Death Draws Five wc-17 Read online

Page 8


  Dagon screamed again and tried to pull away. Ray continued to gnaw at his opponent’s tail while yanking at it with all his strength. It suddenly parted with an audible snap and Ray catapulted backward, past the Witness. The Angel caught him, staggered, and went to the floor with him on top.

  Dagon hopped about like his feet were on fire. His tail whipped like a decapitated snake, spattering gobs of stinking ichor all over. The Angel helped Ray pull the coil of tail away from his throat as Ray gasped greedily for air.

  Dagon frothed at the mouth, wildly screaming words that were mostly unintelligible, but which seemed to contain the phrase “Kill you, fucker,” in various combinations throughout. The Angel blushed.

  Ray rose to his feet, staggering unsteadily, as if drunk. “Watch out,” he muttered to the Angel, pushing her aside. “The weasel’s coming back for more.”

  The Angel couldn’t believe that Ray had strength left in reserve. He met Dagon in mid-charge, but before they could collide Ray launched himself feet first, face up and back parallel to the floor, as if he were a soccer player attempting a bicycle kick and Dagon’s genitalia were the ball.

  Dagon screamed as he connected. The force of Ray’s kick propelled him right at the Angel, who wound up and hit him with everything she had on the point of his jaw.

  Pain jumped through her hand, ran up her arm, and jangled through her shoulder. Her hand went numb, which was actually something of a relief, as Dagon changed direction again. He flew back towards Ray, hit the floor, rolled at Ray’s feet, and lay there bleeding.

  Ray looked at the Angel crazily. “Hey, we’re a team,” he said, but his smile suddenly turned to an even more frightening frown. “But let me tell you something. The next time you pull that blazing pig-sticker out of the sky, I want you to gut that fucking blonde asshole before you put it away again. All right?”

  The Angel smiled feebly and nodded.

  “Where is that scumbag, anyway?” Ray asked, looking all around.

  Before either of them could spot the Witness, every light in the auditorium suddenly cut out. The room turned pitch black. Ray swore, blundering about in the dark. The Angel stood where she was, counting a slow twenty before the lights on the stage went back on. A handful of seconds went by before the Angel and Ray realized that John Fortune was missing, as was the Witness, and some of the gunmen who had still been conscious when the lights went off.

  The taste of failure was a bitter gall in the Angel’s mouth.

  J erry had been in tough situations in the past where lives were on the line, but this was almost overwhelmingly desperate. If Ray hadn’t charged onto the stage he might have hesitated for a long time, but when the government ace had leaped into action something in Jerry made him follow Ray into the heart of danger.

  It certainly wasn’t his brain. If he’d thought about it at all, he’d have run away from the flying bullets. Whatever it was that made him accompany Ray was something deeper in his make-up. His heart. Perhaps his gut. His reaction was more instinctive than rational. Jerry would have sighed to himself if he’d had the time. He’d always considered himself a smart guy, and this was just crazy.

  Ray executed a sharp right and hurled himself into the off-stage darkness. Sudden sounds of fists hitting flesh and bone, the cracking of those bones, and screams of pain, quickly followed. Jerry didn’t follow Ray. Realizing that people on the stage needed help, Jerry passed by Siegfried and Ralph, who were petrified by fear but otherwise unharmed, and headed for Kitty O’Leary’s desk where the hysterical anchorwoman was covered in blood.

  “Get your tigers out of here before something terrible happens,” he said to the entertainers as he went by. “Again.”

  They glanced at each other and then took his advice and ran, their leashed cats roaring wildly as they bounded after them. Jerry dropped down to one knee when he reached O’Leary’s desk and checked the body propped up against it. It was the male half of the pair of floating Living Gods. Jerry didn’t know his name. Blood pumped sluggishly from a series of horrific puncture wounds in his torso. As Jerry grabbed his wrist to feel for a pulse, the injured man suddenly focused his large, beautiful eyes on Jerry’s face, and said something in Arabic. Jerry looked on helplessly as he vomited a gout of blood and died.

  Jerry stood, suppressing a sigh. He didn’t have time for pity. He examined O’Leary quickly for wounds and discovered that none of the blood splashed on her chest and face seemed to be hers.

