Wild Cards: Death Draws Five (52 page)

Ray laughed. “Good girl, Angel,” he said.

Some of the Allumbrados fired at her, but she crouched low behind some of the bigger statue chunks, then popped up a moment later in another spot and let fly with another stone, taking most of another gunman’s head off.

The Witness suddenly turned and ran, heading for the lobby. Angel leaped up. A storm of gunfire knocked her to her feet. She was hit, Ray was sure, at least once.

“Angel!” he shouted.

“I’m okay! I’m going after him!” Ray watched her start to crawl back toward the lobby, carefully keeping to cover.

“Remember, Angel,” he called after her. “He’s afraid. He’s afraid of pain.” He looked at Dagon, grinning. “But I’m not.”

Dagon’s animal-like jaw slavered string-like lengths of drool.

Ray stood still, stretched like a cat, and grinned. He watched Angel slip into the lobby, get to her feet and run after the Witness, who had vanished up the staircase. He felt something pride, awe, and lust rush through his system. He suddenly realized that he was in love.

“Well,” he said to Dagon. Looks like it’s just us boys.”

Dagon gibbered something unintelligible.

“Let the fun began,” Ray said.

♥ ♦ ♣ ♠

Peaceable Kingdom: The Angels’ Bower, Fortunato’s suite

Fortunato looked at the boy, frowning. John Fortune nodded almost imperceptibly as he went by him. Fortunato opened his mouth as if to speak, but held his peace.

“Let’s go,” John Fortune said.

Nighthawk looked at him. “You’re not glowing,” he said.

John Fortune shrugged. “I stopped doing that awhile ago.”

Nighthawk removed the glove from his left hand, and put his fingers out, almost on John Fortune’s face. Fortunato darted into the old man’s mind. He almost rebounded in surprise at what he saw there. Ancient power, tempered by wisdom and grace. He realized that Nighthawk meant them no harm.

Nighthawk’s hand dropped down and he smiled. “Nice try.”

“What?” John Fortune asked, bewildered.

“It’s no good, Jerry,” Fortunato said. “He knows.”

“What?” John Fortune said.

“That you’re the bodyguard,” Nighthawk said.

Jerry Strauss slumped. “It was worth a shot,” he said.

Nighthawk nodded. “I suppose.” He put his glove back on his left hand. “Now where’s the boy?”

“He’s in the bathroom,” Fortunato said with sudden hope that somehow Nighthawk, with all his strange powers, might be able to help his son.

Nighthawk looked at his troop. “Wait here,” he said. He paused, looking at Magda. “Take her gun away,” he told Usher. “I don’t want her to come to pissed and armed with an automatic shotgun.”

Usher nodded. “You’ll be all right?”

Nighthawk looked at Fortunato. Fortunato nodded.

“For now,” Nighthawk said.

They headed for the bedroom, the disguised Jerry Strauss following. Fortunato stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Thank you for trying to save my son.”

“It didn’t work,” Jerry said.

“This wasn’t the only time you tried. And succeeded.”

“It’s my job,” Jerry said. “But it was always a pleasure, as well.”

“This way,” Fortunato told Nighthawk, leading the way to the bathroom. The hippie was still with his son. He looked worriedly at Fortunato and the others.

“He’s getting hotter, man. I tried to help him, but there’s nothing I can do.”

Fortunato nodded. Nighthawk stared at John Fortune as he stood naked in the shower stall. His halo was an angry aura, flickering like rays from a tiny sun.

“John, are you okay?” Fortunato asked.

The boy shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m hotter. Now I can’t touch anything cloth without burning it.”

Fortunato swallowed hard.

“We need the Trump,” Jerry said. “But there’s no damn time.”

Nighthawk looked hard at the boy. John Fortune looked back at him. He seemed more puzzled than frightened, but Fortunato knew that he was putting the best face he could on his fear. He suddenly was very proud of his son. Very proud, and very frightened for him.

Nighthawk suddenly seemed to come to a decision. “Yes, there is,” he said.

