Dead Harvest

16

"I'm coming with you."

Kate's statement hung in the air like a trial balloon, daring me to shoot it down. After two days of itchy, nerve-jangling wakefulness, I'd curled up on the office floor for a little shut-eye, waking just moments before to the sound of clanking pipes. Kate and Anders were busying themselves in what was left of the kitchen, their candlelight reflecting orange off the open office door. I propped myself against the wall and rubbed sleep from my eyes with bloodied knuckles. I had no idea how long I'd been asleep. Long enough for the soreness to set in. I don't know if you've ever had the experience of being tossed about like a rag doll, but I gotta tell you, I don't recommend it.

"Are you off your nut?" I called back, my voice echoing through the dark expanse of the basement kitchen. "That's completely out of the question!"

"Oh, come on, Sam, I'm not some helpless little girl. If this guy knows who set me up, I want to help you get him."

"First of all, Kate, Merihem is not a guy — he's a demon. As in powerful and evil and, whether he's involved in framing you or not, very interested in getting his hands on you. Or have you already forgotten why I got my ass kicked just yesterday?"

"I haven't forgotten. I just figured maybe you could use me — you know, like bait."

I said, "Bait only works when you've got yourself a trap to put it in."

"So then — what's the plan?"

"I don't know yet — but it sure as hell involves you staying here."

"You're being ridiculous."

"Am I? Let's forget for a second that the entire demon-world is looking to deliver your immortal soul to eternal damnation, quite possibly triggering a war of literally Biblical proportions — you're also the target of a citywide manhunt on the part of New York's Finest. You can't exactly flash that face of yours all over town."

"No?" she asked, strolling through the office door and giving me a catwalk twirl. "How 'bout this one?"

I had to admit, the transformation was impressive. Kate's long auburn locks were now shorn into a jagged bob that traced the line of her jaw. She'd bleached it all a platinum blonde, with a streak of blue framing her face to each side. Thick hoops graced her ears, and another wrapped around one nostril. A studded leather choker wound its way around her neck above a vintage T-shirt and tattered jeans patched with bits of plaid. A pair of work boots worn shiny from years of use finished off the outfit. She grinned at me with blue-painted lips, eyes sparkling from beneath streaks of metallic blue eyeshadow.

"Well? What do you think? The clothes are mostly from the bag we snagged — Anders ran out for the rest this morning. The nose ring is a fake, but it looks legit enough, I think."

"I gave him that money for food, not so you could play dress-up."

"All the food in the world isn't going to do us much good if I can't ever leave this basement."

A fair point, I had to admit. But still, going after Merihem was a far cry from simply walking the streets unnoticed. "Kate, I'm sorry, but there's just no way. You're staying here with Anders, and that's final."

Hot breath clouded the windshield of the van as I sat watching the stoop of Merihem's Staten Island lair, smoking cigarette after cigarette as much for warmth as out of boredom. The engine skipped a bit, and the van shuddered as if from a sudden chill. I knew how it felt. I'd snatched this rusty piece of shit from a parking garage over on Prospect Avenue, and swapped its plates with another just as ugly at a liquor store a couple blocks away. The way I figured it, even if anybody reported this baby missing, the cops would spend their night chasing down the wrong van. By the time they sorted out what happened, I'd be long gone. Still, if I'd known the heat was busted on this one, I might've opted for Door Number Two.

"You want to give me one of those?" Kate asked, eyeing the cigarette as she shivered inside her leather jacket.

"Not a chance."

"Come on — it's freezing in here."

"Hey, you're the one who wanted to come. Besides, these things'll kill you."

"I thought you were supposed to kill me."

"Yeah, well," I said, "the night is young."

"I still don't see why we couldn't stop off for coffee and doughnuts — I mean, this is a stakeout, after all."

"Maybe if you hadn't blown all our cash on that get-up of yours, we might have."

"Hey — this get-up is what got me here. Not to mention, you just stole a car. You can't find a way to score a couple bucks?"

"Sorry — I'll try to snatch a body with a debit card next time."

For the first time in the three hours we'd been sitting here, Kate fell silent. We watched the flophouse for a while in the sudden quiet, nothing much happening but the occasional junkie heading in, or a john coming out. Wind whipped down the street, tipping trash cans and rattling the low-slung shrubberies that clung, gray and dead, to either side of the stoop. Though the doors and windows of the van remained closed, the wind cut through them like nothing at all. My knuckles ached from it, and Kate, in the passenger seat, pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged herself for warmth.

"I don't know how you do it," she said finally.

"Do what?"

"Swap bodies like that. I mean, I changed my hair and my clothes and I feel like a different person. It's got to be hard not to lose track of who you are."

I shrugged. "It's not so hard, really."

"No?"

"I once read that nothing fixes something so intensely in your memory as the desire to forget it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," I said. "Looks like we're on."

A figure had approached the stoop. Not an inch over four feet, and a slight four feet at that, he looked tiny and afraid in the orange glare of the sodium-vapor street lights. A filthy down jacket hung loose around his frame.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I said.

Kate shot me a puzzled glance. "Who the hell is that?"

"A liability," I replied.

