Damn Him to Hell (21 page)

That brought him back to the Max I knew. He glared. “You never were one to win votes with your sterling personality and charm. I can’t interfere in Acme’s business. Period. You sure you want Andre to go free?”

“Damned right I do!” I was running out of steam now that I’d said my piece. I sighed and shoved my mass of hair out of my face. “You really don’t want me running things in the Zone while working out of
the judge’s office in my spare time. Right now, the media is crawling all over. Do you want me zapping them?”

That ought to give him pause. I’d literally blown reporters away the last time they got in my way.

Since he had his stubborn face on, I continued my argument. “The Zone needs Andre, not me. So no matter what you think of him, we have to persuade a judge to bond him out. I’m not asking for money. I’m simply asking you to use your influence as Gloria’s grandson. Say she had become senile and violent lately. Tell them Andre’s story is credible, and that your mother’s security guards are capable of collusion. Tell them anything you want. You know they’ll listen.”

“That burns, doesn’t it?” he said wryly, unexpectedly. “I always resented Dane’s influence. I’d always thought that if I’d had his power, I could change the world. It’s not as easy as it looks from the outside.”

“Cry me a river,” I muttered. “You’ve got it a lot easier than the rest of us.”

“In some ways,” he agreed. “But every good deed requires payback. If I make a few calls, they’ll expect favors in return. I swear, some of these guys have scorecards in their heads that date back decades. I’m thinking of creating a spreadsheet to keep up with who owes what to whom and why.”

“Try deciding whether sending someone to hell is worth years of eternal damnation,” I said. “I’m thinking if I visualize anyone else into danger, I’m cutting my life short here on earth. We’re both walking on quicksand.”

Max had been in hell when I’d done most of my mumbo jumbo, but he’d been aware on some level that I’d been throwing my Saturnian weight around. He seemed interested and tired as he fit my complaint with his little bit of knowledge. Apparently deciding he didn’t need to know more, he nodded.

“You really think Acme has invented some kind of gas that causes violent reactions?” he asked, succinctly nailing down my case.

“That’s the only conclusion we can reach. I figure they thought they were developing a weapon, but that’s what happened as far as we can see. I’m no scientist, but even Paddy agrees.”

I’d been hesitant about mentioning Dane’s crazy-inventor father, but if Max would help me, I had to let him know that his new family wasn’t entirely what they seemed.

“Paddy? And you believe a crazy guy?” he asked with rightful suspicion.

“I think he’s crazy like a fox. Now that Gloria’s not breathing the flames of hell down his back, he’s making sense. You want that story, too?”

He shook his head. “Not right now. Let me make some calls before everyone’s gone to bed. Does Andre have a lawyer yet?”

“Just me, for now. Julius is on it, but I have a feeling that the sooner I bail Andre out, the better off the world will be.”

“That almost makes sense. Let me flip through Dane’s call list and see what I can do. I hate making cold calls and not knowing if Dane’s made an enemy
or a pal of whoever is on the other end.” He pulled out his smart phone and began scrolling through his contacts.

Not wanting to listen in on any uncomfortable discussions, I wandered around the big room. I really wanted to find his office and bedroom and see if there were any signs of my Max in Dane’s elegant home, but I was too edgy. My nerve ends felt like they’d spit bullets if crossed. I didn’t want to imagine Andre losing his cool in some crappy jail cell with perverts and drunks while I looked for a reason to hook up with an old boyfriend.

Because that was pretty much what I was doing: looking for excuses to trust Max again. It wasn’t smart, safe, or entirely rational, just my hormones talking.

Luckily, my hormones weren’t entirely engaged by Dane’s slick good looks. So I was resisting.

By the time Dane put down the phone, I was back in control again. This was Dane the senator, not Max the biker. He had influence out the wazoo and appearances to keep up. A nobody like Tina Clancy didn’t fit into that picture.

