City of the Snakes

1: into the light

Ding-dong, the bitch is dead.

It’s been almost two weeks since the Troops, Kluxers and Snakes joined forces to rid this city of its Incan rulers, and although it’s early days, the signs for a favorable future are positive. Raimi and Davern are cooperating cautiously, and Sard and I have been representing the Snakes, making sure we’re not frozen out of the negotiations. The days of a divided, isolated east are over. From now on the gangs here operate under a single, unified banner. We had to crack some heads to begin with, and that will continue for a while, but in time people will see the benefits of doing it our way. They’ll flock to the cause and the new era of peace and prosperity it heralds.

Or so goes the plan.

The city never looked sweeter than it did when I broke clear of the tunnels with Ama and my father. It was evening, the sun was setting, and for the first time in a decade the ruby-red sky didn’t remind me of the color of blood. We’d heard and felt the explosion on our way up, and knew that Raimi had succeeded.

“So!” Paucar Wami boomed after a few minutes, as we lay on a bank of burned grass and gazed at the sky in solemn silence. “We have overcome the villacs and their queen, united the warring factions of the city, and laid the foundations for a long and lasting peace. Not a bad day’s work, hmm, Al m’boy?”

“It could have been worse,” I deadpanned, then shared a laugh with him, Ama looking on, smiling wistfully (probably thinking about Raimi).

Done laughing, Wami stood and scanned the towering buildings of the city, his green eyes thoughtful. “It is over,” he said softly. “I am truly free for the first time in my life. No Ferdinand Dorak or villacs to tell me what I must and must not do. I can be my own man, live for myself, do as I want.” His fingers flexed slowly, hungrily, by his sides.

I cleared my throat and stood beside him. “There’ll be no more killing here.” He didn’t give any sign that he’d heard. “Go elsewhere for your sick kicks. This city’s off-limits.”

“Says who?” he whispered, eyes still on the skyscrapers.

“The leader of the Snakes.”

“I lead the Snakes.”

“No. Paucar Wami does. In this city there can only be one Paucar Wami, and that’s me. We can fight about it if you want, but there seems little point. It doesn’t matter to you where you kill. Why pit yourself against me when you could be out there”—I gesture to the world beyond—“slaughtering freely?”

He considered that, then nodded calmly. “Very well. The city is yours. I will depart immediately and leave you to it.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” He glanced at me, surprised. “The next few weeks could be difficult. I might have need of you. I want you to stay, hidden and inactive, ready to step in if I call.”

“Why should I?” he asked. “I am eager to be about my new life. I care not for the people of this city and their problems.”

“I’m asking, as your son — please hang around.”

“If I do not?”

I shrugged. “I can’t force you to stay. You’ll do it or you won’t.”

He thought about it, then nodded again. “I am grateful to you for including me in the rousting of the villacs—that was sport I shall not forget in a hurry — so I will stay for a fortnight, lie low and heed your call. But,” he warned, “if you do call, you must accept the nature of the beast which you summon. I will not kill while in hiding, but if directed, I will consider those you sic me on fair game. I will show them no mercy.”

“Agreed.”

“I will be near the burned-out police station. Come if you need me. Otherwise I will contact you before I leave.” He paused, tugged at his robes and grimaced. “I hate these rags.” He pulled the robes off, stood naked before us — he winked lewdly at Ama, but she gazed back blankly, unimpressed — then turned and set off at a leisurely pace, whistling as if out on a casual stroll.

“I despise that monster,” Ama said as we watched him leave, “but there’s no denying the man has style.”

“Come on,” I chuckled, taking her arm. “The Snakes and their friends should be finished in the tunnels. Let’s go separate them before they turn on one another.”

I got virtually no sleep the next few days. There was a lot of work to be done in the east — fires to extinguish, roads to unblock — and the Snakes made sure all went smoothly, providing escorts for the police, medics and cleanup crews who were soon swamping the streets. We kept tabs on dissident gangs, knocked them into order if necessary, safeguarded the public by patrolling the neighborhoods, securing the peace.

I faced a constant stream of meetings with public officials, on top of the head-to-heads with Ford Tasso and Eugene Davern at Party Central. I involved Sard and the other Cobras as much as I could, getting them accustomed to the politics of self-control, but as the Sapa Inca my presence was expected. I had no intention of saddling myself with the job in the long run, but in the short term there was nothing for it but to bite down hard and go with the flow. No point rescuing people from the wolves only to leave them for the vultures.

