Damn Him to Hell (18 page)

We careened back to the row of Victorians that constituted home. Before we reached my place, I slowed down and gaped at the sight of a six-foot guy in camouflage jogging down the hill with a toddler stroller in hand and an infant strapped to his broad chest. I hoped he had been one of the storm troopers and let myself smile with a tiny bit of triumph. Muscles could be put to better use than destruction, and the toddler was laughing in joy at the speed. If only all our problems could be solved so peacefully!

In hopes that this was a benefit from Saturn Daddy, I properly offered up gratitude at the sight.

Back home, I parked in my normal spot by Pearl’s shed. Tim was still scared and thus invisible. Maybe I’d gone a wee bit over the speed limit, but really, he had no cause to shake in his shoes.

An ugly thought belatedly occurred, and I glanced down at the bike, then over to the helmet that reappeared when he hung it on the seat. “Did we just ride here on an invisible bike?” I asked. I didn’t think so. I’d been sort of watching the gauges.

“Until today, I never disappeared anything as big as you,” he complained. “I can’t disappear Harleys any more than I can vanish buildings.”

“I’m not any bigger than you are.” By much, at least. No Viking blood ran in my veins. I’d been told that my mother’s family was from Iran, although she’d been born in the U.S. I’d never met her parents—unless you count the weird messages from Themis. I didn’t know my father, but he sure hadn’t passed on any tall genes.

“Yeah, but you’re different,” Tim concluded.

I sighed. The boy had a point. Hadn’t I wished myself invisible a little earlier in the day? Saturn or the Universe or Satan usually gifted me with my wishes when I sent someone to hell. Did that mean I’d buried one of the troops in the tunnel with my avalanche? And the way I’d been cursing, I’d probably sent him to the devil. Damn.

I’d have to quit cursing.

It had been a long, strange day. And it was far from over. I left Tim to take a nap or do whatever it is teen boys do when no one can see them. I had to warn Julius that all hell was about to break loose.

And call Max! Man, how could I forget? Gloria was Dane’s granny. And Paddy’s mom. Ugh, I hated to be the bearer of bad tidings, although in this case, I didn’t think Gloria would be universally mourned.

I punched in the senator’s number as I jogged over to Andre’s house. He didn’t answer, and I got voice mail.

“Ding-dong, the witch is dead,” I singsonged
into the machine. Rude of me, I know, but Gloria had not been what she appeared, and I’d hated her for a long time. Max had once stupidly thought she was interested only in shopping. After she’d had him killed, he’d had to open his eyes. Dane’s eyes, because Max’s big beautiful brown ones were gone forever.

“I thought I’d warn you before the media and cops cornered you,” I continued. “Get your PR guys over to Gloria’s, pronto. Never say I don’t do anything for you. Smooch, big boy. Call me if you need to know more.” I hung up.

I caught Julius and Paddy in the process of carrying Katerina back to her tower. They needed Andre’s muscle. I didn’t think they’d have it soon. Setting down Milo’s bag, I shouldered the lower half of the stretcher next to Paddy so we could keep her semi-straight going up the stairs.

“Is Andre all right?” Julius asked worriedly, huffing only a little.

“Maybe I should wait until we put the lady down before talking,” I stalled, trying not to gasp from the effort of lifting the weight. “He’s fine,” I said hurriedly when the stretcher sagged. “Long story.”

I didn’t know how much to tell them. They didn’t know what I was, and since I didn’t really know myself, I didn’t want to say too much. So I couldn’t mention invisibility and demons and all the parts I wanted to discuss. I had to stick to the real and the legal, like the good little lawyer I was supposed to be. Especially now that I knew Julius had once been a judge.

Instead, in lieu of conversation, I asked, “Who was the bonehead who gave Andre the cloud can?”

“That would be me,” Paddy said wearily. “It had to be done. My mother hasn’t been right in the head for years. I’m not sure senility can explain it. If anything will slow down Acme’s dangerous experimentation, it’s removing Gloria. What happened, do you know?”

