A Dirty Job Chapter 11

11THE GIRLS CAN GET A LITTLE DARK AT TIMESThe Great Big Book of Death, as it flinged turn out, wasnt that big, and surely wasnt that comprehensive. Charlie read through it a dozen times, took n cardinals, made copies, ran searches trying to find some reference to both of the stuff covered, simply on the whole of the material in the twenty-eight lavishly illustrated pages boiled prevail over to this1. Congratulations, you reach been chosen to act as Death. Its a dirty job, exactly someone has to do it. It is your duty to call in disposition vessels from the dead and dying and see them on to their side by side(p) body. If you fail, Darkness will cover the world and Chaos will reign.2. Some time ago, the Luminatus, or the Great Death, who kept balance actween light and darkness, ceased to be. Since thus, Forces of Darkness soak up been trying to rise from below. You atomic number 18 all that stands between them and destruction of the collective soul of humanity.3. In ord er to hold rancid the Forces of Darkness, you will need a number two pencil and a calendar, preferably one without pictures of kitties on it.4. label and numbers will come to you. The number is how many days you contract to retrieve the soul vessel. You will k forthwith the vessels by their crimson glow.5. Dont tell anyone what you do, or dark forces, etc. etc. etc.6. People may not see you when you are performing your Death duties, so be fore thought processful crossbreeding the street. You are not immortal.7. Do not seek others. Do not waver in your duties or the Forces of Darkness will destroy all that you care rough.8. You do not cause death, you do not prevent death, you are a servant of Destiny, not its agent. Get over yourself.9. Do not, under any circumstances, let a soul vessel fall into the hands of those from below because that would be bad.A few months passed before Charlie worked the shop again alone with Lily. She asked him, Well, did you go through a number t wo pencil?No, I got a number one pencil.You rogue Asher, hello, Forces of Darkness If the world without this Luminatus is so precariously balanced that my get a pencil with one-grade-harder lead is dismissal to cast us all into the abyss, then maybe its time.Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, Lily chanted the likes of she was trying to bring a spooked cavalry under control. Its one thing for me to be all nihilistic and stuff, for me its a fashion statement, I have the outfits for it. You cant be all horny for the grave corroding your stupid Savile Row suits.Charlie was proud of her for recognizing that he was article of clothinging one of his expensive secondhand Savile Rows. She was learning the trade in spite of herself.Im tired of being afraid, he utter. Ive dealt with the Forces of Darkness or whatever, Lily, and you know what, were one and one.Should you be telling me this? I mean, the book utter I opine Im different than what the book posits, Lily. The book says that I d ont cause death, but there have been two now that have died more or less because of my actions.And I repeat, should you be telling me this? As you have pointed out many times, I am a kid, and wildly irresponsible. Its wildly irresponsible, right? Im neer listening that closely.Youre the only one who knows, Charlie state. And youre seventeen now, not a kid, youre a young woman now.Dont fuck with me, Asher. If you concur raging like that Ill get another piercing, take X until Im dehydrated like a mummy, talk on my cell phone until the battery is dead, then find some skinny, pale guy and suck him until he cries.So, it will be like a Friday? Charlie said.What I do with my weekends is my own business.I knowWell, then shut upIm tired of being afraid, LilyWell, then stop being afraid, CharlieThey both looked away, embarrassed. Lily fictional to shuffle through the days receipts while Charlie pretended to be looking for something in what he called his walking satchel and Jane called his man purse.Sorry, Lily said, without looking up from the receipts.Sokay, Charlie said. Me, too.Still not looking up, Lily said, But really, should you be telling me any of this?Probably not, Charlie said. Its sort of a big burden to carry. Sort of A dirty job? Lily looked up now and grinned.Yeah, Charlie smiled, relieved. I wont bring it up again.Thats okay. Its kind of cool.Really? Charlie couldnt remember anyone ever referring to him as cool. He was touched.Not you. The whole Death thing.Yeah, right, Charlie said. Yes Still batten a thousand on the zero-cool quotient. But youre right, its not safe. No more talk about my, uh, avocation.And Ill never call