THIRTY-THREE
“Who’s your daddy?”
Chester’s. Feckin-A, I hate this place even more than I used to. The line outside tonight is nuts. It’s zero degrees in Dublin, snow’s begun to fall in earnest, there’s a killer wind kicking up and still five blocks of folks are shivering outside, bundled in layers of clothing, huddled together waiting to get in.
I blast past them in fast-mo, skidding on an icy spot, whiz around one of Ryodan’s human bouncers who’s got his hands too full controlling the crowd to stop me, jump the ladder down to the main entrance and explode through tall black doors into the club.
It’s rocking tonight same as always: music thumping, lights flashing, folks partying up a storm. We got something icing our city, killing innocents everywhere, turning it into an arctic zone in June, and this is what folks are doing about it. Dancing, laughing, getting drunk, getting laid, acting like the walls didn’t fall, the world didn’t lose half the human race, and nothing’s changed.
I stand on the platform inside the door that overlooks it all for a sec, scowling, blowing on my hands, trying to warm them up. I need gloves. And a scarf and earmuffs. The scowl doesn’t last long because I get distracted from being pissed by the song that’s playing. It’s one of my oldie faves from a few decades back, heavy on bass, and it’s so loud it vibrates the soles of my combat boots, all the way up my legs and into my belly. My bones rumble with resonance. I love music because it’s so fecking brilliant. Music is math, and math is the structure of everything and pretty much perfect. Before everything got so crazy, Dancer was teaching me stuff about math that dazzled me.
My scowl comes back.
Jo’s in the kiddie subclub, dressed all sexy, laughing at something some skanky waitress said, moving sleek and pretty with the music as she goes from table to table, chatting up the customers and occasionally looking around, like she’s keeping an eye on things in general, or watching for someone. She’s still got those highlights and sparkly boobs. I’ll be real glad when that stuff’s gone and she’s the Jo I know again.
I’m going to make her quit tonight. We don’t owe a dead man anything, and if the other dudes think to try to enforce our contracts, well, we’re walking out anyway and they can just try.
I groan and roll my eyes, realizing I can’t make her quit tonight because I can’t tell her he’s dead. I can’t tell nobody he’s dead. Only me, Christian, and whoever moved their bodies—assuming it wasn’t Christian—know they got killed. It’s only been three days. Folks might not decide he’s dead for a while yet. Knowing her, she’ll stick around for weeks, hoping he comes back!
I feel a little perturbed. I been gone almost a month and she doesn’t look sad at all. Didn’t she miss me? Worry about me?
I shove that thought away and look up at the ceiling, eyeing the girders, wondering what kind of metal was used in the construction of Chester’s. If this place is as old as it seems, I’d think it’d have to be iron because I don’t think the method of making steel was figured out till recent times. Well, recent in terms of how old this place is. Then I wonder how old iron is. Then I wonder if Ryodan and his dudes just spelled the whole mess together. Or maybe they created their own kind of metal or brought it with them from whatever planet they were born on.
I wonder who’s in charge now that I killed Barrons and Ryodan. Lor?
As if my thoughts conjured him, I hear him say behind me, real close to my ear: “Aw, honey, you got some nerve coming here.”
I turn around to say suspiciously, “What do you mean by that?” but he’s not there by the time I complete my rotation. I wonder if I imagined him, a product of my guilty conscience. Then I decide if I really did hear him say what I thought he said, he was only referring to how Ryodan’s been looking for me for a month and now I waltz in like I never been gone, and he thinks Ryodan’s going to toast my ass for missing work so long. Because, like, he doesn’t know Ryodan’s dead either.
This is exactly why I hate lies. The second you tell one, you know something everybody else doesn’t know and you have to constantly keep reminding yourself to behave like you don’t know it, so they don’t decide you’re acting weird and figure out you know something they don’t. If they do, they’ll back you against a wall and demand to know why you’re acting weird and you’ll say something stupid and they’ll use it to trip you up with. Then everything comes spilling out and you’re in ten kinds of trouble! It’s so much easier not to tell any lies to begin with.
