The Magpye: Circus (31 page)

"I've figured out what I'm here
for, kid," said the ghost. "I'm The Amazing Zip Nolan, the human
cannonball, the man who can fly. I'm going to do what I was born to
do... I'm going to bring the house down."

Harvey had one last drag on his
cigarette before tossing it off the edge of the roof. It spiralled
out through the night, its glow lost in the glaring neon lights
blazing out of the casino. He checked his gun again before tapping
another cigarette out of the packet and lighting it. He'd heard the
stories, everyone had, and so everyone knew that the freak liked to
come in through the roof. Getting posted up here with his boys by
Taylor was a death sentence. Harvey knew it, his boys knew it.
They'd been marked the minute Cassidy opened his big, god-damned
mouth. The idiot had gotten off easy with a bullet between the
eyes.

Now all that was left of
Cassidy's gang was Harvey and this bunch of kids.

"This is going to be different
boys," said Harvey, raising his voice against the wind. "We're
going to show them all what we can do. We'll kill this freak the
minute he shows his fucking face and we'll be the big names in this
city, just you wait and see."

Nobody answered. They were
cannon fodder. Maybe Harvey was the only one dumb enough not to
believe it.

He started to walk the perimeter of the roof again. Wide
and flat, the only structure that could provide any cover was the
little brick build access to the building below. Plenty of space,
but not many places to hide. Plus, the casino was taller than
anything else around it. Harvey had thought it all through.
No
way
was the freak coming in on the roof this time,
not without being seen.

"All we gotta do is see him
coming," he shouted, doing his best to rally his meagre troops
again. "Just keep your eyes open and the minute you see him you
raise hell and you let him have it, you hear me? He's gotta come
through us, and the bastard can't fly!"

"Hey, Harv? Harvey?!"

Harv's heart skipped a beat and
he almost dropped his gun as he spun in the direction of the
voice.

"What? What?!"

The kid was silhouetted against
a neon light that jutted up over the lip of the roof, but Harvey
could see that he was pointing up. He turned again, fast, bringing
up his gun, ready to fire.

"What
… the…
fuck?"

Inside the airship, all Able
could hear was the scream of the engines and Zip Nolan
laughing.

"You're kill us!" shouted
Able.

Nolan's hands moved again
across the controls. Now, they fought back against him, the old
airship locked on a course it didn't have the power to change.

"You'll live," said Nolan.
"You're getting out."

An image of a parachute, packed
and ready for use, popped into Able's mind.

"When did you?"

"All that time you used to let
me drive?" said Nolan. "I've had plenty of time to prepare."

"I'm not a parachutist," said
Able.

"No, but I am, and I'm sure Magda can help you out if I'm
already
… you
know."

"Gone," said Able. He hadn't
had time to think about what his mind would be like without the
calming influence of Zip Nolan in it, or what he would do without
Nolan to retreat into from time to time.

The airship tipped further
forward, the floor now pitching away from Able's feet.

"There are hand holds in the
floor," said Nolan. "Time to start climbing!"

Able crouched down on the floor
and found the first hand holds. Just in time, he fasten his grip on
one as, with a final scream, the airship began to nose dive. Hand
over hand, Able began to climb up the floor, away from the windows
and towards the rear of the ship.

"You won't need to go all the
way, just make it to the third set of doors. We'll be able to jump
and clear the main part of the hull there."

Grunting with exertion, Able
pulled himself upwards. There was a pressure building inside the
cabin as the iron seams started to buckle under the strain of the
ship's forced descent.

"This is crazy, Zip," said
Able. "We could kill Marv, we could kill everybody."

"Don't worry," laughed the
ghost. "I've got this all planned. Just get to the door."

Down on the roof, Harvey
fumbled with the radio that Taylor had given him as he pitched
through the door back into the casino. Taylor had said that if
Harvey abandoned the roof he was dead but, right now, he was
prepared to take his chances.

"Taylor! Taylor can you hear
me?"

"Yes."

