Flesh Circus

“I’m going to cast it. Need anything?”

I spread my hands. Silver shifted in my hair. “Just one thing, and it’s nothing anyone here can help me with.”

“Huh.” His shoulder slumped as if he thought I was talking about him personally. “Really?”

Shit, Jill. Sarcasm is a deadly weapon. “Not really. You’re going to help me find something out.”

“Like what?”

“Like what Mama Zamba was looking for in my fucking filing cabinets. And why she’s alive if most of her i

“Oh.” He didn’t look happy, but who would, faced with that news? “Sure it was Zamba?”

“Tall? Long blond dreadlocks? A bunch of zombies and green smoke? Sounds like Zamba to me. The only things missing are the cockroaches.”

“You know, that doesn’t comfort me as much as it should. You okay?”

I nodded. Silver shifted and tinkled. “Frustrated as all hell. But okay.”

He opened his mouth, shut it, then plowed on. “All right. I’m going to get the kid put back together. Is anything missing?”

“Not that I can figure out.” I looked down at the papers, and this time my hands curled into fists despite my deep breathing. I’m just like anyone else—I hate having my house broken into. “Get the kid something to eat, too. He’s thin as a rail.”

“He fought off six zombies.” Was that actually grudging admiration in Saul’s tone?

Wonders never cease.

“Or he was smart enough to stay away from them. Six of one, half a dozen of the other. Get him fixed up.”

He shifted his weight back, paused. “And then?”

I struggled with my frustration, kept the words even and calm. “Then we’re going to get cleaned up, board up the front door, and get going. We’re dropping the kid off at Galina’s, where I know he’ll be safe. After that we’re paying a visit to Hutch’s.”

“I thought Hutch was out of town.”

He’s vacationing in the Galapagos. Just when I need him too. “He is. But Zamba was after something. It’s a safe bet that whatever-it-is is in the vault. Go on, Saul. Time’s a-wasting.”

He vanished down the hall, and I heard Gilberto swearing in a high unsteady voice. The kid had some potential. He was also goddamn lucky Zamba hadn’t unseamed him from guts to garters. She must have been in an awful hurry.

My pager went off as I stood there, thinking. Zombie-stink rose from my clothes, and we were going to have a hell of a time getting the house back together. I dug in my pocket and brought the thing out, still staring at the scattered papers.

The number was unfamiliar. I snagged the phone, dialed, and was rewarded with a click and two rings.

The co

Perry’s voice crawled into my ear. “My dearest Kiss. I presume you’re well?”

Don’t FUCKING CALL ME THAT, you goddamn hellspawn. I swallowed, reached all the way down to my toes for patience.

It was a long reach. I settled for my best fuck-you tone. “Why is the Cirque sending its dogs after me, Pericles?”

“That isn’t the Cirque, my dearest. It was me, and they are to watch over you.” He paused for maximum effect. “Another performer is dead. Your presence is requested.”

Oh, for Chrissake…. I took a deep breath, forced myself once again to prioritize. My weary brain rebelled. “Who’s dead? Trader or hellbreed? And when?”

“Before dawn. One of my kind. A fortune-teller, I believe you would call it. Moragh.”

Moragh. The name meant nothing to me, especially with all my other irons in the fire. Before dawn meant that Zamba’d had a busy night. “And the hostage?”

“Safe and snug, and under my especial protection and supervision.” A low, silky laugh. “Fear not for him, my dear. Come see the latest death and destruction. It has a certain symmetry.”

“I’ll be there when I get there. And Perry?”

“Yes?”

What was I going to tell him? Fuck off was what I wanted to say, but it would just give him an opening. He also hadn’t done anything to deserve it—at least not lately. “Take care of that hostage.” If he bites it, this entire city’s going to have a very bad night. You don’t want that either; it’ll interfere with your own games. Don’t think I don’t know it—and don’t think I’m not betting on it.

“I told you he’s safe.” Now he sounded irritated. Score one for me. “Why do you make me repeat myself?”

“I just like to make sure you understand,” I informed him sweetly, and slammed the phone down.

Chapter Twenty

Hutchinson’s Books, Used and Rare, was painted on the window in fading gold—but Saul and I parked four blocks away and slid up to the back door under a punishing wave of sun and heat. Midmorning, and it was already a scorcher. The shadows teemed with shapes, far darker than morning shadows had a right to be. I kept seeing the little glimmers of colorless crystal eyes and twitched for a weapon.

Saul didn’t mention it. Whether he was magnanimously refusing to comment or he didn’t sense them was an open question. I was willing to bet on the former.

I blinked the exhaustion out of my eyes and touched the doorknob. A thin thread of sorcerous energy slid off my fingertips, stroked the locks I’d built. They eased open, tumblers clicking with thin little sounds.

Saul crowded behind me. Gilberto was dropped off at Galina’s, wide-eyed and with a fresh cast on his arm. Galina, bless her, didn’t ask a goddamn question, just took one look at my face and clucked and cooed over the gangbanger, promising to get him into fresh clothes and get some healing sorcery on that arm. Technically I suppose I should have charmed the bone before we left the warehouse, but I had other things on my mind.

The whole time, Gilberto clutched Jack Karma’s knife. I didn’t ask him to let go of it. I guess that answered that question. I had a new apprentice. To add to all my other problems.

The door ghosted open. Paper, dust, and air-conditioning closed around us as I swept it to and relocked it. “Zombies,” I said for the third time. “In our living room. What next?”

“Well, at least we didn’t have to kill them in the kitchen.” Saul sighed heavily. “That kid…”

“He’s got the look.”

“Great.” Saul didn’t sound in the least excited. “Another person to get a slice of your time.”

“Is that what this is about?” I checked the shop. Books sat quietly on their shelves, leather-bound tomes stacked on chairs and on Hutch’s massive mahogany desk, shipwrecked in a sea of papers. A PC that hadn’t been there last time crouched on one corner of the desk, a shipshape new Mac on the other corner. The two laptops were in their traveling cases, tucked out of sight under the desk.

Pity he hadn’t taken his phone. The whole point of his vacation was to get him out and away from temptation, the little monster. The deal was, he hacked only when the local hunter needed him to, and the local hunter kept his ass out of jail.

Unfortunately, sometimes Hutch just couldn’t help himself. He’s small and beaky and a Cowardly Lion, but a challenge in cyberspace? Suddenly he’s Superman, six feet tall and bulletproof. And completely without any goddamn self-control at all. I had to wait until things calmed down and the local FBI liaison, Juan Rujillo, finished smoothing the ruffled feathers before Hutch could come back.

Saul sounded angelically i

“You.” I turned past the small kitchen where Hutch heated his lunches, opened an EMPLOYEES ONLY door. “And whatever it is you’re sitting on.”

“I’m not sitting on anything.”