“Why is your nose funny?” Lacey was asking.
“It got banged,” Killer said. He spoke to her as though she were an adult, and Lacey was responding to that. “But it’ll get better soon.”
“Who banged it?” she demanded, frowning.
“A friend of mine. We were playing with big sticks. He banged my nose, and I banged his head. I banged harder than he did.”
Lacey thought about that. “Then what did you do?” she asked. Jerry caught Ariadne’s eye and smiled.
“I put him over my shoulder and carried him to the hospital,” Killer said. “He got better, and we went off and had a party.”
“You bad man?” Alan asked.
“Very bad,” Killer said. “Grrrrr!”
“Grrrrrrrrrrr!” Alan replied in great delight and innocently tipped the rest of his milk over Killer.
Ariadne swore loudly and grabbed up a towel which was lying on the counter.
“No problem,” Killer said softly. “I’m waterproof.” He wiped the shirt with the back of his hand, and a few last drops ran down his jeans and fell off. Puzzled, she went and sat down. Waterproof undershirts?
Lacey had been studying him. “Did the tooth fairy give you money for all those teeth you’ve lost?”
“No,” said Killer.
“Did the tooth fairy give you money for the one you lost?”
“She gave me a quarter.” Jerry giggled and wiped onion tears from his eyes. “Lacey, if the tooth fairy gave Killer money every time he lost a tooth, then she wouldn’t have any money left for good people like you. He’s very careless with his teeth, is Killer.” He paused and then said, “Killer? Show us your beautiful smile again. Ariadne, take a look at this.” Killer grinned up from the chair, and Jerry used his big knife like a pointer, as though he were demonstrating on a dissection. “See there? And there? New teeth coming in. See that? Broken tooth, but it’s rounded, not rough. It’s healing. Those two are still jagged because he only broke them yesterday. They’ll all be back to normal in a couple of days— unless he gets kicked in the mouth again first, which he usually does.” Such things were just not possible. She stared at the teeth incredulously, avoided Killer’s mocking eyes, and turned to Jerry.
“He… his teeth heal?”
Jerry nodded and went back to his cooking. “His nose will be straight as a ruler inside a week. I hate him to hear me say this, but it’s quite a handsome nose when it gets the chance.” She shivered and fetched a chair and sat down by the range, not too close to Killer and his burdens, and stared at the chinks of firelight. Heal teeth? Maybe it wasn’t she who was having D.T.s. Lacey examined Killer’s teeth, and he growled and pretended to bite her fingers.
“The scar doesn’t change,” Jerry remarked. “I never found out why. Why is that, Killer? Why that one scar?”
Killer shrugged. “No idea. I’ve had it as long as I can remember. Perhaps since I was born.” Killer was a puzzle. He seemed barely more than a boy, but now she could sense a strange solidity in him that was far from boyish. Incredibly she heard her own voice saying, “And when was that, Achilles? When were you born?” He frowned at her, and she raised her eyebrows— this time she would make the challenge.
He accepted, held her gaze with some amusement, and said quietly, “I’m not sure. In the sixty-ninth Olympiad.” Huh?
And Jerry was looking very thoughtful and, perhaps, pleased, as though she had wormed a secret out of his friend. “In Thespiae, right?” he demanded.
Killer hesitated and nodded.
“A city renowned for its shrine to Eros?” Jerry asked, baiting him. Killer glanced at the children and then said, “Damned right,” with a grin, implying that ‘damned’ was not the word he had in mind.
“Famous for its fighting men, also?”
Killer’s face went crimson with sudden anger, and the tall man was instantly wary, almost nervous. He said, “Sorry— shouldn’t pry. It doesn’t mean anything now, Killer.” What doesn’t? They were talking on their own band, these two.
“It does to me,” Killer growled and then switched on his smile for Lacey— to heck with adults! “Shall I sing you a song, Lacey?” he asked.
“What ‘bout?” demanded Lacey and airily handed her empty glass to her mother.
“About the place where I live,” Killer said. “It’s a very nice place. It’s called Mera. It’s the place where the sun always shines, and there’s lots of good things to do and nice people to do them with, and nobody ever gets sick or grows old. Okay?”
“‘kay,” Lacey said.
And in a surprisingly fair baritone, Killer sang:
There was silence. Perhaps this kid wouldn’t be so bad on the subway after all— certainly he would scare away any other muggers. Was that why he was here now?
“That’s very good, Killer,” Jerry said, “Whose is that?”
“Clio’s,” Killer said without looking up. “See, Lacey? Mera is the land where wishes come true. What would you wish for, Lacey, if you lived in Mera?”
“Peggy,” said Lacey. “He’s my pony.”
“Isn’t that a girl’s name?”
“He’s a boy!” Lacey insisted. “It’s short for Pegasus, ‘cos Pegasus was a pony with wings, but Peggy doesn’t have wings, but I pretend he does. I would wish that he did have real wings.”
“I going to get a pony soon!” Alan announced. “Daddy promised when I’m three.”
Killer looked doubtful. “You’re too little to ride a pony.”
“Am not!”
Alan swung around and appealed to higher authority. “Mommy! You tell Killer that I ride gooder than Lacey.” She hadn’t heard of the promise, but it sounded credible, and his birthday was only a few weeks off. On her money, without alimony, the only rides the kids would get would be on buses.
“He’s very good,” she said.
“Quite fearless.” Alan said, “See?” belligerently.
“Okay,” Killer said. “The wings might be too big a wish, but if you come to Mera you can both have ponies, and there are lots of grassy places to ride them.” He looked around at Ariadne and put on his sleepy look. “And what would Mommy wish for?” He had been talking at her all along, of course, and Jerry was watching.
“Peace and quiet,” she said.
“But there are lots of exciting things to do there,” Killer said, “and nice people to do them with. You should let me take you there and show you.”
Not likely!
“And how does one get to this Mera?” Ariadne asked. “What airlines fly there?”