  “Shut up,” he said, and “get down.”

  She just kept screaming, so he grabbed her shoulders and shook her. When that didn’t catch her attention, he slapped her, adrenaline making his open-palmed blow a little harder than he’d intended. She shut her mouth and looked at him in amazement and anger flared in her eyes. Jerry was suddenly glad that he looked like tough guy Alan Ladd. It made it all the easier to act the part.

  “I said, shut up,” he repeated, putting his hand on the top of her head, “and get the Hell down.”

  He shoved hard enough to push her to the floor and she crawled under the stage furniture. That was the safest place for her. He turned away, hoping she’d stay put. He couldn’t waste any more time on her.

  More sounds of gunfire and terror came from the auditorium. Ray, and Angel, Jerry supposed, were keeping the bad guys off the stage. At least for the moment. Jerry went swiftly to the overturned sofa where Peregrine huddled over the bloody, unmoving body of her son. He vaulted over the divan and went down to one knee beside her. Her teeth were clenched. She was panting like a hyperventilating dog, or a woman trying to give birth.

  “He’s all right,” she gasped out. “Not hurt. Hit his head when the sofa went over. Just knocked out. Be... all... right...”

  Her voice started to fade. Jerry took her arm and half lifted her off the boy, wincing at what he saw. A line of slugs stitched sideways across Peregrine’s body from her loins, across her abdomen and chest to her right wing where feathers had been shot away and delicate bones shattered.

  “Christ,” he said in a low voice.

  It didn’t look good. He stripped his off shirt, ripped it to rags and applied pressure bandages as best he could to what seemed to be Peregrine’s worst wounds. Her only response was to moan feebly. There wasn’t anything else he could do for her, and he realized that Peregrine didn’t have much time left if she didn’t receive immediate medical attention. He turned his attention to John Fortune, thinking that Peregrine really needed his new-found ace abilities. But the kid was still out cold.

  What a time to get knocked senseless, Jerry thought. He tried to revive the boy, but the best he could get from him was an unintelligible groan. He could feel a knot on the back of the kid’s skull the size of a golf ball. He must have really slammed his head hard on the floor when the sofa had tipped over on them.

  Jerry felt as useless as Rock Hudson in the opening scenes of one of his screwball comedies. He didn’t want to mess around with the kid, in case he had a real head injury. And Peregrine needed expert attention, fast. Someone would have to help. Angel, he thought. Or Ray...

  Jerry stood and went swiftly to the edge of the stage, shielded his eyes from the light and looked out just in time to see Ray go mano a mano with a chubby little guy who looked like someone’s favorite older uncle until the guy suddenly turned into something that wasn’t so avuncular. Jerry recognized the transformed man. He was the British killer ace called Butcher Dagon.

  Eerily, it seemed as if the world had stopped to watch their breathtaking exhibition of violence. He saw Angel, some stiff who was much too good-looking for his own good, and even a few of the goons with guns as well as some of the crazy-scared onlookers pause to take a breath as Ray and Dagon tore at each other like gladiators from another, much more savage age.

  For a moment John Fortune was forgotten. Even Peregrine slipped from his mind until the epic battle ended with the brilliant one-two punch of Angel and Ray cold-cocking the British ace.

  Jerry saw the handsome guy c
limb onto the stage. Some of the surviving gunmen followed him. Fortunately none were near Jerry. He knew that he had only a few moments in which to make the right move. Peregrine was now beyond any help he could give her. There was only the kid, his sacred charge, to consider. He suddenly knew what to do.

  He ripped off his clothes and the lights went out as he took on mass.

  The auditorium fell into utter darkness. It was all very much like that night back in ‘65 when he’d turned into the Big Ape and sucked enough energy out of his surroundings to start a chain reaction that blacked out New York City and ultimately most of the eastern seaboard.

  Energy to mass, as the equation went. This time around, he needed a lot less mass, so he siphoned off a lot less energy. Enough, probably, to blow most of the electric circuits in the auditorium, maybe in all of the Mirage. He welcomed the darkness. It made his task easier.