♥ ♦ ♣ ♠

Peaceable Kingdom: The Angels’ Bower courtyard

The Angel raced up the stairs, taking them as quickly as she could. At first that wasn’t too quick, as she smarted from the ricocheting slug that had bounced off her back and knocked her down and, she was sure, bruised her badly. But she couldn’t let a little thing like that stop her. By the time she reached the third floor she was taking the steps two at a time as she headed for Barnett’s office. She was sure that the Witness was after Barnett, and she wanted to head him off before he could harm The Hand.

She was breathing hard when she reached the upper floor, and went through the secret panel in the service corridor that allowed direct access to Barnett’s office, bypassing Sally Lou’s domain. She burst into Barnett’s office, and paused. Barnett was on his knees in front of his desk on his knees, praying aloud. There was no Witness.

Barnett fell silent when she came into the room and rose up.

“Angel!” he exclaimed when he realized that it was her and not some form of sudden death. “I knew you would come to me in the time of my need!”

“You’re safe,” she breathed.

“Of course,” he said. “Now that you’re here.”

She looked around the room. “Where’s John Fortune?” she asked. “Fortunato, the others?”

Barnett’s eyes looked wild. “Burning in Hell with that demon child, I suppose.”

“What?” the Angel asked. She realized that something had gone very wrong.

Barnett came up to her. He was sweating and disheveled. She had never seen him like this before. “I was in error,” he said. “I confess my sin to you, before God. The boy is not Christ, but a demon burning with Hellfire—”

”What are you saying?” the Angel asked, aghast.

“It’s true. Even Fortunato admits that the boy is out of control. That he burns not with the Grace of Our Lord, but with the flames of the Pit. Unless he is stopped he will turn the Earth into an inferno.”

“You’re crazy,” the Angel blurted, and was immediately appalled at the words that slipped out of her mouth.

“No, no I’m not,” Barnett said. “The revelation has come unto me. He is a child of the Pit. You must go to him,” he said, suddenly sly, “and slay him.” He looked at her, nodding approvingly. He put his arms around her and tried to pull her to him. “Then come to me, and comfort me in my hour of need, for I am in sore need of succor.”

“You fucking idiot,” the Angel said, shocking herself again, but at least avoiding blasphemy. She pushed him away, and he fell on the carpet. “I was with him for a long time. There’ s no evil in him. He may—” Her world took another lurch, but it had been doing a lot of that lately. “You may have been wrong. He may not be our Savior. But he’s not a demon. That’s just stupid.”

Barnett looked as if he were shock. “Foolish woman—”

He never finished his thought. The door to his sanctum’s secret entrance suddenly burst open, showering bits and pieces into the room. The Angel threw up an arm to deflect fragments of flying door and blinked when she saw the Witness limp into the office.

He smiled. “My prayers,” he said, “have been answered.”

The Angel stood silently, staring at him.

“I saw you enter the stairwell,” the Witness said, “And decided to follow you. I awaited outside the door to hear the revelations of this pathetic fool whom you’ve wasted your time following. It was good to hear him finally admit his error. To acknowledge that we Allumbrados have been right all along—”

”I say,” the Angel said, suddenly utterly sure that she was right, “that you’re both wrong. John Fortune is an innocent child, nothing more. Neither savior nor demon.”

The Witness laughed contemptuously. “Stupid woman. What do you know? First, I shall beat you senseless to save you for later. Then—” he looked at Barnett, cowering on the carpet—“I will slay this false prophet, this supposed man of God.”

“Ambitious,” the Angel said. “But deeds, not words, are what counts in this world.”

“Remember that when I throw you on that desk and make you beg for your life, slut in the costume of a Devil,” the Witness sneered.

The Angel shouted in righteous wrath and sprung like an unforgiving fury at the Witness. He grabbed her, catching her around the waist, but leaving her arms free. That was a mistake. Her first blow cracked his left cheekbone, her second knocked out two teeth. The third smashed his right eye socket, the fourth glanced off his forehead. Already she could feel his grip around her waist slacken.