Pinch paused at the bottom of the stoop, casting furtive glances left and right, and then he ascended the steps, knocking on the flophouse door. I stubbed out my cigarette and cracked the window. Whatever went down, I was damn sure I wanted to hear it.

After a moment, the door opened. Behind it was a chocolate-skinned woman in a leather halter and a denim miniskirt; a luxuriant head of cinnamon locks that was almost certainly a wig cascaded down over her naked shoulders. She was rail-thin, with sunken eyes and a face that could have been a young-looking fifty or a weathered thirty. My money was on the latter.

"Ain't you a little young to come 'round here, sport?" she asked. Her words dripped with condescension. A smile played across her face.

"I'm here to see Merihem," Pinch replied.

"Kid, I don't know where you heard that name, but believe me when I tell you, you'd best forget it quick, you hear? Now why don't you run along to Mommy — I'm sure she'd hate to hear what kind of trouble her baby's gettin' hisself into."

"It's about the girl."

"What girl you talking about?"

"You know what girl," Pinch said.

"Honest, baby, I don't. Maybe you could come inside and tell me?"

"I'll only talk to Merihem."

"Well, then, I guess I got no choice. Come on in, child, and I'll take you to him."

"I'm young, I'm not stupid. He wants to talk to me, he can bring his ass out here."

Her eyes flashed with anger at that last. "You'd best watch that mouth of yours, boy — you don't know who it is you're speaking of."

"I know enough," he said. "Just go get him."

The woman disappeared back into the house, and the door swung shut. Pinch shifted from foot to foot as he waited, rubbing his hands together to ward off the cold. He glanced around again, looking down the street away from us, and then directly toward the van. If he saw us inside, he didn't let on.

"I don't get it," Kate said. "She seemed pissed he wouldn't go inside, but that chick was twice his size — why didn't she just grab him?"

I smiled despite myself. "Because she couldn't. See, she can try to tempt him all she likes, but if he won't enter of his own accord, there's nothing she can do to make him. Sin is all about free will, which means evil has no power unless you grant it."

"Tell that to my family."

I flushed. "Kate, I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean-"

"Forget it," she said. "Something's happening."

The flophouse door swung open again, but this time, the errand girl was nowhere to be seen. Merihem looked down at the boy, a benevolent smile pasted on his face. Even from here, I could see it didn't touch his eyes. They exchanged a few words, and then Pinch beckoned Merihem to follow him. I dropped the van into gear and waited.

They stepped off of the curb and headed west across the street — Pinch leading, Merihem a couple steps behind. I floored the gas and the van lurched forward. Beside me, Kate screamed.

"Sam, what the hell are you doing?"

"Hold on to something," I replied.

"I thought this was a stakeout!"

"Change of plans."

The van shook like it was coming apart at the seams, and the engine whined in protest, but I kept the pedal to the floor. Merihem looked toward us, startled by the sudden noise. His eyes registered shock and surprise as they met mine. Then they registered the windshield as the van slammed full bore into him.

I hit the brakes. The van screeched to a halt. Merihem didn't. He skittered across the pavement for a moment, a tangle of limbs and tattered clothes, and then slid to a stop, leaning heavily against the curb.

I threw open the driver's side door and sprinted toward him, tire iron in hand. An acrid cloud of burnt rubber hung like fog over the roadway. Merihem shook his head as if to clear it, and tried to stand. I hit him with the tire iron, and he went down. Just stunned, I knew, and not for long, but it was all I needed. I leapt atop him and stuffed a shard from the ceramic cat into his mouth, wedging it tight such that the tip dug into the soft flesh of his palate. Merihem whimpered in sudden pain.

"Pinch, now!" I called. The kid picked himself up off the pavement and yanked a roll of duct tape from his coat pocket, tossing it to me.

"Jesus, Sam," Pinch said, "could you have cut that any closer?"

"You're still standing," I replied. I tore off a length of duct tape and pressed it tight to Merihem's mouth, wrapping it around his head a couple times for good measure. I grabbed him by the lapel and pulled him close, his nose nearly touching mine.

"The shard in your mouth — you know what it is?"

Merihem nodded, eyes wide with fear.

"Good. If I were you, I'd concentrate real hard on not biting down on it, or you might end up going byebye, you get me?"

Again, he nodded. I kicked him over, and grabbed his wrists, binding them tight behind his back with duct tape. Ankles, too. He grunted something unintelligible. I ignored it.

"Pinch," I called, "help me get him up! Kate, get the doors open!"

I grabbed Merihem by the arms. Pinch scooped up his ankles. Together, we hauled him to the van. Kate, who'd watched the whole affair with obvious horror through the windshield of the van, snapped out of it in time to climb in back and throw open the rear doors. We tossed in Merihem, and Pinch climbed in, too, pulling the doors closed behind him. Then I hopped into the driver's seat and punched it. The whole affair couldn't have taken more than thirty seconds, start to finish.

Son of a bitch, I thought — we just kidnapped a demon. I glanced back at the demon in question, noting with no small measure of fear the hatred that glinted in his eyes.

I'd better be right about the girl, I thought, because if I was wrong, the horrors of this existence were nothing compared to the torment I had in store.