The Perdition Score (37 page)

I look at Allegra.

“What did that bug get me with?”

“Some kind of Hellion neurotoxin. Nasty stuff. Between that and the fever, we were amazed you made it home.”

“Thanks for fixing me up.”

“Thanks for getting medicine for Eugène. Candy told me about the angel.”

I look at the blister on my wrist. It's already gone, but there's a new circular scar.

Candy sits down next to me.

“You need a shave,” she says.

“How long was I gone?”

“Six days.”

“I left a day after you. I was in the corn for five days?”

“You didn't turn left, did you?”

“I thought I had to turn right to get home.”

“It doesn't work that way.”

“No shit.”

I sleep some more. My arm and hand are bandaged. The leg hurts more. I must have dug in deep. Remind me not to do surgery when I'm high on neurotoxins.

I can hear people in the store. Then it's quiet. Later, I can hear people again. That's how I count the days. People in. People out.

Kasabian comes up one afternoon with a bag.

“Apple fritters from Donut Universe.”

I take one.

“Thanks.”

Take a bite and limp to the bathroom, where I throw it up again.

Kasabian helps me back into bed.

“Don't tell Candy,” he says on the way out.

Later, Candy and I are in bed.

“I thought I'd lost you again,” she says.

“I told you I'd come back.”

“And you didn't bring me a thing. Not a T-shirt. Not a bumper sticker.”

“I gave the Colt to Bill. I hope that's all right.”

“It's okay. We'll find you something else. Maybe one of those pink Charter Arms revolvers.”

I sit up and Candy puts another pillow behind my back.

“Did I tell you what happened to Hesediel?”

“Yeah. You seemed pretty broken up about it.”

“I need to find Samael and have a word.”

“When you're better.”

“If I died, the fucker would be here in a flash.”

“Don't even joke about that.”

I put my arm around her. It feels good to have it sort of working again.

“Sorry. I'm not going anywhere.”

“Good. You haven't even heard the band yet.”

“Have you been practicing?”

“Not while you were gone, but we're back at it.”

“I want to hear.”

“Soon.”

A
FEW DAYS
later, I can actually walk out of Max Overdrive on my own. I get a new frock coat and new boots entirely free of bug juice. I know that the bugs were probably a hallucination, but I still can't look at the coat or boots without seeing centipede guts.

I'm still weak for a few more days. It's pissing me off. I want to call Abbot, but I lost my phone.

Some days, I help Kasabian in the store. Mostly I shelve returned discs. Nothing that requires a lot of brainwork. At night, the band practices in the storeroom. I know they'd rather be at Alessa's rehearsal space, but Candy still doesn't want to leave me alone for too long. They sound really good. One night, I manage to make it to Donut Universe and back on my own. The band devours the whole bag while they take a break.

I think about Bill a lot. It's been a few days. He's probably headed south by now. I hope the train made it to Long Beach. It wasn't fun seeing Mason. He's good at mind games, but I know we're not going to be meeting again. From now on, people only go into Tartarus. No one comes out. Ever, ever, cross my heart.

Oh man. I killed Muninn's maze. And I told a bunch of little guys to loot the cavern. I have a feeling that there are going to be consequences. But what's he going to do? Send me to Hell?

Wait. Maybe he will. He can always have some angels round up the wandering hellbeasts and put them back in the zoo. Then make me the zookeeper. I don't want to shovel monster shit until the end of time. I've got to make it up to him. Maybe one of those fruit bouquets. It will probably cost extra for delivery because of the exotic address, but it will be worth it.

How am I going to pay? Where's my money? In my wallet? Do I even have a wallet? Maybe I'm not ready to see Abbot yet. Give it a couple of more days. Maybe sleep a little longer.

C
ANDY CALLS
A
BBOT
,
and in a couple of days, he sends a limo for me.

