Giving Him Hell_A Saturn's Daughter Novel Read online

  That didn’t mean the building was secure or comfortable. But it was empty, had four walls, and a roof. It had possibilities—if one ignored bats, stenches, and mysterious wails in the cellar. I’d lived with partying college students, screaming sirens, and rodents and been homeless the better part of my life. Now that I had a place of my own, I couldn’t let the Zone’s idiosyncrasies scare me. Sarah and corpses had put me off yesterday, but I needed to do something about sealing up the cellar.

  I carted a few boxes of gnomes to the cellar door to block it—until my arm ached worse than my head. I kicked a few more over to reinforce the barricade. The Force could wail all it liked, but it would have a lot of concrete to deal with if it tried to get out.

  I had an insane dream of a little community of enterprises in this big empty space. I liked having people around me. I needed the human interaction to get outside the weirdnesses in my head.

  So when Sarah showed up later and asked if she could rent a room, I didn’t automatically yell hell no.

  Logically, I knew I should. No kitchen, right? Limited toilets. And she had eventually turned into a chimp.

  But she’d been severely provoked, so maybe that didn’t count as much. The fact remained that Sarah thought she was steadier up here.

  Justice was a bitch to deal with.

  “Just a room for sleeping in?” I asked warily, leading her around the maze of hallways. “It’s probably not good to have cosmetics stacked up in the bathroom of a professional office.”

  “You don’t use the upstairs,” she pointed out, taking the stairs in question to the second floor. “I could put in an air mattress in the office next to the restroom up here. I eat at Chesty’s anyway. I don’t need much.”

  That was pretty sad, but really, not my problem. “You were nearly mugged by an intruder the one night you slept here. Why would you want to live here?”

  “But I killed him,” she said with relish. “And I got great hair. The way you attract trouble, you’ll probably have more intruders. I can kill them, too. I’ll be your guard dog.”

  Ah, now I got it. Silly me. Sociopath at work. But instead of hiring the fictional Dexter, I would be renting space to a black widow spider. Swell.

  I thought of the stoned Nazis in the office downstairs. What if they started coming back to life as the frogs had? Sarah would call them intruders and kill them.

  Really, I think too much. “I can’t have the police out here all the time,” I said sternly. “If that’s your only reason for renting, then forget it. No more violence.”

  “Okay, okay.” She gestured dismissively and studied an office suite that overlooked my apartment and Andre’s. “I just want to get over this chimp stuff and change my life around like you have. Living outside the Zone could be my chance.”

  When she put it that way . . . I still didn’t believe it. But I’d laid out my rules, and I couldn’t argue if she wanted to stalk Andre. “I’m thinking the Zone makes us better if we behave better, if we try to fit in,” I warned. “If you want to try, have at it. There’s a back exit you can use so you don’t disturb my office. I’ll get a key made.”

  That’s how Sarah and I ended up spending the weekend painting my office slate blue and her room a pale pink. I hate pink, but that was her choice. She’d probably install a cute white princess bed next.

  Milo prowled the halls, occasionally bringing me gifts of mice. As long as they weren’t bats, I was okay with that. I decided a smaller coffeepot was more practical than an urn and installed a two-buck Goodwill one in my private office off the lobby. I admired the blue walls and white trim and added a navy blue and maroon silk sash above the window for color. I bought—paid full price, mind you—a shade to fit the window so I could work when it was dark without the world seeing me.

  I found a fireproof safe on Craigslist and sent a friend with a truck over to get it. If Sarah was living in my office, I needed a place to lock up sensitive records.

  Deciding that if Sarah could live with the Force in the cellar without a qualm, that I could, too, I unpacked a few of the gnome boxes still sitting by the front door. The statues were easier to lift one at a time. I distributed them around the building in dark corners. I patted them on their gnarly heads and called them my guardian angels and prayed like crazy they’d wake up and run away and never return.

  The Graham Young gnome I put on the building’s flat roof and hoped he’d fall over the edge if he woke up. He needed to know what it was like to live with the elements, like the vagrants he’d tried to toss into the cold.