Raimi returned on Friday, fresh and unscarred. Tasso stepped aside without a murmur and The Cardinal was soon locked in negotiations with Davern and Sard. When anyone asked where he’d been, he grinned and replied, “On vacation.”

It soon became clear that The Cardinal had changed, and everyone agreed it was for the better. Before his disappearance he’d been arrogant and aloof, conferring only with the elite in Party Central, having nothing to do with the ordinary people, spurning media interviews. Now he was on the news all the time, pitching in to rebuild the east, sponsoring shelters to house the homeless, liaising between the Troops, Kluxers and Snakes. He also worked closely with the police, even going so far as to publicly run Stuart Jordan out of the city and allow an honest cop to replace him.

I have my doubts about how long The Cardinal’s change of heart will last. He’s come through a terrible ordeal, and I think he’s overcompensating for the torment he endured. It’s probably only a matter of time before his old personality reasserts itself. But I keep my doubts to myself. Everyone thinks he’s a new man, and that gives them hope — if The Cardinal can change, anyone can. I don’t have the heart to piss on their parade.

It’s a beautiful June day, and all’s well. So well, I’ve decided to cut out before the job takes me over and I find myself stuck here, head of the Snakes for life, tied to this city until the day I die. The east’s at peace, the gangs have been brought under the thumb of the Snakes, there’s harmony between them, the Kluxers and the Troops. I’m not needed any longer. Time to pass control of the Snakes over to themselves and hope they don’t go wild with power.

As Al Jeery, I told Flo and Drake of my decision last night, and sat up late with them, drinking and reminiscing about Fabio and the past. Now, as Paucar Wami, I tell Sard and install him as leader of the Snakes. He asks me to reconsider but he doesn’t plead. I’ve spent a lot of time with Sard, and I think he’s come to realize I’m not the immortal Sapa Inca. He’s never mentioned the man he saw in the cavern, but I’m pretty sure he knows that the “double” was the real Paucar Wami. He acts as if I’m their leader, but I sense his relief when I say I’m leaving. He doesn’t want the others figuring it out and splintering.

“What will I tell them?” he asks. “How will I explain your departure?”

“Just say I’ve gone away. That will be explanation enough. The Sapa Inca does not have to account for his actions.”

After passing the baton of power to Sard, I drop by the abandoned police station where my father has been hanging out and find him perched on the rafters, paring his nails. “You can leave now,” I tell him.

He drops to the floor and faces me. “You no longer require my services?”

“Peace has been restored and life’s moving on. I have no need of you.”

“Once I go, you will never again be able to find me.”

I smile thinly. “I’ll never wish to.”

“Al m’boy,” he purrs. “If I did not know better, I could almost believe you were anxious to see the back of your dear ol’ pappy.”

“I don’t know what gave you that idea,” I laugh.

Wami grows thoughtful. “There was something I failed to consider when Raimi went after the Coya. By blowing her up, he should have blown up my doll too, thus destroying me. Yet here I am. What do you suppose happened to it?”

I shrug. “She probably dropped it while they were fleeing.”

“I thought about that. I returned to the tunnels and retraced their route. I did not find it.”

“Then it must be buried under the rubble, trapped in an air pocket. You always did have the luck of the devil.”

“The dark one favors his own,” Wami chuckles, then waves his worries away. “It has been fun, Al m’boy. I will miss you, and I mean that sincerely.”

“In a strange sort of way, I’ll miss you too,” I mutter, gazing at his shaved head, his cruel lips, the tattoos, his cynical green eyes, one final time. “If I begged you to stop killing,” I blurt out suddenly, “do you think you could?”

“Of course not,” he says. “Why make such an absurd request?”

“I don’t know,” I sigh. “Guess I’m getting soft in my old age.” I offer my hand. “Take care, you evil-hearted son of a bitch.”

“You too, O misdirected spawn of my loins,” he grins, clasping my hand. “You could have been a legend, Al m’boy.”

“It’s better to be human,” I reply.

“Perhaps,” he says, releasing me. “That, however, is something I could never aspire to. I was made to be vile.” Stepping back, the assassin salutes, turns, walks through the door and slips away, never to be seen in these parts again.

Ama’s face lights up when I walk into Cafran’s, my tattoos painted over, stubble coating my skull, the beginnings of a new head of hair, my first in a decade. I don’t know what it will look like — I imagine I’ll have more than my fair share of gray — but it’ll be interesting to find out.

