Nocturnal (72 page)

He forced himself to walk — not
run —
toward the escalator that led to the surface. Homeless people didn’t run. All he had to do was keep up the illusion and everyone would ignore him. Illusion? How odd to think of it that way. Wasn’t he a homeless person after all?

No.

Not anymore.

Aggie had done his time in the gutter. He’d lost
years
mourning, feeling sorry for himself, feeling sorry for his losses. He’d given up and tuned out. That time was over.

He was
alive
. His wife and daughter were gone. Nothing could bring them back. He should have died down in the tunnels, in the white room, but he had a second chance and he wasn’t going to screw it up. He had a responsibility now, a responsibility to protect the child he held in his arms. He had sworn to find this child a home.

Why don’t I just raise the kid?

He realized that hidden thought had been lurking at the edge of his mind ever since he looked in the bag and saw the tiny baby.
You were a parent once. A good parent. That robbery wasn’t your fault, there was nothing you could do
.

A second chance … a second chance to get things right.

Aggie felt full of hope, full of a sudden and overpowering love for life. He moved toward the escalator that would lead him to the surface.

And then, the baby cried.

Not a soft cry, not a muffled
I just woke up cry
, but rather a full-blown
I am not at
ALL
happy cry
. Loud. Piercing. The dozen or so people on the platform who had gone out of their way to
not
look at him now turned to stare.

The baby screamed again.

The kid was probably hungry. This was just a baby being a baby, but Aggie knew what it looked like — a shabby, smelly bum with a screaming child hidden somewhere beneath a filthy blanket.

Aggie saw hands reach into pockets and purses, then come out holding cell phones.

He turned back to the escalator.

A woman stepped toward him. “Stop!”

Aggie took off, his newish boots thumping out a staccato drumbeat on the escalator’s metal steps. He heard and felt similar pounding behind him — the heavy steps of men.

The first escalator took him up to the station’s main floor. One more
escalator and he’d be out on the streets. There were more people up here, heading home from bars or from late nights at work.

“Get out of my way!” Aggie ran, carrying the baby-bag in both arms. His legs felt weak. He was already exhausted.

“Stop him!” the men behind him screamed. Most of the people in front of him quickly got out of the way, but one man, a kid of no more than twenty, stepped in front of him.

Aggie slowed, then tried to cut left.

His foot landed on his blanket — the blanket slid across the polished floor, and his foot flew out from under him. In the split second it took him to reach the ground, his only thought was to protect the baby.

The back of Aggie’s head cracked against the marble, and everything went black.

T
he faint but beautiful sounds of a plinky piano echoed from inside of Mommy’s cabin. There were no lights in there, just darkness and music. People lined the arena’s ledges, holding torches that flickered like big stars against the cavern’s blackness.

Alone, Rex stood on the ship’s ruined deck. He held a wicker basket with a present for Mommy. Tonight, he would become a man.

Everything was happening so fast. He and Pierre and Sly had brought the chief of police and her daughters back Home. The chief had given up a bunch of names. They’d even printed pictures of those criminals on Chief Zou’s computer, so the soldiers would know if they had the right people.

The chief’s husband was cooking in the stew. Most of him, anyway. His head was in the basket. Mommy liked brains.

As soon as Rex finished this ceremony with Mommy, he and Sly were going to plan how to use Chief Zou to round up the criminals. Firstborn had allowed the bullies to live, but Rex would not. Once those who knew of Marie’s Children were gone, Rex’s people would become even more of a secret.

Hillary wanted the people to spread, and so did Rex. She said the only way for that to happen was to make new queens. The only way to make a
new
queen, she said, was for a king to mate with an
old
queen.

Rex was the king, and that was that. If he was the king, though, didn’t he need a crown? Maybe someone could make one for him — the people had built all these amazing tunnels, surely they could make a kick-ass crown.

He felt so nervous. He’d never had sex before. Would he get it right?

Two white-robed men walked out of Mommy’s cabin. They stood on either side of the door, waiting. The one on the left wore a devil mask. The one on the right wore a mask that looked like Osama bin Laden.

They both waved Rex forward.

Up on the ledge, all the people waited for him to enter. Rex turned slowly, looking up at the ledge, at the torchlight-illuminated faces of his people.
Everyone
was here. Now was the time to make Firstborn understand that all of this belonged to Rex, and Rex alone.

