Midnight Blue-Light Special
Page 68
If she was wearing a bogeyman’s array, she meant business.
“Come on in,” she said. “Everybody’s waiting.”
“Thank you again, Kitty,” said Uncle Mike, and stepped into the Freakshow. Ryan and Istas followed.
Dominic moved to do the same. Kitty stepped between him and the opening, setting her hand flat against his chest. She wasn’t exerting nearly enough pressure to hold him in place, but he still stopped, looking at her gravely.
“This is your fault,” she said. “I’m going to bet that you’ve already been threatened to within an inch of your worthless life, so I’m not going to bother. I’m just going to make you a promise. If the Price girl dies, that’s sad, but she knew this job was dangerous when she took it. If a single cryptid who didn’t choose to walk into this fight dies? Just one? I will be the monster in your closet for the rest of your life. If not me, then my cousins, and their cousins, until you’ve paid for your sins. Do I make myself clear?”
A bogeyman threatening a trained operative from the Covenant of St. George should have been funny. It wasn’t, because I didn’t have to be a telepath to know Kitty meant it. If Dominic failed, she was going to throw the weight of her entire species at destroying him.
I almost felt sorry for the man, but Dominic didn’t waste time with anything as useless as self-pity. He just nodded, and said, “I understand, and I accept your punishment as just.”
Kitty blinked, surprise rolling off her like fog. She dropped her hand. “Well, then,” she said, sounding bewildered. “As long as we’ve got that straight.” Then she stepped aside, letting Dominic into the Freakshow.
I moved to follow. Her hand flashed up again.
“Hold it,” she said. “Who are you again?”
Oh, fudgesicles.
This is life as a cuckoo: sometimes your allies will cease to be your allies in the middle of a bad situation, because your distress signals are overwhelming the low-grade “we should be friends, let’s be besties” beacon that cuckoos put out at all times. Bogeymen are more resistant than humans, maybe because they made easier targets in the days before they learned to lock their doors against us. Easier, not preferred—cuckoos are happiest when they blend in, and we blend in best with humans.
“Sarah Zellaby,” I said, and quoted her own words back at her: “‘Verity’s little adopted cousin with the big blue eyes and the clear antifreeze for blood.’ Does that ring any bells?”
Kitty’s eyes widened, a response I didn’t have to be good with faces to understand. “You’re a cuckoo.”
“Yes, but I’m a good cuckoo, I swear, and we’ve met before like a dozen times. You usually remember me. I’m sorry, I’m so freaked out that I’m broadcasting.” I tried to focus on building a mental wall between us. It was harder than normal. Stress was making everything slippery.
Kitty’s suspicion slowly gave way to recognition. “Sarah?”
“Yes,” I said, and smiled a little, hopefully. “Sorry for the whammy, I didn’t know it was going to be that bad.”
“Just try to keep it under wraps while we’re inside,” she said, lowering her hand. “I don’t want you starting a riot.”
It was a lot more likely that I’d start a new branch of the “everybody protect Sarah” club, but I didn’t say anything. I just stepped past Kitty. She closed and locked the door behind me. I waited for her to finish, and we walked together down the canvas-draped corridor to the main room where, by the sounds of things, there was quite a party going on. The mental noise hit a second after the audible noise did: at least two or three dozen people, almost as many different species, and all of them doing their best not to panic.
I gasped. I couldn’t help myself. The wall I’d built to keep from broadcasting to Kitty was good, but it was nowhere near good enough to withstand the assault waiting at the end of the hall.
“Are you okay?” asked Kitty.
“What?” I hadn’t even realized that I wasn’t walking anymore. My legs had stopped moving without conscious command, taking themselves out of the equation while I did the complicated mental math of self-protection. I needed better walls, bigger walls, walls that could keep me from becoming so overwhelmed that I whammied everyone in the room just to keep them from hurting me.
“Are you okay?” repeated Kitty. “You look like you’re about to throw up.”
I was considering it. “I’ll be fine,” I said. “There’s just a lot of focused anxiety in here.” And it was all about my cousin, or at least about the people who had her; that, coupled with my having met everyone in the Freakshow at one point or another, explained the severity of my reaction. “Give me a second.”
“Those are in pretty short supply, cuckoo girl,” said Kitty . . . but she waited with me while I got myself under control, and I was grateful for that. It’s easier to build a telepathic wall when you have someone nearby you can build it against, and Kitty was a lot less angry than some of the people in the main room. Once I was sure I wouldn’t fall apart, I nodded, and Kitty led the rest of the way into the Freakshow.
The room looked strange, seen during the daylight. The lights were turned up to full, exposing the scuffs on the floor and the well-repaired tears in the upholstery. I could see scars on the ceiling where the old stripper poles had been removed. On the whole, though, the décor stood up pretty well to being visible—probably because it was designed by Kitty, and Kitty, like all bogeymen, could see perfectly well in the dark. She might be willing to live with a little wear and tear, but who wants to own a club they can’t be proud of?
I wasn’t surprised by the number of people who were turned toward the door, waiting for us; I’d already detected their presence, and my head still throbbed a little from the shock of it. I was, however, gratified. They could have run. They could have hidden themselves away and let Verity take whatever punishment the Covenant wanted to dish out. Instead, when the call for help was sounded, they came. Sure, some of them were probably like Istas, who would take any excuse to hurt things without getting in trouble for it, but I didn’t care. They came. That was enough for me.
Kitty clapped her hands, walking ahead and leaving me standing in the doorway. “Okay, people. Nothing to see here, and we have a rescue mission to mount.” She looked to Dominic. “That’s your cue, Covenant boy. Impress us with your willingness to sell out your former allies.”
