Deadtown (42 page)

“I don’t think Frank will remember much,” I said. “He was passed out for most of the fun.”

Bergonzi nodded, a far-off look in his eyes as though he was thinking about something else.

I was ready to get the hell out of there and go home, so I said, “I guess you’ll want me to make a statement.”

Bergonzi’s eyes focused on me again. “Yes,” he replied. “But we already know what happened here.”

“You do?”

“We got the whole thing,” Roxana said.

I raised my eyebrows.

“We plugged the scrying mirror into the coven’s computer and captured the transmission in digital. I burned it to a DVD and gave it to Captain Bergonzi.”

Wow. Ancient earth magic meets high tech. Who knew?

“I’m the only one who’s seen it,” Bergonzi said. He cleared his throat, and a calculating look crossed his face. I wondered what was coming. “And that brings me to what I wanted to say. We’d prefer to keep it quiet that a Hellion was inside Boston. So I’ll take your statement myself. Next week at headquarters would be fine.”

Keep it quiet? Was this bozo planning to protect Baldwin? Maybe I’d judged him too kindly. “I don’t care what you’d ‘prefer,’ Captain. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let Baldwin walk.”

“No, no. I didn’t mean that. He’ll be charged with conjuring demons to cause public mayhem, for sending those Harpies against the parade. Believe me, Baldwin’s not walking away from this. He’s going to prison for a long, long time.” He gestured at Baldwin, who was being handcuffed as Clarinda prepared to remove her binding spell. “But there’s no need, is there, to publicize the fact an amateur, unregistered sorcerer was able to breach the shield? That the city was nearly destroyed by a legion of Hellions? We don’t want any other would-be sorcerers getting ideas.”

I considered. I certainly didn’t want another run-in with a Hellion anytime soon. And maybe—just maybe—keeping this quiet would keep my face off TV for the next news cycle.

“Okay,” I said. Bergonzi gave me a politician’s smile and clapped me on the shoulder, then walked past Norden, who was fiddling with the magic meter again, to talk to Clarinda.

I watched him approach the witch, who cringed, looking as though she’d like nothing better than to disappear. If witches really could pull tricks like that, I’m sure she would have.

I turned to Roxana. “What will the coven do to Clarinda?”

Roxana pursed her lips. “She broke the first rule of witchcraft: harm none. There’s no more serious offense in the Craft.”

“Go easy on her. There were extenuating circumstances—Baldwin used the Destroyer to kill her uncle, then threatened to do the same to her child.”

“I know. We heard Baldwin through the scrying mirror.”

“And what does ‘harm none’ mean in a dilemma like that? Resist Baldwin and let him kill your child in the most horrible way possible? Isn’t
that
doing harm?”

She kept her lips pursed and didn’t answer.

“Besides, your scrying mirror didn’t show what happened after the Hellion was gone. Sending that thing back to Hell knocked me flat. Baldwin could’ve got away. But Clarinda stopped him. She didn’t harm him”—I’d have killed the guy if I’d been her—“she immobilized him. And then called you.”

“I see your point. We’ll take what you’ve said into consideration.” Then she smiled at me in a girlfriend-to-girlfriend way, clearly wanting to change the subject. “But let’s talk about what
you
did, Victory. That was brilliant, the way you yanked the Destroyer away from Baldwin’s control. I didn’t even know such a thing was possible.”

Neither had I. And I wasn’t ready to think about the consequences yet. “Let’s find your amulet,” I said. I could change the subject, too. “I must have dropped it when the shield opened. That was a pretty intense moment.”

“I’ll say. Look how far down I chewed my nails.” She splayed a hand, the nails short and ragged, dried blood along the index finger’s nail bed. Good to know there was one thing about Roxana that wasn’t perfect.

I led the way to where I’d been standing when Difethwr had been sucked through the vortex, and we kicked through the debris on the floor. “Here it is,” Roxana said. She picked it up, tied the leather loop ends together, and hung it around her neck. She crossed to my right side—and the amulet lit up. Not a pale pink this time, but a shining, bloodred crimson, bright as the lights on a fire truck.

I stared at it. The damn stone was as bright as it had been in the presence of Difethwr. Had the Hellion come back? Or—good God—was it
me
making the amulet light up? I still felt nothing from the demon mark.