The cloud can was still in my bag with Milo. Well, still in the bag. Milo was following us up the stairs.

“I know what happened,” I said grimly, my shoulders aching from the weight. “You need an elevator in here.”

“Normally, we don’t carry much up and down the stairs,” Julius said, breathing heavily as he shouldered open the door at the top.

“Well, maybe we won’t be gassed again, so you won’t need another bomb shelter run.” I hadn’t given much thought to anything except how Andre was faring, but I needed to consider all the other ramifications of Gloria’s demise. Removing a demon from a chemical factory could only be good, I decided—unless, of course, I was crazy.

We swung the stretcher to the lovingly carved bed with its downy mattress. Sleeping Beauty didn’t move so much as a finger when Julius expertly rolled her between the fine-woven sheets.

“Explain now,” Paddy ordered curtly. “Where’s Andre? We can’t let that can loose into the world.”

“Yeah, that was kind of my thinking. It’s in my bag downstairs. Julius’s bag,” I corrected, remembering lifting it from the knob. “I’ll go get it.” I trotted
back down to the kitchen. The bag was there. The can was not.

I’d told Tim to disappear it. Maybe he’d come in and taken it. I dashed back to the second floor and pounded on his apartment door. No answer.

Praying Tim had the can, I returned to the attic and handed Julius his canvas tote. “I think Tim took it. I told him it needed to stay disappeared. But he’s not in his room. He may have gone to the shop to water the plants.”

Paddy frowned but said nothing.

Julius waved away the bag. “Keep the tote. I’ll talk to the boy whenever he comes in. Where’s Andre?”

I checked my watch. After three. It had been over an hour since I’d left him. “Probably still giving his statement to a few dozen cops. And when they’re done, they’ll bring in a few dozen more. We won’t be seeing him anytime soon. I’ve called Schwartz. I’m hoping he’ll let us know if we need a lawyer.”

Julius rubbed his forehead and sank into a cushy recliner. I bet he spent a lot of nights sleeping in it.

Paddy helped himself to the floor. He seemed at home there. “Did the cloud work?”

“That depends.” I glowered at him. “What was it supposed to do?”

“We didn’t know. I just siphoned some from the tank that didn’t blow. I figured if Acme was experimenting on us, we should return the favor.”

“You had to know he’d go after Gloria!” I shouted. “You had that can ready, knowing Andre would go after your mother. You planned this!”

See, even in my anger at injustice, the legal instincts kick in. He was talking premeditated murder. Almost. And I was the prosecutor. I really didn’t want to prosecute Paddy for murder. He had given Andre the can. He had to have expected her to go berserk. Was that murder?

“I had no idea what the gas would do, and I did not tell Andre to use it on anyone,” Paddy argued wearily. I wanted to believe him. “What happened?”

“You killed your mother,” I said bluntly.

Both old men instantly appeared older, more tired and gray, with new lines etched in their skin. I hated causing them pain, but a woman had
died
. My instinct was to seek justice, no matter how wicked she’d been.

“She was a lovely woman once,” Julius said, almost apologetically. “Very gracious.”

“Until my father died and she sold her soul,” Paddy said, surprisingly. “I thought at first she was just working too hard, learning how to run the company. I don’t think he left her in as strong a financial position as she’d expected. I tried to help but I’m a scientist, not a financier.” He gazed into the distance, as if trying to remember—or decide how much to reveal.

“My cousin Cynthia’s husband steered some government contracts to Acme,” he finally continued. “Since Cynthia’s father left her some Acme shares when he died, Mike had a family interest in keeping it running.”

Sleazy former Senator
Mike
MacNeill was Max’s father. Dane had stepped into his political shoes after MacNeill pulled some shady deals—probably using
his influence to get Acme government contracts. Mike’s illegal activities were likely why Dane had had to place all his assets in a blind trust when he ran for Mike’s seat.

“We hired new management,” Paddy continued. “When they brought in the new element, my mother suddenly became obsessed with the company.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair.

