The Perdition Score

  “You said you were going to burn my boat.”

  “I suppose I did.”

  I sit down opposite him.

  “If you’re such a hot seer why didn’t you know where Nick was? Or did you know and waited for me to find him?”

  “No. I didn’t know about Nick. When I scry I often see multiple outcomes. With Nick it could have gone different ways. There were several outcomes where he ended up dead. And I never saw Geoffrey’s involvement. I think Wormwood is being protected against people like me.”

  “They’re working with Hellions and angels. They have a lot of protection.”

  He makes a fist.

  “That’s why we need each other. You know that world and I know this. I still want to bring Wormwood down. I understand if you don’t believe me. That’s one of the outcomes I saw. But I hope you’ll stay and see this through with me.”

  I run everything he said backward and forward in my mind. I’ve watched his eyes and listened to his heart this whole time and he didn’t show any traces of lying. But if Burgess and his crowd are protected from hoodoo, maybe Abbot is too. I don’t have a lot of choices here. I have to pick one.

  “I’ll try it,” I tell him. “But don’t ever lie to me again.”

  “Or you’ll burn my boat. I know.”

  “No. I’ll kill you. Then I’ll burn your boat.”

  He picks up his glass and takes a drink.

  “You’ll be interested to know that in every way I saw this conversation, it always ended with that statement.”

  “Then you know it’s true.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Then we understand each other. So, what happens next?”

  Abbot pushes a boyish lock of hair out of his face.

  He says, “There’s another child missing.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know. Elsa just found out about it.”

  “But it was after Nick was found.”

  “It seems so.”

  “That means the whole story about daddy in Long Beach is bullshit.”

  “Probably.”

  “Definitely. Someone had a kid, then lost it. Now they have another kid. Why?”

  He shakes his head.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Whose kid is it?”

  “They’re Sub Rosa. You never heard of them—they’re not an important family.”

  “Maybe they want to be.”

  He looks at me.

  “You think someone would give up their child to advance their family position?”

  “Some of these families would smother the baby Jesus in the manger if they thought it would get them good seats at the opera.”

  “I don’t want to think about things like that.”

  “I know. That’s why you have me. Don’t ask me to take this to Julie. She’s going to make a thing out of another lost kid. Bring in the cops right away. It might make whoever has him . . . her?”

  “Her.”

  “It might make whoever has her do something stupid. You’re going to have to handle this. Rattle some cages. You’re the goddamn augur. Scare some people.”

  “What will you be doing?”

  “I’m working on the black milk. If we know what it is, we might figure out what’s really going on. That reminds me.”

  I take the drill from my pocket.

  “Do you know what this is?”

  Abbot looks it over.

  “No. Sorry. Is that the thing you called a dildo you took from Charles’s car?”

  “The same. I think it might belong to a Tick Tock Man. I’m going to look for him. You can help with that. See if anyone has any new, expensive familiars.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  I get up.

  “Unless you have something else, I think we’re done for now.”

  He stands.

  “Nothing for the moment. Thank you for coming, and thank you for understanding the situation.”

  I take out a Malediction.

  “Things get funny with family.”

  “They do.”

  “Tell me something. Are you married?”

  He looks at me funny, says, “No.”

  “Got some kind of significant other?”

  “Of course.”

  “It gets complicated. Doesn’t it?”

  “Sometimes. But if you’re honest with each other, it simplifies things.”

  I get out my lighter.

  “Yeah. Honesty. Like you and me now. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “Okay. I’ll call you when I know something.”

  “I’ll do the same.”

  “Oh. And tell Willem not to threaten me again,” I tell him as I walk to the deck. “You I’d have to think about hurting. But him?”

  I snap my fingers.

  “I’ll have a word,” says Abbot.

  “Thanks.”

  Willem and his boys are still on the dock when I get off the boat.

  I give them a little salute as I go by.

  “I’ll see you shrimp at the fish fry.”

