Giving Him Hell: A Saturn's Daughter Novel (Saturn's Daughters Book 3) (31 page)

“Okay, yeah, the meteorite could cure cancer. War machine versus miracle cures. Which do you vote for?”

He ignored me and waited patiently beneath a hole leading upward. Had I traveled far enough to be past Chesty’s yet? I flashed my light on the ceiling and could see a ladder. So this was where the utility guys went when they dug into the streets. I swung my light forward, but the culvert narrowed and started going up. I really didn’t want to end up inside Acme or any of the other industries on this end of the Zone.

I added my heavy cat to my tote and caught the lowest rung—above my head. I needed to find a gym and work out more. I nearly pulled my arms from my sockets attempting to walk up the side of the tunnel so I could reach the next rung.

With an oomph and a few kitty complaints, I finally got my feet on the rusty metal and climbed my way up. A manhole blocked the exit. Most people don’t approach a sewer from underneath. Oh well.

I hadn’t been able to lift one of the blasted iron doors when I’d been on the street. I took off my glove and tested this one now. Hot, as if it had been sitting in the sun, but not scorching. Hanging onto a rung, I tried shoving the metal open with my shoulder and one hand. As before, it resisted my puny efforts. I was dripping sweat inside my leather but that was the least of my worries.

I could hear voices above me. I didn’t know exactly where I was. I could be coming up on a mob wanting to play whack-a-mole with my head, should I manage to pry the door off.

Milo growled and I gave him an evil eye. “Yeah, I know I don’t know what I’m doing. No rule book, remember?”

But I had planned ahead enough to hope I’d loaded the street out there with friends and not foes. I’m insane, not stupid.

I removed the earplugs, pulled my smart toy out of my tote, and hit a number. It actually rang. Maybe the utility guys had fixed our crossed wires.

“Tina?” Schwartz asked on the other end.

I tried not to let him know how relieved I was to hear a human voice. “The one and only,” I agreed. “Where are you?”

“Where do you think I am?” he demanded. “Edgewater is filled with kooks, so I’m covering Kooksville. Andre just arrived, looking seriously pissed. Where are you?”

“Did you arrest the gunmen who shot us yet?” I asked, resting against the ladder, probably not far from his feet if he only knew. Edgewater is short.

“The boys are bringing them in now. We’ll need statements from you and Andre. Tell me that’s not a voodoo priest building a fire over the sauna we pulled you out of yesterday.”

“That’s not a voodoo priest building a fire,” I repeated obediently. “Are the witches there yet? And my biker friends?” I’d had a really busy evening.

His sigh of exasperation was deep and heartfelt. “I’m asking for a transfer.”

“You may get it if this fails. Start tapping manhole covers until you find mine, please. I can’t hang onto these rungs and my cat and push at the same time.”

“Manhole—” He cut himself off, realizing it was a stupid question. Schwartz was one very smart mundane. And he might not be a mundane much longer if he stayed in the Zone. I’d have to think about that.

He rattled my lid about the same time I heard the fireworks shooting off.

Thirty

I saw daylight as Schwartz lifted the heavy manhole cover. I warily peered over the edge to be certain the popping sounds weren’t guns.

Reassured that there were no guns in sight, I took the good lieutenant’s hand so he could haul me into the street. I’d come out on the far north end of Edgewater, past Bill’s bar and practically at Acme’s gates. Nice. I was still alive but had learned nothing of what we were sitting on. Andre’s deadline was making me a little frantic.

“Your doing?” Schwartz growled, gesturing at the bonfire on the shoreline.

Up here near the industrial park north of the Zone, only a large dirt lot separated the street from the water and the industrial park. The town began at the intersection to the south of us. My crazies were benignly occupying an empty lot.

“Shouldn’t they wait until night?” he asked.

“The boys like a little excitement while they wait,” I said with a shrug, studying the situation. The line of shiny Harleys along the curb easily explained the noise that resembled a Gatling gun. Firecrackers were the bikers’ toys of choice, the louder, the better. “They didn’t get enough fun in the war. Thanks for helping me out.”

“What would you have done if I hadn’t?” he growled, marching steadfastly toward the bonfire.

“I’d have had one of the witches curse you,” I said cheerfully, following him. “When Senator Dane arrives, play nicey-nice and you may be promoted to personal bodyguard. Those bikers are his guys out there.”

