The Pardoner's Tale Page 11

  "It's hand-made." She put the box on the counter. Sure enough, a baying wolf was carved into the wood. "You're lucky I had this. We don't get many in because they take a long time to make. They can only use naturally fallen wood and it's sometimes hard to find a piece big enough for a box."

  It wasn't a very large box, but it was heavy and strong. I opened it and closed it several times, checking to make sure it sealed shut. "If you want to keep anything in there that needs to be protected, you might want to put something along there." She pointed to the hinge. "Something that will stay kind of soft, otherwise it might just flake off."

  She gave me a knowing look and a sly smile. "You just might want to seal the whole thing with a soft wax to keep anything from getting... in."

  I handed the box to Doderberg and wrote the check. The woman leaned across the counter and whispered something in Alex's ear. Alex laughed and thanked her.

  Outside, he leaned over and whispered in my ear. "She suggested that once we get whatever it is into the box that we cover it in cement and toss it in the ocean."

  ***

  We had lived through the night. We had the box. We had no plan of attack. The only thing we could think to do was wait. Xyj'Ru would come after us himself. He had to. We'd defeated his henchmen and ñ we hoped ñ he wouldn't want to waste more of them. Why send a man to do a demon's job, right? After all, he'd killed Buck himself.

  Wait. What?

  He killed Albert and Linda. He killed Buck. Why had he sent the two goons after me and Alex instead of just finishing us off? Did he want us alive? Did he want Alex alive?

  Something just wasn't adding up.

  Alex and John were in the kitchen playing poker. I asked Alex to join me in the bedroom. He leered at Doderberg and followed me back to the other room.

  "Why, Nick, I had no idea," he said as he pretended to unbutton his shirt.

  "Shut it, Alex. Something's not right."

  "Other than the whole demon-wanting-to-kill-us thing?"

  "That's just it. Xyj'Ru doesn't want us dead. Or doesn't want you dead."

  "Huh?"

  "Think about it. He killed everyone else, but then sent two thugs ñ two human guys ñ after us. I'm nothing to him. I'm disposable. So there must be something about you that's special. There's some reason he doesn't want you dead."

  Alex sat down on his bed and thought about it. "Well, I'm under contract, so I guess I wouldn't be much good to him dead."

  Everything in my peripheral vision faded into grey. The only thing I could focus on was Alex's face, and in the back of my mind I was forming images of what it would look like when I was finished.

  "You mean to tell me that all this time I could have just handed you over to him and gone on my merry way without you? That this running and fear and living like a refugee could have been avoided if you'd just told me the fucking truth?" I hauled him to his feet and then shoved him back down again.

  Alex looked up with his mouth hanging open. "I asked you if you thought..."

  "You asked me if I thought giving him the key would be enough. You never once mentioned that he'd be happy to get you back!"

  "Who wouldn't be happy to get me back?"

  I pulled the pack of cigarettes from my shirt pocket and lit one. "I'm really tempted to just turn you over, you know. This is. All. Your. Fucking. Fault." I punctuated my sentence with jabs of my cigarette. I clenched it in my teeth. I raked my fingers through my hair and pulled at it. I punched the wall. I shouted wordlessly at the ceiling. Through it all, Alex just sat there, looking at me. Looking at me and waiting for me to hit him.

  Fuck.

  I sat down on the foot of the bed and cradled my head in my hands. I heard Doderberg at the doorway. "You know 'a word in private' works much better when you're not shouting."

  "He lied to me," I shouted, not caring who heard. "He put my life in danger. He put your life in danger. He is the one responsible for Buck's murder. I should let you arrest him. I should kill him myself."

  Doderberg backed up and raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "Whoa. Dude. What did I miss?"

  "All of this could have been avoided if he just went home," I said.

  "To Xyj'Ru! To be a contract killer! To be his pet vampire!" Alex shoved me. I shoved him back. Doderberg got between us before we started throwing punches.

  "Obviously, there's only one thing to do," Doderberg said. "You give Alex back to the demon."

  Chapter Eight

  Something woke us in the middle of the night, and we knew that it was Xyj. We needed to meet on neutral ground, so we got dressed quickly and headed out into the cold night.

  It was three in the morning. The sky was overcast and the streetlights gave off a sickly yellow glow. The street was empty and strangely quiet. The homeless seemed to have disappeared. Even the mockingbird that was usually raising a racket was nowhere around.

