Cruel Zinc Melodies

71

We were near the edge of the installed floor planking. I considered Rocky’s mess, down below. ‘‘Need to get that cleaned up.’’

The Windwalker told me, ‘‘This is a good spot. Keep me between you and the old witch until we find out where you stand. And remember, none of us are as bad as our reputations make out.’’

I had reservations.

Ghosts drifted our way, drawn by Furious Tide of Light.

I couldn’t quite get my mind around the differences between this woman and the Windwalker who tagged along after Barate Algarda. ‘‘You aren’t twins, are you?’’ Her eyes had remained a steely shade for several minutes now.

‘‘No. I’m a role player. Like these ghosts. Only I try to be what the beholder does want to see.’’

Did that mean I was in need of a kick-ass blonde who looked like a starved teenage elf girl in ferocious heat?

Clammy fingers brushed the back of my neck. The very sensation Morley had reported. Meanwhile, that creepy thing called Shadowslinger made an ugly silhouette coming through the doorway. Outside, unseen but heard, Link and Schnook argued genially about what news of the Bellman they ought to squeeze out of me first. Once they laid hands on, of course.

I decided never to forgive Morley for having sent me to the Busted Dick.

Furious Tide of Light giggled. She started breathing heavy.

Hopefully a reaction unique to her, here, and only when Barate Algarda wasn’t around. There’d been no panting or sighing when she visited with him.

What else might she do when her old man wasn’t there to kibitz?

The clammy tentacle-touches kept delivering the creepy chills. Those ghosts loved me today.

In truth, they touched me only because I was between them and Furious Tide of Light.

What a woman. Even the dead wanted to make her groan.

The dead? Well, not really. Something else. If these were actual shades, Shadowslinger would be the one making happy noises.

I wasn’t sure Short, Broad, and Hideous saw the spooks. She just kept coming, muttering something about her granddaughter. The Windwalker said something in one of the gobbledygook dead languages her class use to impress the marks. Shadowslinger barked something back.

Commenced a bit of back and forth, the old and wide sounding like a granny reprimanding people pups whose behavior failed to meet her exacting but ever-shifting standards. The Windwalker not only didn’t back down; she showed no evidence of being intimidated.

I was.

The Windwalker was, however, unhappy. In an aside, she told me, ‘‘She’s my father’s mother. Berbach and Berbain are her grandchildren, too. She just can’t understand why we won’t do things her way all the time, whatever she says.’’ Her eyes were an angry green.

‘‘I thought she was the grandmother of—’’

‘‘Teddy lives with her. Teddy is Kevans’ second cousin. She’s Kevans’ grandmother, too.’’ And that was all the time she had to explain which of the Faction were related to who, and how, because the rest of the parents’ club began to form up between us and the doorway. Link Dierber continued evaluating ways of getting me to tell him all about Belle Chimes.

Furious Tide of Light growled, ‘‘Knock that crap off, Link. We aren’t here because of something that happened between you and the Bellman fifteen years ago. Which, from what the rest of the family says, was your fault, anyway.’’

That little lump actually shut up. The others did, too. Amazing. Some of the ugliest pustules on the body politic ever. Walking nightmares to us down on the mundane streets. Apparently mostly related and all just worried parents.

Dierber sputtered suddenly, unable to control something that had to get out. The gist being that the disrespect shown him by the Bellman had been so egregious that the only possible response had to be orchestrated atrocities.

Schnook Avery tried to calm him down.

So Dierber had asked for trouble, had gotten it, had gotten the worst of it, and had carried a murderous grudge ever since. He wasn’t the sort to sleep in a bed of his own making without complaining.

His spite had been such that the Bellman faked his own death and went underground.

I asked the Windwalker, ‘‘Who is Belle Chimes?’’

‘‘Link’s brother. Half brother, actually. Link hates him because their mother always favored Belle. Link’s father didn’t ask permission before he got her with child.’’

More family nutso stuff. I’d fallen into the weirdest dream ever.

I was premature when I concluded that the ghosts weren’t interested in Shadowslinger. It just took them a while to find her and connect with her secret self.

A phantom laid hands on. It took plain form once it did. Not a human form, but close. It had a face like an ape, but less dark. Its eyes rolled up in ecstasy.

Link Dierber shut up. Aghast. He stared at the creature enjoying Shadowslinger. Which changed slightly, I presume to resemble what he thought his father looked like.

I tried to ask Furious Tide of Light.