“Howdy, stranger,” she greets me, standing on her toes to kiss my cheek. I haven’t seen much of her lately. I’ve been busy elsewhere.

“How are you doing?” I ask as she leads me to the back, out of earshot of the busy lunch crowd.

“Can’t complain. Business is good, the city’s booming, Cafran’s bought a new restaurant and has said I can run it. I’ve got my life back.”

“I hope you take care of it this time. It’s your last.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve no intention of wasting it.” We nudge into an alcove in the kitchen, out of the pathway of the waiters. “What’s happening with you?” she asks. “How’s the dividing-up of the city going?”

“Pretty good. I’m going to see Raimi after this, bid him farewell and warn—”

“Farewell?” she interrupts. “You’re leaving?”

“This afternoon. I’ll catch a train out.”

“Where to?”

I shrug. “Away.”

“You’re not coming back?”

“Don’t intend to.”

She stares at me in silence, then smiles. “Good!” She takes hold of my hands and squeezes. “Don’t return, no matter what happens. You’ve served your time and done all you could for this city. You owe it nothing more.”

“That’s the way I figure it too. It’s why I’m going to see Raimi, to clear it with him.”

“How is Capac?” she asks hesitantly.

“You haven’t been to see him?”

She shakes her head. “I’m afraid. I know people say he’s changed, that he’s a new man, but…”

“An Ayuamarcan can’t change. He is what he was made to be — The Cardinal. He can be benevolent when it suits his purpose, but when the time comes to be ruthless again, he will be.”

“I feel sorry for him,” she mutters, then coughs. “Can I come with you? I don’t want to face him on my own, not the first time. If you don’t want me in the way, I’ll understand, but—”

“No problem,” I tell her. “I wasn’t looking forward to being alone with him either. I’d appreciate the company.”

“We’re a pair of fools, aren’t we?” she giggles. “If we’re that afraid of him, we should have left him underground, in the hands of the Coya.”

“No,” I disagree, stepping out of the alcove. “Raimi’s dangerous, but she was worse. He’s the lesser of two evils. And in this city, that’s as good as it’s ever going to get.”

2: lonely at the top

I stand by the window, gazing down on my city, drawing out the moment. Mags buzzed me a few minutes ago, while I was in conference with a couple of Davern’s men, to say that Al Jeery and Ama Situwa wished to see me. I brought the discussion to a swift conclusion, but I’ve kept the pair waiting while I compose myself. I’m almost as nervous at the prospect of sitting down with Ama now as I was when The Cardinal first summoned me to Party Central that long, eventful decade-plus ago.

Far across the way, cranes are working on the Manco Capac statue, dismantling it. I’m going to remove every trace of the Incas from this city, starting with the glorious centerpiece that was meant to herald the dawn of their all-powerful reign. By the time I’m finished they’ll have disappeared as completely as the Ayuamarcans. Nobody will ever know they were here, except me — and in time, perhaps even I’ll forget. I’ve plenty of time for forgetting.

Turning my back on the statue, I walk to the door and open it. Jeery and Ama are chatting with Mags. I study them, unnoticed, then call out, “The doctor will see you now!”

Ama flinches, but Jeery regards me calmly. “Mr. Raimi,” he greets me with his usual cautious show of respect.

“I told you, call me Capac.” Holding the door wide, I gesture them in. As they pass, I tell Mags not to disturb me. “Not for anybody or anything.”

“Sure thing, boss,” she smiles.

Jeery and Ama are taking their seats when I close the door. I walk around them and lean against my desk, gaze settling instantly on Ama. I know it’s an embedded reaction, that I’m only attracted to her because I was designed to be, but knowledge can’t stop the excited flutter of my heart.

“How have you been?” I ask.

“All right,” she replies neutrally.

“Still with Cafran?” She nods. “I must call and see him sometime.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

I shrug, trying not to show that her words stung me, and face Jeery. “This is the first time you’ve come without any of your Snakes, the first time we can speak freely, one to one. Do you want to discuss the future now?”

“What’s there to discuss?” he asks.

“You. Me. How we share the city.”

“I thought it was already being shared.”

I laugh. “That won’t last. A year or two from now the Kluxers will be back at the throats of the blacks and the Snakes will disintegrate into factions. It’s the way it’s always been.”

“But not the way it will be,” Jeery grunts. “You’ll see to that. You’ll keep them in check, act as the go-between, chastise them when they step out of line, reward them when they play ball.”