That bugbite must have been special high-octane stuff. I don't get sick like this. Now I'm not sorry I burned Wormwood's hill. Maybe clearing out the forest was a good thing. Nothing worse can take its place, I'm sure. I don't want to think about it too hard.

I have the knife and my na'at in my coat, not because I think I'll need them, but because I feel naked without them. My back doesn't feel right without the Colt pressed against my spine. I tried a SIG P220, but the smooth body felt funny after the roundness of the Colt. Guess I'll have to get used to it. I'm not likely to find another revolver I like as much as that Peacemaker. In the end, I put an M&P Shield 9mm in my pocket. It's a little walking-around gun, but the bullets punch regular-size holes in things. Armed up, I feel more like myself, but still not right. And it's not the poison.

It's something else I can't put my finger on.

The afternoon ride to Marina del Rey doesn't take long. The gate to Abbot's boat is already open when I get there. A guard waves me through. Another guard motions on board the boat when I reach the gangway.

Willem is on the deck looking as Eliot Ness as ever.

“Hi, Willem. Is the boss home?”

“He'll be up in a minute.”

“Thanks.”

He gives me a look. I'm talking to him like a person and it makes him nervous.

“I hear you're back from a trip,” he says.

“Been back a few days. But I picked up a little bug and didn't want to spread it around. You know?”

He nods.

“People say that you went down to Hell.”

“Is that what people say?”

“You know what I say?”

“Bullshit?”

“Exactly.”

I look around the deck. It's nice here by the water. Smells better than dead corn. I still dream about that crap.

“That's okay, Willem. I forgive you.”

“Don't talk to me like that. I don't want anything from you.”

“I know. But I'm tired and I don't want to fight with you anymore, so I'm just going to stand here quietly and think deep thoughts.”

He gives me a look and goes into the cabin.

A minute later he and Abbot come out.

Abbot gives me a big smile and shakes my hand with both of his. We go inside.

“I thought for a while we'd lost you,” he says. “I'd already started the paperwork to transfer your stipend to Chihiro.”

“I had a feeling I could trust you. It was unsettling.”

“Don't worry. I spent most of your time away eating babies and overthrowing third-world governments.”

“So, you admit it.”

“Guilty as charged.”

He gets us drinks. I haven't touched liquor since I got home. The whiskey tastes good.

He crosses his legs. His pants have a crease you could cut diamonds on.

“So, did you finish what you set out to do?”

“Mostly. We rounded up all of Wormwood Downtown. More important, we destroyed their entire supply of black milk. I don't know how much there is up here, but they won't be getting any more of the raw product.”

“That's great news. How did you do it?”

“Do you really want to know? I mean this is Wormwood we're talking about and what they were up to in the toilet of the universe.”

He sets down his drink.

“We're in this together. I want to know everything.”

“Well, I didn't use the word ‘toilet' a minute ago just to be colorful. It pertains to what I found out.”

I tell him everything. About finding Quay and Wormwood and
Panzerschokolade
. I tell him about how they use kids and about the souls sitting outside Heaven's gates because of the war Wormwood prolonged. Abbot might be a blue blood, but he's Sub Rosa and a scryer. He must have seen some strange things over the years. It takes him a couple of minutes to absorb it all, but he seems to take it pretty well.

“You'll be happy to know that we found Abigail.”

“The other missing kid?”

He picks up his drink.

“Yes. She's back at home with her family.”

“That's great news.”

He looks at me.

“I have the awful feeling that you're holding out a little on
me. Maybe there's something you don't want to say. Something you think I won't be able to handle?”

“Do you really believe the things people say about me? That I've been to Hell and back. That I was there again and I saw the dead members of Wormwood?”

“I told you that I do.”

I swirl the whiskey in my glass.

“Yeah. But there's believing with your head and believing with your gut.”

“I'm not sure I know the difference, but I trust you and what you tell me.”

