Giving Him Hell: A Saturn's Daughter Novel (Saturn's Daughters Book 3) (13 page)

As soon as I parked, Tim came running from the florist shop across the street, waving a paper as if he’d been waiting for me.

“The city has condemned the shop!” he shouted, nearly in tears. “The plants will all die. We just got a new succulent shipment!”

Nancy Rose, the owner of the florist shop, was Tim’s second mother. His first was a drug addict who OD’d a year or more ago. Tim would do anything for anybody who helped him. He worshipped Nancy.

This was what a lawyer did, I reminded myself. I snatched the letter from his hand and skimmed it as I crossed Edgewater in the direction of the florist shop.

It was still December. It was still cold. And the pavement still felt like Savannah in July. We could probably grow plants out here—for all I knew succulents were flesh-eating greenery—but I didn’t mention the street heat to Tim. He was a teenager and a bit impervious to any oddity but his own—as a gay teen with a tendency to literally vanish, he had a
lot
to cope with.

Nancy Rose was a short, plump, fiftyish, grandmotherly sort with dark graying hair she didn’t bother dying or styling. Wearing khaki slacks and denim shirt, she looked up when the bell over the door rang, then returned to potting.

“I probably should retire anyway,” she said with resignation. “Business is bad. I just don’t know what else to do with myself.”

The shop was a veritable jungle of plants. I wasn’t a nurturing type and had never bothered growing even a spider plant, so I didn’t know the names of most of the inventory. But there were towering trees and tiny blooming bundles of flowers and the place smelled like a forest. I had a suspicion Nancy had a hidden weirdness involving green things. No one grew jungles like this in Baltimore, much less in an environmental disaster zone.

Amid the greenery I spotted a familiar shape. I pushed away a large fern frond and came face to face with a garden gnome. Someone had placed a red felt elf cap on its ugly head and turned the automatic pistol into a Christmas tree.

“Tim,” I said warningly, nodding at the statue.

“He was cute,” he said defensively. “I didn’t think it would hurt to keep him warm in here.”

“In the Zone, Tim? Really?”

“I broke the gun,” he argued. “And glued the greenery onto the stock. I can glue his feet to the shelf.”

“Timmy has a talent for decoration,” Nancy acknowledged. “He did all the fairy lights in here.”

The entire ceiling glittered with tiny white lights. They adorned the taller trees, along with jolly red bows. “Very festive.” For a second, I almost smelled live evergreens.

My mother didn’t believe in Christmas. My heart kind of craved the Dickens’ specials I’d seen on TV, with peaceful villages, big fluffy trees, pretty lights, and drifting snow. I didn’t need the presents and bows, just the serenity of the glass globe fantasy. Tim had created a lovely peek at my dream.

I didn’t kid myself into believing a jungle in the Zone qualified as a Dickens’ village, but it was worth defending. I waved the condemnation notice. “We’re fighting these,” I told Nancy. “If you want to join the coalition, let me or Andre know. We may have to secede from the city and create our own town.”

“Our own town?” Nancy looked up from her potting. She was wearing little round spectacles just like Mrs. Claus should. “None of us has that kind of money. Even if we did, it would mean more taxes.”

“Has your heat bill gone down lately?” I asked, raising my eyebrows pointedly.

She looked surprised. “I guess it has. We keep it kind of tropical in here, but I haven’t had to turn up the thermostat this winter.”

“Use the money you saved on heat to buy some live Christmas trees. See if they don’t bring in a profit. Use that profit to pay into the town fund. We just have to use our heads to figure out how to make this work.”

“We already have ribbon,” Tim said eagerly. “I could sell holiday bows.”

“See? The money part is easy when we put our heads together. It’s dealing with the monsters that’s a little harder. But we’re trying.” I studied the gnome in the greenery and wondered if he had been a monster or just an underpaid flunky.

“It will take a whole lot more money than a few bows and trees will make,” Nancy said skeptically.

“Not when you have lawyers willing to work for free. It’s all just paperwork.”

She actually started to look a little hopeful, and that made me very afraid. But I was a hard worker and learned fast, plus we had Julius’s brilliant legal mind on our side. Maybe, as long as the research company’s CEO was a gremlin on my roof, we stood a chance.