“We lucked out,” he said. “Judge Snodgrass is an old friend of both Julius and Paddy. He’s willing to take my word that Gloria wasn’t rational. He can’t get the charges dropped, of course. But the judge can put in a good word and have bail posted. I told him Andre had served with Special Ops and suffers from PTSD, so he’s willing to see it done tonight.”

Snodgrass was my boss. That Dane/Max had been
able to extract a promise from him with a single call pretty much proved the senator had landed my job for me.

I wanted to hug him for everything he was doing for us. He looked as if he expected it. I had a sad feeling it wouldn’t stop with hugs. Dane’s testosterone and Max’s memories were a combustible combination.

He was still sitting in his recliner, so I leaned over, stroked his bristly jaw, and kissed him in gratitude. “I owe you more than one, Danny Boy. I’ve got a long ride to Towson and an early wake-up call in the morning, so let’s not think whatever you’re thinking, okay?”

“For saving me from Glenys, I’ll let you go this time, Justy,” he agreed wearily. “But I think we should both just take Dane’s money and retire to the South Pacific.”

“You might have a point.” And I actually meant it, except I kept picturing my mother running from town to town all my life, and knew running from my duties would solve nothing. “But unfortunately, we’re not cowards. So let’s see where this road leads us.”

“I’ve already been to hell. Can’t be much worse,” he said cynically, getting up to see me out.

I thought I saw him standing in his window when I drove away. Lonely didn’t cover how either of us was feeling.

•   •   •

I drove the freeway to Towson with no traffic or monsters stopping me, only a few lumbering semis to dodge. And I could have sworn I saw another soldier in camouflage
strolling down a lane with a screaming infant, but that could have been wishful thinking. Peace on earth, goodwill toward men . . . Lovely dream. I needed to focus on Andre.

I was only a newbie lawyer. Despite my license, I’d never worked the courthouse, and the only police action I’d seen had been from the wrong side of the bars. By the time I arrived at the precinct, figured out the Byzantine jail system, and sprang Andre, it was pushing midnight. As we emerged from the building and walked to the nearly empty parking lot, I noticed he had turned pretty gray around the edges. After all the warnings, I worried about him.

“You’re not looking so good, Boss,” I said. “Do we need to stop for anything before heading out?” We were still a good half hour’s drive from the Zone.

“It’s nothing, Clancy. Just take me home. How is everyone holding up?” He sank down into the passenger seat without fighting me for the keys, so I knew he was done in.

“Sarah is back. The bomb shelter is good, but you’ll need a new secret tunnel. I have a lead on getting rid of one of our patients. Nancy Rose probably has insurance, so we could send her to a local hospital if you think Acme will back off now that the witch is dead. Still working on the others.”

“Gloria was my godmother,” Andre said without inflection. “She was a good person once.”

We both sat silently thinking about how power corrupts. Or that’s what I was thinking about. I wasn’t sure what Andre was doing—until he spoke again.

“I’m not going to make it back. Just park in the alley and call my father. He’ll know what to do. Stay on Snodgrass’s good side if you know what’s good for you.”

He leaned the seat back and just like that, he conked out. No warning, just out like a light.

Like our comatose patients.

I
’d been counting on Andre to carry his share of the load, and now he was as useless as the homeless guys in the bomb shelter. I knew this wasn’t any ordinary sleep. A strong man like Andre checking out like that gave me cold chills. Being left out here alone with no backup had me pondering Seattle again. But I couldn’t desert a friend, and whatever else he was, Andre was a friend.

Just to give me heart failure and to prove the Zone wasn’t on my side, the road beneath my wheels began to rumble as I hit Edgewater. Streetlights swayed and one of the gargoyles took flight. Andre didn’t stir. It was the wee hours of Monday and even Chesty’s was closed, so no one ran screaming into
the streets. Fatalistically, I waited for the road to open and swallow us.

The rumble stopped before I drove up the hill. I had to wonder if the pink particles were eating their way to hell and creating chasms beneath our feet. Or maybe the Zone had just sneezed. Maybe instead of worrying about rescuing Bill, I should be thinking about evacuating the area.