  Jerry knew that he had to work fast. He added pounds of flab to his transformed frame. He didn’t have time to get his features exactly right, so he puffed them up into a pulpy mess. His hands were already bloody, so he smeared them on his face and torso, blurring more detail. He groaned realistically and threw himself down, huddling on his side, his hands over his still-changing face. Someone kneeled next to him.

  “Dagon?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

  Jerry squinted upwards.

  “Wh—who?” he quavered.

  “It’s the Witness,” said the handsome guy in a voice decidedly lacking pity. He leaned closer. “I’m surprised you’re already conscious. Man, you got your ass kicked.” The Witness looked up. “Juan—Sam—let the others grab the kid. Come over here and give Dagon a hand,” he said with open contempt. “And for God’s sake, get something to cover him up with. He’s fat and bloody and naked. Come on. Move. Move!”

  The last was a general order shouted to everyone as the two men Witness singled out came to Jerry’s side.

  “Here you are,” one of them said, slipping a cloak around Jerry with surprisingly gentle hands. “Up you go. Come on, before that asshole Ray finds us hanging around here on the stage.”

  Jerry moaned convincingly. They hustled him away, right behind another pair of gunmen who were dragging a limp John Fortune into the wings.

  “What about the others?” one of the men supporting Jerry asked as they passed Witness, who was waiting impatiently.

  “They knew what they were getting into,” he said shortly. “Let’s get the Hell out of here.”

  Jerry kept his face burrowed in the cloak as best he could. He was sure he hadn’t copied Dagon’s features perfectly, but the bruising and swelling and blood that he’d smeared on his face seemed to be an adequate disguise.

  The kidnappers, with Jerry and John Fortune in tow, burst out into the sunny parking lot where a van was waiting for them. The two thugs hustled Jerry into the back with six or seven other gunmen, as well as John Fortune, who was only now starting to come around.

  The Witness hustled to the front of the van. Its engine was already racing and it started to move before he could slam the passenger-side door shut. They pulled away from the Mirage quickly and immediately headed for the side streets off the strip.

  Jerry couldn’t see out of the van’s windows. He didn’t know this part of Vegas —no tourist did—and he was immediately lost. The muscles joked and kidded with macho toughness now that the fight was over, except for the one who cradled his broken arm and endlessly cursed Ray.

  They drove for perhaps twenty minutes. Jerry’s mind raced in high gear the entire time, but he was unable to construct a workable plan to escape from the gang. John Fortune groaned awake halfway through the trip. One of the gunmen told him to sit down and shut up, and the kid wisely took his advice. Jerry tried to catch his eye, but Fortune wouldn’t look at him.

  Finally they stopped before an abandoned, boarded-up 7-11. The asphalt parking lot shimmered in the summer heat, drooping weeds poking up through the aimless cracks in its surface like dying flowers on the floor of Hell.

  “Let’s go, let’s go,” Witness ordered.

  This guy clearly, Jerry thought, lacked patience. Mystified, Jerry allowed himself to be half-dragged to the convenience store’s front door, which proved to be unlocked. Three men were waiting inside. One had a gun, another held a leash, and the third one wore it.

  This last unfortunate was obviously a joker. His body was twisted so that his legs were thick hindquarters, his arms scrawny forelegs. His face had a vaguely canine look, with a snout underslung by a long jaw, no chin, and drooping ears that could have belonged to a hound dog. His skin was unfurred, but sallow, blotchy, and unhealthy-looking. His expression was not intelligent.

  “Let’s go, Blood,” his handler said.

  The joker looked at him, snuffling eagerly.

  “Home, boy. Let’s go home. There’s a nice steak waiting for you. Nice and raw and dripping.”

  Blood drooled, grinning idiotically, and walked on four limbs toward the store’s back wall, and then through it in a tunnel that suddenly appeared the instant before his nose would have touched the wall. They all followed him. Jerry was totally mystified, wondering what the Hell was going on.

  It was cool and quiet on the other side of the tunnel, which opened into a small room built of naked stone. The room had no windows to the outside and was lit by a single unreachable bulb dangling from a naked fixture in the ceiling. The only door leading out of it was iron, with a tiny barred window. The small chamber smelled of ancient sickness that seemed to have soaked into the very stones of its walls and floor. Jerry didn’t know where they were, but suddenly he was afraid.