Norden came sprinting over like an alarm had gone off, holding his magic meter out in front of him. “What is it? What’s happening over here?” He swept the magic meter back and forth.

Roxana glanced at me as she strolled casually toward him, placing herself on my left side. The stone faded back to clear. “Residual energy,” she said. “Victory was showing me the spot where Baldwin stood when he launched the Harpy attack. There were thousands of those demons here. It takes a while for that kind of energy to fade.”

Norden pointed his meter at me, and the damned thing clicked like a Geiger counter in a uranium mine. My heart was beating almost as fast. He motioned me away, and I realized he was pointing at the spot where I stood, not at me. I took a couple of steps back. He frowned as the clicking slowed down and pointed the meter at me again. It revved right up, and I stepped back again, this time involuntarily. He moved toward me, still frowning. Then the meter sputtered to a complete stop.

He swore under his breath, shook it, and swore again, audibly this time. “I knew this was a piece of junk.”

“For some kinds of energy,” Roxana said, “the old ways work better. Look—” She dangled the amulet in front of him. I made sure to stay well back and keep my left side toward the amulet. “See? The amulet is crystal clear. The demonic energy is gone now. Might as well put that thing away.”

Norden squinted at the amulet. Then he shook the meter one more time, frowning, and stuck it in his pocket. “I’m done here anyway,” he said. “Captain,” he called to Bergonzi across the room, “I’m heading back to headquarters to write up my report. C’mon, Sykes.” The zombie shambled over to him, and the two of them left together.

When Norden was gone, Roxana winked at me. “Jamming spell,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“Captain Bergonzi would’ve reined him in, but there’s no point in creating an awkward situation with the Goon Squad.”

Especially not with that particular Goon.

Roxana put the amulet in her purse. “What does it mean,” she asked, tilting her head, “to have that Hellion bound to you?”

“I don’t know.” I’d thought that the demon’s mark had given Difethwr power over me, but apparently it went both ways. Hellion power corrupts, as Baldwin had proved, but could my own power affect the demon? I rubbed the demon mark and flexed the fingers of my right hand. Still nothing. “I don’t know,” I repeated. “But I’ll do my damnedest to make sure it stays in Hell where it belongs.”

 

 

I WAS HOME BEFORE TEN. JULIET WAS OUT, BUT THAT WAS no surprise. Halloween was a major feast night for her. I took a long shower to wash away the grime and any last traces of Harpy. Then I threw Baldwin’s sorcerer’s robe in the trash and put on some normal clothes: tan leather jeans and a thick brown ribbed turtleneck. Feeling a little more like myself, I picked up the phone and called Gwen.

“Vicky! Thank God. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. How’s Maria?”

“She’ll be fine.” Gwen’s voice held a strained note, suggesting that “fine” might be a long-term goal.

“Can I talk to her?”

A long pause answered my question.

“She doesn’t want to talk to me,” I said at last.

“She’s just a little girl,” Gwen said. “She needs some time.”

“Yes, sure. Of course. So how about I come out next weekend and treat the kids to a movie?”

Another pause. “Let me call you, Vic. When I’m sure the time is right.”

All of a sudden, my eyes were stinging. I wiped them on my sleeve. “I understand. Well, keep in touch, okay?”

“You know I will. And I’m really glad you’re okay. We all are.”

I wondered if that meant Maria. Two days ago, I’d been her hero. After what had happened today, how could she see me as anything but a monster—a real one? I said good-bye to my sister and started to hang up.

“Wait!” she said.

I waited. Gwen took a deep breath. “I just wanted to say thanks. For going up there and bringing my baby home.”

“Oh, Gwen. How could I have done anything else?”

As I hung up, I wiped my eyes again. The phone was still in my hand, and I needed to make a decision. I had to find out about Daniel. I’d asked Bergonzi if there was any news from New Hampshire. He either didn’t know or wouldn’t tell me, acting like he had no clue what I was talking about. I’d have to call Daniel’s apartment, talk to his wife. But I’d do it in the morning. By norm hours, it was too late to call now.

You’re chickening out,
I told myself.

Yeah, you’re right,
I told myself back. But I’d face it—whatever “it” was—tomorrow.

