The One We Feed (21 page)

Gran leaned
against the polished wood of the dining table, breathing a bit heavily, but she
beamed and took off her hat.

“O’course.”

The shroud of
the coma dropped and lifted, and we were in the pit again, among the foul
smells, the pressing heat of air already breathed and breathed again, the
screams and growls and fear. It was my fault. I had made a connection, and she
had followed it like a tether.

She was
shaking in the unknown, terrified to even put a hand out in front of her. Gran
had always said monsters didn’t live in the dark, that they lived in the light,
but how could she believe that? The tremors grew into sobs. Voices slid by her,
wrapped around her. Deep guttural cries battered her ears. Her feet stuck to
the ground. Her skin dripped with sweat and tears. The stench rose in her
nostrils and clouded out reason. Something skin-like brushed her arm with a
hiss, and she knew they were considering her.

Her heart beat
so fast that it moved her whole body in little jolts. Breath came in gasps. Fear
was choking the life from her.

And they came
closer.

Shivering all
over, the child stared into the dark, and summoned her voice.

“Am...m...mazing
Gr...grace,” she stuttered. A growl at her right elbow threatened to turn to a
roar. The air moved with the sounds of sniffing. She could imagine a pack of
huge dogs circling her, smelling her fear, closing in, and knew there was only
this chance.

“Amazing
Grace,” she sang. It wasn’t like Gran’s voice. How had Gran’s voice sounded? She
fought hard to recall.

I felt a
chill. The Sirens had used songs and sounds to hurt and demean; and, even
though she was a child, Reesa knew it was important to show them that some
songs could free.

Her tone
changed from the rasp to the ringing of a bell. She lifted her voice to her
Gran. She sang their whole tragic, triumphant life stories in one verse.

And the
monsters were silent.

I opened my
eyes, for the first time in a while, composed of my own accord. Reesa’s story
had begun to make sense; and, the more I knew her, the less afraid for her I
felt. The more I knew, the more I understood how dangerous she really was for
the Sangha and for Mara.

She was the
perfection Mara had been seeking, but like every other immortal I had met, the
process had taken so long that the realization of it frightened him.

“She sings to
them, but...it’s more than that,” I whispered uncertainly.

Jinx turned
and looked at me with a nervous tick of the mouth. “Okay.”

“When can we
get to Devlin?”

“Tonight, but
Lily, he may already know we’re coming.”

He sounded worried.
I smiled. There was a song for that.

Chapter
16

The Greatest
Trick

It wasn’t what I expected. I
pictured a warehouse rave, but this was almost rural. We had driven for twenty
minutes into the mountains, until we were surrounded by greenery and trees that
scattered the moonlight in all directions. The coven house was a fairly large
property, an estate of some kind, set back from the road by a high stone
perimeter fence with an iron rolling gate. It reminded me vaguely of the
Vihara, except that I could not see beyond the massive gate and the thickets of
trees.

Outside the
gate, the narrow terrain of the mountain road was teeming with people waiting
in line. A large, lugubrious man in a black vest and leather pants sat inside a
fairly sizable guard box that was dwarfed by his bulk. He looked each person in
the eye and spoke to them before allowing them through the tiny doorway beside the
gate.

Jinx surveyed
the line of eager party-goers. “Idiots. Just because you’re an Edgar Allen Poe
fan doesn’t mean you should go looking for trouble.”

I tossed him a
glance. “Right, because you don’t know these guys at all and totally aren’t
planning to talk them into betraying Mara to help us.”

He made a
face. I looked back and realized that I couldn’t argue with him. The clientele
seemed as varied as that for a costume party. There were perfectly ordinary
females in trashy club attire intermingled with people in corsets, coin belts,
and even suits of armor. There was only one unifying factor: black. Black
clothes, black makeup, black boots, shimmering black stones set in silver
bangles. It was as if someone had bled the scene of color until it had all the
life of a silent film.

I looked back
at the boy dubiously. “So far this isn’t the fiery circle you promised. I
mostly just want to run through with a staple gun shouting ‘You should have
listened to your mother when she told you it would stick that way!’ You are a
big chicken, Jinxy.”

He let out the
longest sigh I’ve ever heard, and leaned back in his seat. I had expected a
sharp retort, not solemnity. “It’s just a show,” he said. “It’s the front they
put up for the people they suck in.”

“Ha!” I laughed
appreciatively, but he wasn’t smiling. “Oh, not a pun.”

“This coven’s
memeplex is truly fucked and as infectious as the Black Death. ’S’what happens
when you know a lot about people’s weaknesses.”

“What do you
mean? They’re not pacifistic or mathematically inclined?”