“I have made a decision,” he shouted. His voice echoed off the arena’s walls. “I am not going to hide in the caverns and let other people go fight. I’ll fight with them. I’ll lead like a real king. But that means Savior might
get me, or the cops might or someone else. I’ve decided who will rule if anything should happen to me. I name Sly as my successor.”

Rex heard applause. Not as much as he would have thought, though. Didn’t everyone like Sly?

“Sly is also a fighter,” Rex shouted. “If he and I both get killed, then Hillary will be our ruler.” He hadn’t seen Hillary around, but she was probably somewhere up on that ledge.

Rex knew it was a good decision. Firstborn hated Sly, so maybe he’d try to kill both Sly and Rex. But Firstborn had saved Hillary once — would he kill her as well? Was his need for power that great?

The announcement was done.

That meant no more stalling — Rex had to go into that cabin and be with Mommy.

A smell tickled Rex’s nose. He sniffed lightly, then deeper. What
was
that?

He turned toward Mommy’s cabin. He sniffed some more. His face suddenly felt hot. Another step, and he stumbled a little on a loose board. He managed to catch his balance before he fell — wouldn’t
that
be embarrassing? To fall in front of everyone?

Rex stopped. He looked down. He had the boner of all boners. Wow, did his face feel
hot
.

And then a deep voice came from inside the cabin. Mommy’s voice.

“Venez ah mwah mon rwah.”

He didn’t understand her words. He didn’t care
what
she said, didn’t care about anything anymore but that smell in his nose and what waited for him there in the darkness.

Rex walked through the cabin door.

T
hey weren’t officially back on the force yet, but a lead was a lead. Bryan wasn’t going to let a little thing like being fired get in the way of pursuing it.

They’d heard the call come in. A bum had been picked up at Civic Center; a bum carrying a baby. The bum had been injured. Paramedics had brought the bum and baby both to SFGH. When the arresting officer called it in, he described the baby’s blanket as being covered with
circles and slashes, occult kind of stuff
.

A bum with a baby. Just like Mike Clauser had described.

Most of the cops at SFGH were preoccupied with Erickson’s security. That — combined with the flurry of activity that had blown up surrounding this new Handyman Killer, and with Zou not being around to direct traffic — meant Bryan and Pookie weren’t really on anyone’s radar at the moment.

They stepped off the elevator onto the second floor of the hospital’s main building, far away from the mental health wing. The injured bum was on this floor.

Bryan looked down the hall. It wasn’t hard to spot the right room, because a uniformed officer sat on a chair outside of it.

“Shit,” Bryan said. “Think you can talk your way past this one, Pooks, or is the Force no longer strong with this one?”

A dismissive huff escaped Pookie’s lips. “Nigga, please. Don’t you recognize him? It’s Stuart Hood.”

Bryan did recognize Hood: he was the guy who’d first interviewed Tiffany Hine after Jay Parlar’s death.

“Come on,” Pookie said. “I’ll talk my way in there. Let’s see if Daddy really has lost his touch, or if the SWAT boys were just a fluke.”

They started walking. Bryan hadn’t made it ten steps before he slowed, then stopped — a new smell. A strong yet faint scent, cut with the normal hospital odors of medicine and disinfectant.

He knew that smell … it was a lot like the odor from Rex Deprovdechuk’s house. Similar, yet subtly unique. The baby or the bum, or both, were Zeds.

“Bryan,” Pookie said. “You okay? You’re stumbling a little.”

Bryan blinked, shook his head. “Yeah, fine.” He’d have to learn to
control this stuff. What if he ran into one of those basement critters and they had some stink that made him lose focus? Losing focus against something like that bear creature could get him killed.

Pookie put his hand on Bryan’s shoulder. “You sure?”

Bryan took a breath, gave his head and shoulders a quick shake. “Yeah, I’m good.”

He followed Pookie to the room.

“Stuart Hood!” Pookie said. “Good to see you again.”

Hood looked up and gave Pookie a wide smile. “Inspector Chang.”

“Hell, call me Pookie. Hey, did you hear that Zou reinstated us?”

