Easter City (7 page)

  I stood—hesitated—tensed, ready to
run—but Joq was glued to the seat.

  Our boss beckoned to Julia and she
walked off stage. He whispered something and rubbed her shoulder.
She put her hand to her mouth and dropped to her knees and started
weeping. Our boss flicked a bunch of switches. Light flooded the
room.

  The handlebar boss gestured to the
bruised kids to follow, and accepted the microphone from Julia’s
assistant.

  “Your attention, if
you please! It has come to my attention that there is a pair of
wolves sitting in wait amongst our flock. They will pounce, giving
the chance!” The audience gasped. “These two slimy,
deceiving
Cochon
brutalized these fine young men—” He wrapped an arm around the
redheads. “—both of whom are employed here at La Rouge—stole their
uniforms and murdered Miss Julia’s only brother and his
friends.”

  Amidst the outcries I thought I heard
someone laugh.

  The handlebar mustache guy leaned over
to the kids. “Gentlemen, point out the facsimiles, if you
please.”

  I didn’t bother shielding my face.
After a bit of squinting the boys pointed at us and everyone in the
auditorium turned like a tide. A bunch of people got up and came at
us and boxed us into the corner. Joq raised his puny fists to ward
off the blows of a man five times his size. Pain blossomed when
shoe made contact with my ear. I tried to get to my feet but people
kept pummeling me.

  Then there was a predatory shriek, and
the onslaught ceased. “Move, all of you! I want them! I’ll kill
them!

CHAPTER 7

Wild-eyed Julia was a tempest—the manic crowd
bowed back before her wrath. The ones at the front murmured and
edged away even as more people left their seats to join the circle
around me and Joq.

  My head was pounding and a waterfall
was crashing in my ears but I was sharp enough to see the witch,
sword in hand, break the crowd. The handlebar boss and the redheads
followed her and soon after, Cranston and his cronies pushed to the
front. They were all leering at me and Joq and Cranston’s eyes
narrowed when he recognized us.

  He stepped forward
and placed a hand on Julia’s shoulder. “Hold on dear. I know these
two.” He was making an effort to look down on us—though he didn’t
have to try; if his chin was tilted any further he’d be glaring at
the ceiling. “Yes… These two made a fool out of me and Remmy, I
must say.” He pointed at me. “
T
his one set up a diversion while we
were taking punitive measures against its friend for mucking a
sidewalk. They’re deceiving, malicious
Cochon
.”

  I don’t think Julia heard him. I’d
never seen a person as angry as she was. Sadistic—yes.
Malicious—yes. But she was salivating and her hair was in her
bulging eyes.

  Handlebar boss
stepped forward. “Miss Julia, these—” He spat on Joq.
“—
Cochon
are not
worthy of a blow dealt by your—shall I say—venerable hand. Hand me
the sword, mademoiselle if you please. I will dispense with
these—”

  “Shut up!” Julia
turned to the crowd, panting. “Everyone,
shut up
!” She stepped forward and
raised her sword. “These
Cochon
filth killed
my
brother. I’ll kill them now. The time for talking
is over. It’s me. It’s me! It’s—!” She screamed and started
weeping. The sword trembled. She lowered it a little and screamed
again.

  I looked at Joq. He looked like that
Edvard Munch painting with his mouth chin practically at his chest
and his hands pressed to his head.

  It looked like Julia
was going to drop the sword, but I couldn’t see how that would
help—the crowd was on standby to brutalize us. I’d rather Julia get
it over with. Whatever lie beyond death
might
be worse than this life but the
chance it was better was enough to make me pray for the
blade.

 
The dream wasn’t all right.
I
smiled.
Where the hell is the shooter?
Where’s Mr. Denmark?

  Julia slashed the air.

  ‘BANG!’ my ears rang. The crowd
flattened and there was shouting and screaming. ‘BANG!’ I rolled to
my feet and grabbed Joq.

 
This is it. He’s here. I can bring Joq with me. Nothing’s
stopping us.

  ‘BANG!’  People
lost their minds when Julia sprayed red and
splatted
on the floor. Joq tore away
and went running with the crowd. “No! Joq!” I hesitated. Everyone
was hopping over seats and each other trying to escape but Cranston
flung himself on the floor in front of me, cradled Julia’s head and
looked around, pale-faced and positively ape-shit.  “Who did
this?” He snarled. “Who did this to my Julia?”

  Danny Denmark was
standing a few yards away, devil child at his side, smoking
Lorenzoni flintlock in his fist. He looked collected and unshaken.
“
Son
.” He
whispered. “
I found you
.
Come
.
You’re safe now
.
All is well now
.” He was
looking at me.

  I figured the best
thing to do was to play along with fate and hope to find Joq
running out of La Rouge. Lying to myself made the whole situation
easier.
I can’t change the
dream.

  Cranston was taken up with Julia’s
postmortem rage. It was like her ghost had eaten what pitiful heart
he had had; two wicked spirts in a vessel, embracing wrath.
Cranston could barely speak. He ground his teeth and pointed at Mr.
Denmark.

  Danny Denmark waved to me and I
glided, propelled by the dream, toward him. His son avoided my gaze
and turned and began to run with the others to the auditorium
door.

  “Follow him.” Mr. Denmark’s flintlock
was locked on Cranston.

  I skipped backward
and turned and ran. There was a furious
tapping
behind me as Mr. Denmark
followed me. At the auditorium door I saw that people were flooding
through the lobby. The wine fountain got knocked over. Plaster flew
and a wine geyser soaked the crowd.

  As I skidded across the lobby I
hesitated, looked around for Joq, and wheeled in the direction of
the auditorium door. Mr. Denmark rushed past, giving me a firm
shove. “Hurry now. To the car. We’re almost there.” I turned and
followed him just as Cranston’s voice erupted from the
auditorium.

  “Denmark! We’ll
settle this in the Hills if you don’t face me now! The fraternity
will flay you and roast you! You hear me?
Eh
? You hear me, you niggardly penis
polisher?”

#

  The night was snowing—flakes made cold
love to my skin. Everyone ran to their cars and I chased Mr.
Denmark to the limousine. His chauffeur opened the door and we slid
in next to the devil kid. Then the door closed and Mr. Denmark
started yammering. “The other day when I saw you by the steakhouse
I was sure… But how you’ve grown!” he chuckled.

  The car shuddered and lurched forward
and I found myself for the first time I can remember, thrown into
complete darkness, approaching blind fate.

  Streetlights, stop lights, casino
signs, flashed by and the man called Danny Denmark talked excitedly
and I sat, not listening, until he said the name of someone who
had, in days, fallen from my future.

  “I’ve got you son. You’re going home
Joq.”