“Why should I?”

He shrugs. “I’m not sure. But you will, until it suits you not to. We’ve had our fill of chaos, enough to last a lifetime. Of course, you’ve many lifetimes to look forward to, and I’m sure you’ll stir things up again someday when you get bored. But for the time being I think you’d like to keep it peaceful, secure your clutch on the city, bring the Kluxers and Snakes fully into the fold, so you can use them as you’ll use the Troops — to conquer the world.”

I stare at Jeery, impressed. He’s read my intentions with eerie accuracy. This is a time for consolidation. It’s what I was working toward before the Incas abducted me, only then I was fighting Davern and the gangs in the east, even my own disenchanted people. Now that I have them working with me, it should be possible to grow serenely. Eventually the conflict will start afresh, when we try to take over other cities, but for the next few decades we need to build quietly and unobtrusively.

“Where do you see yourself fitting in?” I ask.

Jeery smiles. “I don’t. This is your city and you’re welcome to it. I want out.”

“Out? Out where?”

“I’m leaving,” he says. “This afternoon, as soon as I’m finished here. That’s what I came to tell you. I know the villacs were building me up to be your human counterpart — the first of an endless number of Sapa Incas, loyal lieutenants bound to you by blood — but I’m not interested. I set out to put a stop to the riots — I did. I wanted to free the Snakes, so they could operate independently and protect the interests of my people — that’s been achieved. The villacs are history. As for the rest, I couldn’t care less.”

“You plan to just walk away?” I ask, startled.

“Yeah.”

“But…” I pause. I was worried about placating this man, not sure how I’d keep him happy and at arm’s length at the same time. I should be delighted that he’s quitting, but I’m not. Part of me wants him to stay. The Incas thought I needed a partner. I never trusted those blind meddlers, but they were experts at understanding people and sensing their weaknesses. They believed I was incapable of ruling alone. Do I have an Achilles’ heel? Will I one day regret it if I let this man go?

“You don’t have to leave,” I tell him. “You could stay, if not as leader of the Snakes, then as part of the Troops. That’s what Dorak wanted. He saw you as a replacement for Frank Weld.”

“How do you figure that?” Jeery snorts.

“It was in his notes, the private files only I have access to.”

“Head of the Troops…” He winces. “No thanks.”

“Some other position?”

“No.” His eyes — their natural color now, minus the contact lenses — are firm. “I’ve had enough. I want out.”

“As you please,” I sigh. “That just leaves us with your payment to settle.”

“Payment?” he echoes.

“Ford Tasso hired you to find and rescue me, which you did. In return, he said he’d tell you where Bill Casey could be found. I decided to spare him that job and reward you myself. This contains the address.” Smiling smugly, I hold out an envelope that I prepared last week, knowing this day would come, but he doesn’t reach for it.

“I already tracked Bill down,” he says softly.

I blink, astonished. “When?”

“Shortly after the riots started.”

“Did you kill him?”

“That’s my business, not yours,” he retorts.

“Prickly customer, aren’t you?” I mutter sourly, but inside I’m grinning. I like Al Jeery. He’s not rotten at the core or interested only in what he can get out of life. He’s a good man, better than most I know — far better than me — yet with the drive and determination of a demon. A dangerous foe, as the Incas found out to their cost, but a powerful ally. I wish I could convince him to stay.

“Very well.” I clasp my hands, then open them. “You’re free. Go with my blessing. If you ever need help, I’ll be here and I’ll do what I can. But I won’t come looking for you. I won’t drag you back.”

“Thanks.” He stands and hands me a credit card. “Ford gave me that. I withdrew some cash earlier, to get me started. Is that OK?”

“Christ, Jeery, keep the damn thing,” I laugh. “You’ve earned it.”

“No,” he says tightly. “I don’t want your money. I’ll make my own way. I’m not sure how, but I’ll figure it out as I go along.”

“As you wish.” I take the card from him and toss it on the desk, then look at Ama and lick my lips. “Would you mind leaving us alone?” I ask Jeery.

“Ama?” he says.

She stares at me coldly, then sighs. “Will you wait for me outside, Al? I won’t be long.”

“OK. Holler if you need me.”

Jeery looks back once, makes a half-wave — I return it — then marches to the door and exits, leaving me alone with the woman whose love I crave, whose hatred I fear.

“Been a long time,” I grin sickly. “You’re as beautiful as ever.”

