Wicked as They Come (41 page)

“You have papers for Viviel Fester,” the guard said. “Where is she?”

I had an invisible
Oh, shit!
moment. We had both forgotten about our original, two-visible-people plan—the one we’d made up before the spring showed us the truth of things.

But Criminy was clever and quick as ever. The old man’s face was pained, and he softly said, “My wife passed last year, sir. I keep her papers with mine out of habit. Lived together two hundred years, we did.” A few red tears rolled down his face.

The guard crumpled the extra set of papers and tossed them onto the ground in his booth, the bastard. No wonder everyone hated Coppers.

“Toll has gone up,” the guard barked. “Eight coppers or two vials.”

The old man set down the stag head and hunted through his pockets, gathering change. He counted out eight copper pennies and set them in the box. It flicked in, then back out with his papers.

The guard cleared his throat. “It is decreed that all Bludmen
register for a badge at the House of Holofernes in Darkside upon entering the city. Bludmen without badges will be subject to inquisition and possible draining. Have you seen either of these people before?” He held up inked drawings of Criminy and me. The word
WANTED
slithered across the top of each image in elegant calligraphy. The drawing of Criminy was spot-on, but the one of me was more than a little imaginative.

I looked like an evil seductress, some sort of vampy witch-queen.

I liked it.

I wanted a copy for my wagon.

“Never seen the devils, sir, but never been out of Nag’s Head till this week, neither. I’ll be on the lookout, though. And how can I get to see Magistrate Goodwill, sir?”

In answer, the guard pulled his lever, and the giant door squealed open.

Scratching his head and looking up at the huge doors, Criminy was having a marvelous time acting like a country rube. He picked up the stag’s head and wandered through the door. I was close on his heels.

After the door slammed shut behind us, he whispered, “You there, pet?”

In answer, I stroked his back softly, right where I had once clawed him.

“Yeah, you’re there,” he muttered. “Try to keep up.”

Keeping up his country-mouse act, Rafael Fester goggled at the shops and the people and generally got in everyone’s way, accidentally smacking a grand Pinky dame with his bloody trophy at one point. He asked random people for directions to Darkside, then took pains to go the wrong way.

Still, I knew that he knew exactly where he was going, and I stayed as close to him as possible, trying to remember not to bump into anyone myself. I saw a filthy urchin sidling close to pick his pocket at one point and almost intervened, but Criminy spun around quickly and pegged the kid with an antler, shouting, “What, who said that?” like deaf old men everywhere. The urchin slunk back into the shadows, rubbing a lump on his forehead.

Finally, I could see one of the shadowy entrances to Darkside, although I didn’t recognize anything from our earlier venture to Antonin’s house. We were in a part of the city that I hadn’t seen before. Rafael relaxed a little among his own people and straightened his back before asking a passing chimney sweep for directions to the House of Holofernes.

“It’s two blocks up, but you don’t want to go there,” the Bludman said in a hushed whisper. “The Coppers know everything that happens in that inn, friend. What goes in your mouth and what comes out of it as well.”

“But the guard at the gate said I had to get a badge,” Rafael said, acting confused. “What happens if I don’t go there?”

“Don’t be a fool, old man,” the chimney sweep hissed. “Get a fake badge underground. Go see—”

He stepped back as a Copper rounded the corner and made a beeline for them. Picking up his bucket and brush, he said, just a little too loudly, “Glad she’s doing well, and give her my best, will you?”

The chimney sweep turned to go, but the Copper swung his billy club in a significant sort of way and said, “I don’t see your badge, Bluddy. Yorick must have been giving you directions to the House of Holofernes. How kind. I’ll take it over from here.”

The chimney sweep hurried away as the Copper pointed the billy club to steer Rafael down the darkening street. Of course, he didn’t come anywhere close to touching the dangerous Bludman, however old and frail.

“Wouldn’t want you to get lost,” the Copper said. “Something bad might happen to you.”

“I’m grateful for your help, sir,” Rafael said. It was almost believable.

I drifted in their wake, as silent as a ghost. It was twilight, with indigo clouds boiling overhead. Shadows loomed as orange gaslights hissed into life. I waited for the first fat, wet drops of smoggy rain to fall, but the sky was holding its breath.

Stores began opening their doors to Bludmen who had spent all day working as the servants of their prey, the warm light making cheerful rectangles across the shining cobblestones. Bludmen of all ages drifted into the streets, the women walking arm in arm, chatting in groups, or going through the open doors to do business. It was shocking, the difference between the relaxed Bludwomen in their showy, open gowns and the cramped, nervous Pinkies so tightly laced and tightly wound. The Copper’s constant sneer made his disgust for Darkside all too obvious, and I couldn’t help tripping him once. “Damn Bluddies need to clean up after themselves,” he muttered to no one in particular as he straightened his coat.

Finally stopping under an awning, the Copper muttered, “Have fun in there,” and stood a little away, watching. Making sure that Rafael didn’t bolt.

The sign had a stylized flame topped by the calligraphed
House of Holofernes Inn
. I shivered as Criminy grasped the knob. Something wasn’t right here.

Before he could open the door, I put my hand on his shoulder.

“Something smells funny around here,” Rafael said, sniffing the air. “Smells fishy.” Then he shrugged and went inside. I followed, glad that he had picked up on it, too.

“Good evening, sir,” said a deep, sonorous voice.

Behind the counter was a very tall, very thin old Bludman with a nose like an eagle’s beak. I doubted he had ever smiled in his entire life. I disliked him immediately.

“Good evening, Master Holofernes,” said Rafael. “The guard at the gate told me I had to register, so here I am. I’ve never been in the city before. Do you have a room available?”