  “What does that mean?” Willem says.

  “Your boss wants to see you.”

  I walk away and get on the bike.

  Sometimes it’s fun taking names when the teacher is out of the room. Willem will complain to Ishii that I ratted him out. Ishii will laugh in his face. Sometimes it’s the little things that keep you going.

  WHEN I GET back to Max Overdrive, I call Vidocq. The phone rings a few times and goes to voice mail. I’m not in the mood to talk to a device, so I dial Allegra.

  “Hi. Sorry to bug you. I’m trying to get ahold of Vidocq. Do you know where he is?”

  “Is it about the black milk? Eugène is right here in the clinic working on it with Madame Bovary.”

  “She’s there?”

  “In her best little black dress,” says Allegra. Her voice is quiet and tense.

  “If you don’t want her there, throw her out.”

  “I can’t,” she says. “Eugène wasn’t getting anywhere with his equipment at home, so they’re here using some of Kinski’s old things.”

  Allegra doesn’t say anything for a minute. I can hear her walking, then closing a door.

  “Marilyne or whatever she wants to be called might be a high-tone bitch, but she seems to know her chemistry.”

  “I’m sorry. They’re working on it for me. It’s important.”

  “I know. You don’t have to apologize for them.”

  “Still.”

  “Thanks,” she says. “Hey. You want to get a cup of coffee soon?”

  “Sure.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “I can come by the clinic around noon.”

  “I’m impressed. That’s early for you.”

  “That’s why I’ll need the coffee.”

  CANDY HAS PRACTICE again in the evening. She gives me an extra-big kiss as she leaves. It’s nice to see her happy after last night. She really thought I might end things right there over nothing more than words. I know words count for a lot, but we’re solid enough that I’m not afraid of much. Even Alessa.

  Still . . .

  Still I feel the ground shifting beneath my feet. Candy needs something I can never give her. Vidocq is acting like a school kid, reliving fairy tales of gay Paree. And Abbot is a liar. Maybe he had good reasons, but he’s still a liar and I’m going to watch my back with him. If it comes down to a choice between me and his sister or being the augur, I know which way it’s going to go. Willem and the Backstreet Boys would be happy to do the job for him. Or maybe they’d leave it to Audsley. Then everyone who matters could walk away with clean hands.

  Frank Perry’s Doc, a good western, is playing but I can’t look at it anymore. The light is too much. I close my eyes and just listen for a while. But the pain gets worse. I can feel Trotsky inside my head, trying to tunnel out with his ice ax. He’s doing a sloppy job of it too. Bone fragments and raw meat pile up behind my eyes, making them ac
he. I take a couple of aspirin and wash them down with Aqua Regia, but it doesn’t help.

  When I look up again, the movie is over. I never even heard the closing credits. I turn it off and sit in the dark for a while, but all that does is let Hell back in. Marching angels. Norris Quay’s ridiculous face. The barely conscious mob outside Heaven’s gates. And Samael, getting sliced and diced. I put on an old pair of sunglasses I find in the dresser and go downstairs. With the shades on I can stand the bright lights.

  Kasabian takes one look at me.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s Link Wray, back from the dead.”

  He has the news on.

  Some politician at City Hall tried texting his cock to an intern and it ended up on Facebook. An old club in Chinatown is closing down. It was the first place I ever saw Skull Valley Sheep Kill. They arrested some high school students in Malibu out at Teddy Osterberg’s place. Before he died, Teddy collected old cemeteries like some guys collect model trains. The difference is that Teddy was a ghoul. He dug up and ate a lot of his collection. It looks like maybe ghoulishness is catching. A handful of the kids were eating one of their friends.

  The camera pans across the kids’ bloody faces. Most are blurred, but they miss one. A handsome jock in a letter jacket. I recognize the look in his eyes. Someone in the group was using Dixie Wishbone. It’s a funny drug. It gets the user high, but has a habit of driving anyone around them into a twitching meth-head rage. So, some rich kids go out looking to party at Teddy’s abandoned digs. Then one of them drops Dixie. I’ll lay you ten-to-one it was the kid being eaten. Now we’re left with only one question.

