CHAPTER 7
Wild-eyed Julia was a tempest—the manic crowd bowed back before her wrath. The ones at the front murmured and edged away even as more people left their seats to join the circle around me and Joq.
My head was pounding and a waterfall was crashing in my ears but I was sharp enough to see the witch, sword in hand, break the crowd. The handlebar boss and the redheads followed her and soon after, Cranston and his cronies pushed to the front. They were all leering at me and Joq and Cranston’s eyes narrowed when he recognized us.
He stepped forward and placed a hand on Julia’s shoulder. “Hold on dear. I know these two.” He was making an effort to look down on us—though he didn’t have to try; if his chin was tilted any further he’d be glaring at the ceiling. “Yes… These two made a fool out of me and Remmy, I must say.” He pointed at me. “This one set up a diversion while we were taking punitive measures against its friend for mucking a sidewalk. They’re deceiving, malicious Cochon.”
I don’t think Julia heard him. I’d never seen a person as angry as she was. Sadistic—yes. Malicious—yes. But she was salivating and her hair was in her bulging eyes.
Handlebar boss stepped forward. “Miss Julia, these—” He spat on Joq. “—Cochon are not worthy of a blow dealt by your—shall I say—venerable hand. Hand me the sword, mademoiselle if you please. I will dispense with these—”
“Shut up!” Julia turned to the crowd, panting. “Everyone, shut up!” She stepped forward and raised her sword. “These Cochon filth killed my brother. I’ll kill them now. The time for talking is over. It’s me. It’s me! It’s—!” She screamed and started weeping. The sword trembled. She lowered it a little and screamed again.
I looked at Joq. He looked like that Edvard Munch painting with his mouth chin practically at his chest and his hands pressed to his head.
It looked like Julia was going to drop the sword, but I couldn’t see how that would help—the crowd was on standby to brutalize us. I’d rather Julia get it over with. Whatever lie beyond death might be worse than this life but the chance it was better was enough to make me pray for the blade.
The dream wasn’t all right. I smiled. Where the hell is the shooter? Where’s Mr. Denmark?
Julia slashed the air.
‘BANG!’ my ears rang. The crowd flattened and there was shouting and screaming. ‘BANG!’ I rolled to my feet and grabbed Joq.
This is it. He’s here. I can bring Joq with me. Nothing’s stopping us.
‘BANG!’ People lost their minds when Julia sprayed red and splatted on the floor. Joq tore away and went running with the crowd. “No! Joq!” I hesitated. Everyone was hopping over seats and each other trying to escape but Cranston flung himself on the floor in front of me, cradled Julia’s head and looked around, pale-faced and positively ape-shit. “Who did this?” He snarled. “Who did this to my Julia?”
Danny Denmark was standing a few yards away, devil child at his side, smoking Lorenzoni flintlock in his fist. He looked collected and unshaken. “Son.” He whispered. “I found you. Come. You’re safe now. All is well now.” He was looking at me.
I figured the best thing to do was to play along with fate and hope to find Joq running out of La Rouge. Lying to myself made the whole situation easier. I can’t change the dream.
Cranston was taken up with Julia’s postmortem rage. It was like her ghost had eaten what pitiful heart he had had; two wicked spirts in a vessel, embracing wrath. Cranston could barely speak. He ground his teeth and pointed at Mr. Denmark.
Danny Denmark waved to me and I glided, propelled by the dream, toward him. His son avoided my gaze and turned and began to run with the others to the auditorium door.
“Follow him.” Mr. Denmark’s flintlock was locked on Cranston.
I skipped backward and turned and ran. There was a furious tapping behind me as Mr. Denmark followed me. At the auditorium door I saw that people were flooding through the lobby. The wine fountain got knocked over. Plaster flew and a wine geyser soaked the crowd.
As I skidded across the lobby I hesitated, looked around for Joq, and wheeled in the direction of the auditorium door. Mr. Denmark rushed past, giving me a firm shove. “Hurry now. To the car. We’re almost there.” I turned and followed him just as Cranston’s voice erupted from the auditorium.
“Denmark! We’ll settle this in the Hills if you don’t face me now! The fraternity will flay you and roast you! You hear me? Eh? You hear me, you niggardly penis polisher?”
#
The night was snowing—flakes made cold love to my skin. Everyone ran to their cars and I chased Mr. Denmark to the limousine. His chauffeur opened the door and we slid in next to the devil kid. Then the door closed and Mr. Denmark started yammering. “The other day when I saw you by the steakhouse I was sure… But how you’ve grown!” he chuckled.
The car shuddered and lurched forward and I found myself for the first time I can remember, thrown into complete darkness, approaching blind fate.
Streetlights, stop lights, casino signs, flashed by and the man called Danny Denmark talked excitedly and I sat, not listening, until he said the name of someone who had, in days, fallen from my future.
“I’ve got you son. You’re going home Joq.”
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends