Dead Harvest (12 page)

  The corner of Eleventh and Sixth was quiet – aside from the Chinese place down the block, the place was mostly residential, all red brick and white trim and Woody Allen charm. Why Merihem would have chosen here to meet was beyond me. And speaking of, he was nowhere to be seen. I lit another cigarette and waited.

  Three cigarettes later, I was getting antsy. I began to pace. I strolled up and down the length of the block, watching for Merihem all the while. Looking back, I must've passed the place a dozen times before I spotted it.

  It was a low stone wall, wedged between two buildings and discolored with age. Hidden in the shadows as it was, it's no wonder I nearly missed it. I approached it cautiously, wary once more of being watched. Atop the wall, a wrought-iron fence stretched skyward. At the center of the wall was a gate, a lock dangling open from its hasp. I touched the gate and it swung aside.

  "I was wondering when you'd come."

  I squinted into the darkness. Eventually, an image resolved: Merihem, sitting propped against a tree amidst a sea of clinging ivy, a large obelisk headstone jutting skyward beside him. The graveyard itself was small, just a handful of weathered old headstones sticking improbably out of the ground and surrounded by buildings of towering brick.

  "You could have told me where to find you. Speaking of, what's with the digs? You got something against meeting someplace we could get a drink?"

  Merihem smiled, teeth flashing white in the darkness. "This cemetery was intended as a resting place for the sick. For nearly a quarter-century, those riddled with disease were interred here, in this soil. In 1830 city planners put a halt to that, insisting they be buried elsewhere; it seems the living have a limited tolerance for pestilence and plague so near to where they lead their desperate, fruitless lives."

  "Look, Merihem, as fun as it is for me to reminisce about your salad days, we've got business to attend to."

  "Hold your tongue, Collector. You think I selected this place so that I could regale you with tales of times gone by? I am the
bringer
of pestilence – this place is hallowed ground for me. Here, I cannot be harmed."

  "What do you mean,
harmed?
Harmed by who? Merihem, what the hell is going on?"

  "I did as you asked. I looked into this girl of yours."

  Merihem fell silent, as if unsure what to say next.

  I didn't have time for this. "
And?
What did you find?"

  "A world of shit is what I found! This girl, she's caught the attention of some higher-ups – it seems they like her style. The way they tell it, she's destined for great and terrible things, Sam, only here you are, fucking it up for all of us."

  "What do you mean
all of us?
All of us
who?
"

  "You. Me.
Everybody.
Since word got out you've gone off the reservation, the angelic world is in an uproar. They've been leaning pretty hard on their Fallen brethren, convinced your little rebellion here is the first volley in some sort of insurrection. Now the demon-world is
pissed
– pissed at
you
."

  I thought back to the black stares from the passersby on my way back to Friedlander's apartment. "Yeah," I replied, "I got that feeling."

  "Did you now? Well, believe me when I tell you, Sam, the folks we're talking about, it isn't a far cry between pissed and murderous. We may be lowly creatures in the eyes of God and Man, but a good many of us enjoy our little fiefdoms in this world, and would take personally any attempt, perceived or otherwise, to wrest them from our grasp. If they come for you, I'm not going to stand in their way – I'm pariah enough just for asking around. We go back a ways, you and I, but I'm not about to die for you. You go down, you're going down alone."

  "Then what am I supposed to do?"

  "There is no
supposed to
–
supposed to
implies options. I hate to rain on your parade, Sam, but that whole free-will thing? Kind of the dominion of the living. That isn't you anymore. You're nothing, now. Carrion. You just collect the fucking girl – period. If you're very, very lucky, that will be enough to spare your soul. There are worlds besides your own, Collector, and trust me when I tell you your hell is Paradise in comparison."

  I hesitated, suddenly unwilling to tell him what I came to tell him. But as he said, I was out of options. "Listen, Merihem – even if I wanted to collect her, I couldn't."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "She's gone."

  "I don't understand."

  "Yes, you do."