  How did these prom kings and queens end up with the stuff in the first place? You don’t buy it like weed from Kenny behind the 7-Eleven. These days, you can’t even get it in L.A., yet these nobodies got some. And they used it at Teddy’s. Teddy wanted to eat me. I saw Teddy die. I’m connected to the place. I get a hollow feeling in my stomach that this is more Wormwood hijinks. Maybe someone figured out that it was me at Burgess’s place or with Charlie’s car. Maybe this is payback.

  Trotsky is really going at it behind my eyes.

  Kasabian says something and laughs. I can’t hear him. I go upstairs and get my coat. Go out and gun the bike into traffic. It isn’t Trotsky anymore. It feels like Death rattling around in my skull. I keep the shades on. It’s the only way I can stand the lights.

  I don’t think. I just point the bike and head across town.

  IT DOESN’T TAKE long to get back to the high school. The bouncer at the gym door recognizes me and lets me straight in.

  I’m late. The empty pool is surrounded by shirtless, sweating men showing bruises and a few cuts. I don’t waste time watching the fight going on in the pit. The bench at the far end of the place is clear. I take off my shirt and boots and head for the other fighters.

  The yellow-toothed pit boss intercepts me on the way over.

  “It’s good to see you back, friend. I thought we’d lost you.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “Good. Idle hands and all that. Have you thought more about what we talked about? The offer stands. I can get you a paying fight tomorrow night.”

  “Like I said, it’s a busy time. I haven’t had time to think about it.”

  He pats my arm.

  “No worries. We’ll talk after.”

  “Sure.”

  “Have a good time.”

  “I plan to.”

  The current fight ends with a broken nose and a few teeth scattered on the bottom of the pool. The fighters bro-hug it out before climbing from the pit. The pit boss whistles at me and points down. I climb the ladder onto the killing floor.

  The guy who comes down with me is a mess. He’s almost as scarred as me. Not a big guy. He’s more like one of those grim, wiry fucks you see in small-time southern pro wrestling circuits. Mean street fighters and carny brawlers who’ll take on all comers. They’re not big on technique because they fight like rabid wolves, flat out the whole time.

  This could be fun.

  We stare at each other from across the ring. When the pit boss gives us the signal to fight, Wolf Man runs straight at me. I sidestep him and he practically slams into the pool wall. It doesn’t bother him in the least. He pushes off and comes at me again, this time ducking at the last minute, going for my legs. I get a knee up and he cracks his skull on it. The men around the pool cheer. The Wolf Man rocks back, but shakes it off. He rushes me again and this time I let him grab me around the waist. Thirty seconds into the fight and he’s sweating like a pig doing wind sprints. The sweat smells funny too. He’s high on something. Angel dust to cut the pain? Maybe this fight will be interesting after all.

  I throw a couple of medium-hard punches to the back of his neck. He doesn’t even notice. He still has his arms around me, trying to throw off my balance and get me onto the floor. His head is pressed against my belly, exposing one side of his face. I throw a medium, then hard punch into his temple. That loosens his grip. I push him back and give a love tap on the jaw. It staggers him, but doesn’t do any real damage. Just pisses him off even more. He comes at me, throwing batshit fists and elbows at my head. I take it all, letting him punch Trotsky right out of my skull.

  When it gets boring, I throw two hard shots low into his ribs, doubling him over. Shove him upright and stick a heel kick into his sternum, not hard enough to break bones, but enough to hurt. Then I move in. I was hoping for André the Giant and got a hillbilly tweaker. I don’t know what the pit boss was thinking. Fuck them both.

  I bounce the Wolf Man off the wall a couple of times and he goes down flat on his back. I stand there a minute; he doesn’t move. Stupid me, I think the fight is over. I turn my back on him and head for the ladder, pissed at everyone for setting me up with such a shit fight.