There’d be a lot, in fact, to face tomorrow. Maybe too much. What had happened to Daniel. Whether I’d be able to rebuild my relationship with my sister’s family. Where I stood with Kane. And most of all, how I was going to handle my new, deeper bond with the biggest, baddest Hellion out there. I could drive myself crazy trying not to think about all that now. Or I could go out and get Axel to pour me a shot or two of tequila. Just enough to chase away my own demons, just for tonight.

I pulled on a jacket and headed for Creature Comforts.

The New Combat Zone was surprisingly busy for ten thirty. I’d never seen so many zombies on the streets here. Norms, either, for that matter. They traveled in groups, zombies and humans walking together, talking and laughing. It was like a big party.

Creature Comforts was packed. I could barely get in the door. Just like on the streets, the crowd was all zombies and norms. Humans did hang out at Creature Comforts—vampire junkies and thrill-seekers—but never this many, and hardly ever any zombies. What was going on? Poor Axel ran up and down the bar, pouring and serving drinks as fast as his long legs could carry him.

Before I could figure out what was going on, a cheer resounded and the crowd started singing: “For she’s a jolly good zombie . . .” At the back of the room, some guys hoisted a zombie into the air and set her on a table. My God, it was Tina. And she was holding my sword.

With energy I didn’t know I had left to summon, I pushed my way through the crowd. Tina waved the heavy sword around like a conductor’s baton, in time with the music. She was smiling and laughing. When she saw me, she waved. “Hi, Vicky!”

“We need to talk,” I shouted over the noise.

She nodded, then went back to conducting the song. When it was finished, the room burst into applause. Tina bowed to all sides, then climbed down from the table. “I’ve got a booth over there,” she said, pointing. I followed. She plopped herself onto a red vinyl seat, next to her friend Jenna.

“I want my sword back,” I said, sitting across from them. “Now. You had no right to take it.”

Jenna popped her gum. Tina opened her mouth like she was going to argue, but then she handed me the sword of Saint Michael across the table, hilt first.

“This has been the best night
ever
,” she said. No apology.

No promise to leave my stuff alone. “Did you hear what happened? We saved the parade!”

I was so flabbergasted that the lecture I’d been preparing flew right out of my head. “You saved—? What happened?”

“Well, like I told you in my phone message, me and Jenna had this amazing idea for our Halloween costumes. Do you like them?”

Both girls were dressed in head-to-toe black leather. “What are you supposed to be?”

Tina rolled her eyes. “We’re demon slayers. Duh.”

I thought of Maria in her Aunt Vicky costume and had to blink a couple of times. “Yeah,” I said, “it’s all the rage.”

“It is? Well, anyway, now you know why I needed the sword. And Jenna needed a weapon, too. So we snuck out of Deadtown today and went that that store in Allston, the one you told me about.”

“You snuck out of Deadtown? Without a permit? You are so lucky you didn’t get snatched by the Removal Squad.”

Tina shook her head. “Uh-uh. We were safe. We went as zombies.” This sent her and Jenna both into peals of laughter so severe that Jenna almost swallowed her gum. “This year, all the blood bags—I mean humans—wanted to be zombies. It’s the most popular costume. So we got two rubber zombie masks and wore them when we went out. Brilliant, huh? They protected us from the sunlight, and everyone thought we were norms goofing around in costumes.”

“You risked an awful lot.” But I had to admit it was a clever plan.

“So, like, we took the T out to Allston and found the place. Oh my God, it was so cool. We got guns and bronze bullets and swords and daggers—”

“You walked in there wearing rubber masks and they sold you all that?”

Tina shut her mouth. Jenna said, “ ’Course not. We boosted it.”
Pop
went the gum.

I shot them both a stern look. “I’ll take it all back for you next week.”

Jenna looked ready to argue, but Tina hit her under the table.

“So then what happened?” I asked.

Tina bounced up and down in her seat. “We came back to Deadtown. A bunch of zombies were planning to crash the parade, so we, like, put on our costumes and joined them.”

I vaguely recalled noticing some undead in the parade when I’d flown over it in Harpy form.

“Except,” Tina continued, “instead of zombie masks we wore movie star masks. ’Cause, you know, you’re, like, kinda glamorous and all.”