you Charlie again, Lily said. Ever.That would be fine, Charlie said. Well act like this never carry oned. Excellent. Good talk. Resume your thinly veiled contempt.Fuck off, Asher.Atta girl.They were waiting for him the next morning when he took his walk. He expected it, and he wasnt disappointed. Hed stopped in the shop to pick u p an Italian suit hed equitable taken in, as well as a cigar lighter that had languished in a curio upshot in the back for two years, which he stuffed in his satchel with the glowing porcelain bear that was the soul vessel of someone who had passed pertinacious ago. Then he stepped outside and stood but above the opening of the storm drain waved at the tourists on the cable car as it clanked by.Good morning, he said cheerily. Anyone watching him might have thought he was greeting the day, since there was no one around.Well peck out her eyes like ripe plums, hissed a female join out of the drain. Bring us up, Meat. Bring us up so we can lap your blood from the gaping wound we tear in your chest.And crunch your drum in our jaws like candy, added a different voice, alike female.Yeah, agreed the first voice, like candy.Yeah, said a third.Charlie felt his entire body go to gooseflesh, but he shook it off and tried to keep his voice steady.Well, today would be a good day for it, C harlie said. Im well rested from sleeping in my comfy bed with the down comforter. Not like I spent the night in a sewer or anything.Bastard A sibilation female chorus.Well, talk to you on the next block.Strolled up the block into Chinatown, pacing out the sidewalk jauntily with his sword-cane, the suit inside a light raiment bag thrown over his shoulder. He tried whistling, but thought that might be a little too clich. They were already under the next corner when he got there.Im going to suck the babys soul out through her soft spot while you watch, Meat.Oh, nice Charlie said, gritting his teeth and trying not to practiced as horrified as he was. Shes starting to crawl around pretty well now, so dont miss breakfast that day, because if she has her little rubber spoon, shell in all likelihood kick your ass.There was a screech of anger from the sewers and a harsh, hissing chatter. He cant say that? Can he say that? Does he know who we are?Taking a left-hand(a) at the next block. See you there.There was a young Chinese man dressed in pat wear who looked at Charlie and took a quick step to the side so as not to catch whatever kind of crazy this well-dressed Lo pak1 was carrying. Charlie tapped his ear and said, Sorry, wireless headset.The hip-hop guy nodded curtly, like he knew that, and patronage appearances to the contrary, he had not been trippin, but had, in fact, been chillin like a mo-fuckin villain, so step the fuck off, wigga. He traverse against the light, limping slightly under the weight of the subtext.Charlie entered meretricious Dragon Cleaners and the man at the counter, Mr. Hu, whom Charlie had known since he was eight, greeted him with an expansive and warm twitch of the left eyebrow, which was his usual greeting, and a good indicator to Charlie that the old man was still alive. A fagot streamed at the end of a long black carrier clinched in Hus dentures.Good morning, Mr. Hu, Charlie said. Beautiful day, isnt it?Suit? said Mr. Hu, looking at the suit Charlie had slung over his shoulder.Yes, just the one today, Charlie said. Charlie brought all of his finer trade in to Golden Dragon to be cleaned, and hed been giving them a lot of business the last few months, with all the estate clothes hed been taking in. He also had them do his alterations, and Mr. Hu was considered to be the best common chord-fingered tailor on the West Coast, and perhaps, the world. Three Fingered Hu, he was known as in Chinatown, although to be fair, he was truly possessed of eight fingers, and was only missing the two smaller fingers from his right hand.Tailor? Hu asked.No, thank you, Charlie said. This ones for resale, not for me.Hu snatched the suit out of Charlies hand, tagged it, then called, star suit for the fresh lusus naturae in Mandarin, and one of his granddaughters came speeding out of the back, grabbed the suit, and was gone through the curtain before Charlie could see her face. One suit for the White Devil, she repeated for someone in the back.Wednesday, said Three Fingered Hu. He handed Charlie the ticket.Theres something else, Charlie said.Okay, Tuesday, said Hu, but no discount.No, Mr. Hu, I know its been a long time since I needed it, but I wonder if you still have your other business?Mr. Hu closed one eye and looked at Charlie for a full minute before he replied. When he did, he