Part 18 (1/2)
”Roxy.”
”In a minute, Gram!”
The character was standing inches from her, Edna saw, watching the surge of take-ons from his dark height.
Almost as if he were antic.i.p.ating something. Or someone. When his eyes narrowed on the last of the take- ons, Edna looked.
Trouble.
The blonde man was slickly casual to board. Man? Boy, really. He had skin like a Greek statue. You didn't see too many young people with perfect complexions like that. It shone like ice where it poked out of his smooth, flared-collared leather coat. Wraparound Ray-Bans hid the top half of his face and the bottom half was a ma.s.s of white grinning teeth filed to deadly points. A vicious joker's mouth. Bones chittered out of his overpunctured earlobes and trickled along his neck like meatless fingers.
”Roxy, let's go!” Edna pulled her grandchild up.
”But I didn't get--”
”Never mind.” Edna drew Roxy under her arm and turned around.
The man, the tall one, filled the aisle in front of them. >From behind, Edna had a perfect view of the mangled ma.s.s of leather coat hanging from his shoulders and the glistening, greasy witch's hair tumbling to his waist.
The blonde man made of leather and steel came abreast with the witch-man, their shoulders nearly touching.
They faced opposite, and yet their heads turned at exactly the same instant, eyes sidling to meet. It made Edna think of a secret agents' rendezvous in a spy thriller, or maybe something from one of those disgusting modern movies, just before the two enemy punks disembowel each other with stilettos.
Edna pulled her grandchild close and held her breath.
The blonde man pushed his shades down his nose; his silvery eyes glittering like steel stars. ”Hey there, jelly bean,” he said by way of some kind of greeting.
The man who looked like a witch said, ”Stone Man.”
Blondie sneered, ”You a dead man.” ”I know that, Einstein. So are you.”
”Cute, real cute, man. You gonna go down, man--you and your b.i.t.c.h and your f.u.c.kin' mouth too, man. You got that?”
”Whatever you want, you obsolete little punk. When I'm finished here, we'll have it anywhere you want it.”
Blondie grinned with his mouthful of Halloween teeth. ”I want it right here, f.u.c.kface.”
The witch's hair actually bristled, spiking like dangerous quills; his mouth was suddenly deep with teeth.
”Draw that thing here, Stone, and I'll shove the blunt end of it up your a.s.s.”
Blondie's grin melted away into a soundless snarl.
”You wouldn't, though.”
”Sure I would.”
”No. You wouldn't.”
”Why wouldn't I?”
”Because you're outnumbered, Stone.” The witch smiled and took Blondie by the wrist as Blondie gasped and tossed his head right, left, right. Snow White, magically summoned, stood at Blondie's other side, her hand knotted around his wrist. And though she looked like no more than a child of seventeen years of age, Blondie's arm seemed to be locked in place, as if what held to him had a grip of pure iron.
”Lemme go!” Blondie shouted.
The witch only nodded at Snow White. She smiled. Together they began to crank Blondie's arms against his spine in solid wrestling-winning chickenwings.
Blondie snarled. His face was full of the light of pain. ”Let go of me!”
”No,” said the witch.
Roxy gasped in Edna's hold. ”Way cool, Gram!” her little voice scorched Edna's cheek. ”Vampires!” Edna only held to her grandchild, hated the sub, this city, her own helplessness. Between them were mashed Roxy's horrible novels. Roxy laughed. ”It's just like in the books...”
”Let me go! Get your red b.i.t.c.h off me! Let go! Let GOOOO!”
Blondie thrashed, but he was powerless to break their combined grip on his arms. ”Keep it up, punkface,”
the witch rasped as he cranked the boy's arms an inch further, ”and we'll be sending you home to the Father sans arms.”
”Eat yourself!”
The witch and Snow White cranked Blondie's arms an agonizing unnatural inch farther. Blondie began to made a sound like a duck being stoned to death.
”Say 'uncle',” chided Snow White.
”Eat each other!”
Another inch. Bones began to squeal alarmingly. ”UNCLE, UNCLE, UNCLE...!” wailed Blondie.
They let up a little. Blondie gasped and sagged between his two tormentors. Snow White dabbed playfully at the s.h.i.+ning track of drool on his chin. ”Good boy,” she said. Then her touch turned wicked and she gripped his chin in her long black lacquered fingernails. ”You are a good boy, aren't you?” A trickle of blood ran from Blondie's chin, gaining strength when Snow White forcefully nodded his head. ”I do hope so. You don't want to know what I do to bad boys.”
Yet it was the witch that Blondie turned frenzied eyes on. ”He wants you, man, and you better know it! He wants your f.u.c.kin' head bad, man!”
The witch sighed. ”Really, Stone? Thank you for that enlightenment. What would I do without him, Sister Teresa?”
”I honestly don't know, my knight.”
”Reeeal bad, man!” Blondie's shades were askew; his hair was crazy; he looked utterly possessed. ”And I'm gonna get it for him, man! I ain't no t.u.r.dface no more! I'm a big man now! You lookin' at the next Covenmaster, man!”
The witch shook his head. ”Good G.o.d, I know Amadeus is mad, but I didn't know he was just plain stupid.”
Blondie's eyes bulged in mindless rage.
The iron worm whistled alarmingly and the witch tipped his chin at Snow White. ”Would you do the honor of disarming the big man here, Sister Teresa?”
”Of course, my knight.” Edna expected a stiletto, a Buck knife at most. Not this. Snow White pa.s.sed the narrow body of steel to the witch. Not a toy, Edna could see that. Not a prop, either. The commuters' eyes turned down respectfully, inward or into laps, in steeled expectation of the blood and screams which must come, making themselves cold and prepared for it.
Blondie only screamed laughter, his tongue lolling like a rabid dog. ”Go on, jelly bean, go for it! Go on, man, because, man, you ain't gonna get a second take!”
The witch's eyes narrowed to b.l.o.o.d.y slits. He forced Blondie down into his seat.