Darren Shan - Hell's Horizon

I’d have to try and find her companion — she might know the name of the guy Ellen was supposed to meet. “Can I come around sometime and discuss this with you?” I asked.

“Sure,” Ama said. “I’d be happy to help. It was terrible, what happened. Ellen was a lovely person.”

“Yes,” I said hollowly. “She was.”

I dropped by the Skylight and questioned the staff, asking if they’d noticed Ellen in the bar that night. Negative answers all around. I paid special attention to the Troops — since the room hadn’t been signed for, Ellen might have been sneaked in, perhaps past a bribed guard — but they swore they knew nothing. More than one told me that they’d been more alert since the Nicola Hornyak fuckup. Frank was coming down hard on shirkers and several soldiers had already been replaced.

While I was there I asked after Valerie Thomas, on the off chance that I might stumble across a lead. Nobody knew much about her. She’d worked at the Skylight a long time but had never gone out with the girls or attended a staff event.

“She was creepy,” one workmate opined. “Like Bette Davis in that movie, the one where she feeds her sister a rat?”

“She worked hard,” an assistant manager assured me. “I was sorry to see her go. Never took anything, not even a sugar cube. Honest, loyal, trustworthy. An ideal employee if you exclude the two dead customers.”

“Men in her life? She didn’t mention any.”

“Valerie never seemed keen on men. She hadn’t much time for them. Wouldn’t surprise me if she’d been a lesbo.”

“ Valerie ? With a man ? I don’t think so!”

It was late when I finished at the Skylight. I decided to give Ellen’s circle of friends a rest. I still had plenty of names to work through, and more would probably crop up in the course of my inquiries, but they could wait till morning. I called Priscilla to check that she was all right — as I had several times throughout the day — and told her I’d be a while, to go to bed and get some sleep. She agreed, but only if I promised to wake her when I got home.

Next I rang Paucar Wami.

My father was surprised to hear from me but agreed to meet, even though I wouldn’t tell him what it was about. He wanted to come to my place but I quickly put paid to that suggestion — I didn’t want him anywhere near Priscilla. I asked if he could meet me at the site of the Manco Capac statue instead. We fixed an hour, I nipped into a burger bar for a bite, then it was rendezvous time.

The site was deserted apart from a few guards who were easy to dodge. I looked for blind men but there weren’t any on parade. I stopped by the foot of the statue and waited for Wami. I’d been there a few minutes when a small pebble dropped on my head. I scratched my crown and moved aside, but moments later another fell. I glanced up and there was the tattooed face, grinning down at me.

“You should choose your ground more carefully, Al m’boy. What if I had meant you mischief?”

I climbed up to join him. I looked for the trapdoor when I made the platform but the foundations had been built upon since I was last here. The entrance to the underworld was now sealed off.

“The builders have been busy,” Wami noted. He was dressed in black from head to toe. Except for the snakes, he appeared invisible against the dark backdrop of the night sky.

“They’re not the only ones,” I said, then told him about Valerie’s confession and what had happened since. The snakes on his face appeared to flicker angrily when I mentioned the note with the finger, but he said nothing.

“And now they have Bill,” I concluded.

Wami scowled. “I agree with you — they have kept him alive to tempt you back into the game. But can you save him or is he doomed whatever you do?”

“Probably doomed,” I sighed, “but I have to try. I’m dancing to their tune, but what else can I do? If I give up on Bill, he’s finished. I’ll be getting fingers, toes and other parts in the mail from here till doomsday.”

“A despicable ploy,” Wami chuckled. “I too have sent a few men home to their loved ones in such a manner. It never fails to elicit mad screams and illogical behavior. You should write off Bill Casey.”

“I can’t do that,” I said flatly.

“No,” he agreed with a wry smile. “You lack the detached killer’s instinct which would make life much simpler. So, what can you do?”

“Go on looking for Ellen’s lover. Keep asking questions. Scour the streets. Raid every den in town.”

“You will be an old man by the time you are finished.”

“You know a better way?”

“Go after the blind men,” he suggested. “Drop your search for your friend and call their bluff. Put out word that if he is not returned immediately, you will quit this city.”

“You think the villacs have him?”

“If not, they can get him.”

I thought about it, then shook my head. “They wouldn’t buy it.”

“They might. They value you highly, judging by your previous encounter. If you threaten to walk, they might cave in and deliver, if not the answers you seek, at least the friend you wish to save.”

“And if they don’t? I just leave?” He nodded. “No. I won’t gamble with Bill’s life.”

“It is your best hope of saving him.”

“I don’t agree.”

“Very well,” he sniffed. “I have offered my advice. If you ignore it, you must continue as you are, ineffective as your methods have so far proved.”

He slipped toward the ladder.

“I need your help,” I said quietly as he was about to drop out of sight. He stared at me curiously. “You know more about this city’s dark heart than anyone. You can go places no other can go. If I fail to get a fix on Ellen’s lover, I’ll have to track down Bill the hard way. I’ll need you for that.”

“Asking your pappy for help, Al m’boy?” he chortled.

“I need you,” I said again.

“But you do not want me.” He shrugged. “Not that it matters. Filial love was never high on my list of priorities.”

“You’ll help?”

“I know Bill Casey,” he muttered and his face creased. “There is… history between us.”

I stared incomprehensively. “He never said he knew you.”

“It is not the sort of history one readily shares.” His expression cleared. “I would save him if I could. Call me if all else fails and I will help. In the meantime I will keep my ear to the ground and let you know if I hear of anything.”

“Thanks.” I tried to sound grateful.

“I hope you realize my aid does not come free,” he said. “My time is precious. I have gone out of my way to assist you. When the day comes for you to repay the debt, I hope you remember.”

“What do you want?” I asked, an icy chill snaking down my spine.

“I always dreamed of one of my sons following in my footsteps…”

“Bullshit,” I laughed.

“What ungrateful creatures the young can be,” he moaned, but the shine of his grinning teeth betrayed him. “You are right, of course — your actions once I flee this mortal shell matter as much to me as those of a slug. However, it would amuse me to think of you devoting your life to the cause espoused by your demon of a pappy.”

“Forget it,” I snapped. “I’ve been an executioner, but I was following orders. I could never kill for kicks or profit.”

“Not even to save Bill Casey?”

I shook my head uncertainly. “I couldn’t.”

“You killed for The Cardinal. Why not for Bill?”

“That was different. It was business. I’m not a killer.”

“Perhaps,” Wami smiled. “Or perhaps you are, but have not yet realized it.”

He left me with that thought, vanishing down the ladder like a spider, back to his web of a city.