She struggled free though it felt like he weighed several tons. This was more than her overset nerves could stand. The screams that had been tearing at her throat subsided into hysterical laughter, and degenerated from there into hiccuping sobs.
“Hush, hush.” Gentle hands stroked her hair, wiped away the tears, held her close. “You’re quite safe now. It’s all over.” She laid her head on Tachyon’s shoulder, and drew a shaky breath.
“What the devil is going on here?” Hiram exploded in aggrieved accents.
Tachyon righted a chair, eased Roulette into it. “Hiram, my deepest thanks, yours was a timely arrival.”
“Who are these men?”
“Damned if I know. They wanted a book.” Worchester’s brown eyes goggled, and he stared suspiciously at his friend as if suspecting inebriation.
Hiram’s companion thrust his head around the door. “Should we call the police?”
Tachyon stepped to meet him, extended a hand. “My thanks to you as well, but what did you do to… ?” He made a helpless gesture at the space that a few seconds before had contained Snake-face.
The man in the brown suit shrugged. “I’m a projecting teleport. Point my fingers, and pop, they’re gone.”
“Where? Where has he gone?”
“The men’s room at Freakers.”
“The men’s room at-“
He shrugged. “I can only send people to some place I know”
“Wish you had known the Tombs.”
“Oh, I do, but…” He shuffled his feet, stared at the ceiling, glanced at Hiram, looked back to Tachyon. “I already sent one guy there today, and the cops are pissed. I didn’t want any more trouble.”
“So we’ve lost him, and I’ll never know what book.”
“I’d say that’s the least of our worries today,” Hiram said. “Why? “
“If certain people would show more responsibility, and not unplug their phones, they wouldn’t have to ask.”
“Don’t be testy.”
“Tachyon, I’ve had a rather difficult day…”
“I’ve had better myself.”
They stared in silence at each other, then Worchester sighed, and ran a hand across his bald pate, and smoothed down his full beard. Tachyon smiled, and said in a softer tone,
“Shall we try again?” He tightened the belt on his robe, seated himself on the arm of the sofa. “Now, what brought you here?”
“Excuse me, but what about these… these… goons?” asked Roulette.
“You needn’t worry, they will sleep for a good many hours.”
“And him?” She pointed at the wasp.
“He weighs about six hundred pounds,” Hiram answered. “I doubt he’ll go anywhere.”
“Oh,” she said faintly.
“The Astronomer’s raging through the city,” Hiram said. “I was afraid he might have gotten to you already. You know about the Howler, of course. Kid Dinosaur’s dead, too, torn to pieces at Jetboy’s Tomb, and the Turtle was attacked and reportedly crashed into the Hudson. He hasn’t been seen since.” Worchester caught the slight doctor as he swayed, and eased him onto the couch. “Brandy,” he snapped, and Roulette forced tension back into her weak knees, and obeyed. “I apologize for putting it so baldly, but there’s no good way to deliver news like that.”
“I cannot believe… the Turtle, you say? And that child!” Tachyon covered his face with his hands.
In a few brutal words Worchester appraised them of the events at the Tomb.
Roulette didn’t notice when Hiram lifted the glass from her slack fingers. She was seeing a pointed-faced kid, cute despite the wash of pimples across his chin, teasing his elders.
She wondered what his dreams and goals had been, and she felt anguish for his parents. A sound that was both an agonized cry and a sob tore from her, and she went down into darkness.
Unfortunately it was not empty. Within waited the twisted body of her child, and the burning eyes of her master.
Fortunato got as far as a middle-aged woman guarding the entrance to the NBC sound stages. He could see the skating rink at Rockefeller Plaza through the huge window to his right.
He couldn’t get any sense of Peregrine being in the building, but she was an ace and it was possible she could block him somehow.
“I’m sorry, sir, but we simply can’t give out that kind of information about our performers.”
Fortunato locked eyes with her. “Page her,” he said. Her hand moved involuntarily to the phone, then hesitated. “She’s not in the building. Letterman’s doing her show tonight. “
“Tell me where she is.”
The woman shook her head. Her tightly permed red hair followed her every move. “I can’t.” She looked like she was about to cry. “She had some important dinner to go to tonight. That’s why she’s not here for the taping.”
“All right,” Fortunato said. “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.” The woman smiled tentatively.
Fortunato leaned his head against the elevator doors as he dropped back down to street level. They still hadn’t found the Turtle’s body. Peregrine’s apartment was empty. Nobody had seen Jumpin’ Jack Flash in weeks.
The game had been going on for seventeen years, and now it was down to the last twelve hours. Hess beating the shit out of me, Fortunato thought. The only time I ever hurt him was when I broke that fucking machine and stopped TIAMAT
He was exhausted. Up all night with the Mirror of Hathor, chasing around uselessly ever since. You have to turn it around, he told himself. Strike back at him, hurt him.
He wanted it so bad he could taste it.
But how could he even find someone that he couldn’t see? How?