Dying Is My Business (12 page)

The men at the bar who’d stared at Thornton earlier turned to glare at him again. A grizzled old man in a porkpie hat added, “You shouldn’t smoke anyway. Bloody things’ll kill you.”

“Too late for that,” Thornton muttered. He dropped the cigarette into his beer, where it sizzled out.

I watched Thornton closely. “Are you scared?” I asked.

“Scared of what?”

“Dying.”

“Nah, dying’s easy,” he said. “Comedy is hard.”

“I’m serious.”

His gaze was steady as it met mine. “I’m already dead, Trent. What’s there to be scared of?”

I shrugged. “What comes after.”

“Ah.” He thought about it a moment, then said, “You know, I’ve seen filthy, abandoned subway platforms turned into beautiful, ornate goblin temples. I’ve seen creatures that live at the bottom of the Central Park Reservoir that would make you scream in terror if you caught even a glimpse of them, only they’re the most peaceful beings I’ve ever met. They spend all day preparing elaborate meals of algae and phytoplankton, and then at night they put on puppet shows for their young. The universe never stops surprising us, Trent. Nothing is ever what it seems. The way I figure it, death is no different. It’s just another kind of existence, another plane of reality.”

It sounded nice, and I hoped he was right. I didn’t tell him that my own experiences with death were very different. I never saw another plane of existence. I never saw anything at all.

“It’s not what comes next that scares me, Trent,” Thornton continued. “What scares me is leaving Gabrielle. I can’t even imagine not having her by my side. It’s funny, all the little things in a relationship that can bug you, like your girlfriend’s mad that you left hair in the shower drain, or you’re mad that she turned off the cable box when you wanted to DVR your favorite show, and then suddenly…” He paused a moment, staring at the soggy cigarette floating in his Guinness. “Suddenly there’s an expiration date, and you realize how much time you wasted on stuff that doesn’t matter. You realize love is a lot bigger and a lot more important than you ever thought it was.”

I was going to have to take his word on that, though I often wondered if there was someone I’d loved, or who’d loved me, before my past was stripped away. My guess was no. If someone loved me, wouldn’t they try to find me?

“Thornton!” Bethany shouted over the music. She held the phone out for him. Thornton leapt out of the booth and took it from her. He put the phone to his ear and leaned against the wall with his back to the bar. I couldn’t see his expression, but I could guess what it was.

The bartender, Porkpie Hat, and the rest of the men at the bar watched Thornton at the public phone. They glared at him and muttered to each other. They looked nervous, on edge.

Bethany came to the booth and sat in Thornton’s seat. She scowled at the pint glass with the cigarette in it and pushed it away. “Ugh, what have you two been doing?”

“So what’s the plan?” I asked.

“Just like I said, it’s not safe to meet up with Isaac yet, not with the gargoyles still out there. We can’t risk leading them right to him. But he told me about a safe house that’s just a few blocks from here. We’re supposed to meet a woman there named Ingrid Bannion. Isaac is calling her now to let her know we’re coming. We’ll stay at the safe house until the sun’s up. The gargoyles won’t risk being out in the daylight, it hurts them too much.”

“But you said it doesn’t kill them?”

“Not much does.” She leaned closer, her hair falling over her eyes in a way that made her look a lot younger than she was. “I told Isaac about what happened with the Anubis Hand, and what you did to the Black Knight. He’s very interested in meeting you.”

“Who
is
Isaac?” I asked. “You’ve been talking about him all night but I have no idea who he is.”

“He’s the man we work for.”

I nodded. I’d thought as much. “The one who sends you out to secure magical artifacts before any of the Infected get them.”

She arched an eyebrow at me in surprise, the corners of her lips curling up in a half-smile. “I see you and Thornton have been talking. Good. I bet Isaac could use someone like you.”

I liked the fact that I’d impressed her. I liked even more that I’d made her smile.

I pushed the thought away. It was dangerous to get attached. I knew that. What was I, some goddamn amateur?

“Right now Isaac, Gabrielle, and Philip are back at Citadel, tracking the gargoyles’ movements,” she said. “They can keep the gargoyles occupied with some spells to misdirect them, but until the sun is up he wants us to wait it out somewhere safe. That’s the best he can do for us.”

