Poison Sleep (11 page)

Marla wanted to snuggle up to Joshua, but she kept herself on her side of the car with an effort. It had been easier to resist his charms when she thought he was probably a bastard, but he’d come through tonight, and now the magical attraction was joined by genuine admiration. The whole point of lovetalkers was that they
made
you love them, but Marla now thought Joshua was probably
worthy
of love.

“You were wonderful, too,” he said. “You brought us back from that place. I’m not ashamed to say I was frightened.”

“I did promise you working for me would be interesting.”

“I can’t say you lied.”

“Want to get breakfast with me tomorrow?” Marla said, keeping her tone businesslike. “We can go over the game plan for the big negotiations.”

“I’d be delighted to dine with you. But…don’t you have to deal with the strange woman and her plague of dreams?”

Marla shrugged. “I’ve got people working on it. A crazy wandering sorcerer isn’t a
good
thing, but she’s not actively malevolent. I’ll handle it. I’ve had worse problems.”

Joshua shook his head. “I don’t know how you can stay so calm.”

“All part of the job,” she said. The driver stopped in front of the club. “Sleep well, Joshua. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
And I’m sure I’ll see you in my dreams before then.

Two days later, Hamil dropped by the office to see her. “My spies have further reports of strange manifestations. Orange trees, mostly, where they shouldn’t be. Is Langford any closer to finding Genevieve?”

“I called him yesterday, he said he’s working on it. Don’t worry. Mysteriously appearing orange trees aren’t the end of the world.” Marla watched the clock on her desk. In half an hour, she was having lunch with Joshua. They’d had breakfast, lunch, and dinner together the day before, and the more time she spent with him, the more fun she had. He had a wealth of amazing stories, and he’d traveled all over the world, seen so many things, met so many people. No doors were closed to him, of course, and Marla could see why. Even if he
hadn’t
been a lovetalker, he would have still been charming, beautiful, funny—

“Marla, are you listening to me?” Hamil said.

She frowned. The clock said two minutes had passed. Had she really just spent two minutes staring into space thinking about Joshua? Well, so what if she had? Was there anything
better
to think about? Didn’t she deserve some
happy
thoughts? “Of course I’m listening,” she snapped.

Hamil scowled. “You were supposed to have lunch with the Chamberlain yesterday, and she told me you canceled. And you missed the afternoon meeting with Granger, about planting trees inhabited by dryads in the freeway medians to help combat car emissions. And I note the pile of expense reports on your desk is still there, untouched. Then there’s the matter of Viscarro’s unauthorized tunneling toward the park—”

Marla held up her hand. “Enough. You don’t have to tell me my job. I just got busy.”

“So busy you had lunch with Joshua at the Green Apple yesterday?”

Marla drew herself up. “You spying on
me
now? I think you’re confused about the nature of our relationship.”

“Hardly spying. I
do
own the restaurant, you know, Marla, and the maître d’ knows you by sight. He said you looked like a woman in love.”

“Bullshit. It was just lunch. Joshua’s a new employee. We have a lot to talk about.”

“I’m a bit worried about all the time you’re spending with him. Being near a Ganconer is like being near plutonium. You…soak up the radiation. The effects become more and more powerful, and they stay with you. The more time you spend with a lovetalker, the more susceptible you become to his charms, until you don’t even need to be in his
presence
to fall under his sway.”

“Please. He
works
for me. He only charms the people I tell him to. Anyway, he’s a stand-up guy. I told you how well he handled himself at the gang meeting, and how he helped out with the little reality breakdown afterward.”

“I’m glad he’s working out. I just don’t want your…association…with him to interfere with your other responsibilities. I understand you and Joshua went on a date last night?”

“It wasn’t a date, it was a
business
dinner. But even if it was a date, so what? I don’t answer to you, Hamil.” Sure, she’d put off a few things, but nothing
vital
. The responsibilities that she’d felt so buried by all week seemed less pressing now. Her priorities had shifted, somehow. She was almost
happy,
and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt that way when she wasn’t actually beating someone up or making an enemy miserable.

