Christopher Moore - Secondhand Souls

“I’ll make tea,” she said.

He laughed, pulled a straight razor from his jacket pocket, and leaned over. “Hold still, now.” He cut the tape on her wrists, then handed her the razor so she could do her ankles herself. The handle of the razor was ivory or bone, yellowed with age. She cut the tape then folded the razor and handed it back to him. Careful not to step in anyone, she braced herself and ripped the remaining tape off her ankles and wrists. He cringed at the sound, in sympathy with her pain.

“You got somewhere else we can chat? Disorder in here harshing my mellow.”

She led him through the dining room into the kitchen.

“Your minions made that mess. Those were human souls?” She wasn’t afraid of him. She had come face-to-face with Death three times tonight already, including him, and she was unafraid.

“Well, that is true,” he said, pulling out a chair at the oak table. “But they weren’t the ones put them human souls in those little monsters, now, were they? They freed those souls to their natural course. They methods can be rough, but they do get the job done. Truth told, they ain’t my minions, but I do admire a strong, black woman.”

“They slaughtered them,” Audrey said.

“Slaughtered who, Red? The ladies can’t take a soul from a human. Mighta been a time, back in the day, but not now. Them things you made weren’t people, they was prisons. The ladies just busted them out.”

She was more shaken by that than by all the violence of the night. She had been wrong. Her intentions might have been pure, but her actions had not been. Had the Morrigan really freed the souls of the Squirrel People? She had seen them grow more solid, stronger, with each soul they devoured. She put on the kettle and went about the homey ritual of making tea. The fire on, she turned her back to the counter to face him.

“You’re right. Why didn’t you let them kill me?”

Lemon looked around, as if someone might be listening. “They no need for that. That’s not why I’m here.”

“They killed Inspector Cavuto.”

“Not my intention. You know how things get out of hand? They got out of hand that night. They was a long time down, they get a little drunk with being up here.”

“So they’re not here to bring up the darkness to cover the world and reign for a thousand years, like they said before.”

“Before? You mean when they with Orcus? That dumb motherfucker? Fuck no, that ain’t what I’m doing here. You tell soldiers what they need to hear to go to war. Bitches need a mission, not a goal. It’s my war.”

“War on who?”

He shrugged. “Not for me to say. I’m just fillin’ a need, puttin’ things in order. Ain’t no sides. Death don’t discriminate. I don’t judge. I don’t deny anyone. I don’t shun anybody. I accept everyone. Death be not proud, Red.” He shot his lapels, grinned. “Death be chic, baby, but not proud. I am loving-kindness. You think you know what life worth more than me? I speed these souls on to become one with all things. Y’all fucked things up. Y’all and all these motherfuckers selling souls in this city. You know that, Red. What you think call me up after a thousand years? This ain’t your first barbecue; you think this through, you’ll see I ain’t the one knocking things out of order, I’m the one putting them back. Y’all just need to stay out of my way.”

“Okay,” she said. There was a truth to what he said. A logic. The universe sought balance and the universe oscillated, and when it oscillated, between the beats of the heart of the universe, there rose the agent of change: chaos. Chaos sat at her table. “What kind of tea would you like?”

“You got any decaf? Caffeine make me jumpy.”

“Decaf green or decaf cinnamon spice?”

“Cinnamon spice sound nice.”

“So, you’re the Ghost Thief?”

“Thought we wasn’t using titles.”

“Why did you move the souls to the bridge, then?”

“The bridge? Yeah, the bridge. Well, you know, seems like a good place for safekeeping.”

She had believed him then, believed that he was putting things in order, but now, after finding out about Mrs. Korjev’s heart attack, which Sophie insisted had been brought on by the man in yellow, after Minty Fresh had fallen under the Morrigan, well… Yama hadn’t really explained why he couldn’t control the Morrigan. He hadn’t explained why establishing his new order involved so much destruction, and for some reason, she hadn’t questioned him. She’d felt strangely calm after talking to him, drinking tea at the kitchen table, at peace. But now, not so much.

Charlie parked in one of the hospital garages and they spent twenty minutes asking people where they might find a Mr. Fresh before Charlie’s phone buzzed with a text from Rivera directing them to intensive care.

Rivera had shed his tactical gear but was still wearing the ill-fitting sport coat.

“I tried to talk the doctor into giving him some antivenom but he wanted to know the species of snake.”

“Did you tell him ‘big’?” Charlie said.

“Yeah, he wanted more than ‘big.’ He probably passed out from blood loss or shock rather than the venom. The wound wasn’t as deep as we thought, but it nicked an artery. Lucky we got a tourniquet on him right away. He should be sewed up by now.”

“Did someone call Lily?” Audrey asked.

“Would you? Her number’s in my contacts.” Charlie handed her his phone and Audrey stepped outside of the waiting room.

As soon as Audrey was out of earshot, Rivera said, “I went back in.”

“What? Alone?” Charlie trying to whisper, but it was coming out louder than if he were talking in a normal voice. The few people sitting in the lobby looked up.

“They were gone. I went all the way to the other side of the tunnel. It’s closed off.”

“Do you think they are just gone, like before?” Charlie said. “Like when Sophie did whatever she did? Atomized them, I guess?”

“I don’t think so. Certainly the one that clawed Fresh wasn’t hurt very badly. We hit the other ones hard, though. I saw what happened. But they were really strong, a lot more than the one I shot in the alley when—you know.”

“I was mesmerized by her or something,” said Charlie, still embarrassed about the time he had let the Morrigan give a handjob in an alley off Broadway and Rivera had delivered nine rounds of lifesaving.9-mm cock-block. “And sad. I was weak and sad .”

“Doesn’t matter, Charlie. What I’m saying is they got out of that tunnel somehow, and there’s no way out except the entrance we came in, not even a maintenance passageway like in the BART tunnels. And they didn’t get by me.”

“Did you check for drainage grates? You know they were sliding in and out of the storm sewers, they don’t need much space when they’re—”

“There’s a Buick in the tunnel,” Rivera said. “A big, old, yellow Buick. All the way at the Fort Mason end, which is boarded up with four-inch-thick beams. So either this man in yellow moved twenty pieces of heavy equipment out of the tunnel, parked his car, then moved twenty pieces back in, or he has another way of getting in and out of that tunnel. A way I can’t see.”

Audrey came back through the glass double doors and joined them.

“Her mom is bringing her over now.”

“Oh, good, she’s not alone,” Charlie said. “Lily’s mom is nice. Kind of surprisingly.”

“You’re dead to her,” Audrey said.

“Why, what did I do to her?”

“No, I mean you need to remember that Charlie Asher is dead to her. She’s not going to recognize you in this body.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.”

A nurse came in from the ward side of the waiting room and everyone looked up. She headed right for Rivera. “Inspector, he’s awake and asking for you.” She looked apologetically at Audrey and Charlie. “I can only let the inspector in, or family. I’m sorry.”