on the thing, do you?”

“No, but—”

“And maybe finding it’ll give you some leverage for bargaining with Ramona, which might give you a leg up on dealing with McCall.”

“That’s
thin
, Tsura. I mean, single-strand-of-capellini thin.”

“Well, yeah. That’s because it’s just the sugar coating I’m using to get you to swallow this.”

And that brings us back to “Uh.”

“Look, Mick…” Now she did stand and come around the desk just so she could put a hand on my wrist. And I gotta say, no, the gesture wasn’t unwelcome at all. “I say you should go look for the mummy because it’s something you
can
do. Something that has to be done, something useful you can accomplish while you’re coming up with some way to help your friend. Unless you really suppose you’ll come up with a better answer sitting here twiddling your thumbs and trying to read solutions in the wallpaper?”

“Y’know,” I said after a minute, “I’m startin’ to feel that mortals really shouldn’t ever actually figure anything out. Least not before I do. Makes you insufferable and it ain’t good for my superiority complex.”

There was that smile again, with a mischievous tint to it this time. She didn’t even say a word, just handed me my hat and coat.

Rounser’s carnival was a whole different place this late at night. No crowds or wandering performers, just the occasional scuffed step of a hired security guard. Maybe one light in five was on, and the place sang with the tones of stray cats and night birds and crickets—but no pixies—accompanied on occasion by a loud snore from the wagons and tents where the carnies bunked.

The stench of the crowd, though, that lingered, as did the stink of various animals. And, if I’m bein’ square, so did more’n a few unpleasant memories of the last time I’d been here.

The chintzy fence surrounding the property wouldn’ta kept out a determined tumbleweed, but I let Tsura guide me to a particular entrance—a wooden plank that rotated around the nail it hung on—rather’n finding my own way in. And no, I wasn’t just bein’ polite or makin’ her feel useful. I was sure she hadda better idea of the security guards’ rounds, or which of the performers were lighter sleepers. Yeah, I’da been able to handle any of ’em without too much trouble, but better to avoid discovery altogether, see?

I suppose it all shoulda felt creepy. The shallow pools of light huddled against the shadows; the creaking wood of two dozen slapdash buildings swaying in the wind, or the whistling of that wind between the slats; bright banners and painted murals, muted in the gloom. Weirdest of all was any attempt to look into the distance even when the light allowed. Buildings of different shapes and haphazard sizes threw off any sense of perspective, so you couldn’t tell near from far.

I could certainly understand why some folks
woulda
found it unnerving. Even Tsura, who’d lived with the fair for a couple years now, jumped once or twice. Me, though? Having spent time in Unseelie territory in Elphame, this was duck soup.

And since this
was
easier for me than it woulda been for anyone else, I did my damndest not to bust a gut laughing at Tsura’s face, or the tiny mouse squeak she made, when I suddenly grabbed her mid-step and hauled the both of us around into the thick shadow behind the soft drink and hot dog stand.

“Mick, what the fu—!”

It was a whisper, if a harsh one, but I still put a finger to her lips and shook my head. And there we waited, me’n her pressed against the stall that might well fall over if we leaned too hard. Until, finally, she heard the same footsteps I had, and understood.

“All right,” I said when they’d eventually faded, “he’s gone. Sorry if I startled you, I… Hey? You okay?” It was hard to spot in the dark, even for me, but lookin’ down into her face, it sure seemed like she was blushing near enough to make her cheeks glow. And somehow, without even tasting the emotion in the air around her, I knew it wasn’t embarrassment over me having spooked her.

“I’m… I’m fine. I just, um. Could… Could you move?”

Oh. Right.

I pushed myself away from the wall I’d basically squished her up against.

“Sorry,” I said again. “Guess that was kinda int—”

Somethin’ told me at the last second that
intimate
might not be the wisest choice of words right then. Tsura seemed a lot older in so many ways, I’d forgotten how young she was. I didn’t figure she’d
actually
bolt like a frightened deer if I said it, but I wasn’t positive.

“—rusive of me,” I finished.

She mumbled something even my ears couldn’t catch, and led the rest of the way to the funhouse at a near jog.

Gettin’ inside the dump wasn’t hard; the padlock was such a cheap piece of crap I coulda damn near picked it with the wand, magic notwithstanding. Gettin’ to the mummy display itself, that was a bit trickier. None of the actual rides were runnin’ this late, so we didn’t have to navigate the bouncing “haunted” floor or slowly tilting rooms, and none of the walls—mirrored or otherwise—moved on us to make the silly little maze harder’n it needed to be. Still hadda navigate that maze, though, and deal with a few “ghosts” and “ghouls” that popped out at us when we stepped on hidden triggers lyin’ along this hallway or across that threshold. Still hadda take a winding slide down to the dark lower floor, beneath the jaws of “the Devourer”—which was basically a wolf and a lion badly taxidermied together—and into a cut-rate Egyptian Underworld where the sandstone and granite were wallpaper, the hieroglyphics were meaningless scribbles, and the only spirits of the dead were rats who’d met their maker after chewin’ on something toxic in the decorations.