Richard Kadrey - Dead Set

The man looked at her, his expression open and curious. “Ah,” he said.

“I guess, if someone was really kicking your ass, you’d want them to be special. I mean, I’d rather have Batman kick my ass than Mickey Mouse any day.”

The man nodded. “A friend of mine once put that same thought a little more elegantly: does the smart sheep make friends with the wolf or with the other sheep?”

“The wolf, definitely,” Zoe said.

The man smiled down at her warmly, patting her on the shoulder. “Good girl,” he said. “Have a lovely evening.” He turned and walked away, disappearing into the noisy crowd.

At the end of the street, Hecate stepped down from her horse and stepped onto a sort of stage. Zoe couldn’t take her eyes off the woman as she strode to the front of the platform and raised her long arms for quiet. The crowd went silent in an instant.

“Welcome, my subjects, my friends, my children,” Hecate began, her voice amplified magically so that it seemed as if she was speaking directly to Zoe, and to her alone. “Welcome especially to those newly arrived members of our family, new souls whose experiences and insights will, no doubt, reward and enrich us all.”

The queen looked down on the crowd, nodding occasionally to someone near the front of the stage.

“To our new brothers and sisters still confused by your journey, you have come to Iphigene, the city at the end of the line. Your new home. I am Hecate, your queen and your protector, your sister and your mother. Iphigene, you will find, is both terrible and sublime.” She bowed her head slightly, then looked up. “As am I.” Zoe could tell that the head bob was a practiced motion.

“Tonight all you need take with you are these few thoughts: Iphigene, like all cities, is made more beautiful or more ugly by its citizens, and by my love for each of you. Never forget that we are in the most awful of places, a city forgotten, broken, and bleeding. And who has abandoned us here in this limbo? A repository for their trash, cast away, cast down, like so much filth.” Hecate was at the very edge of the stage, pointing down into the crowd as if demanding an answer from every one of the tens of thousands spread out at her feet. The feeling of being high was coming on again. Despite herself, Zoe wanted to call out, so Hecate would be pleased and maybe smile at her. She was horrified at the thought, but couldn’t help herself.

Hecate stepped back from the edge of the stage and opened her hands, palms out. Quietly, she said, “The living.”

An anxious muttering started up from the crowd. Hecate’s wolf men eyed the nearby crowd members restlessly from the sides of the stage.

“We are what they despise,” Hecate continued. “We are the shadow they only see when they’re alone. We are their nightmares and the secret fears they want to forget. So, they have condemned us to this dark and baleful place with nothing but our memories and the garbage that washes down to us.” She shook her head slowly, in mock sorrow. “The living abandon everything when they’re done with it. Even us.”

The low sound of the muttering crowd kicked up a notch, rising into an animal rumble from thousands of throats.

“And now the living want to take from us the only thing we have left. Our home. Yes, my children, it’s true. Iphigene has been invaded by the living.”

The crowd roared and surged toward the stage, but the wolf men held them back. Souls bared their teeth, cursed, and spat. Hands were raised in the air, reaching for something. . Hecate, the moon, or the living that they wanted to destroy. Zoe didn’t raise her hands. The shock of Hecate’s words had broken whatever spell the queen’s voice had cast over her. She applauded and smiled, trying to look like everybody else, but she began to push her way back through the crowd, working her way away from the stage to where the crowd thinned at the back.

Hecate seemed to whisper right in her ear as she said, “At this moment there is a living girl child in Iphigene. For what reason, I do not know. You can be sure, though, that her presence is not for our benefit. Anyone who finds this child and brings her to me will receive a reward beyond their wildest dreams!” As Hecate’s voice rose, so did the crowd’s. The sound was deafening. Zoe wasn’t being subtle anymore in her effort to escape. She pulled her collar up as high as it would go and shouldered her way through the mob. When she reached an open space, she turned to look back at the stage.

On a night when she knew there was nothing left that could shock her, Zoe found herself alone, her heart racing, a cold-fear sweat soaking her under her coat. Standing next to Queen Hecate on the big stage was Emmett. The queen cupped her hand under his chin and caressed his cheek, then mouthed a word. Zoe saw it clearly, though she wished she hadn’t. “Son,” she saw the queen say.

Emmett bowed as his mother exhorted the crowd to applaud. He raised his hands to his throat and dug his nails into his skin. As he pulled, the skin stretched like rubber. His face grew distorted and the skin slid upward, until it pulled all the way from his head and hung like a limp, flesh-colored rag in his hands.

What was beneath wasn’t a human face that looked out over the crowd. It was the visage of a cobra, with its hood extended almost out to its shoulders. Hecate leaned in to kiss her son’s true face. Zoe didn’t need to see any more. She turned, hoping to disappear up a side street and work her way back to Valentine’s house. Before she could move, though, something sharp pressed into her spine.

“There aren’t many here tonight that I could threaten with a knife,” came a man’s melodious and oddly familiar voice. “My guess is that you’re the only one.”

Zoe turned her head as far as she could and peered up at the bird-faced man she’d been talking to earlier.

“You knew all along. And now you’re going to turn me in for the reward,” she said.

The man let out one barking laugh. “What’s the fun in that? Besides, Hecate can’t afford my wildest dreams. No, I have something more interesting in mind.” Zoe felt a sharp pain as the knife dug into her back. “Come with me,” he said, taking hold of her sleeve and leading her away.

His apartment wasn’t far. The building was just a couple of blocks off the main street, and much closer than her father’s room, lost in the tangle of anonymous buildings farther inland. He had to stop twice along the way to drink from a silver flask. He had a limp even worse than Zoe’s and whatever was in the flask seemed to dull the pain.

When they reached his building, the sidewalk was clean and clear of any debris. The buildings stood relatively straight up and down. Oak trees lined both sides of the street and all the streetlights worked. Night-blooming jasmine climbed up trellises, filling the air with their faint ghost scent.

Inside the building, the carpets were clean and the elevator still worked. They rode up to the top floor and went to his room, which was at the front of the building. He had to stop once more in the hallway to nurse his bad leg. When he felt better, he took out his key, unlocked the door, and pushed Zoe inside.

His room was laid out like her father’s, but that’s where the resemblance ended. This room was clean and lived in. The floor was covered with a large Persian carpet in warm colors, and the walls were freshly painted. The dresser was made of a dark, ornately carved wood, decorated with dragons at each corner. The table and chairs in his little kitchen matched the dresser. A maroon silk duvet covered the ample bed. There was a large leather armchair with carved dragon paws for legs. Through the window, Zoe could see the ocean and the moon hovering overhead.