  "Are you telling me you
lost
her?" Fear crept into Merihem's tone. It didn't exactly fill me with warm fuzzies. If Merihem was this spooked, things were even worse than I thought.

  "Look, the cops musta tracked us to where we were staying – they were waiting for me when I got back. I was able to keep her out of custody, but we were supposed to meet up after, and she never showed."

  Merihem looked me up and down. "I guess that explains the new vessel. Police issue, no doubt?"

  "Not that it matters, but yeah."

  "And your girl – she just up and disappears? Sounds like the actions of an innocent to
me."
His tone dripped sarcasm.

  "There were extenuating circumstances."

  "Of course there were," he said.

  "Merihem, I have to find her."

  "I should say so."

  "I kind of called you here to help me."

  "That's funny – I thought you called me here so I could report on the
last
favor you asked of me. It seems our friendship is a costly one, Collector. Costly and dangerous."

  I ignored the jibe. "Are you gonna help me or not?"

  "Do you truly mean to take her?"

  "I don't know," I admitted.

  "That's simply not good enough."

  "Damn it, Merihem, what if I'm right? What if this girl isn't meant to be taken? Am I supposed to just ignore what I've seen? To collect the girl like nothing ever happened and go on about my merry way?"

  "What's the alternative? The balance must be maintained. If you're wrong, then this girl's fate is sealed. Refusing to take her would be seen as an act of war. Are you really willing to risk all that because Sam fucking Thornton had an
idea?
"

  "I guess I am."

  "Such hubris your species suffers from. No matter – if you fail to collect the girl, I'm sure they'll send another."

  At that, I bristled. "Let them."

  "Ah, yes – ever the protector. Good to see you haven't changed. And who knows? Perhaps you'll get lucky and dispatch the first they send her way. The second, even. But the third? The tenth? The thousandth? This game can't last forever. In the end, they'll get what they came for, and you'll get what you deserve."

  "Then I guess we're done here." I turned on my heel and headed back toward the open gate.

  "Sam, wait." I hesitated, not turning around. Merihem continued. "There's a man in Chinatown named Wai-Sun. He runs an antique shop on Eldridge."

  "And?"

  "Wai-Sun specializes in arcane objects – items of singular power. Weapons, talismans, and the like. He may be able to help you find what you're looking for."

  "Thank you, Merihem."

  "You understand the position you're putting me in by even meeting with you – I can't be seen as party to your sedition. If I see you again, I'll kill you myself. And Sam?"

  "Yes?"

  "Be certain that I don't."

 
 

The bell above the door jangled as I stepped inside Shangdi Antiques on Eldridge. My sinuses prickled with the spicy scent of old wood and the dust of times gone by. The shop itself was tiny, and its wares were stacked atop each other at random, creating an accidental labyrinth whose walls remained standing in sheer defiance of the laws of physics and common sense. The sign in the window read "Rare Objects Our Specialty!" I hoped that it was true. Eldridge, it turned out, had no shortage of antique shops. This was the third place I'd visited today, and so far, I hadn't found any Wai-Sun. I couldn't help but think that Kate was running out of time.

  "Can I help you?"

  The call came from somewhere deep within the stacks, the English unaccented but nevertheless spoken with the melodic tones of one for whom Mandarin is his native tongue. I traced the voice back through the narrow winding aisle, nearly toppling an ancient bamboo birdcage in the process. I emerged to find a man standing behind the cluttered antique desk that served as the store's counter and polishing a small lacquered box with an oiled rag. He was short and stout, clad in a worn blue button-down and a dusty pair of suit pants. Thin wisps of white hair lay across his pate in a halfhearted comb-over. As I approached, he set aside the box and smiled.

  "I hope so," I replied. "I'm looking for a man named Wai-Sun."

  His smile faltered. "And what, pray tell, do you want of this Wai-Sun?"

  "I've lost something, and I was hoping he could help me find it."

  He gestured toward the piles of antiques surrounding us. "As you can see, we carry here a great many things – I am certain whatever it is you're looking for, we can find for you a suitable replacement."