Schwartz rightfully shot me a look of disbelief. I get that a lot.

“Do you have any clue as to what you’re doing here?” he asked with insulting dubiousness.

“I’m tired of fighting with Acme from the civil side, where they have all the power,” I said with a shrug. “So I’m trying another route.”

“Sic’ing Hell’s Angels on them? That almost makes sense.”

It did, in a warped sort of way. Except Lance and friends weren’t Hell’s Angels. Maybe I was, since I intended to give a few people hell before this day ended.

As we traipsed across the field, I checked over my shoulder and verified that no kids were streaming out of the DGs’ homeless shelter to watch. Cora had warned them to clear out. Excellent.

It was too early for Bill’s or Chesty’s to be open. No lines waited at the remaining saunas. Yesterday’s earthquakes had apparently scared off the tourists for the duration. Whatever in heck we did today should only hurt those responsible for the problem, knock wood. Of course, so far, it looked like only my people out there.

I hadn’t invited the nuns this time. Those nice ladies didn’t deserve glimpses of the devil or whatever we were about to raise. Father Morrison, however, met us at the remains of the chain link fencing near the contamination zone. I introduced him to Schwartz.

“I don’t think it is
impossible
for evil to inhabit the ground,” the good priest said solemnly as we progressed toward the hole Andre had created with his bulldozer yesterday, before he got shot.

“I have reason to believe that the same chemicals causing the hell hole in the Vanderventer mansion have also eaten through the ground here,” I explained, looking for terms that a priest might believe. String theory wouldn’t work on him. “When we closed up the hole in the mansion, another exploded on the harbor. Hot geysers have been the only result, until yesterday.”

Hands behind his back, the priest listened gravely. “But you’ve seen no actual demons?”

“I’m not the demon expert,” I pointed out. “I have no way of recognizing evil other than behavior, and that’s a tough call, as you know yourself.”

He nodded. “Well, I suppose exorcising a hell hole would be a trifle different than attempting to drive a demon from someone’s soul. Couldn’t you just close up the hole with explosives?”

Here’s where I had to play verbal dodgeball. I couldn’t talk about blue blobs or space aliens or even meteorites. My credibility was on the line. Where was a good courtroom when I needed one?

“We have excellent reason to believe that whatever is down there also holds miracle cures,” I said, choosing the easiest route. “That’s why I’ve called you in. If there is some way of exorcising the evil and leaving the good . . .” I let him extrapolate.

He lit up like a Christmas candle. “Heaven and hell, right here on earth,” he exclaimed. “Is it possible?”

Milo leaped out of my tote and raced ahead, obviously bored with our chatter. Maybe he communicated with space aliens and could warn Blue Boy to hide.

Lance saw us approaching and nudged one of his buddies and before long they were all cheering and raising mugs of frothing . . . beer? Who knew? It steamed in the cold December air. Not absolutely necessary given the ground heat, but it looked good.

“Excellent Irish coffee,” the priest explained in satisfaction. “Senator Vanderventer has been very thoughtful.”

I was betting the boys were drinking something a little less fancy than whiskey and coffee, but I wouldn’t disillusion the good father if he was getting along with bikers in ragged leathers and even more ragged beards.

Agatha’s coven gathered around the bonfire, warming their fingers on hot mugs. Behind them, their cauldron bubbled in a battery-operated crockpot. Nice touch. The older witches eyed the bikers with wariness, but the younger ones seemed oblivious to a bunch of old guys. They were ogling Andre.

Damn, I’d hoped he’d keep his long nose out. Stupid of me.

I left the priest behind and crossed the rough turf to punch the smug expression off his handsome face. He wore a hat to hide the bandage on his head. He held up a cashmere-coated arm and blocked my blow.

“Have you sold us down the river yet, punk?” I demanded.

“What, and miss the floor show?” he asked, laughing at my puny attempt to hit him. “I have a meeting with MacNeill at ten. I can put it off until later if the spectacle takes longer.”

I kicked his shin with my sewage-laden boot. The gabardine looked better muddy. “Make me do all the work and you come out smelling like roses and richer than ever. You’re a skunk, Legrande.” He may have saved my life, but we did that for each other.

It was the morality issues where we clashed. If money was the root of all evil, he risked his soul by selling out. I expected better of people I knew and respected.

