Catskinner's Book (The Book Of Lost Doors) (16 page)

Russwin opened his mouth, but White interrupted him. “She's right, you know.”

Russwin turned to White, frowned, then nodded slowly. He turned back to me. “Okay, fair enough. You”—he emphasized the word— “would rather not kill Morgan. But Catskinner can and will.”

“
and wants to
,” Catskinner's voice just came out. I hadn't known he was even listening.

“Right.” Russwin looked carefully at my face, and I could see him seeing the differences. “Well, maybe we should be talking to you, then.”

My eyes turned to Godiva. “
he is not an idiot
.”

“Well, no, not literally,” Godiva allowed, “Technically, an idiot has the mental capacity of a four year old.”

My eyes flickered back to Russwin. “
it is hard for you to kill your own kind. you are frightened of james because you think it is easy for james to kill his own kind. you are wrong. james does not kill. i kill, and it is easy for me because humans are not my kind.
”

And then he was gone, leaving me facing Russwin's eyes—eyes that looked me like I was an infectious disease.

“You're right,” I told him, “this is not your fight.”

“Now, let's just wait a minute—” White objected.

“You said it yourself,” I reminded him, “Other Than Human. What do you care what happens to me and Godiva?”

“I care because you can keep me alive,” White shot back. “Look, I get it—you're tired of being treated like a monster and you want somebody to like you for you. And, believe me, I'd love to be able to say that I think you're a sweet guy and I'll invite you to my daughter's q
uinceañera, but you and I both know I'd be lying. But that doesn't matter. What does matter is that you saved me from being burned alive—as far as I'm concerned that puts you on the side of the angels.”
 

White directed a pointed look at Russwin. “Now if we can all just put our egos away for a few minutes, let's talk about how we can all work together to stay healthy.”

Russwin glanced at White, nodded, then turned back to me. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn't understand.”
 

I nodded. Was I supposed to apologize to him now? “It's confusing,” I admitted. That was as close as I could get.

That seemed to satisfy him. He leaned back in his chair and looked over at Alice. “So what now?”

She sighed deeply. “Well, the usual strategy against someone who is holed up is a siege. But I don't see us having time for that—I'm sure he's got reserves.”

Something occurred to me. “What about his power?”

“He's been consolidating his forces for years—” Alice began.

I waved my hands to cut her off, and Russwin flinched. Sorry. “No, no, I mean his electric power.”

They looked at me.

“I didn't see a generator in that place. He's on the city power, right?”

White nodded slowly. “Yeah, his utilities are paid from a Good Earth account. Electric, gas, water, sewer, all the usuals.”

“So we can cut his power lines,” I suggested. “That might get a reaction.”

Russwin frowned. “You can't just cut down high tension wires.”

White agreed. “And if you did, Ameren UE would just put them back up. He wouldn't have to leave the shop.”

Godiva cocked her head. “Have you guys got any pull with the utility companies?”

A pause. Then, “Not as such,” from Russwin, but slowly, like he was thinking it over.

White looked over at him. “We could maybe get a grand jury to freeze the account temporarily...”

Russwin shook his head. “Too slow. We'd need to do it from a public safety angle.”

“What township is that?” Godiva asked.

“Unincorporated county,” Alice answered her.
 

“Still?”

“Yeah,” White said. “There's about six blocks in there that are still unincorporated. I get the feeling that he likes it that way.”
 

Russwin nodded slowly, thinking it over. “County Fire, then. We can work with them.”
 

I remembered something. “When I was there, he said the fire inspectors didn't know he existed.”

“Interesting,” White said, “Let's see what we can do about that. Maybe HUD?”

Russwin nodded. “I was thinking Census, but HUD might work better.”

I wasn't quite following the discussion, even though I had kind of started it. “So, you can use HUD to shut off his electricity?”

“Not exactly,” White countered, “but utility customers are required to be in compliance with certain federal, state, and local ordinances, which, in turn are interpreted by the local authority having jurisdiction, who in this case would be County Fire. Now, County Fire has a vested interest in maintaining the good will of Housing and Urban Development, and would be inclined to cooperate, eh, vigorously, with an ongoing investigation into a fraud case involving the misapprehension of federal funds.”

“Which the Good Earth does not receive,” Alice pointed out.

“Not directly, no,” Russwin allowed, “however, as a 501c3—”
 

“IRS,” White said.
 

“Great, who gets to swim with the sharks?” Russwin sighed.

“Flip you for it,” White suggested.

“You can get his utilities shut off?” Godiva asked.

White looked at Russwin. Russwin looked at White, then over to Godiva. “Tomorrow's Monday. I'm thinking Wednesday, can you survive until Wednesday?”

Catskinner answered for all of us.
“yes.”
 

Alice nodded slowly. “That should work.”

“What the hell—?” Godiva was looking over White's shoulder.
 

Chapter Fifteen

“death is the cessation of appetite.”

I turned slowly. Whatever was going on hadn't triggered Catskinner's threat radar, his attention stayed focused on Russwin and White. At first I couldn't tell what Godiva was looking at.

Things seemed normal, for a bowling alley on a Sunday afternoon. About half of the lanes were in use and nobody looked like they were taking it too seriously—not the hushed concentration of a league night. An ordinary crowd, jeans and T-shirts, the bowling an excuse to eat junk food and drink beer on a Sunday afternoon. But then I noticed a group coming in the door that wasn't ordinary.
 

My first thought was “beach volleyball team.” But this wasn't Southern California. Firm young bodies in tight shorts and tank tops, white against tanned skin. Bright smiles and flowing hair, pink lipstick and fingernails.
 

And every one of them was wearing sunglasses.