“I’m your consiglieri. It’s my job to worry. With Genevieve loose, and slow assassins in the city, it just seems like an inopportune time to start a romantic relationship. And if you sleep with a lovetalker…well, their power is supposed to become even greater then. It’s not your fault, it’s just impossible to be rational when you’re under the sway of—”

“I haven’t fucked him, Hamil.”

“I’m just afraid that—”

“Your concerns are duly noted,” Marla said coolly. “Now get lost. I’ve got places to be.”

Hamil levered himself up from chair, opened his mouth, then apparently thought better of it, giving her a curt nod and leaving the room.

Marla scowled. So maybe she was spending a lot of time with Joshua. Was it so bad, that she should enjoy herself a little? You’d think he’d be
happy
for her. Hamil was always telling her she worked too hard, that she should take a break every once in a while. But as soon as she did, he got pissed!

Ted knocked on the door. “Marla, your lunch date is here.”

“Great.” She almost asked him if she looked okay, but bit her tongue in time to stop herself. “Send him in.”

Zealand, dressed in a fine suit, glanced over his newspaper to watch Marla laughing and flirting with the same companion she’d been with for the past few days. She never had come back for the Bentley the other night—Rondeau and Marla’s new personal assistant had retrieved the car after dawn. Marla’s relatively regular daytime patterns had changed, and now she seemed to spend all her time with this man, who was reputedly her new apprentice. Though she still went home, alone, late each night. Zealand decided he should strike soon, before that pattern, too, changed. Tonight, then. It would be good to finish. The other slow assassins were still looking for him. It was time to kill Marla and leave Felport behind. He went back to his newspaper, and across the room, Marla Mason laughed at something her companion said.

A
fter dinner at one of the city’s finest restaurants, Joshua and Marla went back to her office, ostensibly to continue going over the dossiers on the city’s leading sorcerers. Marla thought he’d already learned enough about the major players in the city to handle the negotiations regarding Susan Wellstone’s estate, but it was a good excuse to remain in his company without letting him know how much she enjoyed him.

“If I have to read another word about Viscarro and his vaults, I think I’ll scream,” Joshua said, tossing the folder into the middle of her desk.

“All right, fine. I guess I’ve worked you hard enough for tonight.”

Joshua leaned forward, looking into her eyes, and Marla felt something inside her melt. Gods, he was pretty. “I was hoping…”

“Yeah?”

“That you might agree to come back to my hotel room tonight.”

“Oh?” she said, leaning back, playing it cool. “Why’s that?”

“So I can do my best to seduce you,” he said matter-of-factly. “There’s something about you, Marla. You’re not like other women. Or men, for that matter. These past few days have been eye-opening. You fascinate me.”

“You really think it’s a good idea to try to fuck your boss, Joshua?” Marla wasn’t sure. Her head thought it was a bad idea. The rest of her thought it was a very good idea. And part of her couldn’t figure out why he’d
want
to, when he could have his pick of the most beautiful women and men in Felport, serially or simultaneously, as he desired. Marla thought she had a pretty good sense of her own looks—her features were more strong than pretty, and though she was in great shape, she had more than her share of scars. Some men found her attractive, certainly, but they were mostly people who were attracted to strength and power, and nobody in the
world
had any power over Joshua….

Oh
. Despite her growing attraction, Marla had never stopped talking shit to him. She was snarky, brusque, condescending, and impatient, all very conscious behaviors born from her annoyance at being so fucking
smitten
with him. She was mean to him because to do otherwise would mean admitting she was in his power, and she wasn’t
about
to do that.
And I’m probably the only woman who’s
ever
talked to him this way
. Most straight girls probably just dropped their panties as soon as he smiled at them. Marla must seem like an impossible thing—a
challenge.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea or not, but I think you’d have a very pleasant time,” Joshua said. “Are you interested?”

Marla yawned. “It’s been a while since I’ve indulged. I’m usually too busy for that sort of thing. In all honesty, I’m
currently
too busy for that sort of thing.”

“It doesn’t have to be a
relationship,
” he said. “Though, if that’s what develops…Do you find me attractive?”

Marla laughed out loud. Most guys were more sophisticated than
that
. But why would Joshua have ever needed to learn techniques of seduction? “Of course I do, Joshua. You could weigh four hundred pounds and have two heads and I’d find you attractive. The whole reason you’re valuable to my organization is because
everyone
finds you attractive. So what? Maybe I’m looking for more.” In truth, Marla wasn’t looking for anything, not romantically. She had plenty of other things to keep her occupied, and like she’d told Ted, she wasn’t much of a romantic.