“You sacrificed me,” she says softly, coming straight to the point. “Dorak put it to you — me or his empire — and you chose the latter.”

“I had to,” I mutter shamefully. “He made me to need this above all else. My choice wasn’t my own — you know that.”

“Do I?” she replies icily. “I love you, Capac”—my hopes flare—“but I don’t want to.” And fade just as swiftly. “The love’s buried deep within me and I can’t ignore it.”

“Nor can I!” I protest. “I love you now, as I did ten years ago, but I had to put this city first. I’ll always have to. The Cardinal instilled that in me, just as he filled us with love for one another. I’m as helpless as you are.”

“I don’t think so,” she disagrees. “I like to believe you lacked free will. I even argued your case with Al because I don’t want to hate you. But The Cardinal made you differently. You’re unique. I think you had the freedom to choose.”

“You’d have died anyway,” I remind her stiffly. “All the Ayuamarcans did.”

She smiles sadly. “That hardly justifies your choice.”

“I did what I had to,” I insist, but I don’t know if I believe that. For ten years I’ve told myself I was a pawn, but part of me has always queried it. Maybe that’s why I suffer with nightmares in which I relive that moment of choosing and burn with shame at the memory of it.

“Let’s not argue,” Ama says, closing her eyes. “I’m here now. I came back, as I had to. I’m yours. Do with me as you wish.”

I start toward her, to take her in my arms, then stop uncertainly as she opens her eyes and stares at me hollowly. “No,” I croak. “Not like this. It’s not enough that you love me. You’ve got to want me. I won’t take you against your will.”

“You’ll have to,” she says, “because I don’t want you. I’ll never want you. But I love you and I’ll give myself to you. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to endure it — I guess I’ll wind up slashing my wrists in a tub late one night — but you can have me for as long as I last. You’ll get your money’s worth.”

I feel my lower lip quiver and bite down on it quick. I’m The Cardinal, and The Cardinal doesn’t cry, no matter what the circumstances. Steeling myself, I force a sneer. “You flatter yourself if you think I’d give my heart to a whore.”

Her jaw drops. “What?”

“That’s what you’re offering yourself as. You’ll give me your body, to do with as I please, while you lie back, close your eyes and dream of… who? Jeery? Is that who you’d rather be with?”

“I’d rather be with anyone than you,” she snarls, angry tears building.

“Then go,” I shrug, my soul disintegrating with the gesture. “The city’s full of whores. I won’t have difficulty finding another, one who’ll at least pretend her heart’s in it.”

“You… you don’t… want me?” she mumbles.

“Not like this. If you’d come to me with love, I’d have turned you into a queen and placed you above all others. But chaining yourself to me as a slave… that doesn’t tempt me. I can’t love a woman I can’t respect.” I turn my back on her and walk to the window, forcing the words from between my reluctant lips. “And I can’t respect a whore.”

The brutality is necessary. To free her, I must drive her away. She’ll never get over me, just as I’ll never get over her, but if I convince her that I don’t want her, maybe she can live without me. Ferdinand Dorak loved a woman who couldn’t love him back. Rather than imprison her, he behaved as a human for perhaps the only time in his life and set her free. I must do the same, even though I’m more of a monster than he ever was.

“Capac… I don’t understand… I thought…” She stops and stands. I’m captivated by her reflection in the glass. She’s staring at me, crying but smiling. I almost turn and run to her — but don’t. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to let her go. The monster would overwhelm me and she’d be devoured.

“Thank you,” she whispers. I pretend not to hear. Wiping tears away, she walks to the door, turns the handle and steps through, closing it gently behind her.

I stay by the window, gazing at the rear yard of Party Central, thinking about how I sacrificed Ama before and how I’ve given her up now. It was easier the other way. Life’s simpler if you face it as an emotionless beast.

I spot them exiting, black and white specks fifteen floors down. They go to their vehicles — a bicycle and moped — then stop and talk. I wish I could hear what they’re saying. A car pulls up and they exchange words with the passengers in the back. Jeery laughs, slaps the roof of the car, and it drives on. The pair share a few more words, then Jeery hands something to Ama. She ends the conversation by throwing her arms around him and kissing him. I’m too far up to tell whether it’s a kiss of passion or friendship. Then she turns, climbs aboard her moped and departs. Jeery leaves soon after, pedaling slowly, passing through the gates one last time.