“Gloria was always good to us,” Julius said wearily. “I wasn’t earning enough as a prosecutor to put Andre through private school, but she and Katerina’s mother were old friends. Gloria saw that he received scholarships. The Vanderventers probably helped me get appointed judge. And when I vacated the bench to care for Katerina, she hired Andre to work at the plant after he came home and couldn’t settle down.”

“PTSD,” Paddy said, as if repeating an old tale. “Andre went through hell overseas, fighting two wars and terrorists. He just needed time to get his head straight. He would have been fine.”

“But that’s when things started turning sour,” Julius argued. “In return for giving Andre a job, she wanted me to use my influence in favor of a rezoning to shut down Edgewater and the neighborhood.”

I listened, keeping my big mouth buttoned. These old guys were spilling secrets Andre would never have told me.

“That was back before the chemical flood, when Acme first obtained the magic element and needed to expand.” Paddy nodded in agreement. “That’s when
it all went south.” He glanced up to me. “What happened today?”

Damn, I’d hoped they’d keep talking.

“Andre sprayed the gas in the can,” I said slowly, waiting to see if they would exhibit any understanding of what that meant. Both watched me with curiosity and nothing more. “Gloria went berserk.”

They turned to the woman in the bed. One whispered, “Damn.” The other just sighed.

B
efore I went home, I jogged down to the tunnel to check on our patients. Milo found a cushion in Andre’s place and appropriated it, declining to come with me.

The med students were now ensconced in the theater with the more ordinary zombies. Tim hadn’t rescued Leibowitz but had brought two more of the homeless guys. Since yesterday, the baby docs had decided the new healthiness of their patients had something to do with the IV nutrients. They were excitedly talking about getting grants to study homelessness, disease, and nutrition. So maybe something good would come of the gas, should the victims ever awaken—though that wasn’t looking likely.

With Katerina back in the tower, Sarah slept in lonely splendor in the official infirmary. Cora glanced up her from her smart phone when I entered. “Thank goodness! I gotta pee!”

She dashed out, leaving me to wonder what I was supposed to do. I could only stare sadly at a woman who had led a harsh life, one who’d not had many opportunities before Acme took her out. I hoped Julius would massage Sarah and keep her IV filled as he did for his wife, because we couldn’t risk the med students in here. And I knew nothing about caretaking.

I sank onto Cora’s seat, feeling useless, tired, and hungry. I wondered if Themis had answered my chewing-gum message. I hadn’t been back to my place to find out.

Strangely, I wasn’t as concerned about the question I’d asked as I was worried about Themis. As far as I knew, she could be part of my whacked-out imagination, but I had a hankering for a grandmotherly role model, I guess. I didn’t want her lying comatose in Acme’s secret labs.

My only other family was my mother, but she was in Peru. Which meant that, with Sarah out, I didn’t have a lot of mentoring happening on this Saturn’s daughter business.

“I’m fine,” a throaty voice with a hint of humor said out of the blue. Or was that out of the pink?

I almost fell off the stool I was perched on. I’d thought I was alone. I glanced around the antiseptic steel office. I
was
alone. Except for Sarah.

I stared, but I could have sworn she hadn’t moved.
A hospital white blanket still neatly covered her chimp appendages. Besides, Sarah had one of those baby-sweet, whispery voices. What I’d heard had sounded like a cigarette smoker’s husky alto.

“Hello?” I said tentatively, wondering if IV stands could speak. “Who’s there?”

“Your
madarbozorg
,
aziz
.”

The voice seemed to come from Sarah, but not an inch of her frizzy beehive stirred, although her lips might have.

Madarbozorg?
The foreign mouthful almost seemed familiar, but I couldn’t translate it.

“Visualizing is an unusual gift,
aziz
,” the voice spoke again, a little more distantly, as if too many words were difficult to project. “Use it for harm, and justice will be served. Use it for profit, and you will pay.”

I’d asked Themis if I’d be punished for visualizing. I hadn’t been specific. “Themis?” I asked tentatively. I still didn’t know if she was crazier than me, but Max had assured me that these weird messages really came from my grandmother. Of course, he’d been in hell at the time.