Darren Shan - City of the Snakes

“Maybe he really didn’t care that much for you,” I suggest, but she shakes her head confidently.

“He’s in agony but he’ll endure it — for me.” She glances up at the fifteenth floor, then looks down morosely. “It’s almost enough to make me want to go back to him. Almost. ”

“What will you do now?” I ask curiously.

“Carry on with Cafran,” she shrugs, drying her cheeks. “Run his new restaurant. Make friends. Try and forget about the past.”

“You could leave with me if you wanted,” I mumble, not daring look at her as I make the proposition.

“Inviting me to elope, Al?” I sense her smile.

“We got on well together that time we…” I cough discreetly.

“ Very well,” she giggles.

“So how about it?” I raise my eyes, grinning hopefully.

“No,” she sighs. “I’m not saying I don’t want you — I just don’t want you now . I have to find out who I am, discover what I need from life. This city’s a cemetery for you, but it’s a nursery as far as I’m concerned. I want to grow here and learn. One day, maybe, I can leave too. But not now.”

“Think you might want to look me up when that day comes?”

“I might,” she smirks. “Will you keep in touch, let me know how you get on and where you wind up?”

“Sure. By the way, there’s something I have to give you…”

As I’m reaching inside the bag attached to the back of my bike, a car pulls up. The tinted glass in the rear window rolls down and the grinning faces of Ford Tasso and Jerry Falstaff are revealed.

“Doing a runner, Algiers?” Tasso bellows.

“Bet your wrinkled old ass I am,” I laugh, leaning down for a better view. “How you doing, Jerry?” I haven’t seen him since the attack on Cockerel Square, though I’ve heard he stepped down as head of the Troops shortly after.

“Not too bad,” he smiles. “Getting some grief from the new boss, but with a bit of luck he won’t be around very long.”

“Watch it,” Tasso growls. “I’ll outlast you and all the rest of your soft-as-shit generation.”

“You’re back in control of the Troops?” I ask, mildly amazed. “What happened to your retirement?”

“Fuck that,” Tasso snorts. “I wasn’t meant to grow old gracefully. I got such a buzz being back in the game, there wasn’t a hope of me walking away from it again. I’m in this for the duration, Algiers, however long that might prove to be — and the way I’m feeling, there could be a few decades left in me yet.”

“You’re an insane old bastard,” I chuckle, shaking my head admiringly.

“In this city, you have to be,” he retorts, winking with his one good eye, sitting back and calling to the driver, “Home, Thomas!”

I laugh, step back from the car and slap the roof, seeing them off. I smile as I watch them go and silently wish them well, though I doubt whether they need my good wishes. Some people were born to succeed in this city, and Jerry and Tasso are two of its favored sons. They’ll flourish.

“You’ll miss them, won’t you?” Ama asks.

“Yeah. The old son of a bitch especially. But I’ll survive.” Reaching into the bag, I hand her the doll I was going to give her before the interruption. It’s her Ayuamarcan doll, the one I brought from the hall of the Coya. “Take care of that,” I warn her as she turns it around, studying it warily, lifting it to her ear to listen to the tinny beating of its heart. “If anything happens to it, you’re done for. Keep it somewhere safe. Very safe.”

“I will,” she replies, slipping the doll inside her shirt.

She clears her throat. “It’s not any of my business, but your father’s doll… what happened to it?”

I let out a long breath and pat the bag behind me. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t sure what to do with it — what I could do with it — when I came up from the tunnels. But I’ve had time to think. I know how to deal with it now.”

“You’ll make things right?” she asks.

“As right as I can,” I smile.

Ama nods, satisfied, then wraps her arms around me and kisses me deeply. The kiss takes me by surprise and for a few seconds I don’t respond. Then my arms tighten around her and I return the embrace. When we break, we’re both grinning. Maybe I’m kidding myself, but I don’t think this is the last kiss we’ll share. Some day, in some far-flung corner of the world, we’ll kiss again. I’d stake all I have on it.

“See you later, Mr. Jeery,” Ama smirks.

“Not too much later, I hope.”

Blowing me a kiss, Ama mounts her moped and takes off, not looking back, putting the monster on the fifteenth floor behind her forever, surrendering herself to the random uncertainties of the future. I wait until she’s out of sight, then cycle slowly through the gates of Party Central— “Adios!” I roar as I pass the bemused Troops on guard — and head for my final port of call before catching the train out.

The Harpies are absent — they must be with Jennifer — and Bill’s upstairs, painting snakes on a wall. He’s working on a huge rattler when I walk in, using a tiny brush to get the colors just right. I don’t announce myself, just toss my gift — the Paucar Wami doll — at his knees and await his reaction.

Bill’s eyes narrow when he spots me. Then he looks at the doll and slowly picks it up. He studies it silently, running the tip of a finger over the tattooed snakes. “This is the man in my dreams,” he whispers.

“The original Paucar Wami,” I confirm. “The one who tricked you into killing your sister.” Bill’s eyes harden and his fingers close around the doll. “Let’s find a couple of chairs. I’ve got a story to tell you.”

Seated in a bare room at the back of the house, I run Bill through the history of Paucar Wami, how he and the other Ayuamarcans were created by The Cardinal, the part the villacs played in it, how I became aware of my father when Bill drove us together ten years ago, his death, my years mimicking him, his revival, what happened in the tunnels, how the killer’s linked to the doll. I don’t think Bill takes all of it in, but he grasps the most important element. The doll he holds can be used to terminate the assassin of his nightmares — forever.

“I can’t do it,” I finish. “As barbaric as he is, he’s my father and we’ve come through too much together. But I can’t let him roam the world freely either. He has to be stopped. And I think you’re the person most entitled to stop him.”

Bill stares at the doll, saying nothing, his face a blank.

“It’s what you wanted,” I whisper. “The son to rise up and destroy the father. I’m giving him to you, letting you take him down. Your revenge is complete. Once you drive a pin through the doll’s heart, it’s over. You’ll be even. I think you’ll enjoy some measure of peace. It might even stop the nightmares.”

Bill’s eyes lift slowly, painfully. “You think I can escape them?” he croaks.

“Maybe.”

“A life without snakes,” he murmurs, his gaze returning to the doll. “I’ve forgotten what that was like. It’s been so long. To sleep again and not dream of serpents and death and terrible things… It’s too much to hope for.”

“A good night’s sleep isn’t that much,” I disagree. “I think you’ve earned it.” Standing, I search my thoughts for a final comment, but what’s there to say? This man destroyed my life, killed those closest to me, set me on the path to madness and murder. Yet without his interference the villacs would still rule the city, immersing it in chaos whenever it suited their purpose. Ama would be theirs. The Snakes would be puppets in their hands. And maybe I’d belong to them too. The priests were intent on winning me over to their cause. If Bill hadn’t pushed me too far, perhaps I’d have succumbed to their call. I can’t hate him, not anymore. I’m not sure what I feel for this pitiful old man who’s played such a crucial role — both for good and bad — in my life, but it’s not hate.