  "What I'm looking for is a girl."

  Something flickered in his eyes. Fear? Suspicion? "I don't understand," he said.

  "I think you do."

  "Who are you? What are you doing here?" His hand crept toward the register. His eyes never left mine. If this was indeed my guy, I didn't want any part in whatever he was reaching for.

  I raised my hands in what I hoped was a placating gesture. "My name is Sam Thornton. I'm here because a girl has gone missing, and it's important that I find her. I spoke to Merihem, and he told me you may be able to help."

  The man broke into a smile, his hand no longer creeping toward the register. "Merihem sent you, did he? That bastard owes me fifty bucks. Sorry about all the subterfuge, but when one deals in items such as mine, one must be careful of the company one keeps. So you say you've lost a girl, eh? Let's see if we can find her, shall we?"

  He removed from a desk drawer a worn wooden top and a creased map of the city, setting both on the desktop. I eyed them with suspicion. "
That's
what's going to help me find her?"

  Again, Wai-Sun smiled. "Mystical objects need not be as elaborate as one might think. After all, appearances can be deceiving. So your girl – do you have anything of hers? A lock of hair, perhaps, or an article of clothing?"

  I shook my head, and he frowned.

  "No matter," he said. "I think I have something in the back that might do the trick."

  He brushed aside the curtain that separated the front room from the back, and disappeared into the murk beyond. "So, this girl, she is of some importance, is she not?"

  "She's my mother's sister's girl," I lied. "I was supposed to have her for the week, and she ditched me so she could meet up with her boyfriend. If I don't find her, Mom's gonna have a fit."

  "Come now," he said, "there's no need to bore me with your falsehoods – I am merely making conversation. Your secrets are your own." Behind the curtain, something clattered to the floor, and Wai-Sun cursed softly under his breath.

  "You need a hand back there?"

  "No cause for alarm – I'll be out in a moment!"

  There was something about his tone that didn't ring true. It was too cheery. Too earnest. Too at odds with the whispered epithet I'd heard him utter mere seconds before.

  Something wasn't right here.

  Silent as death, I ducked behind the desk and approached the curtain. The racket in the back room continued. Gingerly, I pushed the curtain aside.

  Wai-Sun lay in the center of the storeroom, glassy eyes staring upward toward the ceiling. The floor around him was thick with congealing blood, glistening in the lamplight. His face was twisted into a rictus of pain, and he looked as if his throat had been ripped clean from his body. Well, anything but
clean
– tattered shreds of flesh clung to the ruined remains of his neck, exposing pink-white glimmers of bone beneath.

  My Wai-Sun was standing, his back to me, in the far corner of the room, ransacking a set of small wooden drawers mounted above a rough-hewn workbench. His clothes, his hair, his
everything
, were identical to the man who lay lifeless on the floor beside him.

  Too late, I realized what happened: that piece of shit Merihem had set me up.

  Suddenly, my Wai-Sun straightened and turned.

  "I really wish you hadn't done that," he said. Seeing him there, hearing him speak while two feet away he lay dead in a pool of his own blood, set my head and stomach reeling. "If you'd simply given us the girl's location, I might have let you live." His eyes flickered with black fire, and his features became suddenly vague – a mere
suggestion
of the Wai-Sun that lay ravaged at my feet. He seemed somehow to expand, his small frame suddenly filling the room. All around him was a halo of shimmering, liquid blackness, like silk fluttering weightless in an underwater current.

  "No," I said. "You wouldn't have."

  "Sounds nice, though, doesn't it? Merciful. Of course, I've never been much for mercy." The darkness pressed against my mind, obliterating all thought. I tried to tell my legs to run. They weren't listening.

  "Who
are
you?"

  "I think you misunderstand the situation, Collector. I'm the one who'll ask the questions. Now tell me – where the fuck is the girl?"

  "You don't listen well, do you? If I knew where the girl was I wouldn't
be
here. Of course, Wai-Sun could've probably found her for you, if you hadn't gone and torn out his throat."