“It’s hard to
explain, but they sort of believe that evil is the ultimate good.”

I shot him a
wry look. “Did they renounce god while dancing in a furious, naked circle, and
then go around drawing pentagrams?”

“No, they’re
not like that. This coven isn’t cheesy, at least not in real life.” He fluffed
his red spikes. “They believe that by being amoral, by pursuing the negative
course in all things, they are somehow balancing out the universe.”

“Wow, that’s
comforting. I was all about the ultimate compassion until you said that.” I
watched the people pass one by one through the heavy wooden door and could not
help but picture Club Trishna’s victims lined up to self-destruct. “And I
thought
Ursula
was bad.”

“Duh. After
she started changing, she went schizoid and came here. Got in tight with their
mystics. This place is the reason she turned into such a whack job.”

I turned my
head so quickly, I thought I might snap my own neck. “Shut
up
!”

He nodded as
if he were reading a sermon out loud. “Ursula’s problem was that she didn’t
know how to play at
shifgrethor
the way Devlin does.”

I took the
obscure sci-fi reference and laughed about it for several seconds. When
prestige and social imbalances were that important to people, I almost felt as
if it served them right to have it used against them.

“Is that how
they have large, orgiastic parties without having the cops come down on them?”

He snorted. “Devlin
owns the cops.” He opened the car door, but hesitated. He turned and put out
his hand. “Lily, just remember the rules, and for the sake of Zarquan, will you
please not make fun of anything! This guy is fierce, and a social debt is as
great to him as a monetary one.”

He slid off
the high seat and met me on the other side, where I was moving as methodically
as possible to lock the car.

“Seriously?” I
tested the handle thrice, just in case. First they go around wearing black and
piercing holes in their faces, and the next thing, they’re stealing cars. “You’re
telling me that he even tries to use it on immortals, who know he’s just
some
guy
?”

Jinx pursed
his lips and hindered my impetuous march toward the gate. “Look, you’ve gotta
think about this like an Antique, not like a Modern. Back in the day, you’d get
beheaded for not bowing or get a spike through your hat if you didn’t take it
off, and everyone was just cool with that. Okay?”

I sighed,
tired already of being mocked for my “youth,” but since it was Jinx, and I
already felt bad enough about our interaction, I took the hit. “Okay, I get it.”

His hand found
my shoulder, and he pushed gently until I had my back to the car. “No, I don’t
think you do.”

I looked at
him, taken aback at the sincerity on his face. He was really, truly, afraid of
this person, but I, being unafraid in all cases, could not understand.

“Just by
coming here, uninvited, we already owe him, and because we do we can’t stop
playing until he calls an end to it.”

I wrapped my
fingers around his smaller hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “Jinx, sweetie,
he only has power if you allow him to. I won’t play, and because I won’t there
won’t be any confrontation, debts, or anything else. Ignore them, and the
bullies get tired of trying so hard. These are the things we learn in high
school.”

I slid past
him, ignoring the disturbed and foreboding look on his face.

“I fought
bigger bullies than high school dickwads, Lily!” he grumbled in a loud voice. “You
should listen to me. Or have you forgotten that I spent time in prison for
tapping my wine glass with a fucking table knife?”

“Sorry,” I
chuckled, walking backward across the road, “stopped reading at ‘Everisté’!”

Rather than
let his discomfort infect me, I walked past the line of people waiting
impatiently to be admitted, pretending not to notice their glares, and
presented myself to the guard.

“Hi! I’m here
to see Beelzebub.”

His expression
did not change. He just stared at me dolefully until Jinx appeared at my side.

“It’s all
right, Ulrich. She’s with me.”

This time, he
raised his eyebrow. I was tempted to believe the man was mentally handicapped,
but there was a sparkle in his eye that was far too sardonic. I realized then
that he was a “glass half empty” kind of guy.

“You don’t haf
an appoint-ment,” he said, and it was as if the words had to fight their way
through his thick German accent and slow, deep voice.

“I’m dropping
in,” Jinx grumbled, with an acidic glance at me.

Ulrich licked
his lips. “He von’t like zat.”

“No shit! Just
let us in.”

Ulrich looked
from my colorful guide, to me, and shook his head in apparent amazement.

“Don’t drink
ze punch,” he warned and buzzed us in.

Jinx went
ahead of me, while I attempted to peel my eyes from Ulrich’s somber ones. He
waited until we were through before he went back to his unhappy business, still
shaking his head. I turned and followed Jinx.

I came up
short behind him with something of a gasp. I expected to find a normal garden,
or yard, maybe a long walk toward a neoclassical mansion littered with lounging
cannibals, but instead, I found that the door opened onto a tunnel descending
into the very ground. Uneven stairs cut from stone were dimly lit by the
wavering lights of what appeared to be old-fashioned gas lanterns.

