Cruel Zinc Melodies

59

I snapped, ‘‘I swear by all the gods that ever infested this damned city, you people just flat refuse to be satisfied.’’

John Stretch’s henchrats and Luther’s workmen alike complained constantly about the cold. ‘‘Anybody see any ghosts?’’

Headshakes.

‘‘And there you go. Stop whining. Get back to work.’’

Shivering, John Stretch told me, ‘‘We have seen no bugs for a while, either, Garrett.’’

‘‘Excellent! Wow! Look at me. Making good things happen.’’ I turned slightly. ‘‘So what do you want?’’

Morley looked offended. He said, ‘‘I hope your bark is worse than your bite.’’

‘‘Sorry. Getting tired of people who whine all the time.’’

He flashed a mocking smile. ‘‘I came to say we found a perfect venue. Thanks for the idea. When the new place is up, dinner is on the house. Whenever you want.’’

‘‘Wow.’’ I smacked the crankiness down, tied it up wiggling and squealing in a mental bag that wouldn’t hold it long. I pasted on a smile that probably looked like I’d borrowed it off a corpse. ‘‘Great. Good for you. Did you catch Lurking Felhske and turn him in for the reward?’’

‘‘No.’’ Puzzled.

‘‘Then how can you finance a new shop?’’ He’d been desperate as recently as yesterday.

‘‘I found an angel who likes the idea better than I do.’’

Interesting. I tossed up an inquisitorial eyebrow.

Which he ignored like a pregnant girlfriend.

The question had to be answered sometime.

John Stretch coughed. He wanted my attention back. He said, ‘‘The bugs are sluggish down there now.’’

‘‘You just told me—’’

‘‘Meaning they are not attacking anymore. The rats tell of a steady wind bringing hot air up and pulling cold air in behind. They have found many kinds of grubs and pupae. The grubs have distracted them. They keep stopping to eat.’’

‘‘That’s not bad. Let them get fat.’’

‘‘Trouble,’’ Morley whispered, looking over my shoulder.

I turned.

Barate Algarda had invited himself into the World. And he’d brought a date. She was a pale wisp of a woman, five feet ten, thin as a starveling elf, going maybe a hundred pounds with gear and hair included.

That hung to her waist in streamers and fanciful braids. It was blond, so pale that in the available light it looked white. Her eyes were implausibly large and blue.

So heavily was she bundled that I feared she might be even more insubstantial than I first thought.

Furious Tide of Light. Sorceress of the most dangerous sort.

Had to be.

But such a forlorn waif . . .

I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

I was not unique. Every man in the place felt it. Morley’s breathing became labored, like he had run a long way to get here in time to embarrass himself.

Despite the magnetism, at first I figured she couldn’t be more than thirteen. She had no apparent figure.

But she had a daughter older than that. I needed to remember that.

I lost the color of her eyes as she considered the chaos inside the World. But I felt them. Like I’d felt the eyes of great, deadly snakes when I was in the islands. When I caught it again they seemed to be green.

Saucerhead and several of his thugs materialized behind the couple. He gave me an inquiring look. I had no answer. I just shrugged.

Algarda headed my way after a pause for effect. Arrogantly confident. His companion followed a step behind and one to his left, letting him shield her. Despite his breathing difficulties Morley managed to drift away so he could get a clear line of sight. Carefully, not knowing who these people were but recognizing what.

Whatever their physical appearance, they have a distinctive smell, our Lords off the Hill.

I gulped some air. Then glanced aside. That gave my mind an opportunity to reengage.

I turned back. The frail frail had aged precipitously. Now she was a woman my age fighting a desperate rearguard action against conquering time. Her eyes were violet and my hunger wasn’t any less wicked.

There’s a puzzle for the great minds. How come one woman can inspire ferocious, unreasoning desire while another, virtually identical . . .

Never mind. That’s a mug’s game. If, by some wild chance, the boffins did find an answer, women would change the question.

The Dead Man would, no doubt, go on about unconscious cues presented by the personalities inside. Meaning that the same body, occupied by different souls, would conjure different responses.

Furious Tide of Light absolutely reeked of ‘‘Come and get it like you’ve only ever imagined getting it before.’’ She could fog the minds of those statues of forgotten Karentine heroes that infest the government part of town. She might even make Max Weider glad that he’d lived long enough to meet her.

What caused an insecurity so deep that a girl needed to wrap herself up in an aura that powerful?

Strategically positioned between the Windwalker and me, Algarda looked around. He learned what he wanted to know in an instant. He told me, ‘‘The Windwalker promised your partner she’d help undo the mischief Kevans loosed down here.’’

‘‘Really?’’ My recollection was, Kevans was behind the compliance device, not the robust bugs. With drool dripping as I tried to ignore the Windwalker.

For once the gods were not cruel. Tinnie was somewhere else.

A damned good thing there were witnesses. None of them more smitten than I.

Not even my best pal.

Furious Tide of Light had a characteristic I’d noted before in women who have that smack-in-the-chops impact. She didn’t know what she was doing, which meant she didn’t pay attention. I had a feeling she really didn’t know much about the interplay between men and women. Maybe because she’d never had time for anything but what helped her become Furious Tide of Light.

Tinnie might ask, if she was so damned naive, why did she dress like that? Pointing out that the woman was bundled against the weather would be a waste. The argument would become something about her using witchcraft to inspire the response she did. At which point I would meticulously fail to declare that the entire female subspecies practices that same black magic. Some just get blessed with a bigger ration. Some were maybe behind the door when it got passed out. Or didn’t get in line. But it’s there in most of them, making sure there’ll be future generations.

Which thinking didn’t get on with finding out why the Dead Man had sent these people to join me. ‘‘Let’s step aside so we can talk.’’

The Windwalker appeared to be considering the World as though it was something she was dreaming. She reached out to touch a curious ghost.