  Sunday evening, Andre arrived with a Christmas tree.

  “The mayor is throwing this out,” he announced, apparently promoting his mother to a higher rank than neighborhood representative. He looked almost defensive when I stared in amazement at the seven-foot fake monstrosity. “Julius and I have been using it, but she wants a real one.”

  “That makes sense,” I agreed, studying plastic branches with built-in lights. I was pretty sure the lights were pink and purple. “Thank you, I think. The place could use a little holiday décor.”

  “We’ve called a meeting at the mansion for nine tomorrow.” He dropped the heavy tree in a corner near the front lobby window, then looked for a place to plug it in. “Paddy and MacNeill will be there representing Acme, plus Dane and the doctor behind MSI.” He shot me an evil glare. “For some odd reason, they can’t find MSI’s chief executive.”

  Because he was languishing on my roof. I shrugged, not even bothering to play innocent. “And someone from the EPA, I hope?”

  Andre scowled. “Your boyfriend pulled the strings, so yeah, the feds will be there. You’re invited, of course, along with our new Zone representative.”

  “The senator is not my boyfriend,” I said reflexively. “You probably know Dane better than I do.” Of course, I knew Max better than Andre did, but the mix that was the senator was a puzzlement I couldn’t intelligently discuss. “I don’t want to be there, but given Hell’s Mansion, I probably ought to be.”

  “Right. They may need a few more garden gnomes,” he said with his usual sarcasm. Then he plugged in the Christmas lights and glared at me. “I don’t want Katerina involved. She just doesn’t realize what’s happened to the Zone since she went comatose.”

  “I can’t make your mother stay home, Andre. She has to make a new life for herself. And she isn’t dumb. She’s spent some time in a different dimension and has to know the world is more than what we see in front of us. You just have to decide at what point you’re going to tell her that the Zone is cracked, and she’s defending monsters.”

  He ran his hand through his glossy black hair and glared at the blinking pink and purple tree lights. “Maybe the EPA is right. Maybe they should raze the place and dig out the dirt.”

  “What color are the manholes tonight?” I asked cynically. “You want to send innocent workers down those hellholes? You want construction people crushed by angry Dumpsters or suffer heart attacks when the statues throw darts? What if displaced gargoyles move uptown? And then you want some smug fascist to build a medical clinic on that ground to experiment with the dangerous chemicals that started all this?”

  “Thanks for making it clear, Clancy,” he snarled, advancing on me. “You do have a way with words.”

  I wanted him to hold me too badly. I put up a hand to stop him. “Maybe Papa Saturn will give us a solution for Christmas. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  He studied me for a minute, letting the tension smolder. He knew I wouldn’t protest too hard if he applied his moves on me. But he probably remembered Friday night’s discussion better than I did. “Merry Christmas, Clancy.” He strode out.

  I needed to turn myself into stone.

  ***

  Monday morning, I rode the Harley out to Ruxton. Yeah, I know it’s unprofessional to arrive wearing leather pants, knee-high boots, and Max’s biker jacket—since mine was being mended. So, sue me. Nothing good had ever come of a visit to the Mansion. T
his time, I came prepared.

  Besides, I needed an edge to deal with silver foxes in suits. They needed to know I wasn’t one of them, even if I am a full-fledged, card-carrying lawyer. And Max’s soul needed to see the rebel Justine, not the white-collar female in his Senator Dane fantasy.

  It was kind of cool boldly roaring up to that guard booth where my swarthy self hadn’t been welcome when Gloria was alive. The guy at the gate simply waved me through.

  The circular drive was lined with limos and expensive sedans. Heaven forbid that they share a car.

  If I was polite, I’d have to find an empty place in the north outer forty and freeze my tush off walking up the drive. Instead, I parked the bike near the pretentious portico, among the azaleas.

  Pulling off my helmet and letting my shampoo-model hair swing free, I held up my ID to the guard at the door. He looked disapproving, but in my experience, that’s the normal face of authority. He ushered me in.