  Blood howled for his meat.

  ♥ ♦ ♣ ♠

  New York City: The Waldorf-Astoria

  John Nighthawk watched Contarini stare at Cameo as if she’d just hooked a quarter from the collection plate, or done something equally unforgivable. Usher and Magda looked on with interest. Usher’s seemed mild. He really had no dog in this fight. Nighthawk knew that he was along just for the paycheck. But Magda’s expression was hurt compounded with fury.

  If there’s trouble, Nighthawk thought, it’ll come from her.

  Magda looked at Cameo as if she’d expected the Second Coming to occur right before her eyes and instead had been given a third rate vauDeville act. (Which, Nighthawk realized, was pretty much close to what had happened.) The nun looked from the transformed Cameo to Nighthawk, to Contarini, searching for a clue as how to react. Cameo posed no immediate threat to the Cardinal or anyone else. But, obviously, things hadn’t gone right. The Shroud should have produced Jesus Christ. Instead they’d gotten... someone else. It was clear that Magda had no idea who Cole Porter was, but Contarini, whom Nighthawk knew was a well-educated sophisticate, quickly showed that he labored under no such handicap.

  “I don’t understand.” The Cardinal’s voice sounded like cracking ice on a frozen lake in the Italian Alps. “What... where is Our Lord? Why do we have this, this degenerate writer of, of degenerate popular songs instead of Our Lord?”

  Nighthawk, who knew a little about music, couldn’t agree with Contarini’s assessment of Porter’s talents and was also more than a little amused that the Cardinal’s fury had made him almost tongue-tied. More importantly, he had an explanation regarding Porter’s unexpected appearance.

  “It seems,” Nighthawk said quietly, “that we may have been a little impetuous in insisting that Cameo do her reading here instead of her usual room in Club Dead Nicholas.”

  Everyone, even Cameo channeling Porter, looked at him with interest.

  “What do you mean?” the Cardinal asked.

  Nighthawk shrugged. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? Look around. This is Porter’s apartment. When he was in New York he lived in the Waldorf-Astoria, since, when?”

  “Nineteen thirty-four,” Porter said. “Though I did move once, from another room in the hotel to this very apartment. It’s so much more spacious than my old flat.“

  ”Did you br
ought your furniture with you?” Nighthawk asked.

  “Some,” Porter allowed.

  “Like the chair you’re sitting on?”

  “Yes,” Porter said. “It’s a very comfortable reading chair. Naturally, I brought it along for my library.”

  Nighthawk looked at Contarini and spread his hands in a silent, there-you-have-it gesture.

  “Are you saying,” the Cardinal said in his low, dangerous voice, “that somehow the spirit, the soul, of this, this sodomite jingle-writer—as expressed in his chair—somehow overcame the potency of Our Lord Savior’s soul—as expressed in his Shroud?”

  “No,” Nighthawk suggested quietly. “I’m saying that the scientists and skeptics have been right all along.”

  “Che?” Contarini’s anger made him slip into his native language.

  “Like the scientists and skeptics have said all along, maybe this isn’t really the burial cloth of Jesus. Maybe it’s a fake.”

  For a moment Nighthawk thought that the Cardinal was going to have a stroke. The churchman’s face turned white, then a dangerous-looking red. Veins stood out on his forehead and he swayed on the sofa as if tossed by unfelt winds. Finally he steadied himself and stared at Nighthawk like a malignant demon or a righteous angel. Nighthawk couldn’t decide which.

  “It isn’t,” he hissed. “It is real. It is the burial cloth of My Lord and Savior. My faith tells me so.”

  “This is all so fascinating,” Porter said, eyeing them closely, “but what does it all have to with me?”

  Nighthawk shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, and thought silently to himself, and everything. Nighthawk knew that he had to end this farce soon. Magda was picking up on the Cardinal’s distress. There was no telling how she’d react if the Cardinal made a hasty, unfortunate decision.