“No...
way
,”
I murmured, following Jinx like a wide-eyed tourist. He had his hands jammed in
his pockets, and his spiky head was slouching down over his shoulders as if he
expected an axe to fall from the ceiling at any moment. “You have got to be
kidding
me!” I said, catching up. “It’s underground? What is it with these people and
subterranean vaults?”

Jinx halted
and glared at me. “Please don’t embarrass me!”

Unable to stop
myself, I laughed outright. “Oh, trust me, I could contribute nothing to that
cause.”

“I gave you
that one,” he said, rolling his eyes and continuing downward.

The air cooled
around us and the smell of earth permeated it. In front and behind us rang the
laughter and voices of excited party-goers, clop-clopping in their stilettos
like horses to the glue factory.

We met another
large man at the end of the staircase. It was as if Devlin did his shopping at
the WWF. This guard was wearing leather chaps, a do-rag, and the same
expression as Ulrich and was blocking a door, arms crossed. When he saw Jinx,
his face lit up.

“Well, now!” His
goatee shifted as he smiled generously, his southern accent almost charming. “Didn’t
expect to see you here. Devlin’ll be
so
happy to see you.”

“Why did that
come out sounding sarcastic?” Jinx muttered, but he shook the extended
ham-hand.

The man
grinned and shrugged as he opened the door. The view was obscured by a thick
curtain, though the sounds of music and people grew louder. “I would’a loved to
see this, but I’m stuck out here.”

“What’d you
do?”

He snorted. “Smacked
a girl’s ass. I told Devlin that if she didn’t want it smacked she shouldn’t’a
put it out there, but….”

Jinx didn’t
move toward the door, but stared at the man dumbfounded. “You didn’t
actually
say that?”

I was
surprised to see the large man smile sheepishly. “Naw, but I sure wanted to. He’s
one scary drink of water when he’s pissed.”

Jinx chuckled
darkly and passed through the curtain with a wave. I followed behind him,
noticing that the man’s eyes followed me hungrily.

I scowled. “Keep
’em to yourself and you’ll keep ’em.”

The eyebrows
went up, but he wasn’t offended. He held up his hands peaceably and made a tiny
bow. “Friend’a Jinx….”

Beyond the
curtain was an antechamber, with a reception desk and everything. Painted
ladies and men in “guy-liner” sat around on benches upholstered in red velvet,
wearing more jewelry than any human had a right to. As we walked up to the
desk, their eyes followed us somberly.

The girl
behind the desk was dressed, as near as I could tell, in Victorian funeral
attire, right down to the lopsided hat with veil.

I leaned toward
Jinx and dropped my voice. “Is her name Lydia Deetz?”

He shot a
glare at me and made a point of clearing his throat. “We’re here for the main
shebang.”

The woman’s
shaded eyes looked us over. Thick lashes heavily coated in mascara fanned
beautiful hazel eyes. A lovely mouth smiled. “You don’t have an appointment, my
dear Jinx.”

I smirked and
leaned against the desk casually, finally beginning to see what it was Jinx
hated about this place. It was a costume show, and if there was one person who
hated being reminded of costumes and fakery, it was a famous mathematician who
had to hide behind pop culture symbols and Manic Panic.

“I know, but
he will definitely want to speak to me.”

Her chin
lifted in appraisal. “Fine,” she whispered, sliding her gloved hands across the
ebony surface in a grand swoop that collected several guest passes with some
sleight of hand. She deposited them in front of us. “Passes for VIP area. You’re
not allowed in any other areas, as I’m sure you know.” Her eyes slid to me. “And
if you’re wise, you won’t drink….”

“Yeah, Ulrich
already told us,” Jinx said hastily, throwing his pass over his head like he
suddenly wanted to get it all over with and planned to hang himself. “Just call
’em okay?”

She propped
her head on her hand, slightly annoyed that she had been interrupted in her
slowly phrased, dramatic warning. Her other hand pushed a buzzer, and soon we
were joined by two goons in costumes similar to Ulrich’s. They turned as soon
as they saw Jinx and, as if assuming he knew the way, went about escorting us slightly
less enthusiastically. They strolled down the hallway beyond the desk, paying
no attention to us.

“Are they all
depressed, or is it just me?”

Jinx stepped
around two women who were dressed like Wild West brothel attendants and were
about to enter one of the many doors. One of their bustles caught momentarily on
his studded wristband. When he’d disentangled himself with an overly polite
apology, he turned back to me and put a finger to his lips.