down.
Morley appeared. “What’s happening?”
I shook my head and shrugged, then nudged a couple men who were supposed to be setting tables.
“Hoist her into the tub where the beer kegs are cooling. After the kegs are out.” That bacon crackle was coming back.
The woman never stopped screaming.
She went into the ice bath as Belinda Contague arrived. The woman went silent as the fire finally died. She would hurt for a long time, though, if she was burned as badly as I suspected.
Belinda eased close. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. It started before I got here. Looks like she caught on fire somehow.” I raised my voice. “Anybody see how this started?”
“People don’t catch on fire, Garrett.” She didn’t sound convinced, though.
“Check her out. Tell me I’m wrong.” They lifted the woman out of the ice bath. She was unconscious. The crackling didn’t start up again.
A short man in an apron, with nervous hands, told us, “I was here first. Because she started yelling. She was beating on herself. I thought she’d caught her clothes on fire. I wrapped the wet tablecloths around her.”
Naturally. No witnesses to how it started. The stoves? It was a kitchen setting up to serve a banquet. “Belinda, you got a healer laid on? She’ll need a shit-load of help.”
The Contagues’ underworld reign is characterized by care for its foot soldiers. Those who keep faith find the Boss looking out for them in the crunch. Chodo understood two-way loyalty instinctively. He took care of his people and they took care of him. Belinda stuck to the precedent.
She told me, “I’ll have her cared for. What was that?”
“What was what?”
“I thought I saw a rat.”
“You’re in the city now. They haven’t caused any trouble.”
Belinda kept toward the pie pantry. She wanted to check on her father, but she didn’t want to be seen doing it.
She eased away. I paid no attention. The burned woman was being stripped. A challenge. Bits of clothing had become embedded in her flesh. The burned fabric seemed to have acted as wicks for burning off body fat.
Weird. Creepy. Yet the physical evidence couldn’t be denied.
A couple kittens seemed extremely interested in the burned woman. They kept darting out to sniff her and touch her with their paws.
Belinda was back. “What do you want to happen here?” I asked. She looked mad enough to chew rocks.
“Get her over to the Bledsoe? Find out her family situation? I don’t know. Why do I have to worry about this stuff?”
“Because it’s your party. Because you’re in charge. Because you’re the one who’s going to get blamed.”
Belinda indulged in a bout of creative linguistics, then demanded, “Why doesn’t somebody do something about the rats?”
14
I went back to the main hall. Progress had been made. A couple dozen thugs had accumulated on the safe side of Saucerhead Tharpe. The little fellows had them help set tables.
My window remained cracked. I went to it. In moments I had a pixie woman ornamenting my shoulder. “What news, Melondie?”
“There’s something going on, for sure. Your vampire woman may not be the worst schemer.”
“Oh?”
“That’s from Singe. She heard it from John Stretch. Who got it from his rats. That’s a long chain full of feeble links.”
“You’re getting contemplative.”
“I’m getting worried. Everybody thinks some people might not survive the celebration.”
“Really?”
“Would I make this stuff up?”
“When Belinda’s father took charge he held a do so the differences between neighborhood bosses could be settled. They were. He got rid of underbosses who might cause trouble later. By bashing their heads in with a centaur tribal mace.”
A minor numbers man called Squint Vrolet approached me. “Who you talking to, Garrett?” He wore the perpetually suspicious expression of a man too dim to grasp the whole picture — though he did manage the numbers on his patch honestly
Morley appeared. “What’s happening?”
I shook my head and shrugged, then nudged a couple men who were supposed to be setting tables.
“Hoist her into the tub where the beer kegs are cooling. After the kegs are out.” That bacon crackle was coming back.
The woman never stopped screaming.
She went into the ice bath as Belinda Contague arrived. The woman went silent as the fire finally died. She would hurt for a long time, though, if she was burned as badly as I suspected.
Belinda eased close. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. It started before I got here. Looks like she caught on fire somehow.” I raised my voice. “Anybody see how this started?”
“People don’t catch on fire, Garrett.” She didn’t sound convinced, though.
“Check her out. Tell me I’m wrong.” They lifted the woman out of the ice bath. She was unconscious. The crackling didn’t start up again.
A short man in an apron, with nervous hands, told us, “I was here first. Because she started yelling. She was beating on herself. I thought she’d caught her clothes on fire. I wrapped the wet tablecloths around her.”
Naturally. No witnesses to how it started. The stoves? It was a kitchen setting up to serve a banquet. “Belinda, you got a healer laid on? She’ll need a shit-load of help.”
The Contagues’ underworld reign is characterized by care for its foot soldiers. Those who keep faith find the Boss looking out for them in the crunch. Chodo understood two-way loyalty instinctively. He took care of his people and they took care of him. Belinda stuck to the precedent.
She told me, “I’ll have her cared for. What was that?”
“What was what?”
“I thought I saw a rat.”
“You’re in the city now. They haven’t caused any trouble.”
Belinda kept toward the pie pantry. She wanted to check on her father, but she didn’t want to be seen doing it.
She eased away. I paid no attention. The burned woman was being stripped. A challenge. Bits of clothing had become embedded in her flesh. The burned fabric seemed to have acted as wicks for burning off body fat.
Weird. Creepy. Yet the physical evidence couldn’t be denied.
A couple kittens seemed extremely interested in the burned woman. They kept darting out to sniff her and touch her with their paws.
Belinda was back. “What do you want to happen here?” I asked. She looked mad enough to chew rocks.
“Get her over to the Bledsoe? Find out her family situation? I don’t know. Why do I have to worry about this stuff?”
“Because it’s your party. Because you’re in charge. Because you’re the one who’s going to get blamed.”
Belinda indulged in a bout of creative linguistics, then demanded, “Why doesn’t somebody do something about the rats?”
14
I went back to the main hall. Progress had been made. A couple dozen thugs had accumulated on the safe side of Saucerhead Tharpe. The little fellows had them help set tables.
My window remained cracked. I went to it. In moments I had a pixie woman ornamenting my shoulder. “What news, Melondie?”
“There’s something going on, for sure. Your vampire woman may not be the worst schemer.”
“Oh?”
“That’s from Singe. She heard it from John Stretch. Who got it from his rats. That’s a long chain full of feeble links.”
“You’re getting contemplative.”
“I’m getting worried. Everybody thinks some people might not survive the celebration.”
“Really?”
“Would I make this stuff up?”
“When Belinda’s father took charge he held a do so the differences between neighborhood bosses could be settled. They were. He got rid of underbosses who might cause trouble later. By bashing their heads in with a centaur tribal mace.”
A minor numbers man called Squint Vrolet approached me. “Who you talking to, Garrett?” He wore the perpetually suspicious expression of a man too dim to grasp the whole picture — though he did manage the numbers on his patch honestly
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