Midnight Blue-Light Special
Page 19
“She has the darks on,” I said.
Dominic frowned. “The what?”
I glanced at him. “Have you ever noticed how some cryptids manage to live shrouded in eternal darkness, even in the middle of the day in Alaska? Caves with pools of unexplainable shadow, houses where the lights never seem to come all the way on, that sort of thing?”
“Yes . . .”
“Darks. Diurnal species turn on lights, and nocturnal species turn on darks. Witches make a lot of money off these things.” I pitched my voice a little louder as I added, “And if Kitty thinks I’m coming in there while she has the darks on, she’s as crazy as her uncle.”
“Oh, come on, Verity,” said Kitty’s voice. It came from somewhere barely inside the door. I didn’t jump. It was a close thing. “I’ve never knocked you out and sold you as a human sacrifice. Have a little faith, why don’t you?”
“You make me wear a corset. It’s almost as bad.”
The darks clicked off, replaced by normal overhead lighting. Kitty looked at us impassively. “Your concept of scale never fails to astonish me.” She turned her attention on Dominic. “Covenant. You’re on private property, you know.”
“I will endeavor to behave myself,” Dominic informed her.
I bit my lip to keep from grinning. “Kitty, I know you’re trying to be all intimidating and stuff, but that might work a little bit better if you weren’t wearing fuzzy Elmo slippers. Just as a tip.”
Kitty paused, her gaze following mine to her feet, which were encased in effigies of a particular red-furred Muppet. The slippers matched her flannel pajamas in theme, if not in specific character, and I had to wonder (somewhat enviously) where she’d been able to find Super Grover jammies in an adult size. “Okay,” she said finally. “Maybe that does undermine my authority a little bit. But, Verity, you know I don’t like him. What the hell would have possessed you to bring him here on purpose?”
“Ryan and Istas are going to be joining us in a minute, and then I’ll be happy to explain everything,” I said. “I don’t want to start without them.”
Kitty paused again, this time for substantially longer. She looked from me to Dominic and back to me before she asked, “How bad?”
“Bad enough that I’m standing in front of your office an hour before closing time with a man from the Covenant of St. George in tow,” I said. “Seriously, it would be best if we could go inside and shut the door. I’m trying not to start a panic.”
“I remember a time when your boyfriend could start a panic by breathing,” said Ryan, walking up behind us. Istas was with him. The only sign that she’d gone off duty was her apron, which was now frilly lace, rather than industrial canvas. “I guess you’re a bad influence.”
“I know she’s a bad influence,” said Dominic. Now that it was him, me, and three cryptids, he was starting to look less sure about what he was doing.
I grabbed his wrist before he could change his mind. “Into the office. It’s conference time.”
It took Dominic less than ten minutes to explain what was going on, and what was important enough to bring us back to the Freakshow. It took me another twenty minutes to get everyone to stop yelling. Kitty was demanding answers. Ryan was demanding someone’s head on a platter. Istas was just yelling because everyone else was yelling, and it seemed like the thing to do.
Eventually, everyone calmed down. A few questions were asked. A few answers were given. And things proceeded to take a turn for the weird, which is like taking a turn for the worse, but doesn’t necessarily involve cleaning your knives afterward.
See, the Covenant of St. George did get one major thing right when they wrote their files on the world’s cryptids: all cryptids are essentially different from humans, because they’re entirely different species. We may be similar enough to work in the same places, watch the same TV shows, and complain about the same tax increases, but we’re not the same. We can’t be.
So it only goes to reason that cryptids will occasionally have reactions that any reasonable human would view as completely and unequivocally batshit crazy. “You can’t be serious,” said Dominic, staring at Kitty.
“I’m dead serious,” said Kitty.
“Possible stress on the ‘dead’ there,” said Ryan.
Kitty ignored him. “Look. You say the Covenant is sending people to check on you, and that when they find out how little progress you’ve made, they’re probably going to purge Manhattan. Great. Do you have any idea what kind of cryptid population this city has?”
“No, he doesn’t, and you’re not going to tell him,” I said hurriedly. Dominic raised an eyebrow. I patted him on the arm. “You’re earning a lot of points tonight, but there are still some things I don’t think we should be sharing just yet.”
Dominic sighed. “Much as I’d like to argue, with my fellows coming to town, I’m afraid that Verity is correct. If they suspect that I’ve been . . . compromised . . . they have ways of getting me to reveal any information that they desire.”
“You know where the club is located,” noted Istas. “We should kill you to preserve that information.” She smiled. Somehow, that didn’t help.
“There will be no killing of my boyfriend,” I said firmly. “I’m not killing yours, you’re not allowed to kill mine.”
Istas considered this for a moment before allowing, “That seems fair.”
“If we could get back to the point here?” said Kitty. “I meant what I said. There are too many cryptids in this city for even the Covenant to kill. I will not run. I will not let them win. And the Freakshow will not be closing its doors.”
“Kitty—” I began.
“Boss—” Ryan began.
“Surely—” Dominic began.
“QUIET!” Kitty’s time as a wanna-be rock star served her well; when she shouted in an enclosed space, you knew damn well and good that somebody was shouting at you. “Everybody who doesn’t own this club, shut the hell up and listen to me. You,” she thrust a finger at Dominic, “had no trouble finding this place even before you started fooling around with Verity. You know why? Because my uncle wouldn’t know discretion if it bit him on the ass. He advertised too widely, and we got a reputation for having freaky girls. All I’ve done is build on that reputation.”
