Once Upon a Time in Hell (19 page)

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Authors: Guy Adams

Tags: #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Historical, #Science Fiction, #Steampunk, #Westerns

BOOK: Once Upon a Time in Hell
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We rode along the driveway, the men following us with their guns.

"Ignore them," said Abernathy, "they ain't got no manners here."

I looked at the garden to either side, trying to recognise a species an failing. I was no ex pert, but I was pretty sure none of these blooms had ever grown anywhere but in Hell.

As we drew closer to the house there came the sound of splashing water. To the left of the trail was a large swimming pool filled with murky, funky-smelling water. This water—or whatever the hell it was, I had decided to no longer speculate on questions I would likely not like the answers to—flowed from the various anatomically precise orifices of statues that surrounded the pool. Human figures, all lovingly-rendered, squatted, thrust or dangled themselves over the edge, keeping the level topped up with their built-in fountains.

A figure was carving its way through the pool, pulling himself along with powerful strokes. When he got to the end, a pair of giant hands slapped down on the tiles at the edge and hoisted him up into the air. This was Greaser.

He was built like a strongman, his entire body a perfect map of muscles and the tendons that linked them. His skin was pale and partially transparent so you could see the workings be neath. He walked towards us, his bare feet seemingly unconcerned by the thorns and stones they stamped on as he cut through the garden.

"Hello there, Abernathy, you old bastard." He smiled at the little man and his teeth were as perfect as the rest of him, great, shining rectangles that looked like they could snap a finger right off your hand in one happy bite. "You'd better not have short-changed me on the whisky again."

"I never short-changed you before, damn it. I told you, one of your boys here must have taken a swig."

"And who are these friends of yours?" He looked at each of us in turn, Biter about ready to swoon as his attention passed to him.

" It's a pleasure to finally meet you Mr Greaser, sir," he said, suddenly transformed into a fawning idiot in the presence of someone he found so impressive. "Having heard so much about you."

"Well ain't that sweet. If I was of a mind to own a pet you'd be first on the list."

That shut Biter up and I felt sorry for him as I watched him bite his tongue.

"And you darlin'?" he said to Meridiana. "Have you heard all about me too?"

"I sure have," she replied, "but I'm not one to let that prejudice me."

He thought about that for a moment and I wondered if he might just pull her off her rakh and start kicking her until she broke. He certainly looked capable of it. In the end he just decided to keep that fixed smile, turning his attention to me. "And a mortal I see? Here for The Fastening?"

"And hoping to do a little business," I said.

Here was the thing: the old man and I had discussed our plan at some length while Abernathy sorted out his order. We needed to entice this man somehow and, whether Biter had been right or not in what he had heard, it seemed to us the only way to gain leave to hang around a little while would be to offer some kind of financial incentive. This was a man of business and that was likely the one thing he would respect in someone else, at least as long as he thought there might be a cut in it for him.

"Is that so?" he asked.

Abernathy gave me a dirty look. "Said you were here to see the woman."

"That too," I replied "that too."

"The woman?" asked Greaser.

"I believe the lady Agrat is currently your guest. We have had some past dealings."

"You and the rest of creation I dare say," he replied, chuckling and patting the neck of my rakh. "That is a woman who gets around."

I wasn't sure what I should say to that so I simply smiled and kept my peace.

"And what sort of business is it that you might like to discuss?"

"I hear you may be in the market for livestock," I said, "of a rare and valuable breed."

For the first time he took me seriously. He was by no means convinced of my worth but I had intrigued him enough to get his attention.

"People talk," he said, "you shouldn't always listen."

"I dare say," I replied, "but as we're here maybe you might have a few minutes for a more private discussion?"

He thought about that for a moment. "I don't tend to do business with people I don't know," he said, "I have something of a temper on me, tell the truth, and I don't like to end up in situations where it's likely to be triggered."

"I'm sure we can discuss things with no fear of that. After all, it's only talk. And later, if you do decide you want to do business, we can worry about credentials then." He thought for a moment longer, then that big smile returned. "Why not? It's a beautiful day and I wouldn't want it said I don't know how to be hospitable!" He turned to Abernathy.