I back away from the window and stare around my office, considering my position. I have everything Dorak made me to desire — power, influence, wealth, an army, a city… one day, perhaps, a world. I have more than any man before me, all the attributes and possessions of the gods, and I may well become one before I’m through.

But I’d give it all up if I could trade places with Al Jeery, receive that kiss from Ama, and just walk away to live a normal life and die and never come back.

3: adios!

We say nothing in the elevator going down. Ama’s crying. I’m not sure what went on in Raimi’s office, but I think things didn’t go quite the way she expected them to. I take my time walking from the elevator to the yard, knowing this is the last time I’ll ever make the walk, remembering my years as a Troop, the good years with Ellen, the lost years of drinking… the human years.

When we reach our bikes, I clear my throat. “Did you tell him where to get off?”

Ama smiles. “I told him the truth, that I loved him and would give myself to him, but if I had a choice I’d have nothing to do with him.” She pauses, eyes misting over. “He set me free.”

“Come again?”

“He said he didn’t want me. Told me I was a whore. Kicked me out with orders not to come back.”

I stare at her. “But I thought he was created to love you.”

She nods. “But he always enjoyed more freedom than the other Ayuamarcans. He had the ability to cast me aside. And he did, even though it pained him, for my sake.” Tears trickle down her cheeks, but they’re tears of happiness. “He’s alone, and always will be, but he set me free because he loved me and couldn’t bear to see me suffer.”

“Maybe he really didn’t care that much for you,” I suggest, but she shakes her head confidently.

“He’s in agony but he’ll endure it — for me.” She glances up at the fifteenth floor, then looks down morosely. “It’s almost enough to make me want to go back to him. Almost.”

“What will you do now?” I ask curiously.

“Carry on with Cafran,” she shrugs, drying her cheeks. “Run his new restaurant. Make friends. Try and forget about the past.”

“You could leave with me if you wanted,” I mumble, not daring look at her as I make the proposition.

“Inviting me to elope, Al?” I sense her smile.

“We got on well together that time we…” I cough discreetly.

“Very well,” she giggles.

“So how about it?” I raise my eyes, grinning hopefully.

“No,” she sighs. “I’m not saying I don’t want you — I just don’t want you now. I have to find out who I am, discover what I need from life. This city’s a cemetery for you, but it’s a nursery as far as I’m concerned. I want to grow here and learn. One day, maybe, I can leave too. But not now.”

“Think you might want to look me up when that day comes?”

“I might,” she smirks. “Will you keep in touch, let me know how you get on and where you wind up?”

“Sure. By the way, there’s something I have to give you…”

As I’m reaching inside the bag attached to the back of my bike, a car pulls up. The tinted glass in the rear window rolls down and the grinning faces of Ford Tasso and Jerry Falstaff are revealed.

“Doing a runner, Algiers?” Tasso bellows.

“Bet your wrinkled old ass I am,” I laugh, leaning down for a better view. “How you doing, Jerry?” I haven’t seen him since the attack on Cockerel Square, though I’ve heard he stepped down as head of the Troops shortly after.

“Not too bad,” he smiles. “Getting some grief from the new boss, but with a bit of luck he won’t be around very long.”

“Watch it,” Tasso growls. “I’ll outlast you and all the rest of your soft-as-shit generation.”

“You’re back in control of the Troops?” I ask, mildly amazed. “What happened to your retirement?”

“Fuck that,” Tasso snorts. “I wasn’t meant to grow old gracefully. I got such a buzz being back in the game, there wasn’t a hope of me walking away from it again. I’m in this for the duration, Algiers, however long that might prove to be — and the way I’m feeling, there could be a few decades left in me yet.”

“You’re an insane old bastard,” I chuckle, shaking my head admiringly.

“In this city, you have to be,” he retorts, winking with his one good eye, sitting back and calling to the driver, “Home, Thomas!”

I laugh, step back from the car and slap the roof, seeing them off. I smile as I watch them go and silently wish them well, though I doubt whether they need my good wishes. Some people were born to succeed in this city, and Jerry and Tasso are two of its favored sons. They’ll flourish.

“You’ll miss them, won’t you?” Ama asks.

“Yeah. The old son of a bitch especially. But I’ll survive.” Reaching into the bag, I hand her the doll I was going to give her before the interruption. It’s her Ayuamarcan doll, the one I brought from the hall of the Coya. “Take care of that,” I warn her as she turns it around, studying it warily, lifting it to her ear to listen to the tinny beating of its heart. “If anything happens to it, you’re done for. Keep it somewhere safe. Very safe.”