“Come on in,” she said. “Everybody’s waiting.”
“Thank you again, Kitty,” said Uncle Mike, and stepped into the Freakshow. Ryan and Istas followed.
Dominic moved to do the same. Kitty stepped between him and the opening, setting her hand flat against his chest. She wasn’t exerting nearly enough pressure to hold him in place, but he still stopped, looking at her gravely.
“This is your fault,” she said. “I’m going to bet that you’ve already been threatened to within an inch of your worthless life, so I’m not going to bother. I’m just going to make you a promise. If the Price girl dies, that’s sad, but she knew this job was dangerous when she took it. If a single cryptid who didn’t choose to walk into this fight dies? Just one? I will be the monster in your closet for the rest of your life. If not me, then my cousins, and their cousins, until you’ve paid for your sins. Do I make myself clear?”
A bogeyman threatening a trained operative from the Covenant of St. George should have been funny. It wasn’t, because I didn’t have to be a telepath to know Kitty meant it. If Dominic failed, she was going to throw the weight of her entire species at destroying him.
I almost felt sorry for the man, but Dominic didn’t waste time with anything as useless as self-pity. He just nodded, and said, “I understand, and I accept your punishment as just.”
Kitty blinked, surprise rolling off her like fog. She dropped her hand. “Well, then,” she said, sounding bewildered. “As long as we’ve got that straight.” Then she stepped aside, letting Dominic into the Freakshow.
I moved to follow. Her hand flashed up again.
“Hold it,” she said. “Who are you again?”
Oh, fudgesicles.
This is life as a cuckoo: sometimes your allies will cease to be your allies in the middle of a bad situation, because your distress signals are overwhelming the low-grade “we should be friends, let’s be besties” beacon that cuckoos put out at all times. Bogeymen are more resistant than humans, maybe because they made easier targets in the days before they learned to lock their doors against us. Easier, not preferred—cuckoos are happiest when they blend in, and we blend in best with humans.
“Sarah Zellaby,” I said, and quoted her own words back at her: “‘Verity’s little adopted cousin with the big blue eyes and the clear antifreeze for blood.’ Does that ring any bells?”
Kitty’s eyes widened, a response I didn’t have to be good with faces to understand. “You’re a cuckoo.”
“Yes, but I’m a good cuckoo, I swear, and we’ve met before like a dozen times. You usually remember me. I’m sorry, I’m so freaked out that I’m broadcasting.” I tried to focus on building a mental wall between us. It was harder than normal. Stress was making everything slippery.
Kitty’s suspicion slowly gave way to recognition. “Sarah?”
“Yes,” I said, and smiled a little, hopefully. “Sorry for the whammy, I didn’t know it was going to be that bad.”
“Just try to keep it under wraps while we’re inside,” she said, lowering her hand. “I don’t want you starting a riot.”
It was a lot more likely that I’d start a new branch of the “everybody protect Sarah” club, but I didn’t say anything. I just stepped past Kitty. She closed and locked the door behind me. I waited for her to finish, and we walked together down the canvas-draped corridor to the main room where, by the sounds of things, there was quite a party going on. The mental noise hit a second after the audible noise did: at least two or three dozen people, almost as many different species, and all of them doing their best not to panic.
I gasped. I couldn’t help myself. The wall I’d built to keep from broadcasting to Kitty was good, but it was nowhere near good enough to withstand the assault waiting at the end of the hall.
“Are you okay?” asked Kitty.
“What?” I hadn’t even realized that I wasn’t walking anymore. My legs had stopped moving without conscious command, taking themselves out of the equation while I did the complicated mental math of self-protection. I needed better walls, bigger walls, walls that could keep me from becoming so overwhelmed that I whammied everyone in the room just to keep them from hurting me.
“Are you okay?” repeated Kitty. “You look like you’re about to throw up.”
I was considering it. “I’ll be fine,” I said. “There’s just a lot of focused anxiety in here.” And it was all about my cousin, or at least about the people who had her; that, coupled with my having met everyone in the Freakshow at one point or another, explained the severity of my reaction. “Give me a second.”
“Those are in pretty short supply, cuckoo girl,” said Kitty . . . but she waited with me while I got myself under control, and I was grateful for that. It’s easier to build a telepathic wall when you have someone nearby you can build it against, and Kitty was a lot less angry than some of the people in the main room. Once I was sure I wouldn’t fall apart, I nodded, and Kitty led the rest of the way into the Freakshow.
The room looked strange, seen during the daylight. The lights were turned up to full, exposing the scuffs on the floor and the well-repaired tears in the upholstery. I could see scars on the ceiling where the old stripper poles had been removed. On the whole, though, the décor stood up pretty well to being visible—probably because it was designed by Kitty, and Kitty, like all bogeymen, could see perfectly well in the dark. She might be willing to live with a little wear and tear, but who wants to own a club they can’t be proud of?
I wasn’t surprised by the number of people who were turned toward the door, waiting for us; I’d already detected their presence, and my head still throbbed a little from the shock of it. I was, however, gratified. They could have run. They could have hidden themselves away and let Verity take whatever punishment the Covenant wanted to dish out. Instead, when the call for help was sounded, they came. Sure, some of them were probably like Istas, who would take any excuse to hurt things without getting in trouble for it, but I didn’t care. They came. That was enough for me.
Kitty clapped her hands, walking ahead and leaving me standing in the doorway. “Okay, people. Nothing to see here, and we have a rescue mission to mount.” She looked to Dominic. “That’s your cue, Covenant boy. Impress us with your willingness to sell out your former allies.”