"You and my men get my stuff unpacked and squared away. Then get yourself back down there to your little hole."

"My little hole..." Abernathy muttered, "I'll get you to kiss my little hole one of these days."

Greaser turned back to me. "He's a surly little fucker ain't he? He's lucky there's no other trading post nearby otherwise I might be forced to pull that rude tongue out of his head."

He gestured to the stables. "Why don't you let one of my boys stable your beasts and come and join me by the pool for a spell? Maybe you'd even care for a dip?"

"I'm not the strongest swimmer," I said, because there was no way I was setting so much as a toe in that filthy-looking pond, "but I'll happily take the weight off for a while."

"It's a deal." He waved at one of his men who strolled over. We dismounted and he led the rakh away.

"Oh," said Greaser, looking once more at Biter. "You gonna stable that too? Or do you like to keep it with you?"

"He stays with us," I replied quickly, noting that Biter was having difficulty taking these insults in silence.

"That's sweet," said Greaser. "He maybe do a few tricks? I don't know... catch a ball or something?"

Biter actually coughed at that, trying to swallow back the hollered cures he desperately wanted to offer. He knew better than to put us all in danger though and just looked at the ground, his fists clenching and unclenching. "Sounds like he has a hairball or something," Greaser suggested. "Hope it's not too serious, I'd hate to see it choke to death if you're fond of it."

"That certainly would be a shame," I replied.

I turned to Meridiana. "Maybe it would be best if Biter hang back here?" I suggested. I gave him a look that I hoped he understood as a sympathetic. "We don't want to cause anyone upset do we?"

Biter looked about ready to tear my head off but, in truth, it was him I was thinking of more than Greaser. There would only be so many insults he could take and I had no doubt that our host would be quick to retaliate—and likely in a manner that ended the argument permanently. Meridiana nodded, she understood at least, and pulled Biter to one side. The old man followed me as I walked towards the pool, and turned my attention back to Greaser, desperate to move the conversation along. "Shall we take a seat?"

"Surely, let us do just that." He waved towards the house where a maid had appeared.

"You folks want something to drink? A mint julep or something?" His smile widened. "I have the sweetest tooth."

"That would be lovely," I said.

"Fetch us three mint juleps, Cassandra, honey," he shouted.

By the side of the pool was a large table, Greaser pointed to one of the chairs and I sat down in it, the old man hovering behind me.

Meridiana, having consoled Biter briefly, sat next to me. I looked over towards the driveway where Biter was clearly muttering to himself and thinking long and hard about what he'd like to do with Greaser.

After a moment our drinks arrived. "Thank you Cassandra, honey," said Greaser. "You might want to tell our guest we have company, I believe they already know each other."

The maid nodded and retreated to the house.

"You think you can manage this, kid?" asked the old man. I smiled, hoping that was reply enough. After all, it wasn't as if I had much choice now, was it?

I took a long draught of my drink. It was the nicest thing to have happened to my mouth for weeks.

"So," said Greaser. "Tell me about this livestock of yours."

"Well, as you know, on my side of the fence we did well out of slavery for years," I said, "then the war came along and attitudes changed. There are some who regret that deeply. Some who have enjoyed the bounty such industry used to pay their families. In the years since that regrettable conflict, fortunes have been spent, certain privileges lost. Then I hear tell that maybe there's someone who might still be willing to do business." I looked at him. "By which I mean you."

"I'd got that," he said, with a laugh. "And what do you think I might be doing with such livestock. If indeed, I am doing anything with it all?"

"Now, that really wouldn't be any of my business would it?" I replied, taking another sip of my drink. It really was nice.

"I suppose it wouldn't," he agreed. "And what sort of assurance might you be able to offer me that you're on the level?"

"I don't think I'd be stupid enough to come marching in here otherwise," I said, laughing a little too loudly. I put the drink back in my mouth to keep it busy.

"Mint juleps are alcoholic, kid," said the old man. "You might want to go easy on that." I put the drink down, I'd all but finished it anyway. So that's why I suddenly felt the urge to be really, really loud. When you've made it your business never to touch liquor you'll find a little goes a long way.