She made a whimpering noise. A couple of ghosts were snuggling her up again.

Shadowslinger suddenly cackled like she was auditioning for wicked witch.

Furious Tide of Light reclaimed her self-control. She shoved one of her ectoplasmic suitors away. She had that spook so blue-balled it didn’t care who it mated. It clamped on to Shadowslinger, too. The witch loosed a startled, long groan filled with undertones of abiding amazement.

Schnook Avery, beset by ghosts of his own and definitely not in an erotic zone, began to ooze around Shadowslinger’s left flank. I don’t know what he thought he saw but he had blood in his eye. He didn’t have family matters on his mind. He looked like he expected to have a whole lot of fun playing games in which the Windwalker or I would do a lot of screaming.

‘‘Not good. The monster has taken over.’’ Furious Tide of Light startled me by wrapping her right arm firmly around my waist. Then she skewered her remaining randy specter with Heather Soames’s silver hat pin.

That got results. Loud results. The rattle and volume were overwhelming. The ghosts on Shadowslinger didn’t fade, though. They didn’t stop. They didn’t give up. And they didn’t run away.

Distracted by that horror show, I didn’t notice that I was dancing on air until I realized that I was looking down at a troop of panicking sorcerers.

‘‘Stop wiggling,’’ the Windwalker told me. ‘‘You don’t want to fall.’’

No. I for sure didn’t want to do that.

‘‘Don’t tense up, either. Just relax.’’

Easy for her to say. This was what she did.

‘‘If you don’t relax it’s harder for me to lift you.’’

We reached the high balcony used for managing the upper vents. The Windwalker released a long sigh. ‘‘That was hard work. You’re big.’’

She didn’t turn loose right away.

Me being me, I didn’t get it till after the fact. Till after we’d both had a good look at what was happening forty-some feet below, where everybody but us was getting a great big ‘‘Love you long time.’’ To thunderous, chaotic metal music.

The show changed. It became the horror fest I would expect to see with people like those down there. With Furious Tide of Light off the floor the ghosts lost interest in love play. Shadowslinger howled in the clutches of things that filled her with terror. Blood and gobbets of flesh flew but didn’t discolor the floor or pile up the way Rocky’s bug scraps had. Nor did any real damage accrue to the ugly people inside the scarlet whirlwind.

The sorcerers fought back. Against creatures of their own consciences. They danced with their nightmares. More or less.

To do the wicked things they do, Hill folk have to have their consciences and souls pretty well tamed.

Furious Tide of Light whispered, ‘‘Can you climb through this window?’’ Her eyes were a warm, inviting brown.

Two or three of her could do so at the same time. Easily.

‘‘Yeah. But why?’’

‘‘We’re making our getaway.’’ With eyes gone an amused, very pale blue. ‘‘Schnook has lost it. You’re an outsider. You don’t want to be where he can see you for the next several minutes.’’

I became aware of how crowded we were. And of the effect she was having on me. Which was too reminiscent of her impact on everyone else who got close to her, living or ghost.

Her green eyes offered an invitation. For after we were safe.

No cold bath being handy, I practiced my multiplication tables. Eight times seven is what? I can’t ever remember. What’s seven times eight?

I swear, that chit could read my mind. ‘‘I don’t get many chances to be on my own.’’

Danger! Danger, Garrett! Deadly danger!

Disappointment. Abiding disappointment. I got no chance to test my ability to resist a temptation so fierce.

‘‘Damn!’’ she swore, as I was worming my way out onto the roof. ‘‘How did he get done so fast?’’

I didn’t spot Barate Algarda right away. I was busy surviving a barrage of furious looks from my special redhead, who had escaped the custody of the honey pack and had returned.

‘‘Some other time,’’ the Windwalker told me. With promise like a forest fire.

‘‘Yeah. Like you said. Damn!’’

And thus I saved me the fury of a Furious Tide of Light scorned.

Still, she gave me a look that would haunt me.

And said, ‘‘Stand up. We’re going to jump.’’

I didn’t want to stand up. The World was shaking like it was warming up to star in an earthquake. And the roof slates were slick. But I did as I was told. Ever pliable me.

The Windwalker wrapped an arm around me. ‘‘This would be easier if I wrapped everything around you.’’ We floated off the roof, began a slow descent. ‘‘Think about the possibilities in that.’’

That would haunt me, too.

I’ve got a pretty good imagination.

How come I got to grow up?