Part 9 (1/2)
”Weenie,” she declared. ”You want to sneak out now, Devvy?”
Yes, but I didn't think we could. Everyone in the ballroom had either seen or heard, and we were the absolute center of attention.
”What the h.e.l.l's going on over there?” Walt shouted.
There wasn't time to explain. Jack was advancing on Ca.s.sie, snarling something about the wages of sin, and the world went bright-red again. The next thing I knew, Jack was flat on his back next to Abner with cartoon stars flying around his head, and I was holding my right hand, which hurt like h.e.l.l. But it felt good in a way, too.
”Devvy,” Ca.s.sie said urgently, ”we need to get out of here.”
I grabbed her head, kissed the top of it, and stepped over the bodies to pop Kurt in the snout as hard as I could. He dropped like a rock. d.a.m.n, this was fun. Now, where was Jenner?
Just as I saw one of his shoes disappearing under a banquet table, Chip and Troy skidded to a stop right behind me and grabbed hold.
”Hey! I'm not done!”
”We appreciate it,” Troy told me, ”but we're getting you out of here. Now. Chip? You got Ca.s.s?”
”I've got myself,” she said icily. ”You just get her out to the car.”
Annoyed, I wrenched loose from Troy and yanked Abner's vest open. A sheaf of pink slips fell out. I managed to stuff most of them into my jacket pocket before Troy pulled me away, this time for good.
Through all that, no one in the room had moved. They seemed mesmerized by the violence, as though they were home in their underwear, watching TV.
”Excitement's over!” Chip yelled. ”We're leaving!”
Still no reaction. Chip shook his head. Then he and Troy dragged me out of the ballroom, with Ca.s.sie covering our escape from the rear. We may have looked a little conspicuous going through the lobby that way, but no one challenged us, and we got to Ca.s.sie's car without incident.
Troy shoved me into the pa.s.senger seat maybe harder than necessary. ”You're a real piece of work, Dev. Did you have to do that?”
I smiled thinly, dug into my jacket pocket for the pink slips, and gave him the one with his name on it. As soon as he figured it out, Chip had to grab hold of him.
”I take that back,” he said. ”I owe you one. Want me to go back in there and kill them all?”
Before I could answer, we heard a weird clicking/clopping headed in our direction. The source turned out to be Heather, who'd broken a heel but was still making good time. ”Dev! Ca.s.sie! Wait up! I want to help!”
Ca.s.sie had started the car, but she started laughing at that and put the transmission back in park.
”For crying out loud,” Chip complained. ”What is with you guys tonight? Why do I have to be NATO?”
Silently, I riffled through the pink slips and pulled out his and Heather's. They took them, puzzled...and then the light dawned. This time, Troy and Heather had to hold Chip back.
The stripes on the roadway were starting to look like a solid line. Ca.s.sie was driving like a maniac even for her, which made me uneasy. ”How fast are we going?” I finally asked.
”You don't want to know,” she snapped.
Surrept.i.tiously, I leaned over to check the gauge -- and winced. She was right.
”We're not going to jail, Devvy. I don't care if we have to drive to Trinidad.”
”We're not Bonnie and Clyde,” I reminded her. ”And we can't drive to Trinidad.”
”Why not?”
I couldn't help smiling just a bit. ”Caribbean Sea.”
”I hate it when you get literal.”
”Exactly what I always told her,” Monica said from a few inches behind us.
We both spun around -- not a good idea on Ca.s.sie's part, considering that she was driving. Both our demons were parked on the back seat, as far apart as they could get and still be in the same car. Even for demons, they looked crabby.
Well, tonight that made four of us. Grimly, I turned Ca.s.sie back around to make her watch the road and then leaned over the back of the seat. ”A fine time for you two to finally show up. Where were you when all that business with Abner started?”
Monica gave me one of her nastier smiles. ”Are you saying you wanted my help?”
”She meant both of us,” Vanessa corrected.
”You shut up. This is all your fault anyway, you halfwit.”
”My fault?” Ca.s.sie's demon tossed her head haughtily. ”Don't blame me. I didn't start this.”
”You babysat the old goat while he was home in bed watching TV all day. You got him started on the G.o.d Channel. You gave Abner an opening.”
Vanessa didn't like that. ”I did not. I kept putting the TV on 'Gilligan's Island' reruns. Can I help it if he figured out how to use the remote?”
”What's the point in making a person watch 'Gilligan's Island'?” I asked, curious. ”I'm a.s.suming it has something to do with the shortest path to d.a.m.nation, or at least insanity, but...”
Monica showed me her fangs. Seeing the wild red light in her eyes, I decided it might be best to stay out of the discussion.
”I tried 'Green Acres,' too. And 'Petticoat Junction,'” Vanessa added.
”This isn't about prehistoric TV,” Monica insisted. ”You were supposed to keep him out of the way of people like Abner. I wasn't done making Devlin's work life miserable yet. And you hadn't even started, you pathetic human-loving...”
”That's not my job.”
”No, but Blondie's your job. And she's in charge of making the rest of Devlin's life miserable.”
Ca.s.sie, who had been listening with relative patience, stomped on the brakes. ”Hey!”
Only my seat belt and a hand on the dash kept me from going through the winds.h.i.+eld while we skidded out of traffic and slammed into a curb. It was deja vu all over again, except that I wasn't driving this time. Fortunately, Ca.s.sie's BMW was newer and st.u.r.dier than my MG; the car rocked violently but stayed on the ground.
”She's your human,” Monica said venomously, to which Vanessa flipped her hair in unconcern.
”Everybody shut up,” I demanded. ”Ca.s.s? Are you OK?”