The Perdition Score (31 page)

But Hollywood at night is a different story. Hollywood has always been a night city. A place built for vampires and insomniacs. It's all blinking lights, neon, the dully glowing stars on the Walk of Fame, and the outlines of not-so-healthy palm trees, but it's okay because they're as spectral as the rest of the place and more alive because of it. Hell, on the other hand, doesn't have real nights. Just an endless, dirty twilight, perfect weather for a teen goth tea party. Because of this,
when we go up the hill, we have to move far from the road; otherwise there might be just enough light to see us.

Of course, Hellion Griffith Park doesn't have the same stupid trees and irritating bushes as regular Griffith Park. No, this park is more twisted, vicious, and thorny than Sleeping Beauty's bastard castle.

There are bushes with poisonous berries that burst if you make the slightest contact. Black, twisted trees drop rotten fruit full of venomous centipedes the size of dachshunds. There are shallow pools of toxic algae and deep pools full of deadly puffer fish that look like balloons covered in tiny chain saws instead of spines. A miasma blows through the forest that corrodes your lungs and stings your eyes. Basically, everything in the fucking place is infectious, malignant, noxious, and lethal.

I fucking hate nature.

We have to go slow to minimize our contact with all the vicious vegetable bullshit. And by “we” I mean everyone but Hesediel. Yeah, the stroll makes her as filthy and foul-smelling as the rest of us, but angels are immune to these Downtown poisons. While the rest of us are hopping around roots and barbed vines like we're in the finals of a St. Vitus dance contest, Hesediel tromps ahead like the world's most annoying Sherpa, blazing the trail, but leaving us in her virulent dust.

I run a few steps to catch up to her, snagging my coat on mustard-gas seed pods and tromping on flowers that smell like an alligator's ass.

“Slow down a little. Goddammit.”

She stops and looks back at the others.

“I'm sorry. I simply wanted to begin as soon as possible. You were right what you said at the tavern. We're only afforded mere moments of pleasure. It will be my pleasure to deal with these conspirators and return to Heaven and the pleasures of a simpler battle.”

“That's great and I hope you have a nice drive home, but we're losing the others. Let's just ease back a little, okay?”

She looks back, her wings moving restlessly. I don't think angels are used to being in such closed-in places. For all her talk about wanting to get into the fight, I think she wants out of this nauseating, brambled puke garden more than we do.

Bill and Candy are scratched pretty nicely when they catch up. Bill is breathing hard. It has to be toughest on him. A damned soul, this kind of torment is designed to make him as miserable as possible. But Candy isn't looking so great either. I'm glad I gave her my old coat. At places it's ripped all the way down to the motocross pads. She's breathing hard.

“You okay? Want to slow down a little?”

She shakes her head.

“It's just this mist. I can't get a good breath. It's making me dizzy.”

I look back at Hesediel.

“Maybe you were right. Getting out of here fast might be the best move. Let's keep going, but take a chance and move a little closer to the road. We'll get better air over there.”

No one argues with that. Hesediel cuts over to the right a few dozen yards and the rest of us follow, trying not to fall too far behind.

We hear the sound of a van going down the hill. As it passes, we can just make it out through the trees. I was right.
The air is better over here, but we're still too deep in this shaggy shit pit to be seen. We keep moving.

Finally, there's a break in the tree line ahead. Now we move slowly again, getting right to the edge of the forest. We're to the side of the mansion, almost around back. Hesediel looks fine, even with a couple of scratches on her perfect face. But Candy and Bill are pale and panting.

“Let's rest here for a while. We need to check out the scene to get an idea how many guards are around.”

All Candy and Bill can do is nod. They walk back a few yards to a clear patch of filth. Bill slides down the side of a tree, ripping his shirt on some thorns. Candy drops down next to him, landing on some stinking flowers. Hesediel and I follow the tree line to the front of the house.

What we see is just peculiar. Outside the mansion, four Hellion guards don't even pretend to patrol the place. Their rifles are slung low on their shoulders, the muzzles pointed down. They pass Maledictions and flasks of Aqua Regia around the circle like they're on a corporate playdate without a care in the world. Hesediel frowns at me. I shake my head because I don't have a clue what's going on either.

I whisper, “Maybe there are more inside?”

“There are sure to be more, but if they're like these miserable creatures, we won't need a fire or a Gladius. We'll send them running with a sharp rap on the nose.”

As we watch, the front door opens. A couple of more Hellions come out, but they just join the others drinking and smoking. Hesediel and I move around so that we have a better view of the front of the mansion. We have a few more boring minutes, but it's worth it, because we find out why
Moe, Larry, and the other Hellion Stooges are in complete fuck-off mode.

A small man dressed all in gray comes outside. His name is Arwan and he and his men saved my life in Kill City.

Back home, people call them Grays or Gray Folk. They're not like the Sub Rosa or Lurkers. They come from a whole different ancient line of hoodoo. No one even knows if what they do can be considered regular magic. The don't use spells or potions or clever puns. They simply will things to happen and they happen. They're like weird little forces of nature. Also, they fight like ninjas with a finger jammed on the fast-forward button. I owe them a pretty big favor after Kill City and I wasn't able to pay it back at the time. I don't know why they're here, but if I can clear my ledger, I'll worry about what they're doing in Hell later.

It takes another twenty or so minutes for the Hellions to stop fucking around. A couple of them go back inside the house and the other four wander off to pretend they're doing their jobs. There's a pretty good chance that Arwan could kick my ass in a straight-up fight, but I hope it won't come to that. He's a warrior, but he's also a hustler, and that works in my favor.

I motion for Hesediel to move back farther into the trees. She gives me a what-the-fuck face, but I wave her off. When she's back far enough, I get as close to the tree line as I dare and sort of whisper-yell.