  Then my head explodes.

  The Wolf Man was playing possum, waiting for me to do exactly what I did. When I turned my back, he grabbed a chunk of broken concrete from the edge of the pool and got me on the back of the head. How do I know? Because he comes around in front so I can see him swing the concrete again. I try to move, but he hits me on the cheek, opening up a nice gash. I feel the blood gush down my chin and onto my chest. He comes at me again and I spit in his face. That stops him long enough for me to get back on my feet.

  The damned concrete block is almost as big as his head. When he uses it, it pulls him off balance. I let him swing one more time, and while he’s off center I hammer his face. It’s a beautiful sensation when I feel the bone around his left eye crack.

  He drops the concrete and grabs the side of his head, banshee-screaming. Slipping behind him, I wrap an arm around his neck, squeezing his throat and carotid artery like a two-dollar accordion.

  I almost have him unconscious, but he’s sweating so hard it’s difficult to hold on properly. He moves his head enough to ease the pressure on his neck, then grabs my left arm and bites down. It doesn’t hurt, the prosthetic never hurts, but I feel something rip. A funny sound travels around the crowd above us and I get a bad feeling. With a handful of the Wolf Man’s hair, I smash his head into the side of the pool until he falls over. He’s breathing, but this time he’s not getting up.

  There are no cheers. No boos. It’s dead silence. I look down at my left arm and it’s exactly what I was afraid of. The Wolf Man’s teeth ripped half the skin off my Kissi prosthetic. There’s nothing else to do now. I tear the rest of the skin off and shove it into the Wolf Man’s mouth. When I climb out of the pool, everybody backs off. The only one who moves is the pit boss. He comes over, his face wrenched in disgust, like he found his darling daughter banging Gregor Samsa.

  “I don’t know who or what the fuck you are, but get out of here and never come back.”

  I reach behind my head, come back with a handful of blood, and toss it on the floor. The pit boss jumps back. Everybody does. It might be radioactive.

  I go to the bench and get dressed. No one follows me, but I make sure
everyone sees me putting the Colt revolver into the waistband of my jeans.

  Quietly, I push through the door, outside into the warm spring dark.

  The bouncer says, “Calling it early tonight?”

  “You could say that.”

  I reach into my pocket and take out the sunglasses. Hold them up.

  “You want these? I won’t need them anymore.”

  He takes the shades and looks them over. Nods.

  “Thanks.”

  I hold up a hand and walk to the bike.

  “You know you’re bleeding, right?” he shouts.

  “Sometimes you deserve to. You know?”

  “I know,” he says. Then, “Keep it real, man. See you soon.”

  “Not likely. Enjoy the glasses.”

  I cruise into the street and head home.

  Well, there it is. An hour ago I was feeling superior to Vidocq and Abbot’s bullshit and then I went out and broke my promise to Candy. There’s no way I can hide these cuts and bruises from her. I’m not going to try. I deserve whatever happens. Candy was so worried about me leaving her last night. Now I’m the one worried about what she’s going to do when she sees me.

  At least one thing worked out. My headache is gone.

  SHE COMES HOME late. I’ve showered and the cuts are already healing, but I still look like I shaved with a wheat thresher. Candy stops in the doorway. Comes over and takes my face in her hands.

  “What happened to you?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  I look down at her.

  “What happened is that I have no idea what’s wrong with me. Without action I fall apart. Maybe you’re right about the PTSD thing.”

  “I am and you know it.”

  “I’m seeing Allegra tomorrow. I’ll talk to her about it.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  She looks at me hard.

  “Is this about me and Alessa?”

  “No. It’s me and my shit strictly.”

  “You better tell me if it’s anything else.”

  “I will.”

  She lets go of me.

  “I’m pretty pissed at you right now.”

  “You should be.”

  She crosses her arms.

  “If it wasn’t about last night, what set it off?”