“Ray was right!” she hissed into his face. “You’re a weakling who’s afraid of pain. But I’m not!”

She head-butted him, smashing his nose flat, and the Witness groaned and let her go. She dropped to the floor, pivoted on her right foot, spun to gain momentum, and kicked him through the wall. He hit the wall of the corridor beyond, bounced, and fell flat on his face.

♥ ♦ ♣ ♠

New York City: Jokertown Clinic

However this all worked out, Nighthawk decided that he had to try to save the boy, and perhaps the world. “Come with me,” he said to the bodyguard.

Jerry looked at Fortunato, who nodded, and then followed Nighthawk back into the suite’s living room.

“Blood,” Nighthawk said.

Jerry groaned. “Not this again?” he asked.

Nighthawk nodded, then turned to the joker/ace. “You’ve been to the Jokertown Clinic?” he asked.

“He’s been a patient there,” his handler confirmed.

Nighthawk took his leash. “Let’s go,” he said.

“Finn’s office,” Jerry said helpfully.

Blood turned to the nearest wall, and after a moment a black circle appeared in it. When they passed through Blood’s tunnel through space, nausea hit Nighthawk like the mother of all hangovers. Somehow he managed not to throw up as they walked out the hole in the wall in Finn’s office, right before the astonished doctor who was standing behind his desk trying to catch up on some paperwork.

“John Fortune?” Finn asked in an unbelieving voice.

Jerry shook his head. “Nope. Jerry Strauss.”

“This is John Nighthawk,” Jerry said. “I believe you know Blood.”

Finn nodded dazedly. “He’s been a patient.”

“Thank God for that,” Jerry said. “Otherwise he couldn’t find his way here so quickly. Listen, Dr. Finn, we’re on the clock. We need a dose of the Trump Virus. And we need it fast.”

Finn nodded. “Of course,” he said.

♥ ♦ ♣ ♠

Peaceable Kingdom: The Angels’ Bower

Fortunato went back into the living room, pacing impatiently, almost unable to bear the thought of what he was about to do to his son. He only had to wait a few minutes. Nighthawk came back through the hole in the wall, leading Blood. He gave him to his handler, and both he and Jerry followed Fortunato back into the bathroom where the boy was burning so hot that no one could approach him. Jerry put a syringe, already loaded with the Trump, by the side of the tub.

“Okay, John,” he said, “you’ll have to inject yourself, but that’s no big deal. You can do it.”

The boy looked at them. Fortunato could read the fear in his eyes. “I know it’s scary,” he said, “but it’s your best hope.” Am I condemning him to a terrible death, Fortunato thought, or saving him from one? He could barely breath. He couldn’t imagine how the boy felt.

“Hey,” John Fortune said, his voice cracking only a little, “I’ve beat worse odds before.”

“That’s right,” Jerry said. “You can do it, kid, I know you can.”

John Fortune reached for the syringe. His hand trembled only a little. He took it in his hand, and the glass melted like snowflakes on a griddle. Fortunato felt something like death pass through him as everyone groaned in anger and frustration.

“There’s only one thing left,” Nighthawk said. He took the glove off his left hand and stepped forward.

Peaceable Kingdom, The Angels’ Bower, courtyard

Dagon growled like a beast. He took a step backwards, and was suddenly among the Allumbrados, claws and teeth flashing. Screams etched stricken expressions on the gunmen’s faces as the Butcher moved through them.

“Dagon!” Ray shouted.

He must have heard, but he paid Ray no attention. The Allumbrados were dead in moments, all of them, and suddenly Dagon turned back into a naked tubby man.

“What the Hell are you doing?” Ray asked.

Dagon smiled. “Turning coats, right?”

“We’ve got to fight this out,” Ray said.

“Do we?” Dagon asked with raised eyebrows. “We tried that once before, and neither of us liked it very much.”

“I liked it enough to try it again.”

“Ah, but I don’t, dear boy.”

“I should kick your ass.”