“I will,” she replies, slipping the doll inside her shirt.

She clears her throat. “It’s not any of my business, but your father’s doll… what happened to it?”

I let out a long breath and pat the bag behind me. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t sure what to do with it — what I could do with it — when I came up from the tunnels. But I’ve had time to think. I know how to deal with it now.”

“You’ll make things right?” she asks.

“As right as I can,” I smile.

Ama nods, satisfied, then wraps her arms around me and kisses me deeply. The kiss takes me by surprise and for a few seconds I don’t respond. Then my arms tighten around her and I return the embrace. When we break, we’re both grinning. Maybe I’m kidding myself, but I don’t think this is the last kiss we’ll share. Some day, in some far-flung corner of the world, we’ll kiss again. I’d stake all I have on it.

“See you later, Mr. Jeery,” Ama smirks.

“Not too much later, I hope.”

Blowing me a kiss, Ama mounts her moped and takes off, not looking back, putting the monster on the fifteenth floor behind her forever, surrendering herself to the random uncertainties of the future. I wait until she’s out of sight, then cycle slowly through the gates of Party Central—“Adios!” I roar as I pass the bemused Troops on guard — and head for my final port of call before catching the train out.

The Harpies are absent — they must be with Jennifer — and Bill’s upstairs, painting snakes on a wall. He’s working on a huge rattler when I walk in, using a tiny brush to get the colors just right. I don’t announce myself, just toss my gift — the Paucar Wami doll — at his knees and await his reaction.

Bill’s eyes narrow when he spots me. Then he looks at the doll and slowly picks it up. He studies it silently, running the tip of a finger over the tattooed snakes. “This is the man in my dreams,” he whispers.

“The original Paucar Wami,” I confirm. “The one who tricked you into killing your sister.” Bill’s eyes harden and his fingers close around the doll. “Let’s find a couple of chairs. I’ve got a story to tell you.”

Seated in a bare room at the back of the house, I run Bill through the history of Paucar Wami, how he and the other Ayuamarcans were created by The Cardinal, the part the villacs played in it, how I became aware of my father when Bill drove us together ten years ago, his death, my years mimicking him, his revival, what happened in the tunnels, how the killer’s linked to the doll. I don’t think Bill takes all of it in, but he grasps the most important element. The doll he holds can be used to terminate the assassin of his nightmares — forever.

“I can’t do it,” I finish. “As barbaric as he is, he’s my father and we’ve come through too much together. But I can’t let him roam the world freely either. He has to be stopped. And I think you’re the person most entitled to stop him.”

Bill stares at the doll, saying nothing, his face a blank.

“It’s what you wanted,” I whisper. “The son to rise up and destroy the father. I’m giving him to you, letting you take him down. Your revenge is complete. Once you drive a pin through the doll’s heart, it’s over. You’ll be even. I think you’ll enjoy some measure of peace. It might even stop the nightmares.”

Bill’s eyes lift slowly, painfully. “You think I can escape them?” he croaks.

“Maybe.”

“A life without snakes,” he murmurs, his gaze returning to the doll. “I’ve forgotten what that was like. It’s been so long. To sleep again and not dream of serpents and death and terrible things… It’s too much to hope for.”

“A good night’s sleep isn’t that much,” I disagree. “I think you’ve earned it.” Standing, I search my thoughts for a final comment, but what’s there to say? This man destroyed my life, killed those closest to me, set me on the path to madness and murder. Yet without his interference the villacs would still rule the city, immersing it in chaos whenever it suited their purpose. Ama would be theirs. The Snakes would be puppets in their hands. And maybe I’d belong to them too. The priests were intent on winning me over to their cause. If Bill hadn’t pushed me too far, perhaps I’d have succumbed to their call. I can’t hate him, not anymore. I’m not sure what I feel for this pitiful old man who’s played such a crucial role — both for good and bad — in my life, but it’s not hate.

Abandoning the search for a memorable farewell, I settle for the simplest of all. “Goodbye, Bill.” And after pausing to set down my second gift to the wizened old man — the varnished finger which has hung from a chain around my neck these past ten years — I leave him to his wreck of a house and ruin of a life, sitting on the floor, surrounded by snakes, cradling the Paucar Wami doll to his chest, weeping softly at the thought of the freedom and peace that are his for the taking.

