The Stein & Candle Detective Agency, Vol. 3: Red Reunion (The Stein & Candle Detective Agency #3) (31 page)

“He left you, didn’t he?” I asked. “You stay behind and take his lumps while he gets away with the girl. Was that the plan?”

“Yeah…” Verona scrunched up his face. It made his sagging skin stretch. “And he made sure of it…” He pointed down to his leg. A large knife had pierced through his flesh, pinning him to the tree. Verona lowered his head. His eyes closed. “He left me to die. Just like the Mafia. Just like Vizzini. Just like every friend I’ve ever had.”

I wasn’t moved. “Gee,” I said. “I wonder why.”

“Go ahead and laugh, Morty. Laugh it up. You’ve got friends. You’ve got people who won’t stab a shiv through your leg and leave you to die. You’ve got all the cards.” He looked down, his hands going limp. His whole body made like a ragdoll. “I’m a joke. I know it. Everyone knows it. I’m the biggest joke of all, and I’m the only one who doesn’t think it’s funny.”

That was all I could hear. I pressed the muzzle of my automatic to his forehead. “No!” Weatherby cried. He grabbed my arm. “Please, Mort,” he said. “We don’t have to kill him.”

“He’s a murdering psychopath.” I kept the gun level.

“He’s a human being, lost and alone in the world,” Weatherby replied. “Please, there’s just been so much death today, and so much killing, and I know there will be more. Please, just let him live for now.”

I didn’t want to say no to the boy. So I knelt down and grabbed the knife pinning Verona to the tree. “If you make another run at me, you won’t be so lucky.” I pulled the knife free. Verona screamed. Blood bubbled through his purple trousers. I twisted it a little as I brought it out, and tossed the bloody blade in the dirt. He sank against the tree, crying like a baby. “Be gone by the time I get back,” I told him.

Weatherby and I left him mewling there. We followed the track of Wagner and Evelyn, deeper and deeper into the forest. Now even our adrenaline was burning out. We were running on hatred alone. Lights flashed behind my eyes. I wanted to lie down and go to sleep forever. But Weatherby kept me going, and I kept him going, and after a little more walking through the woods, we found the church.

It was some old stone structure, long-abandoned and rotting in the forest. The cross had fallen from the steeple of the arched stone roof, and lay shattered before the crumbling wooden doors. The footsteps led inside. Evelyn and Wagner Stein were in there. I caught my breath and raised my automatics.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll go in and start shooting. I’ll handle the wizard. You focus on getting out with the girl. Sound jake?”

“It is more than acceptable.” Weatherby drew out his revolver.

We stood before the door in silence. A second passed. It felt like an eternity. I kicked open the door and stepped inside, swinging my pistols over the empty pews and the stone floor, to the two figures at the altar. Wagner Stein held Evelyn close to him, with the blade of his sword-cane at her throat. His other hand pulsed with black energy, like he had grabbed a fistful of smoke. I leveled my guns and put a bullet past Wagner’s head, enough to knock off his fedora.

Weatherby ran to them. “Evelyn!” he cried, but Wagner’s hand moved. The smoke left his fingers, reaching out like a black fist. It struck Weatherby in the chest, knocking him hard onto the pews. Wood broke and Weatherby lay there, aiming up with his revolver.

I prepared to fire again, but the smoke headed in my direction. It didn’t bother ramming into my chest, but spread out, becoming a thin line – and went around my throat. It tightened like a noose. My legs lost their strength and I hit the ground. I dropped my pistols and clutched at the smoke. My fingers tore at my own skin. It felt like drowning.

“Well, isn’t this delightful?” Wagner asked. “I’m going to kill her, Weatherby. You love her, and so she’ll die, right in front of your eyes. And there’s absolutely nothing you or your idiot guardian can do about it.” He slashed Evelyn’s shoulder, cutting her nightgown and drawing blood. The tough little girl screwed her lips together and didn’t scream. “I’ve always loved doing this, in my previous life. And I find a kind of poetry in doing this to you, Weatherby. It demonstrates exactly why your generation of the family is so weak.”

“You bastard…” Weatherby pointed his revolver at Wagner, but he couldn’t fire. I was struggling at the rope around my neck, trying to get enough air in to stay conscious. “Let her go!”