Not wanting to damn Andre, I turned my back on him and went over to greet Doctor Voodoo. He was at least wearing clothes out here in the cold wind off the water, although they were little more than skanky rags covered in layers of herbal wreaths. He’d apparently brought a few of his students with him. They hadn’t got into the naked, headless chicken shtick yet, but their jeans and hoodies were well decorated with pretty colors and weeds, and they carried an assortment of jungle-type instruments.

“You saw what happened last time we messed with a hell hole,” I warned him. “You really want your students at risk?”

“As long as we walk this earth, we are at risk. They must learn how to fight evil,” the prof said solemnly.

I turned to the kids and pointed at the hole surrounded by orange cones. “This ground gave away yesterday. The whole harbor area is permeated with fissures and the heat is crumbling the chemically-permeated ground. It could collapse under you at any minute. Your professor knows what he’s getting into. I want to make sure you do as well. Backing off is a sign of intelligence.”

They glanced at Doctor Voodoo, who scowled and waved them backward. They scattered. “You’re no fun, Tina Lawyer. The battle against evil is not for the weak.”

“This is a battle against geothermal fracking or some such crap. We can’t close hell. But we can cut off its access to the Zone by making as big a stink as possible.” I gestured at the cameras starting to gather a safe distance back along Edgewater, bless Jane’s little heart. “We’re going to show them that the Zone isn’t safe for medical science.”

The professor studied the journalists setting up their cameras, the witches stirring their brew and drawing pentagrams in the mud, and the priest setting up his altar, and he nodded. “There is real evil here, and you know it, don’t you?”

“First smart thing I’ve heard you say. If you could define and pinpoint the source, I’d be appreciative, but you can’t. Neither can I. So shutting off Acme’s access to it is the best I can do. Your job is to keep evil from spreading should it escape in some way I can’t fathom.”

He crossed the clearing to talk with Agatha, showing he was as smart as I’d hoped. Gloria and Dane had been polluted by
something
besides chemicals. Somehow, evil was leaking into our existence.

Schwartz stationed several of his fellow cops at a distance, as if this were a normal mob scene. This was Friday, so workers were pouring into the plant on their normal shift. Cars slowed to check out the bizarre scene at the harbor, but the drivers had clocks to punch. I didn’t think shutting down a meteorite would put them out of work, I hoped.

I just didn’t know if a meteorite could be shut down.

A limo slid up to the curb, blocking the Harleys but far enough out of the street to allow the workers to drive by. I prayed that wasn’t Max. I’d told him to contact MacNeill, but not at eight in the morning. I wanted the action over before the bigwigs arrived.

Ex-senator Mike MacNeill stepped from the limo, accompanied by Dr. Bakir, MSI’s corporate flunky. Apparently we hadn’t scared the good doctor enough yesterday. Andre walked up the hill to greet them.

I stupidly wanted him down here helping me. But he’d joined the enemy and we were on a collision course.

A familiar lanky figure bicycled down Edgewater—Paddy. So that’s how he was getting about these days. I hadn’t seen or heard him around the boarding house lately, but then, neither of us spent much time at home. Or maybe he’d moved out. His apartment had been above mine, but I never heard him up there anymore. He parked his pedal-pusher beside the Harleys and ambled over to Andre and MacNeill.

I guess I’d have to get moving. I stopped to speak with Agatha first.

“You’ve really stirred the forces, haven’t you?” she asked before I could speak. Today she was wearing a heavy wool coat over her apron, and a knit stocking cap to warm her ears. The heat from the ground should have made that much covering unnecessary, but I had no idea how old she was. Maybe she was frail and thin-skinned.

One of these days, I should have her teach me about evil forces. Not today. “You stir your cauldron, I stir mine,” I agreed. “I’m hoping you and Pierre and the priest can block anything that escapes after I go down. The bikers only have muscle to stop the crowd. If there really are evil forces down there, I’ll need your help.”

“And what if the Evil Ones inhabit
you
?” she asked, giving me more insight into the supernatural than I wanted to know.

“Andre will probably shoot me,” I said with a shrug.

I approached Lance, who had miraculously remembered my request—a mechanic’s tool box. He’d stoned a lot of brain cells over the years and didn’t have the world’s most reliable thought processes. He propped his big scuffed boot on the box.