Anton Strout: Dead To Me

Even with all the danger around me, and my exposed ribs, I couldn’t help but be amused. Suits of armor lurched past me, some with the perkiest codpieces I had ever seen, intent on clearing a path through our enemies with mace, sword, or pole arm in hand.

Most majestic were the four horsemen in the center of the room, whose steeds charged off into the costumed crowd. Their lances knocked Dalн after Dalн aside and I felt sudden hope that there might be a chance for us to get out of this alive after all.

One of the swirling spirits spun with breakneck speed around Cyrus like an ethereal twister and suddenly shot itself straight into him. He convulsed as a spasm wracked his whole body, and he struggled for control.

“Simon,” Cyrus said, but it was Irene’s voice. She sounded strained as she fought him in the effort for possession. “Go…while I can control him.”

I could tell Cyrus was struggling hard, fighting her for control of his own body, but it was no use. Irene was full of fury from her captivity and was far stronger than him…for now. She forced his hand to open and the cutlass clattered harmlessly to the ground.

“Go,” she said, “and take her with you.”

“Irene,” I said, feeling a bit uncomfortable staring into Cyrus’s eyes as I spoke to her. “This is Jane. She’s…well…”

“I know,” Irene said, softening Cyrus’s face. “You don’t need to explain. I can see her energy…intertwined with yours. It’s okay. Life is for the living.”

The softness disappeared from Cyrus’s face, and as he began to win control of his body once more, he bent to retrieve his cutlass, his face contorted with the effort. Before he could grab ahold of it, Irene forced his body back to a standing position.

“Go!” she screamed. “He’s pushing me out.”

“Connor and I will find you after this, I swear.”

Irene smiled, but Cyrus’s sharklike teeth made it unpleasant.

“I don’t think you’ll need to,” she said. “Something feels terribly right about all this.” Irene turned to face Jane. “Take care of him. He’s a terrible amount of trouble.”

“You’re telling me,” Jane said with a faint laugh. Then with absolute sincerity, she said, “Thank you. I’ll try.”

Cyrus came to the surface again and I watched his arm as he balled up his fist. His face strained with the effort, the veins in his neck popping out like suspension cables.

“If you’re going to do anything,” Irene said weakly, “now would be the time…”

As Irene gave one final push for control over him, Cyrus’s face went slack and his arms dropped lifelessly to his side. Seizing the moment Irene had provided for us, Jane and I swung the shield, rushing forward. The shield smacked into Cyrus’s head, and it rang out like a gong. He fell to the floor. Jane stared at him for a second, and then we stepped over him, heading for the south end of the room. I think Jane gave him a parting kick on the way out, but I didn’t look back to see where. I don’t think I wanted to know.

Jane pulled ahead and took the lead. It wasn’t hard to do, considering I was holding my ribs as I limped after her, while also trying to remove the shield from my arm. She effectively dodged the galloping horsemen and avoided the retreating cultists, who were clearly spooked by the sudden turn of events. I found myself crying and laughing at the same time. These folks wanted Surrealism; they certainly were getting it. I doubt anyone had expected a night like this.

Connor frantically waved us over and we plowed through the crowd, using the shield to reach him. Two of the suits of armor had responded to his commands like he was the sorcerer’s apprentice, and stretched between their arms were Faisal “Don Corleone” Bane himself.

“Well, kid,” Connor shouted over the noise. “What should we do with him?”

I looked around the room. So much of what was happening tonight rested on this madman’s machinations. He was responsible for Irene and Tamara’s deaths, and who knew how many more? Even Jane had been at his mercy. Given that we had yet to put a stop to Faisal’s corporate headhunter, she still was. Though I had never killed anyone, in that moment I wanted to. Knowing the Department frowned on such behavior, I restrained myself, and yet I had to do something.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” I yelled over the sound of combat. “There’s no way all these evil folk are escaping scot-free with all the alarms going off, but there’s a chance that we’ll be able to.”

Connor nodded. His hair whipped around wildly and his Bogart trench coat fluttered out behind him like a cape. “That still doesn’t tell me what we should do with Faisal,” he said. “I think the spirits want to rip him limb from limb, and I’m having a hard time coming up with reasons for them not to.”

“All we have to do is detain him until the authorities arrive,” I said.

“But you said it yourself, kid…we can’t stick around for that. We’ve got to get out of here.”

Faisal smiled as he hung midair between the two horsemen. Once we left, he surely would break free. There had to be a better way to keep the smug bastard in line.

“Jane?” I said as I turned. I presented the hilt of the sword to her. “Would you care to do the honors?”

She smiled nervously, reluctant.

“I don’t want you tokill him!” I said. “We just need to…detain him. I thought you might want a little payback. Don’t forget, heis trying to have you killed.”

“Might I remind you,” she said, “that he tried to kill you as well? That’s what he sent me after you for.”

“Then I suggest we do it together. Drastic times call for, you know-”

“Dosomething!” Connor shouted.

Faisal looked pained from the tugging and pulling, and I took a dark pleasure in that. Jane and I hefted the sword together and thrust it forward through his shoulder, driving him against the wall. We forced the sword as deep as we could into the wall, nearly to the hilt, and Faisal was effectively pinned. He hissed in pain, but he definitely looked incapable of moving.

“Let’s see our little butterfly wriggle free from this specimen board before the authorities get here now,” I said.

“Guess you don’t believe in handcuffs, huh?” Jane said.

“Don’t really carry them,” I said. “Most of the things I deal with can’t be held by them anyway.”

Connor clapped me on the shoulder. “Let’s get the hell out of Dodge, kid,” he said. “I’ll go back and grab the Inspectre. You two kids make a break for it.”

I surveyed the destruction as Jane and I started off, and the art enthusiast in me winced at the thought of all the property damage. The Museum would certainly have its work cut out for it, including the task of figuring out just what the hell the now toppled Ghostsniffing machine was. We passed it on our way out, and I was happy to see all the clay pots were empty or broken.

The wooden fish stuck out of the debris, the glow of its power fading from it, and I stretched down painfully to grab it. I tucked it under my shirt, careful not to put it against the open hole along my ribs. It was a bit of thievery, but it didn’t belong to the museum’s collection anyway, and they would have enough to deal with tomorrow.

I gave one final look back as Jane and I raced out of the hall, but there was no trace of Irene anywhere now. Jane squeezed my hand sympathetically. The sound of rapidly approaching footsteps from the other direction snapped me out of it, and we headed off to find quiet and escape, arm in arm, thanks to the support of our army of the dead.

Most of Other Division was crowded around the television at the front of the Lovecraft Cafй. Jane was at my side, her hand openly around my shoulder, but I didn’t mind it in public anymore. People could think what they wanted to think. Bruises, slings, and more than one set of crutches were signs that last night had not been a dream-that and the wooden fish now hanging on the wall of my apartment.