“Anything can happen,” I warned. “Because it always does. Just don’t buy a retirement cottage in Florida yet.”

Tim hugged me. He actually hugged me. And it felt good.

I left them cheerfully discussing Christmas plans. In the street, the manholes glowed brighter, and a couple of Do-Gooders were hanging
real
wreaths where the burned out lights had once been. I could smell pine.

Smiling, I inhaled the scent.

And smelled gas.

Fourteen

The gargoyles had alerted us to our last emergency, when the chemical plant had exploded with green and pink gas that left half the inhabitants of the Zone comatose or violent. I glanced up at the two stone creatures on the florist shop. They looked back at me, bored.

Complacence is dangerous anywhere, but particularly in the Zone.

“Gas, fellows?” I asked. “Smell anything dangerous?”

One actually sniffed the air, then settled his wings more comfortably and closed his eyes for a nap.

Edgewater needed a real warning siren. Like a tornado siren, it would mean run for cover when Acme spreads its chemical clouds—or gas leaks from the sewers.

I just wasn’t sure where cover was.

Since no one else was panicking, I called the gas company and reported a leak, like any normal citizen might do. Infrastructure deterioration, I reminded myself.

Then I calmly walked down to Bill’s Biker Bar, which does a booming beer business at noon, leaned in, and shouted, “Anyone smell gas?”

A few of the guys looked around, sniffed, and shrugged. Hulking Bill emerged from behind his shiny mahogany bar, drying a mug, and strode into the street. “Nope, nothing. You been working too hard? Come in and have a fish cake and a beer. What did you do to your hair?”

I’d forgotten about the burned bits. I needed a mirror. “Playing with fire,” was all I told him, tugging to see if any more came off.

Silent Bill had been talking more lately. He was probably more brute than brains, but he was a solid guy to have behind you. Trying to calm my jittery nerves, I followed him back to the bar and let him fuss over me.

“How’s Milo?” he asked, delivering a well-seasoned fish burger.

“I left him at the office guarding Sarah and Ned,” I admitted. “I probably ought to get back and see if anyone survived.”

Bill snorted. “Well, bring him down here for fish sometime.” He wandered off to deal with another customer.

I loved the Zone and the people in it. There was potential here. How could I live with myself if I let everyone down? How did I know who to fight when all I had to work with was hot streets? My Gloria theory was all I had.

Munching my sandwich, I called and found the Benedictine nuns first because they were easiest. For a generous donation they happily agreed to sing for a holiday benefit at Senator Vanderventer’s home.

Learning about eminent domain would take more time. I didn’t know how much time we had, but at least the law was familiar territory, and I knew my enemies. I needed experts on my team. I ran a few searches on my cell and had a list by the time I finished lunch.

I really didn’t have to investigate everything myself, I concluded as I walked back to the street. I’d spent a lot of money to work my way into a white collar job where I didn’t have to get my hands dirty, right? Let the gas company handle leaking pipes. I did
not
have to go under the street—especially if I couldn’t visualize weirdoes out of my space anymore.

Outside, a truck advertising Jacuzzis was parked near an empty storefront. People with the time and money to indulge in a sauna or whirlpool bath didn’t live on this end of town. It was worth a side trip to check out the anomaly. Keeping my hands clean didn’t mean my curiosity was dead.

Two guys in coveralls stepped out of the van carrying pipes and assorted equipment. Ignoring me, they dragged their dollies down an alley toward the cordoned off harbor. I followed.

They were setting up a spa on one of the steaming manholes in the back lane near the fenced off area.

“Not enough hot water in your part of town?” I asked. I knew better than to question, but I could never help myself.

They scarcely gave me a second glance. I hadn’t felt that invisible in a long time.

“Hot springs have healthy minerals,” one of them finally replied. He had a jackhammer in hand. A jackhammer. In the Zone.

One more anomaly to investigate. Had Acme sold this land around the old plant?

Most of the city thought the EPA had cordoned off the chemical hazard caused by the old plant’s explosion and the ensuing chemical flood ten years ago. Apparently the city had short term memories or believed the harbor had magically cleaned itself. No one but the people who lived here fully understood the Zone’s real eccentricity . . . but
hot springs
! Infinitely delusional. One hoped they knew better than to drink the bathwater.