Godiva stood up. Russwin and White reflexively flanked their hands on their holsters, looking more confused than concerned. Even Catskinner didn't see the new arrivals as a threat.
 

Nor did the patrons of the bowling alley.

The group of young women spread out from the entrance, smiling warmly. It looked like an advertising gimmick. I expected them to start handing out fliers or free samples of hair care products. Obviously Godiva expected something different.

“Don't let them get close,” she said to White and Russwin. “They spit.”

Russwin gave her a sharp look, then nodded, turning his attention back to the newcomers. They were joining the small groups that occupied the lanes, introducing themselves and joining in the conversations. I saw, or felt, an echo of Catskinner's perceptions of their movements as a strategic infiltration and his focus warmed my back. None of them approached us, but I started to share Godiva's concern.
 

“Who are they?” I asked Alice softly.

“They're ambimorphs,” she answered, watching them warily. “But what are they doing here?”
 

Oh yes, of course. Ambimorphs. That explained . . . nothing. Still, whatever they were had Godiva concerned. I stood up. “Okay, so, I'm going to take a wild guess and say it's time to go.”
 

Alice stood and we started moving towards the exit. A lean young woman—ambimorph—was sitting on the counter by the door, her athletic legs stretched out. The counterman was untying her sneakers, a goofy grin on his face. Neither of them so much as looked up as we passed, but I noticed Russwin had his gun out, holding down by his leg, and White kept his hand on his holster.
 

Somebody started clapping, rhythmically and I jumped. One of the ambimorphs had climbed on a table and was starting to dance surrounded by a wide-eyed crowd. This was getting really creepy.
 

“I can't believe he sent them to try and stop us,” Godiva muttered, sounding disgusted.

“He didn't,” said a new voice. A man was standing in the front lobby. A big man, muscular, with a shiny bald head, blocking the doors. “They're just here to pacify the crowd. I'm here to take you away.”

White stopped and spread his arms slightly. “There's no reason this has to turn ugly. Just get out of the way and we'll be gone.”

The bald man shrugged. “Sure, go ahead. You two can take off, or stay here and play with the girlies, or, heck, bowl a couple of frames. I don't care.”  He pointed at me and Godiva. “It's those two who are coming with me.”

“we go nowhere at your bidding, hired man.”
Catskinner had slid into my body like a hand into a glove, smoothly filling the spaces between my nerve endings. I felt White and Russwin close ranks to either side of me, and Godiva slip behind us. Catskinner didn't turn to watch the others—maybe he was learning to trust them, or maybe he just saw the big man blocking the exit as the greater threat.
 

The bald man sighed. He wasn't just bald, I noticed, he had no hair at all, not even eyelashes. His skin looked slick and a little gray, almost like a dolphin's hide. He raised a hand and Catskinner's attention followed it. He had no fingernails, either. “Okay, I guess it does have to get ugly.”

White had his gun out, pointed at the bald man. “Or maybe just for you.”

For a moment we all just stood there, looking at each other. A long moment, long enough for me to think that maybe he was bluffing and that we were going to be able to just walk past him—

—and then things got really busy.

Somebody's gun went off, painfully loud, but I was in motion, past and over the gunshot, bouncing up to the ceiling. There was a huge ugly light fixture up there, some relic of the 1960s in chrome and neon with little ray gun projections all over it. I'd walked under it without noticing it, but evidently Catskinner had been paying attention because he yanked on it and it came crashing down—along with about half of the ceiling—to bury big and bald under a mess of debris. A regular human would have been crushed but he stood there unmoved and I felt Catskinner's realization of that fact along with an impression of terrible weight.

Catskinner was still moving across the lobby, and I heard more gunshots, one and two and three and four and five, calm and measured, then the sound of something big breaking. Then a fire extinguisher—something else I hadn't noticed but Catskinner had—was in my hands and I spun around and it impacted against the stranger in an explosion of white powder and smoke and still the bastard wouldn't go down, just staggered a little.
 

A bowling ball came out of somewhere and bounced off that bald head with no reaction. I guessed that either Godiva or Alice had thrown it, Russwin was standing back and changing clips, no expression on his face. White was down in a splash of blood at the stranger's feet.
 

What is that guy? I asked Catskinner in my head.

his elements have been shifted downwards
, I heard in reply as my body hopped, dropped, rolled, and came up on my feet next to a rack of balls,
heavier metals than human bodies possess.
 

Then my hands were throwing bowling balls. I knew how Catskinner could use my muscles. Those balls would have dented a battleship's hull, yet the stranger was still standing. I did, however, seem to have gotten his attention. He turned and started walking towards me.

I had mixed feelings about that.

Catskinner stood to face him, his attention fixed on the empty space around him. I saw Godiva bending over White. Russwin had reloaded but wasn't firing, I guess my body was in his line of sight. I didn't see Alice anywhere.
 

Catskinner was moving my head, scanning the surroundings. Something registered to one side, a flat metal panel on the wall, and then the stranger was on me and Catskinner ghosted out of the way of his strike.

See that metal sheet on the wall? I spoke in my head. See if you can get him to hit it.
 

Catskinner didn't reply, he was dodging, but my body moved against the wall.

“
i will see you drowned deep in cold water,
” Catskinner spoke aloud, and the bald man lunged at us. I was on the ground suddenly and there was a flash of white that blinded me, followed by the sound of something heavier than a man hitting the tile.
 

Through purple afterimages I saw Russwin growing closer and I took my body back. Catskinner gave it up easily.

“Is he down?” I asked Russwin. I still couldn't see well enough to tell.

“He's down,” Russwin said. Evidently my plan had worked. The big guy swung at me and Catskinner dodged so that the big guy's fist went through the electrical panel instead. Whatever he was at least partially metallic.