He bowed his head. “I’m sorry. I thought, perhaps…I’ll go.”

Marla had to bite her tongue, literally, to keep from speaking right away. She waited until he was halfway to the door before saying, “Wait. It’s been a long week, and a romp wouldn’t be out of the question. Sure, let’s do it. But we’ll go to my place.”

“Whatever you want,” Joshua said. “I have a limousine waiting downstairs. Hamil was kind enough to provide it.”

“Good,” Marla said, rising. She decided, since she’d come this far, that she could afford to flirt a little. “His limo has nice leather seats. We can get started on the way to my place. I’m curious to see if your talent lives up to the hype.”

“I will endeavor to give satisfaction,” he said, with a smile that made her feel light-headed.

When Zealand was about a block from Marla’s apartment, the world changed. A sudden wave of dizziness overtook him, and he fell toward the side of a building, barely catching himself, and dropping his heavy leather tool-bag. A moment later he was facedown, sprawled inelegantly, his nose pressed against the freezing concrete, with no memory of actually hitting the ground. He sat up, groaning, but the vertigo was fading. There was a trick in hand-to-hand fighting of slapping your opponent against the ear to upset their equilibrium, leaving them to lurch out of balance. He felt like
that
. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths until he felt level again. When he opened his eyes, he saw a massive palace in the center of the street. Made of opalescent stone, it disappeared into the sky, an upthrusting construction that baffled the assassin’s sense of scale. Silver rods protruded from the tower at regular intervals, and yellow banners flapped at the ends of the poles. Arched windows of different sizes dotted the tower, and a few rounded balconies protruded from the sides. It was a beautiful, impossible thing.

Zealand closed his eyes again and did a slow count to ten. Gradually, the sound of the flapping flags diminished, then ceased. He looked, and saw only the icy street and a passing yellow cab, rolling slowly in the evening gloom. No palace.

He rose, picked up his bag, and continued toward Marla’s apartment. Zealand depended on his senses to survive, and a hallucination or loss of equilibrium at the wrong moment could spell death. He’d been working too long among these magicians, with their rituals and mysteries. He didn’t want their indefinite, ever-shifting world to become his own. He’d kill Marla and go elsewhere, maybe back home to the West Coast.

Marla lived in a five-story former flophouse, a squat broad building of crumbling brick with an elaborate sign that read “Hotel Felport” sagging on the roof. It had probably been home to drunks and failed door-to-door salesmen once upon a time, but now Marla lived there alone, on the top floor.

A pair of chipped stone lions, draped in piled snow, guarded the front steps. Cardboard filled the holes in several windows, while the wind whistled through others, though all the windows on the first two stories were barred. A battered wrought-iron gate protected the garbage cans, and a fat tabby crouched beside a disconnected bicycle wheel chained to the gate. Icicles completely choked the gutters, frozen cascades of spikes, and more glistened like teeth from the roof’s overhang. As always he wondered why Marla, Queen of Felport’s Underworld, chose to live in such tawdry quarters.

The front door was well secured, but he found a side door that gave way under the proper application of leverage from his crowbar. Once inside, he headed up the stairs, mistrusting the look of the old-style elevator with its sliding grate. Half the lightbulbs were broken, and trash lay piled on the stairs. The lobby smelled like urine, and the second-floor landing like vomit, while the third floor reeked of pine-scented disinfectant. The fourth floor smelled like mold and motor oil. The fifth floor smelled like dust and nothing much else at all. He went to Marla’s door—501—and frowned at the crudely hacked designs around the doorjamb. They resembled a blend of Arabic and Cyrillic characters, sometimes flowing gracefully, sometimes jagged and angular. Nothing as simple or familiar as a pentagram or a spiral. Zealand took a long, flexible metal rod from his inner coat pocket. He used it to break into cars, sometimes. He extended the rod toward the door slowly, his eyes widening when the hacked runes began to glow with a pale blue light. The end of the rod reddened, and he pulled it back, then spat on the metal. His spittle sizzled where it struck.