“Your friends, little Weatherby. They are your weakness. I just have to point a blade in her direction and you collapse. All of your strength, all of your knowledge – all destroyed when I shed a little of her precious blood.” He pricked her again. This time she did scream. “Drop the gun,” Wagner ordered.

The revolver tumbled from Weatherby’s hands. The poor kid couldn’t help Evelyn. But then he looked up and I saw a light in his eyes. “You’re wrong, Wagner,” he said. “My friends have saved my life. They’ve given me a reason to live. They’ve filled with me hope and love and happiness and made me a better person.”

“They’re useless!” Wagner cried. He sounded like a frustrated child, his nasally voice rising as he threw a tantrum. “You brought all of them together and you still couldn’t defeat me!”

“Well,” Weatherby replied. “They all hadn’t arrived.”

And now they had. Something smashed through the faded stained glass window. A massive fist cracked into Wagner’s back, knocking him hard to the ground. Evelyn left his grasp and ran to Weatherby. Wagner turned around, raising his sword, but a fist like a wrecking ball tore into him and knocked him back. Adam stood there in the church, larger than life and looking angry. He was a patchwork man, made from a dozen corpses sewn together and draped in an oversized crimson zoot suit. He didn’t look happy.

“You!” Wagner cried, scampering to my feet. “You should have been my victory!”

“That will never happen.” Adam took a step toward him. “I smelled you, Wagner. I smelled you as soon as I got into the city and I followed you here. And now you’re finished.”

Adam swung at him. Wagner stabbed with his sword-cane. When Adam stood up, he had the blade jammed through his shoulder. It didn’t seem to slow him. Wagner lay on the ground, broken and bleeding. The smoke drifted away from my neck, as harmless as if it had come out of the tip of a cigarette.

Weatherby reached down and grabbed his revolver. Evelyn held tightly to him. She was crying softly. He was too. Weatherby pointed the revolver at Wagner. The ancient sorcerer looked up at the kid and smiled through broken teeth. “Go on!” he hissed. “Kill me! Come on, you sniveling runt! Show me our line has not decayed so far!”

“N-no,” Weatherby whispered. “I c-can’t.” The revolver dipped in his hand. I realized the reason why he was such a bad shot. It wasn’t just that he was clumsy and bad with his eyes and his hands. It was that he could never bring himself to take a life. So, maybe without realizing it, he always tried his best to miss.

“Coward!” Wagner cried. “Wretched coward!”

But then Evelyn hugged Weatherby close to her. “No,” she said. “That doesn’t make you a coward at all, Weatherby. You’re the bravest man in the world.”

I turned to Adam as I picked up the kid’s gun. “Take them outside, big man,” I ordered. “Get back to the road and wait for me. Do what you can for their wounds. I’ll deal with the garbage here.”

For a few seconds, I thought Adam was going to protest. But then he turned his bulk around, heading for the door. Weatherby and Evelyn stayed ahead of him, and they all left.

Wagner and I were alone. I slid my guns into their shoulder-holsters. I picked up the revolver and put it in my belt. I looked down at Wagner. “I don’t have any problem with killing,” I said.

“So you will shoot me with the boy’s gun?” Wagner tried to pull himself away, but one of his legs was busted open. He pulled himself along the stone floor, huddling in a shadowy corner.

I walked over to him. I pulled the Ka-Bar from my boot. “Not for a long time,” I said. I leaned down and raised the knife. I got to work. It was bloody and it was slow. Wagner screamed until he couldn’t scream anymore and the knife was red to the hilt. Even then I didn’t stop. I lost track of time. Blood was thick on the floor of the church. And then finally, I decided I had enough. Wagner wasn’t coming back from that.

I stood up. I put Weatherby’s pistol at what was left of his face. “If you come back again,” I told him. “I’ll be waiting.” I fired, and that was the end of the Viscount Wagner Stein.

After he was gone, I finally realized just how beaten up I was. It felt like my bones were grinding themselves to splinters with my every movement. It felt like my heart was going to stop beating and explode. I headed out of the church and back to the road, and had to pause for breath on the way a few times. When I got to the road, I saw Tiny’s truck was waiting for us, next to the wreck of the Roadmaster. Tiny and the rest of my pals must have followed me. I was grateful. Walking back to town was a challenge I didn’t want.