Dominic frowned. “The what?”
I glanced at him. “Have you ever noticed how some cryptids manage to live shrouded in eternal darkness, even in the middle of the day in Alaska? Caves with pools of unexplainable shadow, houses where the lights never seem to come all the way on, that sort of thing?”
“Yes . . .”
“Darks. Diurnal species turn on lights, and nocturnal species turn on darks. Witches make a lot of money off these things.” I pitched my voice a little louder as I added, “And if Kitty thinks I’m coming in there while she has the darks on, she’s as crazy as her uncle.”
“Oh, come on, Verity,” said Kitty’s voice. It came from somewhere barely inside the door. I didn’t jump. It was a close thing. “I’ve never knocked you out and sold you as a human sacrifice. Have a little faith, why don’t you?”
“You make me wear a corset. It’s almost as bad.”
The darks clicked off, replaced by normal overhead lighting. Kitty looked at us impassively. “Your concept of scale never fails to astonish me.” She turned her attention on Dominic. “Covenant. You’re on private property, you know.”
“I will endeavor to behave myself,” Dominic informed her.
I bit my lip to keep from grinning. “Kitty, I know you’re trying to be all intimidating and stuff, but that might work a little bit better if you weren’t wearing fuzzy Elmo slippers. Just as a tip.”
Kitty paused, her gaze following mine to her feet, which were encased in effigies of a particular red-furred Muppet. The slippers matched her flannel pajamas in theme, if not in specific character, and I had to wonder (somewhat enviously) where she’d been able to find Super Grover jammies in an adult size. “Okay,” she said finally. “Maybe that does undermine my authority a little bit. But, Verity, you know I don’t like him. What the hell would have possessed you to bring him here on purpose?”
“Ryan and Istas are going to be joining us in a minute, and then I’ll be happy to explain everything,” I said. “I don’t want to start without them.”
Kitty paused again, this time for substantially longer. She looked from me to Dominic and back to me before she asked, “How bad?”
“Bad enough that I’m standing in front of your office an hour before closing time with a man from the Covenant of St. George in tow,” I said. “Seriously, it would be best if we could go inside and shut the door. I’m trying not to start a panic.”
“I remember a time when your boyfriend could start a panic by breathing,” said Ryan, walking up behind us. Istas was with him. The only sign that she’d gone off duty was her apron, which was now frilly lace, rather than industrial canvas. “I guess you’re a bad influence.”
“I know she’s a bad influence,” said Dominic. Now that it was him, me, and three cryptids, he was starting to look less sure about what he was doing.
I grabbed his wrist before he could change his mind. “Into the office. It’s conference time.”
It took Dominic less than ten minutes to explain what was going on, and what was important enough to bring us back to the Freakshow. It took me another twenty minutes to get everyone to stop yelling. Kitty was demanding answers. Ryan was demanding someone’s head on a platter. Istas was just yelling because everyone else was yelling, and it seemed like the thing to do.
Eventually, everyone calmed down. A few questions were asked. A few answers were given. And things proceeded to take a turn for the weird, which is like taking a turn for the worse, but doesn’t necessarily involve cleaning your knives afterward.
See, the Covenant of St. George did get one major thing right when they wrote their files on the world’s cryptids: all cryptids are essentially different from humans, because they’re entirely different species. We may be similar enough to work in the same places, watch the same TV shows, and complain about the same tax increases, but we’re not the same. We can’t be.
So it only goes to reason that cryptids will occasionally have reactions that any reasonable human would view as completely and unequivocally batshit crazy. “You can’t be serious,” said Dominic, staring at Kitty.
“I’m dead serious,” said Kitty.
“Possible stress on the ‘dead’ there,” said Ryan.
Kitty ignored him. “Look. You say the Covenant is sending people to check on you, and that when they find out how little progress you’ve made, they’re probably going to purge Manhattan. Great. Do you have any idea what kind of cryptid population this city has?”
“No, he doesn’t, and you’re not going to tell him,” I said hurriedly. Dominic raised an eyebrow. I patted him on the arm. “You’re earning a lot of points tonight, but there are still some things I don’t think we should be sharing just yet.”
Dominic sighed. “Much as I’d like to argue, with my fellows coming to town, I’m afraid that Verity is correct. If they suspect that I’ve been . . . compromised . . . they have ways of getting me to reveal any information that they desire.”
“You know where the club is located,” noted Istas. “We should kill you to preserve that information.” She smiled. Somehow, that didn’t help.
“There will be no killing of my boyfriend,” I said firmly. “I’m not killing yours, you’re not allowed to kill mine.”
Istas considered this for a moment before allowing, “That seems fair.”
“If we could get back to the point here?” said Kitty. “I meant what I said. There are too many cryptids in this city for even the Covenant to kill. I will not run. I will not let them win. And the Freakshow will not be closing its doors.”
“Kitty—” I began.
“Boss—” Ryan began.
“Surely—” Dominic began.
“QUIET!” Kitty’s time as a wanna-be rock star served her well; when she shouted in an enclosed space, you knew damn well and good that somebody was shouting at you. “Everybody who doesn’t own this club, shut the hell up and listen to me. You,” she thrust a finger at Dominic, “had no trouble finding this place even before you started fooling around with Verity. You know why? Because my uncle wouldn’t know discretion if it bit him on the ass. He advertised too widely, and we got a reputation for having freaky girls. All I’ve done is build on that reputation.”
