Dread Brass Shadows

"Get me down!"

"Why? You want more trouble than you've got?"

Easterman flailed at the air, snarled something about somebody was getting away, then started laying on the threats.

He popped up fifteen feet, then fell, howling. People scattered. He started darting around like a feeding bat. People clapped and cheered and yelled suggestions about what he should try next. He really had the Dead Man's goat.

I shouted, "What did you do? Try to break in? Why do a dumb thing like that?"

Fido glowered as he whizzed by.

The Dead Man tossed him high and let him fall till his nose was four inches from the pavement, then flipped him up again. How long had this been going on? The Dead Man's powers are amazing, but there are limits to his endurance.

"The book!" Easterman wailed. "I meant to snatch the book."

"I can understand that. I'd like to snatch it myself. But why bust up my place?"

He didn't have anything more to say. Not yet. The Dead Man set him spi

Winger told me, "He's always been convinced that you have the book hidden at home. That's why he sent me in the first place. To root around."

"Huh? Then he's even crazier than I thought. Don't go away, Fido." I headed for the house. Mounting the steps, I removed the big green litter there, tossing it into the gutter where it belonged.

They'd chopped my door all to hell. Dean could use it for kindling. I wasn't pleased.

The door to the small front room stood ajar. Had the Dead Man let them get that far before he reacted? No. Dean was in there. "Dean? What's the matter?" He was seated on the daybed, sniffling, fiddling with gray burlap he had wrapped around one hand.

He needed time to respond. "Oh! Mr. Garrett!" It was shock. "I tried to stop her. I couldn't."

Winger had invited herself aboard. She said, "He's been cut, Garrett." Yes. The floor between his feet was bloody.

I moved then, thinking he was badly hurt. But he wasn't. His left hand had been laid open to the bone, though, like he'd grabbed a blade. "What happened?"

"She took the book, Mr. Garrett. Right after those creatures tried to break in. I caught her unwrapping it. I tried to take it away

What was he babbling about? "What are you babbling about?" Then I spotted a torn brass page under his foot. The page that had cut his hand.

"That Book of Shadows. It was here all the time. Under the daybed. And she knew it."

She knew it? How did she know it? How come he hadn't found it while he was cleaning? We were maybe going to have to have a talk about his housekeeping. Under the daybed? How the hell did it get under there?

"Oh, my." I recalled a certain naked vision of a morning past. She'd carried a bundle wrapped in cloth like that wrapped around Dean's hand. I'd paid no attention because there'd been distractions. If I'd thought of that package at all, I'd assumed she'd taken it with her when she'd done her fade. "Carla Lindo grabbed it? She knew where it was and took off with it?"

Dean nodded.

I catch on real quick. "Winger, see what you can do about that hand. I need to go yell at my partner."

You had best not, the Dead Man sent as I charged into his den. I was as surprised as Dean.

"You couldn't be. You know the inside of everybody's head. You playing some kind of game?"

I was ignorant of what was happening at deeper levels of her mind, though now it is obvious that her principal motive for staying here was to locate and remain near the Book of Shadows. Note that I was unable to read the mind of the Serpent and unaware of the presence of the other while they were here in the guise of Carla Lindo Ramada. This suggests that there is something quite unusual about that young woman.

"Really?" I was angry. Needless to say. One half-wit thought after the naked woman's departure and I could have saved us all a peck of trouble. I could have poked around, found the book, and destroyed it publicly. End of excitement. But no! I had to let myself get distracted by acres and acres of redheads.

I am doing my part here, Garrett. But I have no legs.

"Say what?"

It has not been twenty minutes since the little devil fled. You know where she is going.

I thought I knew where I was going. Upstairs. To bed. "More power to her."

Garrett! It has been demonstrated to my satisfaction that that woman is not one of the good people either. I suggest you consider what use she or her father might have for the Book of Shadows Take into consideration their supposed base of operations, an unassailable fortress.

His feelings were hurt because he'd been taken in. He wanted blood "All right. All right." I needed this like I needed another vacation at the kingpin's place. What I did need was rest, about thirty quarts of cold beer, a ten-pound steak, rare and smothered in mushrooms. A long soak in a tub wouldn't hurt, either. "I'm on my way " Why do I do these things to me?

On my way where? There was a whole world out there.

She has to head west, Garrett.

That narrowed it down. There's only one way out of the city if you're headed west.

47

Winger invited herself along. I didn't argue. She could stick pins in me, keep me awake.

We set our watch against the wall, outside the west gate, among the most optimistic beggars in the world. I mean, half the people inbound are destitute peasants looking for the streets of gold.

"Think we got here in time, Garrett?"

I'd taken our lives in my hands and cut through the Bustee, following the most direct route. "She doesn't know the city. Even if she hired a coach, she couldn't have gotten here first." True, logically, but I was whistling in the dark. After recent events, logic didn't seem very trustworthy

I mean, the Dead Man getting swindled not once but three times? That was damned hard to swallow, though for the sake of peace in the house I'd take his word.

I suspected wishful thinking had helped Carla Lindo sucker him. He'd been exposed long enough to have smelled something. He'd overlooked it because she'd charmed him...Hell. I should talk?

"She have any money?" Winger asked.

"I don't think so. Why?"

"I wondered if she could hire a coach or buy a horse."

"She gave us everything she had to hire us."

"She'll be walking, then. Can she read?"

"Why?"

"If I was her and I could read, I'd open that book and turn me into somebody else in case somebody came after me."

I hadn't thought of that. I couldn't recall if she could read or not. My memory plays tricks when I'm tired. "Assume the worst. Watch for anybody with something that might be the book."

"How big?"

I made gestures, as best I could recall what I'd seen in the naked woman's arms.

Winger scrunched down in the shade of the wall, ignoring the glower of the beggar next to her. She closed one eye like she was going halfway to sleep. "Think there'll be trouble because of what sour sidekick did to Easterman?"

"Nah. Shit happens. Pretty often around our place. The neighbors will be happy it was just entertaining this time. One time half the houses got busted up. That's why all the new brickwork and stuff. People that don't like excitement moved out. Nobody else gives a damn. They don't own, they rent."

"I noticed that about TunFatre. Nobody gives a damn about anything but themselves."

Not entirely true, but close.

Nothing happened for a while. I got into a discussion with a bum who was a fellow ex-Marine, mostly about Glory Mooncalled's exploits in the Cantard. During the night, while I was preoccupied, word had come that Mooncalled's magnificent maneuver down there hadn't pa