  I followed the sound of voices and the trail of armed security guards across the three-story atrium where Gloria had so ignominiously popped her head like a pumpkin. I avoided looking at the marble tile where she’d briefly turned into a demon before she gave up her rotten soul. The memory was seared firmly in my neurons without any reminder, thank you very much.

  I entered the ginormous dining hall on the right side of atrium.

  Picture this: Shrimpy me in black biker leather, mink shampoo-ad hair swinging in all its glory, helmet under my arm, and Milo peering out of my newly-acquired black leather backpack as I posed in the doorway. And a luxurious, chandeliered room full of silver foxes in tailored suits and designer ties, all hobnobbing and rubbing elbows—falling silent and staring.

  Even Katerina in her wheel chair, wearing a silk bow on her navy blouse, her gorgeous blue-black hair pinned into a chignon, turned and stared. I smiled and waved at her. She almost smiled back.

  Max/Dane looked a little stunned. Senator Dane Vanderventer was a hunk and a half—his thick chestnut hair framed a strong jaw, cleft chin, and deep blue eyes gleaming with interest. His broad shoulders filled his suit nicely. He towered almost a foot over me. But Max’s soul glowed from those eyes, and I could see his appreciation. That’s what I’d been aiming for.

  “Hi, I’m Justine Clancy, unofficial attorney for the Zone neighborhood association until we have time to petition for representation on the city council.” I let that bombshell sink in while I chose a chair at the table beside Katerina. I glanced at Andre, who was playing it cool, as if he’d known I’d drop a bomb. He took a chair across from us. “Has everyone been introduced but me? Then let’s settle in, gentlemen. I don’t have all day to waste.”

  Every person in there was older, richer, and more powerful than me. I figured that gave me leverage to be rude.

  “You’re supposed to play nice, Tina,” Katerina whispered as the others began jockeying for position.

  “They don’t,” I reminded her. “Every damned one of them is here to throw his weight around. I don’t have weight. I’m here to keep them unbalanced.”

  She gazed at me approvingly. “Times really have changed. I’ll keep that maneuver in mind.”

  Two women against a table full of men. I wiggled my fingers at Andre and made him scowl.

  Senator Dane stood at the head of the table and made official introductions once everyone settled in. Dr. Abdul Bakir, MSI’s representative, had positioned himself at Dane’s right hand. Brown, bald, and bearded, wearing an unflattering gray suit, he didn’t look comfortable, but his dark eyes glowed with determination. He’d obviously drunk the Kool-Aid and meant to save the world.

  Paddy, our neighborhood mad scientist and also Dane’s father, looked decidedly uncomfortable in his rumpled suit, but at least he’d had his hair cut and had bothered to shave. He’d be a silver fox if I hadn’t seen him with food in his beard.

  Former Senator Michael MacNeill had apparently elected to represent Acme’s board of trustees. He’d helped me get my law license, and he was Max’s father, but he’d been involved in shady dealings that had got him ousted from office, and Max hadn’t trusted him, so I didn’t. The man was more weasel than fox.

  The EPA rep looked like a lawyer. He practically snarled at me as he produced a briefcase just spilling over with documents. From a legal standpoint, I couldn’t blame the man, so I just smiled at him, too. That startled the shit out of him. He dropped a file folder and had to scoop up the contents. Let him be as conflicted as I was.

  “Ladies, gentlemen,” Dane said, silencing the rattling papers and murmurs. “For good or ill, I’m here to represent the heritage my grandparents left to me. I’ve established the Gloria Vanderventer Foundation to make restitution for the damage done to the environment by that heritage.”

  Nice, Max. He’d been using me to spy on Acme and the Zone when he was still alive. Now he had it all in the palm of Dane’s hand, with the power to crush every peon who disagreed with him. I waited.

  Gloria didn’t.

  The smell of gas flashed through the glittering room seconds before the crystal chandelier flamed on and the windows blew out.

  Thirteen

  I wouldn’t have been surprised if the flaming chandelier had cackled.

  I grabbed Katerina’s wheelchair and shoved her for the door while she grimly clung to the chair arms, and the room erupted in chaos.