"It's a fucking blimp! The
crazy bastard is going to crash a blimp into us!"

"Understood."

"Understood? Understood?! What
the hell do you mean under-"

Able pulled the heavy iron
lever that held the door shut and dodged out of its way as it
toppled inwards. Wind rushed through the cabin and the windows at
the front of the airship shattered as the nose started to crumple.
Able reached to the wall and unhooked the parachute, strapping it
over his arms one at a time, dangling from whichever was his free
hand. He let Nolan and Magda do the work, their combined expertise
and balance keeping him alive.

With one final look down
through the shattered window at the rapidly approaching rooftops,
Able pulled his legs up and mounted the lip of the door frame.

Without a second thought, he
kicked away and sent himself out into mid-air.

Behind him, the airship frame
rushed past, meter after meter of iron and leather and steel. He
tumbled through the air, Nolan's voice counting calmly in his head.
It was Able's hand, unguided, that held on tight to the parachute
rip cord.

"Hold on kid!" shouted Nolan,
as the tapering end of the airship rushed past them.

Together, Able and Nolan pulled
the rip cord.

The airship hit the roof of the
casino on the far side, the underside of the cabin tearing through
the roof and down into the floors below. Metal screeched against
metal as the two giants, the airship and the fortress, battled with
each other, two titans locked in mortal combat. Sparks flew up from
exposed electrics, igniting the rupturing fuel tanks of the
airship. The explosion tore the main body of the ship in two,
sending the bulbous nose cone off the edge of the roof and tossing
the rear up into the air.

Able watched, drifting high
above the scene, as the nose section tumbled downwards, bouncing
off the wall of the casino and stripping away chunks of neon
lighting and masonry before crashing into the street below,
trailing debris with it. A wave of heat and pressure lifted Able
upwards again as a second explosion, hidden from view, sounded.
What little remained of the roof swelled upwards like a boil and
burst with a gout of smoke and flame.

And, with that, it was
over.

Screaming, burning, and sirens
were what came next. But that was always what came next.

The Magpye had arrived.

Taylor took the stairs three at a time, racing up the
stairwell, Garrity huffing and puffing somewhere in his wake. "Hey,
psycho! You know you're running
towards
the fire,
right?" shouted Garrity.

"So are you," replied Taylor.
Garrity heard it, right there in Taylor's voice. Excitement. It was
the most frightening thing he thought he had ever heard.

"And the freak, you're running
towards
that
freak?"

Taylor stopped at a door, his
hand on the handle.

"You'll always be small,
Garrity, you know that? It's because you lack vision. You lack
clarity. You're a street rat with a badge and that's all you'll
ever be."

"And what are you going to be?"
asked Garrity, finally catching up with his sometime nemesis.
"Cane's successor? You screwed up the night you let the freak
escape from the pit and you know it. You've been marked, Taylor.
You're a dead man walking."

Taylor smiled. That strange,
otherworldly smile. A smile from another place, a place where
smiles meant something different.

"A dead man walking. That's
funny Garrity. Because that's kind of the plan."

Taylor pulled his suit jacket
off, revealing a string of explosives stitched to a concealed
holster. A small detonator was flashing, right over Taylor's
heart.

"Holy shit, Jack, are you
fucking crazy?"

"Perhaps I am," said Taylor.
"Or perhaps I'm the only person who seems clearly in this whole
thing."

Garrity backed away a few
steps, back down the stairwell. He was a natural born survivor, but
anyone would have been able to see that explosives, fire, and a
total sociopath like Taylor where a bad combination.

"What the hell are you going to
do?" asked Garrity. "Blow yourself up?"

"Oh, that's just the start,"
said Taylor. "I've been doing some reading and, well, let's just
say I've got my eyes open now."

From beyond the door there was
a sudden report of gunfire. Taylor twisted the handle and cracked
the door. More gunfire, shouting, and the sound of breaking glass
poured through.

"Are you coming?"

"Screw this," said Garrity.
"Screw you, screw Cane, screw this whole fucking scene."