“Good. Then you need to know that I killed them all. Didn't just kill them, but sent them somewhere worse than Hell. And I was able to do all that because of an angel. Her name was Hesediel. I want you to remember that name. It's important. She's the one who did the worst part of the work. Not me.”

He writes it down on a pad on the table.

“Hesediel,” he says. “It's a pretty name. Would it be possible for me to thank her?”

“She's dead.”

“You seem bothered by that.”

“I am.”

“But I thought you didn't get along with angels.”

“I'm not big on kids either, but I saw one do a pretty good card trick at a party once. It was kind of like that.”

“The exception that proves the rule.”

“There you go.”

A flunky in a suit comes in with a loose-leaf binder. He gives it to Abbot and goes out.

Abbot drops it on the table.

“I had a feeling you might not be the computer type, so I printed out the list of suspected Wormwood members we put together.”

“All of them?”

“Council members, Sub Rosa families, and their civilian associates all of whom have left the country or disappeared since the deaths of Geoff Burgess and Charles Anpu.”

“That book's for me, is it?”

He pushes it to me.

“You said you wanted to be part of the cleanup team. Unless you've changed your mind, it's yours.”

I pick it up. It's heavy. I flip through it. Names. Addresses. Work histories. Known associates. Where they were last seen. I weigh the binder in my hand.

“It's like a goddamn phone book.”

He cocks an eyebrow.

“That's why most of us prefer the electronic version.”

I drop it back on the table.

“Maybe it's time for me to buy a laptop.”

“I know someone. I can get you a deal.”

“I bet you can.”

Abbot opens the book and flips through it.

“I've put together a small team to help with this. We're meeting here in a couple of days. I'd like for you to be there.”

“Good. I will.”

“I'll text you the details.”

I sit back in the chair.

“I don't suppose you can get me a deal on a new phone too? I lost mine somewhere between Hell and L.A.”

“That sounds like a long walk.”

“Five days when you get lost.”

“That's a long time.”

“Well, it could have been ten.”

“Days? I'm not sure I understand.”

I shake my head.

“Sorry. It's a joke they tell Downtown. The fallen angels fell for nine days into Hell. So, when everything is fucked up, you say, ‘It could have been ten.'”

He stares at me, smiling.

“Funny. Do they have a lot of jokes like that in Hell?”

“No. That's the best one. Most Hellion humor is just a notch above junior high fart jokes.”

“I learn more and more from you every day.”

“Just trying to be useful, boss.”

“Good job so far.”

I look around, a little uncomfortable.

“Tell me. When does the actual Wormwood manhunt start?”

“I thought we'd discuss that at the meeting. Is there a problem?”

“It's just that I need a few days to take care of some things.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“Do you know any travel agents? I sort of promised someone that I'd take them to Disney World.”

He opens his eyes wide.

“You are full of surprises.”

“It's not my idea. In fact, the whole thing is blackmail. But I promised.”

He nods.

“It will take us a while to get the logistics worked out. After the meeting, you can have a few days to see the Mouse.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“What are friends for?”

He holds out his glass and I clink mine against it.

It feels like I've been drinking a lot of toasts in the last few days. If I can trust my life to an angel, I guess it's no stranger than partnering up with Abbot and some Sub Rosa 007s. It might even be fun. Maybe they can find me a new Colt.

Abbot and I shoot the shit for a few more minutes, but then he has to get to a meeting.

I take the binder and head back to the limo.

Willem is on the pier with some of his men.

“See you around, Willem.”

“Have a nice drive home.”

“Thank you.”

“Watch your back.”

“Love you too.”

We hit traffic on the drive home. While we're sitting bumper-to-bumper, I thumb through the binder. I'm a little disappointed when I don't find Willem's name among the Wormwood suspects. I know it's kind of a dickish thing to hope for, but I'm not used to this forgive-and-forget thing yet. Maybe Allegra's PTSD pills will help. They still scare me, but what the hell? I'll give them a try. But no yoga.