Saint City Sinners

"She's safe. I know where she is." I can't believe I was so stupid as to miss that even for a moment. I'm slipping in my old age. Guilt pinched me. I should have been pla

It was a debt I wasn't going to be able to pay. I had broken my word twice now, once to Lucifer and once to my best and only friend.

"Don't suppose you're go

"Not with half the precinct implicated in a murder plot against her mother, no." My tone was just as flat and ironic. The simmering smell of decaying fruit and spice from my blood was damped by the fog, begi

"It ain't half the precinct, deadhead. Just some dirty-ass cops." His neck flushed beet-red, he reeked of Chivas soy whiskey. His tie was askew, and there was a stain on his shirt that looked suspiciously like mustard.

I'm still alive. I let out a long soft breath. Herborne Corp was already disassociating itself, claiming Mercy hadn't been acting under its directives. That told both Horman and me that they had supplied the team for Eddie's death. It would come out in court and the corporation would be dissolved. The publicity was going to be hell.

Gil Pontside's pockets held, among other things, a handheld EMP pulse generator that should have been sitting in a techlocker at the precinct house. A

I wondered how Asa Ta

I wondered if Japhrimel was free yet.

Time to get back to work. My shoulders ached with tension. I rolled them back in their sockets, my sword thrust through the loop on my rig. I still didn't trust myself. "I've got other business to handle," I said finally, when the silence had grown too uncomfortable even for me. "I trust I won't have any more problems with you brave boys and girls in blue?"

"Go fuck yourself." Horman looked miserable. I didn't blame him.

"Thanks to you too." I turned, ice on the slick pavement crunching underfoot as my new boots scraped. Night air was chill through the bullet holes in my clothes. Eve's clothes. I was getting hard on my laundry.

Three long strides later, Horman spoke again. "Hey, Valentine."

I stopped but didn't turn, my neck steel-taut, my shoulders as hard as hover mooring cables. The sensation of being watched returned, stronger than ever, scraping against my nerves. The Gauntlet was silver again, and so very cold.

As cold as the inside of my chest, perhaps. "What?" Be careful what you say to me right now, sunshine. I'm in a very bad mood.

It was the goddamn understatement of the year. I was ready to explode, and I wasn't sure anyone in my path would be safe once I did-guilty or I

"You a good friend." For once he wasn't sneering. I suppose he had to wait until my back was turned to say it. "Gabe'd be proud."

I didn't do what I promised. I left her killer-Eddie's killer-alive. I turned my back on the man I love and I'm about to break my word once more and turn against the Devil, who is going to be very unhappy with me if he isn't already. "Thanks." My voice cracked.

He said nothing else as I walked away, heading for Gabe's front gate and the rest of all my problems.

Coda

In the depths of the Tank, I found a callbox that hadn't been gutted. Picked up the phone and dialed a number still scored into my Magi-trained memory. It rang seven times it was dark, and everyone there was likely to be busy with the night's games.

Finally, the phone picked up. "House of Love," a honeyscented voice purred in my ear, strangely androgynous for a sexwitch's soft submissive tone.

I cleared my throat, staring out through the plasglass of the booth's sides, sca

There was an undignified squeak at the other end, a gabbled apology, and I was put on hold. No music, just a crackling silence.

I watched a hooker pace her piece of cracked concrete across the street. She wore blue pleather pants and a white synthfur coat, her clear plasilica platform heels twinkling in the foggy light from the streetlamp. The faint clacks of her heels hitting the pavement beat slower than my heart, she cocked a hip as a hover drifted by. Her shoulders slumped as it passed out of sight. She went back to pacing. Dried blood made little sounds, crackling on my clothes and skin as I breathed.

"Dante?" Polyamour's voice, even caramel. My shoulders tightened a little more.

"Poly." The words cracked yet again. I said her other name, the name she'd been born with. "Steve."

She sucked in a breath. "It's all over the news. Don't worry, everything's taken care of."

"I've got some business," I whispered. Why was my throat so full? "Will you take care of…"

"I said it's taken care of. Dante, you sound… " Her voice deepened, a young boy's instead of a woman's. I could almost see her, leaning against a chair with a sleek white ceramo phone pressed to her ear, her exquisite transvestite face ever-so-slightly creased with worry.

The effort to speak louder almost tore my throat in half. "I'll be back, but I don't know when." I'm lying. I'm sorry, Poly. I don't think I'm coming back. I promised Gabe I'd look after her daughter, but if I've got demons after me, what else can I do? She's safer with you.

"It's in good hands, Dante. Come back soon." She paused. "If you wanted to come tonight; I would be happy to see you."

"I can't." It's too dangerous, especially with demons in town. "But I'll be back as soon as I can. I p-promised." I promised Gabe, and I'm about to break that promise. Break my word. Again.

"Be careful." Her voice changed again. "Dante, we had a… a visitor. A green-eyed thing, he said he was from you. I didn't give him anything."

My heart froze in my chest. "Blond?" If Lucifer knew about Gabe's daughter…

"What?"

"Was. He. Blond?"

"Nope. Tall, dark and grim. Long black coat, nice boots."

"When?"

"Three hours ago."

I closed my eyes. Japhrimel was out, and probably looking for me. "I'll be back when I can. Do you need-" What? Money? An armed guard? What can I possibly give her now that I'm about to be hunted by something more than a few dirty cops?

"It's taken care of." Her tone became again the even restful purr of a sexwitch. "When you come back, you're free to stay here. I haven't forgotten."

"Neither have I." One of the curses of a Magi-trained memory. I couldn't forget even if I wanted to. I didn't bother saying good-bye, just hung up and rested my forehead against the plasglass. One problem temporarily shelved.

The cold crept up my arm and finally slid past Japhrimel's mark on my shoulder. A fishhook, settling into flesh and twitching. After a few moments of tranced, exhausted wondering, I finally placed the sensation.

It wasn't a sense of being watched, now. It was the knowledge that I was being pulled.

The premonition rose in front of me. Now that I was too exhausted to move, it had a chance to rise through dark water and unreel in front of me, the i