The train station. The sun’s setting in the west and I’ll be heading after it, at least for an hour, before the train turns north. Riding off into a long, rosy sunset like a cowboy. My ticket will take me to the end of the line if I want to travel that far, but I suspect I’ll get off somewhere along the way, in a quiet town or village, or maybe just hop off in the middle of nowhere. I’d like to find a nice spot by a river and do some fishing for a year or two, push all other worries from my mind. Travel later if I feel like it. Sit by the river and grow old slowly if I don’t.

The train pulls out on schedule and I lean back in my seat, casting my weary gaze over the landmarks one final time. Hard to believe I spent so much of my life here, confined by gray buildings, beating blood-drenched streets, living so tensely, so brutally. What keeps people in cities when there are the wide open spaces of the world to explore? It must be madness or an addiction.

I find myself staring at my reflection when the train enters a tunnel. With my snakes painted over, my short crop of hair, and a hunger for new challenges in my eyes, I can almost pass for the man I was ten years ago, before my descent into the subterranean world of the Incas. I must keep the snakes covered. Perhaps one day I’ll pay a surgeon to remove them. Or maybe I’ll hang on to them, reminders of the darkness. It might be good in later years to wipe the paint away every now and then, study the coils of the insane past, and appreciate how fortunate I am to have come out of it alive, intact and in some way human.

Across the aisle, a young boy — four, maybe five — pulls away from his tired mother and makes a break for freedom. She lunges after him but misses. I catch him before he escapes and hand him back. “Thank you,” she smiles, then scolds him in a low, harsh voice. Out of the jumble of words, I hear her warn him, “If you don’t behave, Paucar Wami will come and eat you!”

I turn away to hide a wry smile. Paucar Wami won’t ever eat any little children again, but let him live on in legend if that’s how people want it. I like the idea of him surviving that way. He stepped, fully formed, out of a fantasy and it’s only fitting that he should now return to the land of shadowy myths.

Me? I’m through with legacies. I don’t want anybody telling stories about Al Jeery. I’ll happily pass into obscurity when my time comes, and leave nothing but the dust of my bones behind. Let Capac Raimi have his eternity, and Paucar Wami his notoriety. I’ll settle for whatever years I have left and a soothing, dark hole in the ground at the end.

The train clears the suburbs and picks up speed. I look for a sign to say we’re leaving the city but none materializes. Maybe kids have made off with them, or perhaps nobody bothered to erect any since the city always seems to be expanding, devouring more ground with every passing year. One day it may cover the entire planet, but that’s not my problem. Let future generations deal with that one.

As we head into the glow of dusk, away from the shadows of the city, I lie back and close my eyes, basking in the warmth of the sun through the glass, listening to the whine and screech of the engine and the wheels. After a while I doze, not a sound sleep, but that state halfway between dreams and the real world. In that in-between realm, I’m sitting on the greenest bank of grass in all the world, fishing in a river of purest blue. Bill’s close by, fixing bait

(not a worm, but a tiny snake)

to a hook. He catches my eye, winks and casts off. Behind us, ghostly figures flit in and out of the scene — Ellen and Ama, Capac Raimi and Ferdinand Dorak, Nicola Hornyak, Rudi Ziegler, Sard, Ford Tasso. Frank Weld hits the party with Hyde Wornton, both bitching about the way they were killed. My father doesn’t appear. I’ll dream about him often in the years to come, but he has no place at a friendly gathering like this.

There’s a barbecue sizzling in the background. Someone tells Bill and me to get busy — there’s a lot of hungry people who need feeding. We look at each other, laugh, crack open beers and engage in the mother of all contests. Soon the bank around us is overflowing with fish, every shape and variety, but all pale-skinned and blind.

“That’s it!” Bill cries, abandoning his line to the river. “You win.” He stands, claps my back, then vanishes into the crowd behind me, to dance with his young, giggling sister and a smartly dressed, prim and proper lady who would have been Margaret Crowe in another universe. “Coming?” Bill calls faintly.

“Soon,” I murmur, both in the dream and on the train in the real world. Settling back, I slip further into the dream and welcome more familiar faces — Howard Kett, Dr. Sines, Ali. And, arriving like a lord, a playgirl on each arm, the ancient, smirking Fabio. As the party swings into high gear, I cast my line far out into the heart of the river and carry on fishing, savoring the cool breeze and the scent of fried fish, looking forward to a night of wild tales and fond reminiscences, spent in the company of lost, loved friends.