started climbing my pants.
Even when they’re little their claws are sharp. “What’re you doing?
Hell. I guess the honeymoon is over.”
My bucket had sprung a leak. Baby cats were everywhere. Thirty or
forty of them, it looked like. I steeled myself for a blowup.
It didn’t come. Nobody seemed upset. They
were
weird cats.
They never made anybody jump or stumble.
The skinny gink with the window fetish went back to his tables.
Still without feuding with his partner.
13
I went back to hunting the man whose birthday was the excuse for the
gathering.
I stole a candle, lit it, slipped into the pie pantry. There he was,
slumped in a wheelchair, looking two decades older. “These aren’t the
best circumstances,” I told him. There was barely room for all of us
and the wheelchair. “But I promised Harvester Temisk that I’d do what I
could. That guy is your best friend.” Near as I could tell. A few years
in my racket will leave a saint cynical about the motives of nuns. Too
many people don’t have a pimple of conscience to slow them down.
Chodo did not move, twitch, or demonstrate any awareness of my
presence.
A kitten did meow nearby. I took that to be a good omen. But there
was a scurry as a rat took an opposing view.
“I wish there was a way to tell if your mind is alive in there. But
I can’t get you away someplace where we could work on it.” Speaking of
out, there my candle went. I headed over where there was enough light
to see while I relit the candle. Somebody hustled past, duck waddling
with a huge pot. “Smells good,” I told him.
He clomped onward, dead silent. I don’t think he agreed.
There was a lot of new racket as the catering crew arrived. I
wouldn’t have much more time with Chodo.
I ducked back into the pie pantry. “You didn’t sneak away when you
had the chance.” Chodo hadn’t done anything but breathe. Which was
good. Real good. Because, all of a sudden, I had an awful spooky
feeling.
Something wasn’t right. And I didn’t know how to make sense of it.
Or figure out what it was.
I dropped to my knees so I could look Chodo in the eyes. They were
open. They blinked. But they weren’t seeing anything. They weren’t
blinking out messages. I told him to blink once for yes and twice for
no, then asked questions. He blinked yes at random.
Was his brain alive at all? Temisk thought so, but I saw no evidence
here. If I had him stashed somewhere safe, I could study and experiment
on him. Or I could take him home and put him in with the Dead Man. Old
Bones would wake up someday.
Yelling broke out not far off. Time to get back on the job. One last
experiment, though. To see if he felt anything. “Nothing personal here,
Chief.” I touched the candle flame to the outside of his left wrist.
The pie pantry filled up with burned-hair smell.
Chodo did nothing. I could’ve roasted him whole if I wanted.
Voices were almost close enough to be understood.
The candle went out.
Snap
! That sudden,,without a breath
of air in motion.
A shriek came from the kitchen.
“Got to go, Boss.”
Burned-hair and burned-meat smells hit me. In the scullery I found
people standing around a smoldering rat. But the screaming came from
the kitchen proper. Voices yelled the sort of things people do in an
emergency where nobody knows what should be done, but everybody wants
somebody to do something.
The burned-flesh smell was stronger there. I heard a crackle like
bacon frying.
Water flew through the air. A slim tide washed my toes, then
receded. The crackle of bacon lost its zeal.”
People made unhappy noises. I recognized some as part-time kitchen
help of Morley’s. “Out of the way!” I barked. “If you’re not doing
something useful, change your luck by getting the hell out of the way.”
I got through. Somebody calmer than most had rolled a heavy woman in
wet tablecloths. A couple guys kept dousing her with water. She kept
screaming. She was on fire under those wraps, somehow. The
Even when they’re little their claws are sharp. “What’re you doing?
Hell. I guess the honeymoon is over.”
My bucket had sprung a leak. Baby cats were everywhere. Thirty or
forty of them, it looked like. I steeled myself for a blowup.
It didn’t come. Nobody seemed upset. They
were
weird cats.
They never made anybody jump or stumble.
The skinny gink with the window fetish went back to his tables.
Still without feuding with his partner.
13
I went back to hunting the man whose birthday was the excuse for the
gathering.
I stole a candle, lit it, slipped into the pie pantry. There he was,
slumped in a wheelchair, looking two decades older. “These aren’t the
best circumstances,” I told him. There was barely room for all of us
and the wheelchair. “But I promised Harvester Temisk that I’d do what I
could. That guy is your best friend.” Near as I could tell. A few years
in my racket will leave a saint cynical about the motives of nuns. Too
many people don’t have a pimple of conscience to slow them down.
Chodo did not move, twitch, or demonstrate any awareness of my
presence.
A kitten did meow nearby. I took that to be a good omen. But there
was a scurry as a rat took an opposing view.
“I wish there was a way to tell if your mind is alive in there. But
I can’t get you away someplace where we could work on it.” Speaking of
out, there my candle went. I headed over where there was enough light
to see while I relit the candle. Somebody hustled past, duck waddling
with a huge pot. “Smells good,” I told him.
He clomped onward, dead silent. I don’t think he agreed.
There was a lot of new racket as the catering crew arrived. I
wouldn’t have much more time with Chodo.
I ducked back into the pie pantry. “You didn’t sneak away when you
had the chance.” Chodo hadn’t done anything but breathe. Which was
good. Real good. Because, all of a sudden, I had an awful spooky
feeling.
Something wasn’t right. And I didn’t know how to make sense of it.
Or figure out what it was.
I dropped to my knees so I could look Chodo in the eyes. They were
open. They blinked. But they weren’t seeing anything. They weren’t
blinking out messages. I told him to blink once for yes and twice for
no, then asked questions. He blinked yes at random.
Was his brain alive at all? Temisk thought so, but I saw no evidence
here. If I had him stashed somewhere safe, I could study and experiment
on him. Or I could take him home and put him in with the Dead Man. Old
Bones would wake up someday.
Yelling broke out not far off. Time to get back on the job. One last
experiment, though. To see if he felt anything. “Nothing personal here,
Chief.” I touched the candle flame to the outside of his left wrist.
The pie pantry filled up with burned-hair smell.
Chodo did nothing. I could’ve roasted him whole if I wanted.
Voices were almost close enough to be understood.
The candle went out.
Snap
! That sudden,,without a breath
of air in motion.
A shriek came from the kitchen.
“Got to go, Boss.”
Burned-hair and burned-meat smells hit me. In the scullery I found
people standing around a smoldering rat. But the screaming came from
the kitchen proper. Voices yelled the sort of things people do in an
emergency where nobody knows what should be done, but everybody wants
somebody to do something.
The burned-flesh smell was stronger there. I heard a crackle like
bacon frying.
Water flew through the air. A slim tide washed my toes, then
receded. The crackle of bacon lost its zeal.”
People made unhappy noises. I recognized some as part-time kitchen
help of Morley’s. “Out of the way!” I barked. “If you’re not doing
something useful, change your luck by getting the hell out of the way.”
I got through. Somebody calmer than most had rolled a heavy woman in
wet tablecloths. A couple guys kept dousing her with water. She kept
screaming. She was on fire under those wraps, somehow. The
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