Evelyn and Weatherby stood together, talking quietly. Adam stood next to them, looking like part of the scenery. “He didn’t hurt you? Weatherby asked. “You’re quite certain?”

“Not at all, Weatherby,” Evelyn smiled a little. “He said… awful things. I’ll never forget them. But that’s all he did.” Her smile grew. “And you saved me. I knew you would. I wasn’t frightened, because I told myself that you were too brave, too determined, and too kind to let me down. Thank you, Weatherby.” She leaned close and kissed him, quickly on the lips. Weatherby’s face glowed red.

“You’re all right,” he said, like he was trying to reassure himself. “You’re fine.”

I walked past them and looked at the truck. Tiny was behind the wheel, and Elkins sat next to him. “We’ve followed you over here, Sarge,” Tiny said. “Looks like we got here a little too late to help. You got the conjure-man then?”

“That’s right,” I agreed. “Wagner Stein’s finished for good.”

“I bet he is, Sarge.” Elkins looked down at me, Weatherby, and Evelyn. “But you fellows don’t look too far from the grave, if you don’t mind me saying. Come on in, and we’ll get you back to the hotel. Got a feeling you’re gonna need the rest.”

I nodded. “Got that right, soldier.” I walked around the back of the truck and opened the door. Evelyn and Weatherby hurried inside, and Adam followed. “What’s the situation on the home front?”

Elkins looked back. “Well, we got the old Doc to a fellow Tiny knew that’s mighty good with bullets. He patched him up just fine. He’s back in the rooms, and resting up. Except for being worried sick about his little girl, he’s just fine.” He smiled at Evelyn. “And when he sees you, missy, he’ll be even better. By the way, who’s the big guy? Is that the Adam fellow Miss Stein mentioned? Looks like he’s been wrestling elephants.”

“It’s a long story,” I said. “You’ll hear about it. We’ll have plenty of time.” I leaned back and closed my eyes. I could feel unconsciousness circling me, waiting to close in. I held it off for a little more. “And the cops? And Dutch?”

“The city just wants the whole Midnight Products thing buried. They know bad things was going on there. Investigation ain’t gonna get too far,” Tiny explained. “I called a friend in the NYPD and he said we don’t got nothing to fear. And he got Dutch out of the morgue. We can bury him tomorrow. I don’t think he had much family.”

“He had us,” Weatherby said. His smile vanished. He was thinking about Dutch, and all the suffering he had put his friends through. His eyes closed and he leaned down.

It was Adam who acted. “Weatherby,” he said. “We did not fight for you because we were fools. We know that you will honor our sacrifices and our actions. We know that you will bring some good to the world.”

Weatherby nodded wearily. “I’ll do my best,” he said, his voice shaking. “I just wish the costs weren’t so dear.”

We rode along in silence. Weatherby fell asleep, his head leaning on Evelyn’s shoulder. She brushed his hair back and dabbed at his cuts with a handkerchief. They were perfect for each other. They were kind and gentle. I was neither of those things. What I had done to Wagner proved that. But Weatherby still saw me as a best friend, big brother and father, in spite of it all. And for that, I’d never let him down. I closed my eyes and let the darkness take me.

Dutch’s funeral wasn’t too large. We had it the day after I killed Wagner and Dracula. There was a cemetery in New York, and it was as fine enough place as any to put him. Everybody came to see him off. Even those that hadn’t known him in the war stood there, dressed all in black. The Dearborns had never met Dutch before yesterday, but they knew that they owed him everything.

It was a cold day when we buried him. The funeral was in the morning, and we all stood by the side of the grave as they lowered him down in a pine box. Everyone wore black. Even Adam went to some specialty store and had a great black suit made for him. Weatherby stood near Selena and Chad. The beatnik wore a dark suit and tie to go with Selena’s black dress, and I had to admit, it didn’t look bad on him.

Reverend Sharp did the service. Dutch was Roman Catholic, but he never cared about God, and I figured he would have preferred an ally crowing over him than some New York priest he never met. Sharp finished reciting scripture and we looked at the coffin.