Thanks to Andre’s comatose state, I had no one with whom to share my fears. I punched his arm. Hard. He didn’t stir.

I tried erasing worry with grumbling as I parked in the alley and trekked upstairs to wake Julius. I’d gotten myself all tarted up and contemplated surrendering my nonexistent virtue to a schizophrenic senator to save Andre’s sorry ass for what? And didn’t it just figure that the first time I relied on a man, he conked out.

I started remembering the other times I’d counted on Andre and he’d disappeared. Maybe he had sleeping sickness. Maybe I should have one of the baby docs examine him. No telling what kind of disease he’d picked up overseas. I was back to fretting by the time I reached his father’s apartment.

Julius only nodded sadly when I pounded on his door and woke him up. He thanked me for everything I’d done, assured me that Andre would be just fine, that I should go home and get some sleep. I hated that. I wanted to make things better. Stupid.

Too tired and shaken to argue, I went back to my place, hoping I wouldn’t have a dead body in my car when I went to work in a few hours.

I needed anger to cover the pain, a trick I’d discovered in the course of my misspent youth. If I stayed angry long enough, it obliterated all softer emotions. Sometimes anger even crushed the fear, but that’s when I got stupid. I was trying to avoid stupid these days.

Wondering if Schwartz was sleeping soundly in his bed across the hall, or if Paddy was up inventing ways to burn down the house, I unlocked my door and hunted for my cat. Milo was always glad to see me, even if he just needed me for a pillow.

A dog might run and jump into my arms and lick my face. Milo merely glanced at me disdainfully and circled his empty bowl. See, me and Milo were soul mates. All we needed was to be fed. I added some dry food to his bowl but didn’t bother feeding myself.

I dropped my clothes on the floor in the dark and was pulling back the covers on the bed when I noticed the rectangular shape of my stolen tablet computer lying on top of them. I didn’t think I’d left it there. I’m rather cautious with expensive machinery.

My nerves already rattled, I glanced around, but the sliding doors were shut and barred. I slipped on an old T-shirt and turned on a light.

Pressing the power button, I opened to a screen that read,
Rule #1: Visualization for personal gain will kick you in the butt in direct correlation to the extent of gain
.

It was signed,
The Fat Chick
.

The Fat Chick? The one in the wheelchair?

No e-mail address. The message was a damned wallpaper covering up my screen. Some screwup had hacked my tablet and replaced the background with—
a rulebook
?

I’d wished for a rulebook. And daddy dearest had provided? No, the Fat Chick. How had she accessed a computer I’d just acquired? And why? Or—horror of horrors—had this come from Acme?

I poked around a little but I was too tired to concentrate and couldn’t see anything else that might actually constitute a real book instead of a modern translation of Themis’s spooky warning. Frustrated, I turned off the light and went to bed. I had exactly five hours left to sleep.

Which is when it struck me—I’d been rewarded after midnight. Usually, my rewards appeared when I got up in the morning. Since I’d not been to bed, I’d received this one a little earlier.

Sending Gloria to hell had only earned me a stupid rule instead of bigger boobs or better brains? I needed to start paying attention to what I wished for. Or maybe since Gloria had already sold her soul, she wasn’t worth much.

•   •   •

Early Monday morning, I stumbled out of bed when the radio alarm growled. It was supposed to play hard rock. The Zone—or pink ash—was apparently spreading its tentacles, but I didn’t have time to work out this latest mechanical kink. I was nothing if not determined. For the last dozen years of my life I’d been working toward one goal: becoming a lawyer. If eventually having
my own office meant serving coffee to Judge Snooty and his minions, so be it.

I also wanted to check on Andre, see how our patients were doing, and if Julius had retrieved the cloud can from Tim. I desperately needed to get in touch with Fat Chick, but all I had time to do was shower and dress. Dane/Max had used his clout to get me this job, and after last night, it was obvious that clout was exceedingly useful. I wanted my share of it.