This is going to be a tough pretending gig. Reminders of Ryodan are everywhere in here. Heck, Ryodan is Chester’s! It’s, hands-down, the hardest place to pretend he’s not dead that I could possibly be. But I need those samples. The HFK is icing something practically every day, and Dancer thinks things are going to get worse.
I spot a sifter down in the Tuxedo Club and grin. The Gray Bitch. This is one I’m going to love laying the flat of my sword against and ordering around. Mac promised not to hunt her but I never took no such stupid oath, and besides, I’m not hunting her, I’m just going to threaten her into doing something for me. Hand hovering over the hilt of my sword, I map out the grid as best I can, considering most things on it are moving—not that I mind jabbing all these idiots with my elbows—and freeze-frame down the stairs. At the last minute I detour from the Tuxedo Club and head for Jo. I want to see her face when she sees me. See how glad she gets to know I’m alive. She must have been as worried about me as Dancer and it’s only right to put her mind at ease.
“Dani! What are you doing here?” Jo goes white as a sheet when I whiz to a stop in front of her. “Are you crazy?”
Not the reaction I expected. Where’s the look of relief, the big hug, the excitement to see me alive and back here again? “What are you talking about?”
“Ryodan’s been looking for you for a month! You broke your contract with him!”
“And according to that,” I say irritably, “you should be dead. But you’re not. Fact is, you look pretty darn good to me. Guess boinking him kept you alive, huh? You been doing it all this time? Didn’t he get tired of you?”
She flushes. “He said it wasn’t fair to take out his displeasure at you on me. Ryodan’s a smart man. He makes good decisions. He’s not impulsive like some people.” She gives me a pointed stare.
I’m disgusted. “Oh, he was just a … uh, is a fecking saint, now, huh?”
“He’s a fine man. You should give him a chance.”
“He’s a dead man, is what he is!” I blurt, because I can’t fecking stand to hear her defending him.
“Would you quit making threats about him every time you turn around? It’s getting old.” She lowers her voice. “You need to get out of here before he catches you. I’ve never seen him like he’s been since he hasn’t been able to find you.”
“I ain’t scared of Ryodan.” Gah, I wish I could just tell her!
“You should be. You pushed him too far this time, Dani. I don’t know what he’s going to do when he sees you, and I’m not sure I can stop him. I don’t think he’ll listen to even me about you.”
He’s never going to find out because he’s dead, but that’s not what I fixate on. “What do you mean ‘even you,’ like you’re some kind of special to him?”
She blushes and gets this soft-eyed look on her face like a sap in love. “We’re a couple, Dani. It’s been over a month and we’re exclusive. All the waitresses are talking about it. They never thought anybody would … you know, get a man like him to settle down.”
I just stare at her, blinking. Ryodan ain’t exclusive with nobody. Settle down? Tornados touch down. They don’t settle. They leave destruction in their wake. Not shiny, happy people. I feel sick inside, at the idea of him and Jo setting up house together, making plans for the future. As fecking if. What am I going to be? Their little fetch-it dog? I shake my head, reminding myself again that Ryodan’s dead. How does she keep getting me all distracted? Talking like he’s alive is confusing me.
“I ain’t talking to you anymore. I got things to do. Maybe you noticed Dublin is turning into the North Pole?”
“Of course I have. You’re the one that took off for a month and didn’t tell anyone that you were going to Faery with Christian.”
“Huh?” I gape at her. “How’d you know that?”
“Christian told me.”
“Scary-Unseelie-prince-Christian dropped in and told you I was okay?”
“I don’t know why he came, but he overheard me talking with Cormac yesterday in the Tux Club about how worried I was about you and he said the two of you had just gotten back and you were fine. I’m not going to breathe a word to Ryodan even though we tell each other everything. But I don’t appreciate you putting me in a position where I have to lie to him. Now get out of here before he comes down! Things are calm tonight. I’d like them to stay that way.”
Tell each other everything? She’s wrong on all counts. Ryodan was the most keep-it-to-yourself dude I ever met. Things aren’t calm in here; as usual they’re a catastrophe waiting to happen. And he ain’t ever coming down again.