  And if she reacted badly, his chance to learn what he’d hoped to learn when he’d accepted this mission would probably vanish. It was clear, whatever the Cardinal’s faith told him, that the Shroud was a fake, but this little comedy had shown Nighthawk one thing: the undeniable durability of the soul. There was life after death. The soul did transcend the death of the body. What had been a matter of uncertain faith had suddenly become a matter of certain fact.

 

    A Dance with Dragons Read onlineA Dance with DragonsA Storm of Swords Read onlineA Storm of SwordsA Feast for Crows Read onlineA Feast for CrowsA Clash of Kings Read onlineA Clash of KingsA Game of Thrones Read onlineA Game of ThronesMississippi Roll Read onlineMississippi RollWild Cards V: Down and Dirty Read onlineWild Cards V: Down and DirtyBusted Flush Read onlineBusted FlushWhen the Devil Drives Read onlineWhen the Devil DrivesDying of the Light Read onlineDying of the LightThe Ice Dragon Read onlineThe Ice DragonSandkings Read onlineSandkingsJokertown Shuffle Read onlineJokertown ShuffleDreamsongs. Volume II Read onlineDreamsongs. Volume IIDeuces Down Read onlineDeuces DownWhen We Were Heroes Read onlineWhen We Were HeroesWarriors Read onlineWarriorsIn the House of the Worm Read onlineIn the House of the WormDeath Draws Five Read onlineDeath Draws FiveDreamsongs. Volume I Read onlineDreamsongs. Volume IMarked Cards Read onlineMarked CardsDreamsongs Read onlineDreamsongsCard Sharks Read onlineCard SharksDangerous Women Read onlineDangerous WomenInside Straight Read onlineInside StraightTurn of the Cards Read onlineTurn of the CardsFevre Dream Read onlineFevre DreamHigh Stakes: A Wild Cards Novel Read onlineHigh Stakes: A Wild Cards NovelWindhaven Read onlineWindhavenTuf Voyaging Read onlineTuf VoyagingDouble Solitaire Read onlineDouble SolitaireThe Sworn Sword Read onlineThe Sworn SwordLow Chicago Read onlineLow ChicagoDead Man's Hand Read onlineDead Man's HandWild Cards Read onlineWild CardsBlack Trump Read onlineBlack TrumpOne Eyed Jacks Read onlineOne Eyed JacksWild Cards: Aces Abroad Read onlineWild Cards: Aces AbroadLowball: A Wild Cards Novel Read onlineLowball: A Wild Cards NovelDouble Solitaire (2019 Edition) Read onlineDouble Solitaire (2019 Edition)Dealer's Choice Read onlineDealer's ChoiceAce in the Hole Read onlineAce in the HoleA Song for Lya: And Other Stories Read onlineA Song for Lya: And Other StoriesThree Kings Read onlineThree KingsKnaves Over Queens Read onlineKnaves Over QueensJoker Moon Read onlineJoker MoonOne Eyed Jacks wc-8 Read onlineOne Eyed Jacks wc-8Down And Dirty wc-5 Read onlineDown And Dirty wc-5Mississippi Roll_A Wild Cards Novel Read onlineMississippi Roll_A Wild Cards NovelA Feast for Dragons Read onlineA Feast for DragonsThe Sworn Sword ttodae-2 Read onlineThe Sworn Sword ttodae-2Aces High wc-2 Read onlineAces High wc-2Wild Cards 13 : Card Sharks Read onlineWild Cards 13 : Card SharksWay of the Wizard Read onlineWay of the WizardWild Cards VIII: One-Eyed Jacks Read onlineWild Cards VIII: One-Eyed JacksA Dance With Dragons: Book 5 of A Song of Ice and Fire (Song of Ice & Fire 5) Read onlineA Dance With Dragons: Book 5 of A Song of Ice and Fire (Song of Ice & Fire 5)The Princess and The Queen, Or, The Blacks and The Greens (a song of ice and fire) Read onlineThe Princess and The Queen, Or, The Blacks and The Greens (a song of ice and fire)Wild Cards VI--Ace in the Hole Read onlineWild Cards VI--Ace in the HoleThe World of Ice & Fire: The Untold History of Westeros and the Game of Thrones (A Song