Cruel Zinc Melodies

30

‘‘Oh, is it getting treacherous out,’’ I told Singe when she let me in.

‘‘What happened to your coat?’’

‘‘Tinnie’s good intentions. Dean back yet?’’

‘‘No. We’re on our own for supper.’’

That meant Garrett would boil some sausages. He might even get experimental and toss in a couple potatoes.

She asked, ‘‘So how was your day?’’

‘‘Damn, we’re getting domestic. I spent most of it in the Al-Khar. Then I got dragged over to The Palms, where Morley had a seizure when I mentioned Lurking Felhske. That after Director Relway nearly volunteered me for the rack when I mentioned the same name.’’

‘‘That strange-smelling man who was watching us yesterday?’’

‘‘He was watching. But the consensus is, not us. The very one, though. Apparently unpopular with a lot of people.’’

We were in the kitchen, banging the pots and pans. Singe drew us a couple of beers.

‘‘No wonder, stinking that way,’’ she said.

‘‘You didn’t mention an unusual odor before.’’

‘‘It is not unusual. It is just potent. Body odor.’’

In a city where most people consider bathing unhealthy or an effete affectation, full-bodied personal auras aren’t exactly rare.

Singe said, ‘‘It is more than failure to bathe. It is unusual diet. Or disease.’’

Not uncommon, especially amongst old folks. But what disease leaves a man looking like an orangutan?

I told her about the rest of my day, including the whiff I’d caught heading over to see Farkas.

Singe refilled our mugs. ‘‘You must have just missed him. Odor wouldn’t stay around strong enough for a human nose in weather this windy.’’

The pot was hot enough. I filled it with smoked sausages and two large potatoes, quartered. ‘‘How the hell did I survive before I bought this place and hired Dean?’’

‘‘You ate out.’’

‘‘Pretty much. Yeah. I didn’t amount to much then.’’

‘‘You are fortunate that Dean is not here to hear you admit that.’’

‘‘He’d get in a shot. Yeah. What’s with Himself? I haven’t heard a peep.’’ Though I was sure he’d helped himself to my day’s adventures already.

‘‘That child priestess was here. She brought some puzzles. He has been playing with those.’’

‘‘Grrr! Even when Dean’s away. How much did she eat? What did she steal?’’

‘‘You are too young to be a cranky old man.’’ She refilled our mugs. ‘‘Maybe you should go visit your uncle Medford. Remind yourself how pleasant it is to be around crabby old men.’’

Medford Shale is my only living relative. He’s a miserable grouch. ‘‘No, thank you, thank you. Swear to all the gods, these potatoes are going to take forever.’’

‘‘You want to get that, then?’’

I took a long drink of beer, set my mug down where she could top it off. ‘‘Get what?’’

‘‘The door. Someone is knocking.’’

It would behoove you to move swiftly, Garrett. The glamouron the boy’s mind is fraying.

With no idea what that meant, I headed up front, muttering, ‘‘Go behoove yourself.’’ Brew in hand, I used the peephole.

An uncomfortable Cypres Prose, well decorated with giant snowflakes, shared my stoop with a lethal creature from the Tate clan, Kyra, a sixteen-year-old uncut version of Tinnie.

Sometime tonight, Garrett.

‘‘Why don’t you grab him by the brain and drag him on in there?’’ I didn’t ask. Not out loud.

He didn’t respond. Meaning he had a whole lot of head tied up doing something else.

I popped the door open.

Both kids jumped like they’d gotten caught doing something they shouldn’t. Kip had some definite thoughts obvious on his face, too.

You couldn’t blame the boy. Kyra Tate was Tinnie in the raw, before she’d gotten it under control. Tinnie without polish or restraint. But maybe she’d started to understand. She looked guilty about something.

How had she manipulated Kip to get him here?

‘‘Kip. Kyra. Welcome. Singe. Find some refreshments.’’ I led the young folks into the Dead Man’s room.

Old Butterbutt had enough mind space free to be amused.

Kyra apparently found Kip interesting—despite himself.

There is new meaning to my existence, Old Bones sent me. Privately.I will not leave this sorry vale before this plays out.

I couldn’t ask because he was intent on convincing the kids that he was asleep.

But visitors in the knowalways assume he’s awake and prying.

Kyra’s freckled cheeks seemed redder than could be explained by the cold outside. And she couldn’t keep her eyes off Kip.

That was as weird as having bugs the size of tomcats underfoot.

Kip was for sure a catch, in the ‘‘someday he’s gonna be filthy rich’’ sense. He wasn’t the guy girls get involved with for the adventure. That guy goes by the name of Morley Dotes and has enjoyed a career of making me whine in envy.

The Dead Man read me as I speculated, observed, and felt sorry for myself. His amusement grew.

I helped them with their coats, hats, and whatnot. And asked Kip, ‘‘What happened to your hair?’’ There seemed to be about twice as much as there had been in front of the World and it was flying away everywhere.