Ignoring an itchy feeling, I roared the Harley back up the hill. I wanted to bag some eminent domain lawyers before I ran into any more interruptions.

Schwartz and the DG guy, Hanks, were waiting for me outside the office. I didn’t like leaving my bike out where anyone could help themselves, so I unlocked the office door and rolled the bike in with me.

Schwartz shook his head and Hanks stared, but heck, I was still wearing my biker leather and burned hair. Let them make of it what they would. I was more concerned about why Ned hadn’t let them in.

“To what do I owe the honor, gentlemen?” I asked, parking the bike at the back of the lobby. Ned’s desk was empty. Milo didn’t run out to greet me. In my world, silence was not only creepy, but dangerous. It took all my focus sometimes to keep a handle on my paranoia.

Schwartz spoke first. “I just stopped by to let you know that your friendly mugger got out on bail this morning. Rob here mentioned housing vagrants, and we got to talking.” Schwartz propped the heavy bike more securely.

I rolled my eyes. My life was a thrill a minute. “And the two of you decided jail was a nice warm place for the homeless while crazed utility shooters stalk the streets?” I asked, while listening for some evidence that Ned and Sarah and Milo hadn’t killed each other.

“Kaminski has been ordered to stay clear of the Zone as part of his bond,” Schwartz said stiffly.

“But Dedicated to Good has agreed to spend some of their grant money on renting the Morgan building,” Hanks said excitedly. “We need to know if Mr. Legrande still has legal ownership, and if he’ll rent it out for a minimal sum if we fix things up. Lt. Schwartz said he’d see what he could do about finding off-duty policemen as security.”

Oh crap, uptown cops in the Zone was a disaster in the making. I gave Schwartz the evil eye. “What, you think Leibowitz will work off duty?”

“After the eminent domain protest and all the missing person reports were filed on MSI’s security guards, the honchos think we need more feet on the ground,” he said nonchalantly, with his official face on.

I translated—
Acme complained.
Which meant Max’s father, ex-Senator MacNeill, had reported Graham Young’s disappearance, because Paddy wouldn’t notice unless the plant blew up in his face. And with his substantial assets locked up in a blind trust, Dane didn’t get a say in anything.

Filling the town with Do-Gooders and cops couldn’t possibly be safe. Realizing how that sounded inside my head, I rubbed my brow and tried to remember which side I was on.

“Okay, fine, I’ll talk to Andre. Eminent domain talks are currently at a standstill. I make no promises that we can hold them off,” I warned Hanks, who’d broken into a big smile.

“Thank you! Here’s my phone number. Just let me know what Mr. Legrande says, and I’ll have the crew down here immediately to start cleaning up the building.” He handed me a scrap of paper.

I stuck it in my pocket and watched them depart before I started an office search for my cat. Ned and Sarah could take care of themselves.

Milo had parked himself on the far side of the hall from the cellar door. The gnome boxes still blocked access. His ear tufts stood on end, and he growled when I came in sight. Take my word for it, my cat growls. Think lion. I studied the door worriedly, but I couldn’t see anything.

“What is it, killer? Did the evil monster come visiting?” That wail had been almost physical and still gave me cold shivers. And it had been in my damned basement. With huge red-eyed bats.

I didn’t want hell—or Gloria—to be under my floor.

One of these days, Milo would learn to speak. As it was, he gave me a glare of disdain and trotted toward the back entrance where I’d left his food.

Stupidly, I put a hand to my cellar door. It was hot.

I should have barricaded that tunnel. With my luck, it probably provided a direct passage to the Zone, and zombies would come parading up one of these days.

They’d have to wait in line. If my mojo wasn’t working anymore, I was not about to tackle demons with a law book.

Sarah was free to come or go, so I refused to worry about her. Hoping Ned was just out to lunch, I returned to my office, fired up my fancy new computer, and began contacting eminent domain specialists. This was what I’d trained to do.

I was nicely into my comfort zone when the front door blew in with a cold blast of wintry wind and the fresh scent of pine. I’d left my office door open so I could see anyone entering. I saw a sideways-moving evergreen tree. With feet.

Tim followed the tree, carrying Ned’s glittery tote bag spilling with packages. He waved at me and set about dismantling Andre’s ugly electric monstrosity.