Citadel. She’d mentioned that name before, back in the Explorer. Isaac’s base of operations. I still didn’t know where it was. Citadel was another word for castle or fortress, but where was there any such thing in New York City? It had to be close enough that Thornton had considered going right back there from the warehouse. I also made a mental note that there were five people involved in Isaac’s operation, including Bethany and Thornton. That complicated things. Two people I could steal from without breaking a sweat. Five was a lot harder.

And then there was the second part of Underwood’s orders, the part about not leaving any survivors. My stomach felt sour thinking about it. I pushed it aside. It was a bridge I’d cross later. First things first. I didn’t have the box yet. I didn’t even know where it was, other than that someone named Gregor was holding onto it for them.

“Something on your mind?” she asked. “You’ve got that look in your eye again.”

“I have a look?” I asked.

“You’ve got a lot of looks, actually, but I call this one the
I’m about to punch someone
look.”

She smiled again. I forced myself to look away before it sucked me in. I said, “I don’t get it. Isaac is here in the city, right?” She nodded. “Then why doesn’t he come help you? Why hasn’t he picked you up yet? You’ve been on the run since last night.”

“It’s policy,” she explained. “Once we’re out in the field, we’re on our own.”

That sounded uncomfortably familiar. “So he just hangs you out to dry?”

“It’s not like that. Isaac knows what he’s doing. But if we’re going to do any good, none of this can be traced back to him.”

That, too, sounded familiar. I found myself growing unexpectedly angry. “Why? What makes him so special that he needs protecting?”

“It’s not who he is, it’s what he’s got.”

Before I could ask anything else, the scuff of somebody’s shoe against the floor made me turn. The people at the bar were off their stools and on their feet, milling about restlessly. They were focused like a laser on Thornton, who was too busy talking to Gabrielle on the phone to notice them. They looked like animals that had been backed into a corner, shifting their weight nervously back and forth, from foot to foot. They didn’t approach Thornton, but it was only a matter of time. I could feel the violence brewing. It thickened the air.

Thornton hung up the phone and came back to the booth, grinning from ear to ear. His smile made the scar on his cheek look even worse. The torn flap of skin wobbled like it was going to come loose again.

“See? I told you I’d make sure you got to talk to her,” Bethany said.

Thornton nodded, still beaming. “She’s sure there’s something that can help me. She told me she’s going to read every spell book she can get her hands on to find a way to circumvent the amulet’s time limit. She thinks she might be able to make its effects permanent.”

“That’s good news,” I said.

“If anyone can do it, Gabrielle can. I know she can,” he said.

Bethany looked down, avoiding his eyes. It looked like she had something to say but had chosen to keep her mouth shut instead.

“Hey!” someone called. Thornton didn’t turn to see who it was, but I did. It was one of the guys at the bar, a man in his thirties with the sloppy, red-splotched features of someone who’d been drinking since he was old enough to lift a glass. He and the others had clustered together in a tight pack, giving themselves over to a primal herd instinct. Behind them, the bartender had his hand on whatever was under the bar. I was curious about what it was, but not enough to want him to pull it out.

“Hey,” the man called again.

Under the table, I pulled my Bersa semiautomatic out of the back of my pants and transferred it to the pocket of my leather jacket, just in case.

“Hey, you!” the man called.

This time Thornton turned around. “Jesus Christ,
what?
”

They came forward hesitantly, taking half-steps but keeping their pack positions. Their fear of Thornton was so strong it had turned into a seething hatred. It was like watching a herd of gazelles muster up the courage to attack a lion.

The bartender finally lifted the object from behind the bar. A wooden Louisville Slugger. I let out a small breath of relief. It was better than a shotgun, and it meant as long as these guys didn’t start with the pitchforks-and-torches routine I could leave my gun in my pocket.

I slid out of my seat and showed them my empty hands. “Is there a problem?”

Porkpie Hat jutted his chin at Thornton. “He’s the problem. What does he want? Why is he here?”

Thornton opened his mouth to answer. I knew he was going to say something smart-assed that would only make things worse, so I jumped in fast and said, “We’re not looking for trouble.”