said, Come, then disappeared behind the curtain leaving a cloud of cigarette smoke.Charlie followed him into the back, through a noisy, steam hell of cleaning fluids, mangle irons, and a dozen scurrying employees to a tiny plywood-walled office in the back, where Hu closed the door and locked them in as they did their business, something theyd first done over twenty years ago.The first time Three Fingered Hu had led Charlie Asher through the stygian back room of Golden Dragon Cleaners, the ten-year-old of import Male was sure that he was going to be kidnapped and sold into dry-cleaning slavery, butchered and turned into dim sum, or forced to smoke opium and fight fifty kung fu fighters at once while still in his pjs (Charlie had a very tenuous grasp of his neighbors culture at age ten), but despite his fear, he was driven by a passion that had been embedded in his very genes millions of years ago a quest for fire. Yes, it was a crafty Beta Male who first discovered fire, and true, it was almost immediately taken away from him by an Alpha Male. (Alphas missed out on the discovery of fire, but because they did not understand about grabbing the hot, orangey end of the stick, they are credited with inventing the third-degree burn.) Still, the original spark burns bright in every Betas veins. When Alpha boys have long since move on to girls and sports, Betas will still be pursuing pyrotechnics well into adolescence and sometimes beyond. Alpha Males may lead the armies of the world, but its the Betas who actually get the shucks blowed up.And what better testimonial for a purveyor of fireworks than to be missing critical digits? Three Fingered Hu. When Hu opened his thick, trifold case crosswise the desk, revealing his wares, young Charlie felt he had passed through the fires of hell to arrive, at last, in paradise, and he gladly handed over his wad of crumpled, sweaty dollar bills. And even as long silver ashes from Hus cigarette fell over the fuses like deadly snow, Charlie picked his pleasure. He was so excited he nearly peed himself.The death-dealing Charlie who walked out of Golden Dragon Cleaners that morning with a compact paper parcel tucked under his arm felt a similar excitement, for as much as it was against his nature, he was rushing, once again, into the breech. He headed to the storm sewer grate and, waving the glowing porcelain bear from his satchel at the street, shouted, Im going over one block and up four, bitches. Join me?The White Devil has finally gone around the bend, said Three Fingered Hus eleventh grandchild, Cindy Lou Hu, who stood at the counter next to her venerated and digitally challenged ancestor.His money not crazy, said Three.Charlie had spy the alley on one of his walks to the financial district. It lay between Montgomery and Kearney Streets and had all the things a good alley should have fire escapes, Dumpsters, various vane doors tagged with graffiti, a rat, two seagulls, assorted filth, a guy passed out under some cardboard, and a half-dozen No Parking signs, three with bullet holes. It was the Platonic ideal of an alley, but what distinguished it from other alleys in the area was that it had two openings into the storm-drain system, spaced not fifty yards apart, one on the street end and one in the middle, concealed between two Dumpsters. Having recently developed an eye for storm drains, Charlie couldnt help but notice.He chose the drain that was hidden from the street, crouched down about four feet away, and opened the parcel from Three Fingered Hu. He retravel eight M-80s and trimmed the two-inch-long waterproof fu ses to about a half inch with a pair of nail clippers he kept on his key chain. (An M-80 is a very large firecracker, purported to have the explosive power of a quarter of a stick of dynamite. Rural children use them to blow up mailboxes or school plumbing, but in the city they have largely been replaced by the 9 mm Glock pistol as the preferred instrument of mischievous fun.)Kids Charlie called into the drain. You with me? Sorry I didnt get your names. He drew the sword from his cane, set it by his knee, then dig the porcelain bear out of his satchel and sat it by his other knee. There you go, he called.There was a vicious hiss from the drain, and even as he thought it was completely dark, it got even darker. He could see silver disk shapes moving in the blackness, like coins tumbling through a dark ocean, but these were diametrical up eyes.Give it, Meat. Give it, whispered a female voice.Come and get it, Charlie said, trying to fight down the greatest case of the willies hed eve r felt. It was like dry ice was being applied to his