[Now, Shorts-you took something of mine just now, didn’t you?
Don’t try to deny it,-I know. And now you’re going to give it back.] The scalpel returned to Lois’s balloon-string; Atropos caressed it with the flat of the blade.
[You give it back or this bitch is going to die here in front of you-you can stand there and watch the sack turn black. So what do you say, Short Stuff? Hand it over.]
CHAPTER 26
Atropos’s smile shone out, full of repulsive triumph, and full ofFull of fear. He caught You flat-footed, he’s got his scalpel to Lois’s balloon-string and his ban around her throat, but He’s still scared to death. Why?
[Come on! Quit wasting time, shithead. Give me the ring!] Ralph reached slowly into his watchpocket and grasped the ring, wondering why Atropos hadn’t killed Lois outright. Surely he didn’t intend to let her-to let either of them-go.
He’s afraid I might hammer him with another one of those telepathic karate-chops. And that’s just for starters. I think He’s also afraid of screwing up. Afraid of the thing-the entity-that’s running him.
Afraid of the Crimson King. You’re scare of the boss, aren’t you, “/-l filthy little friend?
He held the ring up between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand and peeked through it again.
[“Come and get it, why don’t you? Don’t be shy.”
Atropos’s face knotted with rage. The expression twisted his nervy, gloating grin into a cartoon scowl.
[I’ll kill her, Shorts, didn’t you hear me? Is that what you want?] Ralph slowly and deliberately raised his left hand. He made a sawing gesture in the air with it, and was gratified to see Atropos wince when the edge of the palm turned momentarily toward him.
[“If you even nick her with that blade, I’ll hit you so hard you’ll need a pocket-knife to dig your teeth out of the wall. And that’s a promise.” [just give me the ring, Shorts.] They can’t lie, Ralph thought suddenly. I can’t remember if I was actually told that or just intuited it, but I’m sure it’s true-they can’t lie. I can, though.
[“I’ll tell you what, Mr. A. -promise me it’s a push and I’ll give it to you.”] Atropos gave him a narrow look in which doubt and suspicion were mingled.
[A push? What do you mean, a push?] [“Ralph, no."’] He glanced at her, then back at Atropos. He raised his left hand to scratch his cheek without considering how the gesture would look to the little bald doctor. The scalpel was pressed against Lois’s balloon-string again in a trice, this time hard enough to dent it and create a dark splotch at the point of contact. It looked like a bloodblister. Great beads of sweat stood out on Atropos’s brow, and when he spoke, his voice was a panicky shriek.
[Don’t you go throwing any of your cut-rate thunderbolts at me!
The woman dies if you do.”] Ralph lowered his hand in a hurry, then put both of them behind his back like a penitent child. Ed’s wedding ring was still folded into his hand, and now, almost without thinking about it, he tucked it into the back pocket of his pants. It was only then that he was completely sure he didn’t mean to give up the ring.
Even if it cost Lois her life-both of them their lives-he didn’t mean to give them the ring.
But perhaps it wouldn’t come to that.
“A push means we both walk away, Mr. A.-I give you the ring, you give me back my lady-friend. All you have to do is promise not to hurt her. What do you say?”] [“No, Ralph, no."’] What Atropos said was nothing. His eyes glittered at Ralph with leary, hateful impotence.
If ever in his long life he’d wished for the ability to lie, Ralph supposed he must be wishing for it at that moment. All it would take was Okay, it’s a deal, and the ball would be right back in Ralph’s court. But he couldn’t say that, because he couldn’t do that.
He knows he’s in a nasty corner, Ralph thought. It really doesn’t matter if he cuts her cord or lets her go-he must think I mean to flash-fry him in either case, and he’s not wrong.
How much damage can you actually do to him, sweetheart? Carolyn asked doubtfully from the place she kept inside his head. How much juice have you got left after cutting open the deathbag around the wedding ring?
The answer, unfortunately was not much. Maybe enough to singe his bald head, but probably not enough to saut amp; it. And Then Ralph saw something he didn’t like: the edge-of-panic quality in Atropos’s grin was being replaced by cautious confidence. And he felt those mad eyes crawling avidly over him-his face, his body, but mostly his aura.
Ralph had a sudden clear vision of a mechanic using a dipstick to find out how much oil was left in an automobile crankcase.
Do something, Lois begged him with her eyes. Please, Ralph.
But he didn’t know what to do. He was completely out of ideas Atropos’s smile took on a gloating, nasty edge.
[You’re unloaded, Short Stuff, ain’tcha? Gee, that’s sad.] [“Hurt her and you’ll find out, you sawed-off piece of shit.
Atropos’s grin went on widening.
[You couldn’t give a rat a hotfoot with what you’ve got left. Why don’t you just be a good boy and hand over the ring before I-”] [“Oh, you bastard."’] It was Lois. She was no longer looking at Ralph; she was looking across the room, into the mirror where Atropos no doubt checked the fit and tilt of his latest fashion accents-Rosalie’s bandanna, say, or Bill McGovern’s Panama. Her eyes were wide and full of fury, and Ralph knew exactly what she was seeing.
[“Those are MINE, you rotten little thief!” She shoved violently backward, using her greater weight to slam Atropos against the side of the archway. A startled grunt escaped him. The hand holding the scalpel flew upward; the blade dug dry scales of dirt from the wall.
Lois turned toward him, her face knotted in an angry snarl-a look so un-Our Lois that McGovern might have fainted in shock at the sight of it. Her hands clawed at the sides of his face, reaching for his ears.
One of her fingers dug into, his cheek. Atropos yapped like a dog whose paw has been stepped on, then grabbed her by the waist again and whirled her back around.
He turned the scalpel’s blade inward, getting ready to slash.
Ralph shook the forefinger of his right hand at it in a scolding gesture. A flash of light so pallid it was almost invisible shot out from the nail and struck the scalpel’s tip, momentarily knocking it away from Lois’s balloon-string. And that was all there was; Ralph sensed that his personal armory was now empty.
Atropos bared his teeth at him from over Lois’s shoulder as she bucked and twisted in his arms. She was not trying to get away, either; she was trying to turn and attack him. Her feet flailed out as she threw all her weight against him again, trying to squash him against the wall behind them, and without having the slightest idea of what he meant to do, Ralph lunged forward and dropped to his knees with his hands out. He looked like a manic suitor making strenuous marriage proposal, and one of Lois’s thrashing feet came close to kicking him in the throat. He snatched at the hem of her slip and it came free in a slithery little rush of pink nylon. Meanwhile, Lois was still yelling.
[“Miserable little thief! Here’s something for you! How do -you like it?”] Atropos uttered a squeal of pain, and when Ralph looked up, he saw that Lois had buried her teeth in his right wrist. His left hand, the one holding the scalpel, flailed blindly at her balloon-string, missing it by less than an inch. Ralph sprang to his feet and, still with no clear idea of what he was doing, pulled Lois’s pink half-slip over Atropos’s slashing hand… and his head.
[“Get away from him, Lois! Run!”] She spat out the small white hand and stumbled toward the barrelhead table in the center of the room, wiping Atropos’s blood from her mouth with atavistic loathing.
… but the dominant expression on her face was still one of anger.