Giving Him Hell: A Saturn's Daughter Novel (Saturn's Daughters Book 3) (30 page)

With Milo leaping ahead of me, I hurried upstairs to my place to start organizing my campaign to save the Zone in a day.

I nearly crashed to a halt when I opened my apartment door to find a computer tablet in the middle of the floor, flashing a red and pink exclamation point. I checked inside my tote bag where my tablet ought to be . . . and it was gone.

Someone had swiped it while I was underground?

Then left me a message.
Themis
. At the homeless shelter?

Cora had my keys, but she would have just said what she needed to say to my face. Sighing, I scooped up the tablet and collapsed onto my couch. Milo hurried off in search of food while I tapped the screen.

Whatever you’re doing,
aziz
, don’t let it happen again. I was a virgin when I had your mother
scrolled across the screen.

A virgin. Right. I pinched the bridge of my nose and wondered if I shouldn’t just go to bed and let the world take care of itself. Or lock myself up in the psych ward with Young.

Not wanting to think about virgin births, I dialed up Max.

“What’s happening down there, Justy? The TV is reporting earthquakes with an epicenter in the harbor. I could feel the tremors up here.”

“If you’ll believe me, I’ll tell you. Otherwise, it’s too long a tale and I’m too tired.” I got up and rummaged in my refrigerator for a beer, hummus, and chips. Sandwiches couldn’t fill the empty place in my gut at Andre’s threat to sell out.

“We had sex in hell, Justy. A priest exorcised a demon in my front room. What’s not to believe?” he asked wryly.

I’d had sex with two men without body parts touching. Is that what Themis was warning me about? She really believed planetary forces control our bodies? I shuddered and concentrated on the here and now.

“Then believe Acme is literally sitting on a meteorite that’s eating its way to hell. I’m not a chemist so don’t ask me to explain, but the explosions today were probably a combination of Gloria’s demon heat and the meteorite and Acme’s chemical waste ground. We can’t just blow it up, unfortunately. Whatever elements are in that rock can also save lives—and heal wounds,” I added as all my spinning thoughts attempted to coagulate. “And cause violence. Or maybe Gloria does that. And I think Acme pumping the element out of the meteorite is causing fissures or fractals or whatever in the ground around the harbor.”

“That almost makes sense,” he agreed warily. “Almost, given what we’ve gone through.”

I didn’t mention space aliens. That could have been hallucination and wasn’t necessary for this story, but if a living being was down there—that really crippled my alternatives.

“Acme has offered Andre a fortune to sell out,” I continued, “presumably so they can build a medical clinic and experiment with the healing powers of pink particles.”

“Almost following,” he said with more doubt.

“Keep up because it’s going down tomorrow if we don’t stop them. You know your ex-dad better than anyone. How heavy is he into the pockets of the war machine?” I was talking of
Max’s
dad, not Dane’s. Mike MacNeill had been kicked out of office because of his shady weapon deals.

“Very heavy,” Max agreed. “Mikey is a lobbyist and picks up funds out of war machine back pockets that I don’t want to know about. Acme got the nerve gas contract because of his contacts. Is that what this is really about?”

“I have no proof. But ever since Acme gassed the zone with this element, we’ve had outbreaks of weird violence.” Like Sarah carrying guns and shooting anything she came across. Tourists punching each other out for no reason. Goons shooting at me because they got divorced. Weird crap, but again, I didn’t want to give Max too much. “When that gas was sprayed at them, it caused Gloria and her mad scientist to go berserk and attack anything in sight. Do you want to see what happens if we gas the Middle East with that stuff?”

He sighed. “I can’t shut down Acme because it makes chemicals, Justy. What did you have in mind?”

“My bet is that your father really wants to turn the Zone into a munitions factory, that cancer research is simply a blind for testing chemical warfare. Persuade your mother and sister not to let him vote their shares. Let
Dane
persuade them,” I amended. “Don’t let Acme buy out Andre or continue with their pressure for eminent domain. You may lose credibility if word gets out that you’re messing in the family business, but short of sending out witches and exorcists to expel your father, I’m not sure what else we can do.”