“Then why don’t you just get the hell out,” the bartender said. Then, to emphasize his point, he hit the countertop with his baseball bat a couple of times, like he was shooing away a raccoon.

“We were just leaving,” I said.

“See to it, then,” the splotchy-faced man said.

We left the booth and left the bar, exiting back out onto Eighth Avenue. I hoped Isaac and the others were doing their job keeping the gargoyles distracted, because now that we were outside again we were exposed and vulnerable.

Bethany led the way downtown. I kept an eye on the sky, but so far so good. No gargoyles, at least none that I could see against the dark.

“What the hell was their problem?” Thornton demanded.

“Sorry, but I told you,” Bethany said. “It’s a survival instinct left over from primitive times. People can sense the undead, but only on a purely subconscious level. If you asked any of them back there why they were so on edge, they wouldn’t be able to tell you. They couldn’t help themselves.”

“That’s me, always bringing out the best in people.” He sighed. “So I really am a pariah, then.”

“Not to us,” she said. She took him by the good arm as we crossed Eighth Avenue. It struck me as a rare moment of warmth from her, the first time I’d seen her act like Thornton’s friend instead of his supervisor.

We cut through one of the side streets. We were in the theater district, but it was already late enough that the restaurants and piano bars were closed. The sidewalks were deserted. I didn’t like being this out in the open.

We passed an alley between buildings. Instinct made me turn and look inside. I didn’t see anything but a thick cloud of steam. It roiled and twisted, and then something broke through it. A gargoyle. It crawled sideways along the brick wall like a bug. I froze.

The gargoyle lifted its head to look at me. I recognized it from the warehouse. Yellow Eye. But then it did something I didn’t expect. Without making a sound, Yellow Eye retreated back into the steam and vanished. I didn’t understand. The gargoyle had seen me. There was no way it couldn’t have. So why didn’t it attack?

Bethany stopped walking. She came back to see what I was looking at, but by then it was just an empty alley. “What is it?”

“I thought I saw—” I started to say.

The chilling shriek of a gargoyle sounded somewhere above us. I looked up and saw a winged shape moving along the rooftops.

“Run,” I said, but the gargoyle was already swooping down toward us.

Eleven

The gargoyle soared over the awnings and curbside trees, tracing our route down the sidewalk. We were injured and slow, but even if we’d been able to run quickly the gargoyle could have overtaken us without much effort. As it was, it must have thought we were child’s play. It swooped into Bethany from behind, knocking her to the sidewalk. She tried to get back on her feet, but the gargoyle landed on top of her. It straddled her back and pinned her down.

I skidded to a halt. My hand was on my gun before I remembered bullets were useless against these things. Damn it, weren’t Isaac and the others supposed to be drawing the gargoyles away?

Bethany struggled to get free, but the gargoyle was too heavy. She tried to reach into her vest for a charm, but her arms were pinned the wrong way for that. Perched on her back, the gargoyle drew back one claw, preparing to strike.

“Get off of her!” Thornton yelled. He ran at it, brandishing the broken half of the Anubis Hand. He swung it before the gargoyle could react. The mummified fist connected with the gargoyle’s snout. There was a much smaller flash this time, and no web of fire, but the gargoyle still tumbled off of Bethany, stunned. Thornton helped her up, and together they started running. The gargoyle stumbled side to side on its feet for a moment, its wings twitching, then shook its head clear. It saw Thornton taking its prey away and released an angry shriek.

“Thornton, the staff!” I shouted. He tossed it to me. I caught it and ran at the gargoyle, noticing for the first time that it wasn’t Yellow Eye. Strange, Yellow Eye hadn’t come back after mysteriously retreating into the alleyway. I swung the staff, and the Anubis Hand connected with the gargoyle’s jaw. There was a much brighter flash now. The gargoyle was knocked backward, burning as it rolled across the street, giving off sparks and embers until it finally exploded in a burst of blackened ash. I turned back to the others. “Now
that’s
how you hit a gargoyle,” I said.

Bethany was pale and out of breath. Her spill on the sidewalk had opened the cut in her knee again, and she was leaning against Thornton for support. “Save the gloating,” she said. “We have to get to the safe house before more of them come. It isn’t far now.”