“Sign here,” intoned the old man, and he slid a new-looking guest register across the counter. Rafael shrugged and picked up the quill, signing
Rafael Fester, Nag’s Head
in shaky cursive. Then he looked up expectantly.

“Papers,” said Mr. Holofernes, and Rafael handed them over. Mr. Holofernes gave the aged, worn paper a thorough investigation and even tasted a corner with the tip of his tongue before silently returning them. Then he handed Rafael a little brass badge with an ornate B on it and pointed to one on his own lapels to indicate proper placement.

After he rang a crystal bell, Mr. Holofernes glared at Rafael, and the men stood in mutual awkward silence.

Right before Rafael got bored enough to say something that might have been foolhardy, a dark-haired Bludwoman rushed down the stairs and began chattering at him like a demented parakeet, filling the odd silence. Master Holofernes disappeared.

“Well, hello there, now, sir. How do you do, sir? You’ll be wanting a room, won’t you, sir? And you’ve just missed the
rain, isn’t that lucky? And what a loverly stag you’ve got there. Did you kill it yourself? That’ll fetch a pretty penny, that one, such a loverly rack on it. Now, where are your bags, sir?”

Rafael looked completely flummoxed, and I almost tittered.

“I’ve got no bags, miss, other than this little sack,” he finally said. “Didn’t plan on staying the night. Just wanted to bring this token to Master Jonah Goodwill from the good people of Nag’s Head, thank him for keeping our city safe. But the guard sent me here, so here I am.”

“Well, now, a room’ll cost you ten coppers or three vials, sir, and that’s Pinky blood, if you don’t know. And that includes a half vial at dinner, which is quite the affair. Oh, everyone in the inn gathers together in the salon at elevenses for a loverly party, sir.”

“That sounds awfully fancy,” Rafael said, digging in his waistcoat for coins. “Wasn’t expecting it to be so expensive, though. It’s my first night in a big city.”

“Oh, now, sir, if that’s too dear for you, we’ve got a half room for five coppers, but it’s just got a cot and a ewer. The regular rooms have a nice, spacious bed, city views, and running water, you know. Ever so loverly, I assure you.”

Rafael’s smile quirked in a familiar way, and he said, “That’s kind of you to mention, but I guess I’ll indulge and give myself room to spread out and enjoy it. You only live once, eh?”

They laughed together. Must have been an inside joke for Bludmen. She handed him a key and gave him directions to his room, all but ordering him to freshen up before the mandatory party.

I followed Rafael up two flights of stairs, careful to step
at the same time he did, lest anyone wonder why an old man was making twice the normal amount of footsteps. He opened the door to the room and tossed the stag’s head onto the floor, where it landed with a splat. I followed him inside, and he kicked the door closed and caught me in his arms, whispering, “I can’t see you, but I can still smell you, my love.”

I tried to wriggle away, but he held tight and nuzzled until he found my face.

“There you are,” he breathed, and his lips found mine. I shifted my angle and startled when my eyes caught motion across the room. I glanced up at a floor-length oval mirror, in which an elderly man was passionately making out with the air. He pulled away as I shook with laughter and pointed at the mirror.

Oh, wait. He couldn’t see me.

“I was just watching you make love to nothing in that mirror,” I whispered. “It was quite a show.”

Rafael chuckled, then sat on the bed and started unlacing his boots.

“What are you doing?” I said.

“I’m going to freshen up, like a good little Bludman,” he said. “Right after I do something that requires freshening. I seek to commune with the naughty little ghost of Viviel Fester.”

He grinned at me, the wolfish grin. My insides melted a little.

Giving myself a moment, I moved to the window and peeped through the curtains. A heavy, greasy rain was splattering across the cobblestones, coating them like slug slime in the orange gaslights. I shut the curtains. Things were much more interesting inside.

“You can’t even see me,” I said coyly. “And we already did something freshening-worthy this afternoon. And you’re an old man. And you still have to go to a party.”

“I don’t need to see you,” he reasoned. “It’ll be dark soon, and I can still feel you and taste you. This afternoon is the ancient past. And we’re both going to that party, because I need you to get information.”

“Even if all that’s true, you’re still assuming I want to get unfreshened with a silly old man,” I countered.

“In the dark, you won’t know the difference,” he said.

“Maybe you’ll have old-man breath.”

“Maybe not,” he said in his regular voice, low and husky.

He stepped out of his boots and stood, shrugging out of his coat. He was looking right at me, even though he couldn’t see me. He walked to me and brought his arms in until they were right on my shoulders. Then he breathed on me, and I inhaled that wonderful scent of his and sighed.

“Maybe not,” I echoed.

“Besides,” he said, tracing down my shoulder to my hand and leading me to the bed, “I don’t think you’ve made your decision about the locket yet. This could be my last night with you. One of us could die tomorrow. Or you might leave me forever. I want every bit of happiness I can get.” He tried to keep his tone playful and light, but I could hear a farewell in his words, and I couldn’t have turned him down if I had wanted to.

The curtains were already closed. He switched off the lights. We were both invisible in the darkness. It was Criminy’s face I felt, his soft, smooth hair running through my fingers. I traced his eyebrows and cheekbones, sharp features I would have recognized anywhere.

“I just don’t know,” I whispered.

“I don’t want to know, either, not tonight,” he answered, and then our lips met and our bodies melded together, neither of us what we seemed.

Our first time together had been exploratory and playful. Our time in the woods had been fierce and raw. But this time, we were slow and pensive, every touch and kiss filled with longing and a strange, vulnerable finality. We took our time.

It was fun, being invisible.

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