"If he sees you've run he'll
kill you on sight," warned Taylor. "And if I see you again? I'll
kill you too. Slowly."

"I'll take my chances," said
the fat, piggy cop. "Right now, I think you've all got bigger
problems than me."

Garrity turned and ran down the
stairs as fast as his fat legs would carry him. Taylor wasn't above
shooting him in the back, he knew that, but he guessed right that
he was so far down on Taylor's agenda he wasn't even worth a
bullet. Behind him, he heard the door slam, and the muffled sound
of more gunfire. Maybe they would all just kill each other, thought
Garrity.

"Nah," he mused to himself, "I
ain't that lucky."

Aided by Magda and Zip, Able
drifted on his parachute down the far side of the casino.
Searchlights pierced the sky and fire trucks were already arriving
down below. Cane's dirty cops had set up a barricade, blocking even
the fire-fighters for now. Able wondered if Cane had them in his
pocket too, if the whole thing was an elaborate pantomime for the
benefit of the news cameras. Of course, Cane owned those as well.
He owned everything.

"There," said Magda. "That
balcony."

"Small
…" said
Zip.

"This was your plan," said the
trapeze artist. "It's a little bit late to complain now."

"Just get me down," said Able.
"I feel like a sitting duck up here."

Moving under the command of Zip and Magda, Able tugged on
the parachute lines and began a swift descent towards the balcony.
Zip had been right, it
was
small. Cutting
the lines at the last minute, Able released himself from the
parachute and hit the balcony at speed. Tucking himself quickly
into a ball, he hit the glass balcony doors and crashed through
them into the suite beyond.

Rolling across the carpet,
shards of glass sticking into the leather of his coat, Able stopped
in a crouch, his guns already drawn.

"That was great, kid," said Zip
Nolan. "And I think that's my cue."

Able felt something inside
himself, a warmth he'd never experienced before, either living or
undead. Before he had a chance to say anything, he realised that
the ghost of Zip Nolan was gone.

He was right, he'd brought the
house down.

Able stopped for a moment to
catch his breath.

The suite was nothing special,
just a typically gaudy casino hotel room. It was the door that Able
focussed on. It was not a special door, just a typical hotel room
door. But, beyond it? Beyond it were whatever preparations Cane
King had made for Able's arrival. Beyond it, somewhere, was
Marv.

"OK," said Able, addressing his
ghosts in unison. "Let's go."

Holstering one gun, Able yanked
the door open and burst out into the corridor.

There were two of Cane's men
already there, stalking slowly towards the door. It didn't matter.
Stealth hadn't been a part of the plan. This was all about making
an entrance. This was a performance.

This was the circus.

Able lifted his gun and got
ready for Malcolm to take the shot.

The gun wavered in mid air. Able felt the muscles in his
arm clench, then lock, then
…
nothing.

The Kingsmen didn't move, their
eyes locked on the gun, their own sub-machineguns only half
raised.

Able tried to pull the trigger,
but nothing worked.

"Shit," said Able, and dived
back through the open hotel room door as his two opponents finally
opened fire.

***

Heading down a corridor of his
own, Taylor heard the gunfire. Two, maybe three floors above.

"Damn it," he cursed, before
doubling back on himself at a run.

His plan didn't work unless he
was the one to kill the vigilante. He needed to kill a King.

***

Able kicked the hotel room door
shut behind him before diving across the room and landing on the
floor on the other side of the bed. Bullets ripped through the door
as the goons outside opened fire. They were too scared to come in,
at least for the moment. Able rolled onto his stomach and slithered
back towards the wall.

"What the hell just happened?"
he asked under his breath.

"A log jam, that's what
happened."

The voice that replied was
Malcolm. Since Able had first picked up a gun, Malcolm had taken
every shot. He was a superb marksman and a trick shot without
equal. Whatever his past was, and he was one of the few ghosts who
could still keep some secrets from Able, he'd learnt somewhere how
to shoot. How to shoot, and how to kill.