Part 40 (2/2)

”Oh, G.o.d G.o.d d.a.m.n d.a.m.n you!” you!” A garbage can rang like a sour bell as the heavy pistol slammed into it. ”I killed Howler!” A garbage can rang like a sour bell as the heavy pistol slammed into it. ”I killed Howler!”

”I know. There is very little about you that I don't know.” His thin lips twisted in a sad, sick, little smile. ”I have an amazingly elastic and creative conscience. Part of my upbringing. I can raise three excellent reasons to justify your vendetta. To be avenged is-”

Her hand lashed out and took him across the face. ”That is c.r.a.p c.r.a.p! Stop worming out of it, and give me a decision. What are you going to do?”

The tip of his tongue touched the newly opened cut on his lip. ”Are you planning to turn yourself in to the authorities?”

”No.”

”Then I am going to do nothing. A telepathic reading is not admissible evidence in a court of law.” Again that sad smile. ”I also would not relish describing the situation in which I made that reading. It would do little for my dignity.” A hand slid in an unconscious protective gesture to his crotch.

Turned, walked away. Aware now of the filth beneath her bare feet, the mud caking the silk gown. A fitting envelope for her soul.

”Roulette.” She paused, but did not look back. ”Earlier I said I loved you. I think I still do.”

”Don't burden me this way.”

”Call it my punishment for you.”

”I've lived on hate. Now there's nothing. Let me see if I'm capable of anything beyond those two states.”

”I'll be waiting.”

She smiled despite herself. ”d.a.m.n you, I think you will.”

Spector sat in the alley, his back to the cold brick wall. The others were gone; he was alone with the old man.

”Didn't quite turn out the way you planned, eh, Astro?” He patted the Astronomer's cheek. ”Or maybe it did. Might be just what you had in mind all along.”

Spector felt empty and tired. He'd thought with the Astronomer dead there would be some kind of relief. Ever since the fight at the Cloisters earlier in the year he'd had a look-behind-you fear of the old man. There was no focus for him now.

He looked into the Astronomer's dead eyes. ”Now you know what I went through. Not that you'd care, even if you could say anything. Probably just scream at me for f.u.c.king up.”

Spector heard someone throwing up at the mouth of the alley. He backed up the wall into a standing position, took a last look at the Astronomer, and headed toward the street.

The man was on his knees, wiping his mouth. He stood and stepped back from the pool of vomit. He was about the same height as Spector, young, and not smart enough to stay out of alleyways in Jokertown. The suit he wore was gray, Spector's color.

Spector could use some new clothes, again. His baseball uniform was almost no help against the early morning chill. He tapped the man on the shoulder. ”I'll give you this authentic Yankee uniform for that suit of yours.”

The man jumped, then recovered and gave Spector a tough look. ”Don't give me no static, man. I'll cave your head in.”

Spector was dead tired. He didn't want to use up his remaining energy undressing another corpse. ”If you don't do what I say, you're going to die. That suit worth dying for? I don't think so.”

The man raised his fists.

”Stupid,” Spector said wearily. ”You've got something in your eye.”

”What?”

”Me.” He locked eyes and put the man down. ”Dumba.s.s.” Spector pulled off the man's coat and threw it over his shoulders. The pants would be more trouble than they were worth to him.

It was time to attend to a little unfinished business. Time to head back to the garbage barge and visit Ralph.

”So long, suckers,” he said to dead men in the alley. No sound. He thought about some poor city worker trying to chip the old man's body out of the wall, and smiled.

Jennifer regained consciousness with pain stinging her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open to see the palm of an open hand approaching her face, and she felt rough, strong hands holding her up. The palm connected with her cheek again, bringing her consciousness to full resolution.

They were outside the Tomb, cl.u.s.tered by the limo parked before the statue of Jetboy. Wyrm was holding her upright and Loophole was slapping her silly while the third man-middle-aged, Oriental, running a little to fat-was watching. He idly swung the bag containing the books as Loophole slapped her. He was, she realized, Kien.

They finally saw she was conscious again. Wyrm released her and stepped aside. She slumped against the side of the limo, unable to stand by herself, and glared at them. Another figure, vague in the darkness, stood beyond Kien and Loophole. Hope flared, then died, when Jennifer realized that it was just another of Kien's omnipresent goons.

”You've been quite an inconvenience,” Kien said in a mild voice. ”A great inconvenience indeed. I wanted you to be awake for this.” He nodded at Wyrm and the joker drew a small, ugly-looking snub-nosed pistol from a holster clipped at his waist. ”It shall be a pleasure to watch you die.”

Wyrm raised the pistol and Jennifer closed her eyes. She tried to ghost, but couldn't. The energy she needed to power the transformation just wasn't there. She'd never pictured herself dying this way, never really pictured herself dying at all.

”Not there, you fool,” Kien said with a trace of exasperation, ”you'll ruin the finish on the limousine.” He turned to the man standing in the background. ”Take her away from the car.”

The collar of his jacket was turned up against the chill of the early morning, his hat was pulled down low over his face. Jennifer glanced at him dully, and her eyes stayed on his face and stared.

Her lips formed the name, Brennan, and in a single motion he grabbed her by the arm, whirled her out of the way, and ripped the gun from Wyrm's hand with a sidekick that sent it clattering into the night.

Wyrm hissed in surprise, his tongue twisting like a blind snake. Jennifer glanced at Kien and saw shock and anger and finally fear chase themselves across his face.

”It's him!” Kien said in a low voice, half to himself. Then he screamed. ”Kill him! Kill him!”

Brennan faced Wyrm empty-handed, one hand open, the other clenched into a fist. He stood and smiled at the joker, seeming, to Jennifer, to invite an attack. Wyrm leaped at him and they grappled. Brennan was borne back against the side of the limo by the superior strength of the joker, and Wyrm, triumphant, drew back to strike.

But Brennan moved faster than the joker. He opened his clenched fist for the first time and reached out and grabbed the joker's tongue with it, close to the root. He slid his hand down Wyrm's tongue, smearing it with a sticky brownish substance, then released it.

Wyrm's eyes tried to jump from their sockets and he screamed, fell to the ground, and thrashed about like a man on fire while pawing at his tongue.

Loophole grabbed Jennifer as Wyrm howled in agony, and she heard the approaching footsteps of running men. Kien dropped the bag with the precious books in it, drew the pistol holstered at his waist, and pointed it at Brennan.

Brennan looked at him calmly.

”My joy is doubled,” Kien said between clenched teeth. ”After all these years you've come back to devil me. And now you'll die by my hand.”

Jennifer saw Brennan tense to leap and she knew that he'd never make it across the impossible distance that separated him from Kien. She lunged away from Loophole, unable to break free of him, but pulling within reach of Kien's pistol. She grabbed it.

He snarled, tried to yank away, but Jennifer held on, frowned in fierce concentration, and ghosted most of the gun and most of Kien's hand. Loophole yanked on her arm hard, hard enough to pull her away from Kien, and he screamed.

<script>