"You'll forgive me—or not, I don't really care—if I say you do seem kind of stupid," said Greaser. "I mean, a wet-behind-the-ears kid, a dog and a dancing girl. It's not exactly the most intimidating posse."

"I wasn't trying to be intimidating, quite the opposite, I'm here to make friends not enemies."

"Friends, yes... here's another one now." He looked over my shoulder. "Agrat, darlin', I believe you know my young visitor?"

"Brazen it out, kid," said the old man. "It's your only chance."

I stood up, too quickly as it happens because I became immediately aware that my legs might give way at any moment.

"Madame Agrat," I said, as if greeting an old friend, lifting her hand to my lips. "How lovely to see again so soon! I'm doing everything you suggested and keeping my life interesting."

"So it would appear," she replied, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to decide how to respond to me.

"She'll do whatever amuses her most," the old man had said. "That's just the way she is.

It's all about the game. You need to convince her that she'll have the most fun by playing along."

"I've just been talking to Mr Greaser here," I said, trying to talk quickly so that she didn't have time to say anything, "trying to convince him it would be an excellent idea to go into business together. Why don't you come and help? You can tell him what an industrious young fellow I am." "I suppose I could," she said, sitting down at the table. "But what would be in it for me?"

"A woman after my own heart," said Greaser. "Always looking to the profit."

"Well," I said, "just imagine what fun we could have if he did decide I was worth investing in! I dare say my life would be one long adventure."

She smiled again. "I dare say."

"That's the trick, kid," said the old man. "She has to decide what's more interesting and valuable to her in the future: you getting a bullet from Greaser in your forehead—for all the good it would do him—or allowing you to continue the pretence."

"So," said Greaser, looking at Agrat, "should I listen to what he has to offer?"

"Oh certainly. Where would be the fun in doing anything else?"

"She's all about fun," said Greaser, turning his attention back to me. "I think that's the only reason she came knocking on my door. You make a name for yourself and all the women come calling."

"Well darling," Agrat replied, "that and the fact that I suddenly found myself without transport. When a lady's in need she knows to knock on the most expensive door in reach."

"And that certainly would be mine," he agreed. He turned back to me. "The lady found herself stranded after her boat sank. You hear anything about that?"

"I did indeed," I admitted, before turning to Agrat. "I would, of course, have helped in any way I could."

"I'm sure," she replied.

"So," Greaser drained his drink and slammed the glass on the table, "let's get back to my favourite subject: business. What exactly are you offering me?" "I'm offering an open channel for livestock between my world and yours, I am in partner ship with some of the leading suppliers and we only want to deal with the best over here, I am led to believe that would be you."

"And who is it, exactly, that leads you to believe that?"

"You must be aware that your name has become well known in certain circles."

"I am, indeed, aware, I just want you to start naming those circles. Who have you done business with before? Who can I go to in order to get some sense of your bona fides?"

This was difficult because, of course, I couldn't name anyone.

"The Greel Enclave," said the old man, "they were always the big movers down here."

"The Greel Enclave speaks highly of you," I said, "and their word, I am led to understand, has weight."

"The Greel Enclave? Really? How interesting."

I looked at Agrat who was slowly shaking her head. I turned my attention to Meridiana who had been doing her best to seem invisible throughout the entire conversation.

"Everything's unpacked, boss," said one of Greaser's henchmen, sidling over. "You want me to pay the man?"

"Not really," said Greaser with a smile. "I want you to take him and that dog-faced son of a bitch and tie 'em up in the stables. I'll be wanting to have some fun with them a little later on."

"I don't think there's any need for that," I said, though I could tell I had lost whatever power I might have had.

"I don't rightly give a fuck for your opinion on the matter," said Greaser with a grin.

"You're full of shit and I want to know what brought you to my door. The Greel Enclave hasn't been in business for the best part of twenty years. Why, I killed old Changez Greel myself." "I am a little out of touch," the old man admitted, "sorry. It may be we have to figure an other way out of this." He pulled his gun and pointed it at Greaser's head. "Tell him that you have a sharp-shooter ready to empty his brains into that goddamned pool of his unless he lets all of you walk out of here right now."

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