spine and it was all he could do not to shiver.The shadow in the drain started to leak out across the pavement, just an inch or so, but he could see it, like the light had changed. But it hadnt. The shadow took the shape of a female hand and moved another six inches toward the glowing bear. Thats when Charlie grabbed the sword and snapped it down on the shadow. It didnt hit pavement, but connected with something softer, and there was a deafening screech.You piece of shit screamed the voice now in anger, not pain. You worthless little you Quick and the dead, ladies, Charlie said. Quick and the dead. Cmon, give it another shot.A second hand-shaped shadow snaked out of the drain on the left, then another on the right. Charlie pushed the bear away from the drain as he pulled the cigar lighter from his pocket. He lit the short fuses of four of the M-80s and tossed them into the drain, even as the shadows were reaching out.What was t hat?What did he throw?Move, I cant Charlie put his fingers in his ears. The M-80s exploded and Charlie grinned. He sheathed the sword in the cane, gathered up his stuff, and sprinted for the other drain. within an enclosed space the noise would be punishing, brutal even. He kept grinning.He could hear a chorus of screaming and cursing, in half a dozen dead languages, some of them running over others, like someone was spinning the dial on a shortwave radio that spanned both time and space. He dropped to his knees and listened at the drain, careful to stay an arms length away. He could hear them coming, tracking him under the street. He hoped he was right that they couldnt come out, but even if they did, he had the sword, and the sunlight was his turf. He lit four more M-80s, these with longer fuses, and tossed them one by one into the drain.Whos New Meat now? he said.What? What did he say? said a sewer voice.I cant hear shit.Charlie waved the porcelain bear in front of the drain. Y ou want this? He tossed in another M-80.You like that, do you? Charlie shouted, throwing in the third firecracker. Thatll teach you to use your beak on my arm, you have sex harpiesMr. Asher, came a voice from behind him.Charlie looked around to see Alphonse Rivera, the police inspector, standing over him.Oh, hi, Charlie said, then realizing that he was holding a lit M-80, he said, Excuse me a second. He tossed the firecracker in the drain. At that moment they all started going off.Rivera had locomote a few steps and had his hand in his jacket, presumably on his gun. Charlie put the porcelain bear in his satchel and climbed to his feet. He could hear the voices shrieking at him, cursing.You fucking loser, screeched one of the dark ones. Ill weave a basket of your guts and carry your disunite head in it.Yeah, said another voice. A basket.I speculate you threatened that already, said a third.I did not, said the first.Shut the fuck up Charlie yelled at the drain, then he looked at R ivera, who had drawn his implement and was holding it at his side.So, Rivera said, problems with, uh, someone in the drain?Charlie grinned. You cant hear that, can you? The cursing was ongoing, but now in some language that sounded as if it indispensable a lot of mucus to speak properly, Gaelic or German or something.I can hear a distinct ringing in my ears, Mr. Asher, from the report of your distinctly illegal fireworks, but beyond that, nothing, no.Rats, Charlie said, unconsciously raising an eyebrow in a so are you gonna buy that subvert of horseshit? way. Hate the rats.Uh-huh, Rivera said flatly. The rats, they used their beak on your arm and evidently you feel that they have a secret desire for cheap creature curios?So that you heard? Charlie asked.Yep.Thats gotta make you wonder, then, huh?Yep, said the cop. Nice suit, though. Armani?Canali, actually, Charlie said. But thanks.Not what Id pick for bombing storm drains, but to each his own. Rivera hadnt moved. He was standin g just off the curb, about ten feet away from Charlie, his weapon still at his side. A jogger ran by them and used the opportunity to quicken his pace. Charlie and Rivera both nodded politely as he passed.So, Charlie said, youre a professional, where would you go with this?Rivera shrugged. Not on any prescriptions you might have taken too many of, are you?I wish, Charlie said.Up all night drinking, thrown out by the wife, out of your mind with remorse?My wife passed away.Im sorry. How long?Going on a year now.Well, thats not going to work, said Rivera. Do you have any history of mental illness?Nope.Well, you do now. Congratulations, Mr. Asher. You can use that next time.Do I have to do the perp walk? Charlie asked, thinking about