  On my own, I might have stayed to watch the show, but Katerina had suffered enough at the hands of the Vanderventers. I needed to remove her from Gloria’s malevolence.

  Andre vaulted over the enormous shiny dining table, seized his mother in his arms, and ran faster than I could push.

  “Welcome to the Zone!” I shouted at the elegant men brushing embers from their hair, their belongings, or their burning suits. I grabbed Paddy’s arm to keep him from standing there, studying the phenomenon, and pelted after Andre as more fiery debris spewed from the ceiling.

  No fire erupted in the vast foyer. Dane was shouting orders at his security guards and already had a fire extinguisher in hand. That was my Max, always prepared, even wearing a senator’s suit.

  Torn, I had to release Paddy to grab the extinguisher from the senator. I shoved the canister into a guard’s hands, swatted Dane’s muscled shoulder, and pointed toward the door. “She’s after you, remember? Get your ass out of here before the whole place comes down around our heads.”

  The safety of others would appeal to Dane’s inner Max faster than his own safety. Proving he was still my guy, he caught my arm and practically dragged me outside to prevent all Gloria from breaking loose.

  Once we were on the lawn, I could see that Katerina had insisted on being returned to her feet rather than lugged around like a sack of potatoes. She was leaning heavily on Andre, but she was fine and observing the scene with acute interest. She had every right to be entertained by watching our opponents prance about patting out their charred clothes or just generally cursing.

  Many of the curses were directed at us. The foxes had apparently decided the Zone representatives had perpetrated a magic trick to scare them. I understood their problem with our reality.

  Paddy wasn’t on the lawn. He hadn’t followed us out. I sighed and shook off Dane’s grip. “Your father is probably inspecting the chandelier to see how you did that. I’ll go get him. You . . . stay here.” I met his frown, forcing him to recognize what I couldn’t repeat again in a crowd.

  The good senator glared, but he was far from dumb. He found another use for his energy by ordering his security guards to call the fire chief and electricians.

  This had once been Paddy’s home. He’d grown up here with his insane mother. I could hardly blame him for turning out weird. I did blame him for leaving his son Dane behind for Gloria to raise.

  Inside, one of the men holding a fire extinguisher reported the fire was out—for now. If Gloria had learned to inhabit electric wires, then the Mansion wasn’t long for this world. Neither was Max, if he stayed.

  Lea
ther doesn’t burn well, so my clothing had emerged relatively unscathed for a change. My hair smelled, so I assumed it had been charred. I trotted back inside, ordered one of the guards to take the wheelchair out to Katerina, and found Paddy staring at the blackened ceiling.

  “I could have sworn I saw my mother in those flames,” he said. “Maybe I should retire.”

  “You did see your mother.” I didn’t add that he might have seen his son as well. He still thought the Dane outside was his son with a new and improved conscience. I didn’t want to disillusion him. “She’s been haunting Dane since her death. That’s why his condo burned. But usually she inhabits gas lines.”

  Paddy looked briefly startled, then a little grayer, a little more wrinkled, until his formidable mind kicked in, and he straightened. He’s a pretty tall guy, if not as powerfully built as Dane. He could be impressive when he wanted. He studied the hole where the chandelier had been.

  “Gas lines? This is an old house. It had gas lighting at the turn of the century. There are probably still lines in there. We’d better get out before the whole place blows.” He started for the door. Unlike his son, he didn’t grab my arm and drag me with him.

  I tagged along anyway. “I think she’s trying to kill Dane. And maybe Andre. I doubt she’ll expend any energy when they’re not in range.”

  “That’s not physically possible, you realize,” he admonished, ever the practical scientist.

  “Neither is blue neon without electricity or snakes materializing from tattoos,” I reminded him as we reached the portico. “I think we’re dealing with a different dimension.”

  When in doubt, hand a scientist string theory. They lap it right up. Paddy’s expression revealed instant absorption in this new idea.

  Of course, Andre joining us just as we approached Dane spoiled my trip into reality land. Andre handed Dane a neat computer printout. “Exorcists,” he said curtly. “Also a voodoo priest, a witch, and a warlock.”