Hood looked from Pookie to Bryan, then back again. “No, I hadn’t heard that. That’s great news, congrats.”

“Gracias,” Pookie said. “And we’re back on a case that’s related to what Tiffany Hine saw. You remember her?”

“The werewolf lady?”

Pookie snapped his fingers. “That’s the one.” He tilted his head toward the door. “We got an ID on the bum who had the baby?”

Hood nodded. “Prints came back already. The guy’s name is Aggie James. A few minor drug possession charges but he doesn’t have any priors of note. No permanent address. Witnesses said he came out of the subway tunnels. I heard the docs say he has a concussion, but it doesn’t sound like anything major.”

“What about the baby,” Bryan said. “Is it his?”

Hood shrugged. “No idea. No ID on the baby yet. Kid’s in the maternity ward.”

Pookie pulled out his notepad, sketched out the same triangle-and-circle symbol Bryan had first drawn, then held it up so Hood could see.

“Was this the symbol on the blanket?”

Stuart looked, then nodded. “Yeah. The blanket’s in there with him. Ambulance brought him right here, so his personal effects haven’t been processed yet. I was told this might be a kidnapping, so someone has to watch him.”

“We need in that room,” Pookie said. “Just a few minutes. You mind?”

Stuart shook his head, then stood and opened the door to let Bryan and Pookie enter. Inside, a black man lay in a hospital bed. Blankets covered him up to his chest. He had a white bandage wrapped around his head. Handcuffs kept his left hand locked to the bed’s frame.

Bryan waited for the fluttery sensation in his chest, but it didn’t come. The man in the bed was just that — a man.

There was a cart against the wall. Pookie walked to it and picked up a clear evidence bag holding a blanket. “Symbols all over it,” he said. “Take a look at this.” He tossed it to Bryan.

Bryan caught it. Even wrapped in the plastic, the smell was nearly overwhelming. The scent seemed to fill up his brain. Just like at Rex’s house, the odor made him want to do something — except now that urge was a hundred times more powerful, maybe a thousand times. Bryan handed the blanket back to Pookie.

The smell wasn’t just coming from the blanket. Bryan checked out the cart. On it were bags containing the bum’s clothes and one holding some kind of knit purse. They all had that powerful odor.

Bryan walked to the hospital bed and leaned in. The bum had the scent on him as well, but not as strong.

The man seemed to sense their presence. His eyelids fluttered open and he slowly turned his head to look at them. “You … cops?”

Pookie sighed. “I gotta remember to turn off that neon sign above my head. Hello, Mister James. I’m Inspector Chang. This is Inspector Clauser.”

Bryan nodded once. “How you feeling, Mister James?”

The man blinked slowly, as if it hurt to move even his eyelids. “I’m alive,” he said. “Where’s my baby?”

“Here in the hospital,” Pookie said. “He’s fine. You claim he’s
your
baby?”

Aggie stared first at Pookie, then at Bryan.

“He is,” Aggie said. “Bring me my boy or I’ll sue your asses.”

Pookie shook his head. “Child Protective Services has to verify the child’s identity.”

Aggie tried to sit up. He seemed surprised to find he could barely move his left hand. He looked at the handcuff holding him in place, then lurched so suddenly the bed rattled. “No! Don’t you chain me,
don’t you chain me
!”

Chain me
. A strange way to describe a handcuff.

Aggie’s wide eyes stayed fixed on his restrained wrist. “Lemme go,” he said in a thin whisper. “Bring me the boy and lemme go.”

“We can’t,” Bryan said. “Mister James, tell me why you drew those pictures on the blanket.”

“I didn’t draw them. Lemme go, don’t chain me,
please
, lemme go before Hillary finds out I failed.”

Bryan looked at Pookie, who shrugged.

“Hillary,” Bryan said. “Is Hillary the baby’s mother?”

Aggie shook his head violently. His breathing grew more and more rapid. “Mommy is a
monster
.”

Bryan felt a cool sensation in his chest and stomach. The baby, the bum,
monsters
, they were all connected, all a part of Bryan’s past.

“A monster,” Bryan said. “That why you drew those pictures on the blanket? To save the baby from the monster?”

“I said I didn’t draw the pictures! Lemme go. Don’t let them take me back into the tunnels.
Lemme go goddamit!
”