“Arwan.”

He looks around.

“Arwan.”

He zeroes in on my voice and stares for a minute. Then he laughs at me. He takes his time wandering over.

“Do my eyes deceive me or is it the welsher come calling?”

“Arwan, what the hell are you doing down here? You look like you're still alive.”

“Of course I'm alive, you dolt. And so are my men.”

“Then what are you doing in Hell?”

“I told you when we last met and you cheated us out of our bargain, the Gray men go where there's paying work. We're not scrounges like some I could mention. Now you tell me, what is a silly bastard like you and that angel hiding over there doing here?”

“We have a problem with the people inside the mansion.”

He looks over his shoulder at the house and makes a face.

“Aye. That, at least, I understand. They're not what one would call a jovial lot.”

“Those are blue-blood shit-heel murderous fucks you're guarding.”

“That sounds about right. But it's our job to guard them and I get the distinct impression that you and the ravishing winged one are exactly who we're guarding them
from
.”

I come a little more out of the trees and show him my hands so he can see I don't have a weapon.

“So, what's your story? Are you in love with them? You and your men are willing to die for those waddling shit bags?”

“Waddling shit bags,” he says, and laughs. “And yes, since they are our employers, we are in a sense laying down our lives for them.”

“But you don't like them.”

“They're pompous, grandiose, puffed-up dogs. But their money is good and it comes in large, lovely piles.”

I look around for the other guards, but they're off merrily skipping stones with the other loafers.

“What if I can pay you a lot more? Would you stand down? I'm not asking for your help. I just want you and your men to walk away.”

“That would be dishonorable,” he says. “But what are you offering?”

“Look at me. I'm in Hell and I'm alive. There's another mortal right back a few yards and she's alive too.”

“Yes. You could always do your traveling tricks. That's why you were supposed to take us back to our homeland. But you didn't, did you?”

“I couldn't back then. But I can now.”

“How?”

“Stark,” someone calls.

I look around and see Wild Bill.

“It's Candy. She's sick.”

I turn back to Arwan.

“Don't go away.”

“Run off, then, like you always do. You know where to find me.”

Me and Hesediel follow Bill through the trees. When we get back to where we left them, Candy is on her back coughing. There are flecks of blood on her lips.

I lean over her.

“You're being melodramatic.”

She opens her eyes.

“I couldn't find a fainting couch, so I thought I'd just take a nap here in the Shire.”

I take one of her hands. It's cold and there's a long gash along her middle finger.

“She must have pricked herself on one of those damned poisoned begonias,” says Bill.

“Stay with her.”

I take Candy's hand and squeeze it.

“I'm going for burgers. You want chili fries or onion rings?”

“Waffle fries, dumb-ass. You always get it wrong.”

“That's 'cause waffle fries make the baby Jesus cry. I'll be right back.”

I pull Bill aside.

“Stay with Candy. I'm getting her out of here.”

“How?”

“By pissing off God.”

“If anyone can do it, it's you.”

“Be ready. With luck, the next people you see will be considerably shorter, but just as dangerous, so be nice.”

“That don't sound the least bit ominous.”

Hesediel and I go back to the edge of the trees.

Arwan has wandered over by the door again and is smoking a pipe.

“Arwan.”

He looks up and, again, takes his sweet fucking time wandering over.

“Look who's back. The big talker.”

“Listen to me. I know that you don't like those people any more than I do.”

“Like doesn't enter into it. Pay does.”

“I'm going to make you the deal of your lifetime.”

“Are you, welsher? Do tell.”

One of the poisonous centipedes strolls across my foot. I start to step on it. I'm fast, but Arwan crushes it under his boot and goes back to smoking almost before I can see it.

“I can get you home. And I can make you rich.”

“And pray tell, how will you accomplish these feats of legerdemain?”

“A friend of mine a little down the hill is sick. If you take her with you, I'll tell you how to get home.”

He thinks about it for a second.

“I don't think so. But it was lovely seeing you again. Feel free to attack anytime.”

“Wait. There are riches.”

He stops and turns.

“What kind of riches?”

“There's a cave under the city where I live. The person who used to live there has been collecting gold, art, magical objects, and every other kind of mad shit you can imagine. You can have as much as you can carry if you'll take my friend out of here. You'll go home richer than even you ever dreamed of.”

He cocks his head.

“We Grays, we dream big.”

“Well, dream bigger and multiply that by ten.”

He puffs his pipe.

“Why should I believe any of this?”

“Because the woman you're carrying out of here is the only thing in this whole fucking universe I care about. And I'm trusting her to you. That's how you can believe me.”

He looks at Hesediel.

“Lovely armor.”

“It's not for trade,” she says.

“Pity.”

He looks back at me.

“How big is she, this woman of yours?”

“Not big at all. Two of you could carry her.”

He looks back at the mansion.

“I truly do not enjoy the company of our current employers. And I do like the sound of fabulous riches.” He turns back to me. “You know if you're lying we'll kill you
and
the woman, right?”

“I wouldn't have it any other way.”

“How do we get home?”

“There's a maze. You take her through it and you'll get to the cavern. Take everything you want. Take it all. Then go back through the maze, keeping in mind where you want to go. You'll see some scary shit along the way, but they're just illusions. Just keep turning left and you'll get home.”

“It's that simple, is it?”

“Just that simple.”

He finishes his pipe and taps it on his boot.

“And there's enough treasure for us all?”

“More than enough.”

“What about the owner of this vast fortune? Will he or she be coming after us once we help ourselves?”

“The owner only knows me. I'm the one he'll come after.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“Vicious, is he? Cruel?”

“The worst.”

“I do like the sound of you having to explain us to a big heartless bastard.”

“He won't be happy. And I have nothing to repay him with. Who knows what he'll do to me?”