  We stood in the middle of the public square, facing each other. In his human guise, Xyj'Ru was a small, old man. His hair was grey and thinning, slicked down against his scalp. There were deep wrinkles on his face that nearly hid his eyes.

  "I wasn't expecting it to be this easy," Xyj'Ru said. His accent almost sounded Russian. In the way Chekov on Star Trek sounded Russian.

  "I wasn't expecting it to be this easy, either." I stood with one hand in my pocket and the other holding the leash that held Alex's wrists behind his back. "If I had known earlier that all you wanted was your property back, we could have ended this weeks ago."

  "I'm not surprised he didn't tell you. I think he knows his punishment for running away is going to be severe."

  Something smelled like sulfur and burnt flesh. I saw Alex's nostrils flare. It was the only indication that he was afraid. "Well, come on! Give me back my pet so we can go home."

  I nudged Alex. He took two steps forward, then I jerked the leash, pulling him back toward me. "Wait a second. It's customary to get a reward for returning a lost pet."

  "So?"

  "So? What's my reward?"

  Xyj'Ru grew a little taller. His delicate hands widened and the fingers curled into fists. "I let you live."

  I pulled Alex until he was against me. "That's not good enough. I need some sort of compensation. I mean, I'm giving up a pretty good servant."

  "What good is money if I have your life?"

  "Maybe I've got kids? They might like a little something after I'm gone." I had to stall. I had to keep talking. "What if I want to leave it to charity? Maybe I want to afford a really nice funeral. You'd let Alex be a pallbearer, right?"

  The wrinkles in his skin stretched out as he got bigger. There wasn't much time left before he got too powerful to handle. I pushed Alex forward and he started running toward Xyj'Ru. Suddenly, his hands were free, reaching up into the air.

  It's moments like this that make you appreciate all the time wasted playing football. Alex jumped up, caught the box Doderberg threw, and slammed it down on Xyj'Ru's head. The ironwood weakened him almost immediately, but not before his fist connected with Alex's chest. The sound of bones breaking was audible in the absolute silence.

  Doderberg ran from his hiding place and piled on top of Alex, who was on top of the box, which was on top of Xyj'Ru. In another moment I threw myself onto the pile.

  "He's getting weaker," Alex wheezed. His breathing sounded wet.

  "Keep the box on him. Get him into it."

  "How!"

  "Fold him! I don't know!"

  Arms and legs were everywhere. Beneath us, Xyj'Ru seemed to be melting or collapsing inward. There was shouting. There was shrieking. There was the fully expected unholy screeching as the box enveloped Xyj'Ru.

  And almost suddenly there was silence, and three men piled on top of an ironwood box. We untangled ourselves and stood. Alex sagged to the ground while Doderberg and I sealed the box. Strips of wax coated the joint. Heavy duct tape covered that. And then Doderberg hauled out the bucket of cement he'd been hiding with. He pushed the box into the cement,
then used a bottle to shove the box under the surface. We congratulated ourselves on a job well done.

  "Guys? I think I'm dying."

  "This is going to hurt like hell," I warned Alex, then picked him up like a baby. "Get the bucket, John."

  Doderberg grabbed the bucket of quick-set cement and followed me back to my apartment.

  Aftermath

  At my insistence, John Doderberg stuck around another day. I wanted to make sure there wasn't going to be any sort of retribution from Xyj'Ru's underlings. Fortunately they stayed true to form and the sudden loss of their leader meant they turned to infighting and defending their turf against other demon leaders. They were too busy to worry about us. Or maybe they were just glad that we'd sparked a regime change.

  The bruising on Alex's torso took less time to fade than the bruises that covered my arms and stomach. Eighty proof, high-octane, werewolf blood sped his recovery time, but the frequent blood loss did nothing for me, except make me an even cheaper drunk. Alex assured me that once I had recovered from his recovery I'd be drinking him under the table again. He was right.

  We decided to stay in Baltimore, in that crappy apartment above the strip club. The rent was great, the location was good, and the bartender downstairs pointed me in the direction of a cheap storefront for rent. Alex and I set up an antiques business. Just as a source of income and to make us a little bit more legit.

  John Doderberg stuck around, too. He and Alex are-- well, never mind what he and Alex are. I do my best to not think about it. Not that I care. I mean, it's not like I like Alex or anything.

  Anyhow, Baltimore should prove to be interesting. The city's got a long history and a violent past. I'm sure there's more than a few things hiding in people's closets (and wardrobes, steamer trunks, old clocks, tea sets, etc.) to keep me busy. I owe at least that much to Albert.