of Ice and Fire) Read onlineThe World of Ice & Fire: The Untold History of Westeros and the Game of Thrones (A Song of Ice and Fire)The World of Ice & Fire: The Untold History of Westeros and the Game of Thrones Read onlineThe World of Ice & Fire: The Untold History of Westeros and the Game of ThronesBusted Flush wc-19 Read onlineBusted Flush wc-19A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms Read onlineA Knight of the Seven KingdomsNightflyers: The Illustrated Edition Read onlineNightflyers: The Illustrated EditionWild Cards IV Read onlineWild Cards IVPortraits of His Children Read onlinePortraits of His ChildrenDead Mans Hand wc-7 Read onlineDead Mans Hand wc-7Jokers Wild wc-3 Read onlineJokers Wild wc-3The Lonely Songs of Laren Dorr Read onlineThe Lonely Songs of Laren DorrWild Cards III: Jokers Wild Read onlineWild Cards III: Jokers WildA Game of Thrones Enhanced Edition Read onlineA Game of Thrones Enhanced EditionNightflyers & Other Stories Read onlineNightflyers & Other StoriesArmageddon Rag Read onlineArmageddon RagWild Cards: Inside Straight Read onlineWild Cards: Inside StraightA Song for Lya Read onlineA Song for LyaA Dance with Dragons: A Song of Ice and Fire: Book Five Read onlineA Dance with Dragons: A Song of Ice and Fire: Book FiveSong of Fire & Ice 01 - A Game of Thrones Read onlineSong of Fire & Ice 01 - A Game of ThronesDeath Draws Five wc-17 Read onlineDeath Draws Five wc-17Turn of the Cards w-12 Read onlineTurn of the Cards w-12Wild Cards 14 - Marked Cards Read onlineWild Cards 14 - Marked CardsHunter's Run Read onlineHunter's RunThe Glass Flower Read onlineThe Glass FlowerA Clash of Kings asoiaf-2 Read onlineA Clash of Kings asoiaf-2A Game of Thrones 5-Book Bundle: A Song of Ice and Fire Series: A Game of Thrones, A Clash of Kings, A Storm of Swords, A Feast for Crows, and A Dance with Dragons (Song of Ice & Fire) Read onlineA Game of Thrones 5-Book Bundle: A Song of Ice and Fire Series: A Game of Thrones, A Clash of Kings, A Storm of Swords, A Feast for Crows, and A Dance with Dragons (Song of Ice & Fire)Ace In The Hole wc-6 Read onlineAce In The Hole wc-6Suicide Kings wc-20 Read onlineSuicide Kings wc-20Lowball Read onlineLowballAces Abroad wc-4 Read onlineAces Abroad wc-4George R. R. Martin's a Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle Read onlineGeorge R. R. Martin's a Game of Thrones 4-Book BundleA Feast for Crows asoiaf-4 Read onlineA Feast for Crows asoiaf-4A Game of Thrones asoiaf-1 Read onlineA Game of Thrones asoiaf-1The Mystery Knight ttodae-3 Read onlineThe Mystery Knight ttodae-3Double Solitaire w-10 Read onlineDouble Solitaire w-10Wild Cards 15 - Black Trump Read onlineWild Cards 15 - Black TrumpA Storm of Swords asoiaf-3 Read onlineA Storm of Swords asoiaf-3The Hedge Knight ttodae-1 Read onlineThe Hedge Knight ttodae-1Dreamsongs 2-Book Bundle Read onlineDreamsongs 2-Book BundleThe World of Ice & Fire Read onlineThe World of Ice & FireStarlady & Fast-Friend Read onlineStarlady & Fast-FriendOld Mars Read onlineOld MarsFantasy For Good: A Charitable Anthology Read onlineFantasy For Good: A Charitable AnthologyWild Cards V Read onlineWild Cards VA Dance with Dragons asoiaf-5 Read onlineA Dance with Dragons asoiaf-5Dealer's Choice w-11 Read onlineDealer's Choice w-11The Book of Magic Read onlineThe Book of MagicA Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle Read onlineA Game of Thrones 4-Book BundleTexas Hold 'Em Read onlineTexas Hold 'EmWildcards wc-1 Read onlineWildcards wc-1Rogues Read onlineRoguesOld Venus Read onlineOld Venus