Kyra said, ‘‘I like it that way. It gives him a rebel look.’’

There you go. Good enough.

Singe brought the tea service, along with my beer mug, filled, and my share of the sausage and potatoes. I relaxed. I didn’t have to be entertaining to teenagers. I was too busy eating. They relaxed, too, building and working their cups of tea.

Singe had found a cache of Dean’s sugar cookies. He can’t hide anything from her magic nose for long. He keeps trying, though. He doesn’t want to believe in her kind of magic.

‘‘Here we go, kids,’’ around a big bite of sausage. ‘‘I need you to explain some things.’’

‘‘Sir?’’

‘‘You know where you are, Kip. There’s no point trying to fudge. You and some other boys have been doing something weird and probably illegal under that empty house down on the edge of the Tenderloin. I was down there because the Weiders have been having trouble with giant bugs at their construction site. And, lo! Right off I find you and your pals and some big boy bugs all snuggled up.’’

He is concerned that his mother will find out what he has been doing.

Leverage!

Indeed. But reserve the fact that you have been into that house.

‘‘I’m not looking to hassle you guys. I just want my client to be able to build his theater. So his daughter and Kyra’s aunt have a venue to show off their acting skills. Or lack thereof. But somebody’s been breaking some Hill-type rules. I’ve got the Guard on me because they’re getting grief from somebody on the Hill. What’s going on?’’

Kip gnawed a cookie, slurped tea, and avoided my gaze. Kyra lapsed into the traditional pout of a Tate woman who suspects she may be off the bull’s-eye when it comes to being the center of attention.

‘‘It’s a club, Mr. Garrett. Kind of a gang.The Gang. Or, usually, the Faction. It’s for kids smart enough to spell their own names. There were six of us down there when you were there. You saw Kevans and Slump with me. Both seriously weird.’’

Wow. If Kip Prose thought you were weird, it might be time to move yourself into the howling hall psycho ward at the Bledsoe.

‘‘Berbach and Berbain weren’t there. They’re twins. They’ve been kind of fading out. Their mother is a Stormwarden. She never wanted kids in the first place. Zardoz is the one who loves bugs. Him and Teddy. I think they’re icky. But the rule is, we help each other with whatever excites our passion. Because nobody else will.’’

Old Bones damned near laughed out loud. And him in his condition.

I said, ‘‘I can’t imagine why anybody would want to make giant bugs. And it does got to stop. It wasn’t just the Guard who had me in today. It was Director Relway himself. Not only is somebody on the Hill ragging him; somebody is curious enough to hire people to follow you around. If you kids don’t want your lives getting painfully complicated, find some new hobbies.’’

‘‘It’s just kids helping each other work things out, Mr. Garrett. We aren’t hurting anybody.’’

I talked about the economic disruption already caused by giant bugs interfering with construction and scaring people away from the Tenderloin. ‘‘And that’s making some people cranky enough to crack skulls.’’

Kip just sort of gaped.

I said, ‘‘It’s what they call the law of unintended consequences. Unexpected things that happen because of something you do.’’

Kip stared at the floor, which wanted sweeping and mop-ping. Which reminded me that it had been bare earth when I bought the place.

Kip said, ‘‘I really should think about that. Shouldn’t I? I’ve been through this before.’’

There were differences. The principle beneath was the same. ‘‘Yep. Do your pals know you’rethat Cypres Prose?’’

Kyra took hold of Kip’s right hand when he started his mea culpa. Even Singe was startled.

Amusement.

Something else going on here.

Kip said, ‘‘Yeah. They know. But it don’t mean anything to them. That’s ancient history.’’

‘‘They’re not intrigued by those smoking-hot sky elf women?’’

Kip’s cheeks reddened. Kyra gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Something remarkably weird was going on. Which thought of mine stirred the Dead Man’s amusement yet again.

I tossed an inquiring thought his way. Was there really any need to hold the boy? The old lump had had plenty of time to paw through the clutter inside Kip’s head.

No need to keep him. But it might be useful to gather his friends here.

‘‘All right, kids. I’ve heard what I needed to hear. Kip, really, you need to think about the impact of the stuff you do. You really didn’t realize that there’d be a big-ass stink if a hundred thousand giant bugs got loose?’’

Singe said, ‘‘Stop that, Garrett. You’re not his father.’’

That startled me. Then, ‘‘You’re right. And he is almost grown. He should be learning from his mistakes. And should see new ones coming.’’

The slump started to go out of the boy’s shoulders.

We couldn’t let that happen. ‘‘But he hasn’t shown us he’s able to do that. Kip. The only thing else I’ll say is, if this gets as hairy as it did with the sky elves, I’ll ask your mother to keep you in a cage.’’

‘‘Garrett!’’ Singe said. ‘‘Stop that.’’

‘‘Yes, ma’am. Go on, guys. Kyra, take him back where you found him. And be nice.’’