He fell silent while I fretted about making the right decision. Max would be a good senator. I wanted him to have that power and position. I didn’t want him to be humiliated by his ex-father and bad press over the family business. But Acme was sitting on evil, and world peace trumped any one person.

“I don’t think it can be done overnight, Justy, I’m sorry. Better call in the exorcists and maybe the witches, because I’m afraid Mikey sold his soul to the devil a long time ago. I’ll call and talk to them, but there’s too much water under that bridge for me to hold out hope.”

“Dane is still their shining star,” I reminded him, needing some hope that if I failed, I had backup. “Don’t think like rebel Max, think like smarmy Dane. Make promises. I’ll call in everyone I can to help. Send Lance and the boys over tomorrow, too, because I’m likely to make a really big stink and may need someone protecting my back.”

“What are you planning on doing?” he asked in alarm.

“I’ve just been to hell and back, big boy. I’m going to blow a crater straight to the devil’s private den.” I hung up and sent my calls to voice mail.

I spent the rest of the evening making calls. Cora helped. We needed to keep the innocents far, far away from whatever I was about to do.

Someday, I’d ask myself why
I
had to do it, but I figured it had something to do with justice and superpowers and maybe a personality disorder.

At one point, I heard a clatter outside and checked out my bay window. In the faint glare of Mrs. Bodine’s porch light, I could just make out a large man in khaki uniform attempting to walk up the street with boards on his boots. It wasn’t until I realized that he was carrying a sawed off shotgun with an evergreen branch stuck in the barrel that I worked it out—Tim’s gnome from the florist shop. Tim had apparently done as promised and glued the statue to the table—and apparently the tree to the gun. Enterprising that our Nazi gnome somehow managed to break the table down so he wouldn’t have to remove his boots. Once his stoned condition wore off, he’d figure out how to remove boards.

I fell asleep after midnight and had nightmares of virgin space alien babies and blue blobs wearing diapers and Andre’s smirk.

In the morning, I dressed in boots and leather and stalked over to my office, ready for bear. The place was considerably quieter than it had been the day before. Katerina must have given up her petition in the face of Andre’s threat to sell out. I missed the hectic office bustle. Sarah had said she was taking up residence with Ernesto. Jane had her kid watching a DVD of cartoons while she typed busily on her laptop. She glanced up and eyed me warily, but I had bigger things on my mind than arguing over her choice of jobs.

“We’re about to be inundated by some very strange characters,” I warned. “You might want to take Junior to the park. Or over to my rooms.” I dangled my key. “I left Milo over there but he’s likely to escape if you open the door.”

She handed me some press releases from the printer and began gathering her kid’s stuff without question. I really liked Jane. Had we lived in the same worlds, we could have lunched together. Maybe we would if I survived today.

“The MSI project manager maintains he’s continuing with plans to build on Edgewater despite yesterday’s earth tremors.” Jane summarized the top release as I scanned it. “He says earthquakes happen everywhere, and the new building will be protected by the safest earthquake-prevention techniques available.”

“He doesn’t mention their CEO checking into a mental ward?” I asked meanly, wishing I’d been around when the green-haired, lipsticked fascist turd had been brought in.

“That’s not the sort of thing one puts in a press release,” she said, shutting down her laptop and hiding a grin. “I traded that snippet to a guy in the business news at the
Sun.
In return, he’s helping me find names of people who protest eminent domain and will start raising a stink.”

I looked at the next printout. Not a press release, just a portion of the morning’s business page with the news that Graham Young, CEO of MSI had checked into a psychiatric unit after an inexplicable episode on the site of the company’s new medical clinic. “
Inexplicable episode
, nice. Wonder if rich sheiks grant funds to men who are off their rockers? I probably should have put him in a dress.”

“Not PC, Tina,” she scolded. “You have no reason to believe all sheiks are bigots. Keep your argument to the evil you know.”

I eyed her with interest. “Very good, Mama Jane. You’ll bring your kid up right. I’m heading into the cellar. If I’m never seen again, tell Ned to send my friends to exorcise Acme.”

She didn’t look too alarmed. Jane didn’t know my propensity for recklessness. She thought I was just a lawyer with a strange sense of humor.