how hed explain this to child services. Poor Sophie, her dad an ex con and Death, school was going to be tough. This jacket is tailored, I dont think I can get it over my head for the perp walk. Am I going to jail?Not with me, youre not. You think this woul d be any easier for me to explain? Im an inspector, I dont arrest guys for throwing firecrackers and yelling into storm drains.Then why do you have your weapon drawn?Makes me feel more secure.I can see that, Charlie said. I probably appeared a little unstable.Ya think?So wheres that leave us?That the rest of your stash? Rivera nodded toward the paper bag of firecrackers under Charlies arm.Charlie nodded.How about you toss that down the storm drain and well call it a day.No way. I have no idea what theyll do if they get their hands on fireworks.Now it was Riveras turn to raise an eyebrow. The rats?Charlie threw the bag in the storm sewer. He could hear whispering from below, but tried not to show Rivera that he was listening.Rivera holstered his weapon and shot his lapels. So, do you take suits like that into your shop very often? he asked.More now than I used to. Ive been doing a lot of estate work, Charlie said.You still have my card, give me a call if you get a forty long, anythin g Italian, medium-to lightweight wool, oh, or raw silk, too.Yeah, silks perfect for our weather. Sure, Ill be happy to save you something. By the way, Inspector, how did you happen to be in a back alley, off a side street, in the middle of a Tuesday morning?I dont have to tell you that, said Rivera with a smile.You dont?No. You have a nice day, Mr. Asher.You, too, said Charlie. So now he was being followed both above and below the street? wherefore else would a homicide detective be here? Neither the Great Big Book nor Minty Fresh had said a word about the cops. How were you supposed to keep this whole death-dealing thing a secret when a cop was watching you? His elation at having taken the battle to the enemy, something that was deeply against his nature, evaporated. He wasnt sure why, but something was telling him that he had just fucked up.Below the street the Morrigan looked at one another in amazement.He doesnt know, said Macha, examining her claws, which shone like brushed st ainless sword in the dim light coming from above. Her body was beginning to show the gunmetal-blue relief of feathers, and her eyes were no longer just silver disks, but now had the full awareness of a predatory birds. She had once flown over the battle subject fields of the North, landing on those soldiers who were dying of their wounds, pecking out their souls in her bird form of a hooded crow. The Celts had called the severed heads of their enemies Machas Acorn Crop, but they had no idea that she cared nothing for their tributes or their tribes, only for their blood and their souls. It had been a thousand years since she had seen her woman claws like this.I still cant hear, said her sister Nemain, who groomed the blue-black feather shapes on her own body, hissing with the pleasure as she ran the dagger points over her breasts. She was showing fangs as well, which dented her sharp jet lips. It had been her lot to drip venom on those she would mark for death. There was no fiercer warrior than one who had been touched by the venom of Nemain, for with nothing to lose, he took the field without fear, in a frenzy that gave him the strength of ten, and dragged others to their doom with him.Babd raked her rediscovered claws across the side of the culvert, cutting deep gouges into the concrete. I love these. I forgot I even had these. Ill bet we can go Above. Want to go Above? I feel like I could go Above. Tonight we can go Above. We could tear his legs off and watch him drag himself around in his own blood, that would be fun. Babd was the screamer her shriek on the battlefield said to send armies into retreat ranks of soldiers a vitamin C deep would die of fright. She was all that was fierce, furious, and not particularly bright.The Meat doesnt know, repeated Macha. Why would we give away our advantage in an early attack.Because it would be fun, said Babd. Above? Fun? I know, instead of a basket, you can weave a hat from his entrails.Nemain slung some venom of f her claws and it hissed in a steaming line across the concrete. We should tell Orcus. Hell have a plan.About the hat? asked Babd. You have to tell him it was my idea. He loves hats.We have to tell him that New Meat doesnt know.The three moved like smoke down the pipes toward the great ship, to share the news that their newest enemy, among other things, did not know what he was, or what he had wrought on the world.