“Better leave Ned a note if I’m moving over to your place for the day,” she said imperturbably. “Call me if the devil materializes on Acme’s roof.”

Leaving a note was next on my list. As Jane moved her gear across the street and out of insanity central, I scribbled messages all over Ned’s desk.
Give Schwartz the addresses of your divorced goon friends and have them arrested for shooting me and Andre yesterday,
was just one of the many epistles landing in his in-box.

Now, all I had to do was reach my objective without getting my head shot off. Or blown up, or whatever the Zone had planned for me today.

I didn’t think it would do much good, but I shoved ear plugs into my ears to protect them from unearthly shrieks. I wished for a hard hat as I headed down my cellar stairs. Not that a hard hat would be of much use if a few tons of street descended on me.

After yesterday’s earthquakes, I ought to rethink this little adventure. But a whole troop of goons with guns was on the loose and probably after my hide. I had no other way to explore underground without sliding through sinkholes and knocking myself silly. So the tunnel looked like my best alternative. I donned my motorcycle helmet and pretended I was going for a ride.

I’d felt braver when Sarah had been with me, but since she’d taken up toting weapons, I figured I was safer without her.

The cellar door was easier to open now that I didn’t have to fight the lock. Shouldering the tote bag I’d brought for just this purpose, I pulled out a weapons-grade flashlight and kept the beam on the ground. The timbers above me had been there for centuries. If they chose me to fall on, it was for a purpose. I could believe in Fate or karma easier than heaven or hell.

It was winter outside but it was a nice spring down here. No bats flew out, thankfully. Maybe they’d all left by the holes down by the harbor. No Force shrieked. I was preparing a visualization just in case terror actually worked as well as fury for my weirdo abilities. If I could only visualize once, for a temporary length of time, it had to be effective and not release any more damnation-proof villains into the world.

The tunnel sloped downward in the direction of the water as I’d expected. Yesterday, in the harbor, I’d had
concrete
under me when I hit bottom. I figured that had to be an abandoned sewer or bunker, but I couldn’t count on reaching it from here. I had to reconnoiter.

Humming naughty ditties to keep up my courage, I flashed the light back and forth. I’d worn my biker boots, so I wasn’t particularly afraid of rats. I just didn’t like surprises. I bypassed a couple of rock falls where the timbers had given away. Yesterday’s tremors had probably de-stabilized half the territory.

“If I sacrifice myself for nothing, do I get to go to heaven, O Great Saturn?” I asked as my compass showed I was walking northeast—toward the harbor hazard zone.

Saturn, naturally, didn’t answer.

The Civil War tunnel eventually ran smack into a sewer line. The odor wasn’t as strong today as it had been the last time I’d ventured into my basement. I flashed my light around the barrier and located a grate in the top of the pipe. I scrambled up and peered inside.

The giant concrete culvert I was sitting on was filthy but not running water—probably because we’d cracked half the lines by now and it had been abandoned long ago. Deteriorating infrastructure didn’t even half explain our problems.

I didn’t know what was supposed to be connected to the grate but once I removed the rusted iron bars, the opening was large enough for me to lower myself through. So I did. I’d have to buy new boots if I survived.

Crouching, glad I wasn’t large, I checked my compass and took the direction that should lead me closer to Acme. As I walked, the slope leveled off and the spring-like heat got warmer, so I assumed I was walking under the business end of Edgewater.

I heard a loud growl, sighed, and turned around to see Milo racing to catch up with me. “You can’t leave well enough alone, can you?” I asked in exasperation.

He gave me a look that I interpreted as
neither can you,
then stalked ahead.

Idiotically, I felt better for his company. The walls here were dripping and nasty. I had no real idea what I was doing other than looking for an escape hatch and avoiding spies. Maybe I could clean the place up and make this a permanent shortcut to Chesty’s.

“You can see the blue blob, can’t you?” I asked Milo, just to fight my jitters.

He threw a look over his shoulder, then raced ahead.

“I need someone evil to damn,” I told my kitty as we trudged through the muck. My back was starting to hurt from the stooped position. “If I damned someone, I could make a wish, and I could save the blob and push the meteorite into hell.”

He snorted in kitty language.