“So, you want the Qomrama Om Ya,” he says. “What for?”
“I’m starting my own magic act. You know, like Doug Henning, but with more decapitations and better music.”
“Don’t get snippy with me, junior. I can be gone in a second and you can explain to your friends how you wasted their time and, from what it looks like, their blood.”
“I want it to use against the Angra. And to fuck with Aelita. Even if I never figure out how to use the thing, not letting her have it will be a little bit of satisfaction. Do you know where it is?”
He nods.
“Of course. I saw her hide it. Can you imagine how shocked I was to see that crazy bitch walk into my hidey-hole with the one thing in the universe that can kill me?”
“Where is it?”
“I’m not sure I’m going to say. You’re not the most trustworthy character on the planet.”
“And you are? If you won’t tell me, then tell the priest.”
“Why? He’s not even a priest anymore.”
“Once a priest always a priest. However you want to split hairs, it means he’s the sentimental, spiritual type. He might be mad at ghost dad, but in his heart of hearts he still loves him and doesn’t want to see him die. Tell the father and he’ll be the one who gets the 8 Ball and will have the final say on what happens to it.”
“How do I know you won’t take it from him?”
“I’m not the one you have to worry about. Keep your eye on Robby the Robot over there.”
We both look at Delon. He takes a step toward the bath like maybe he didn’t hear us right.
“I was wondering why you were lurking around here with one of those things.”
“Why don’t you ask it yourself?”
“Are you talking about me?” says Delon.
Nefesh looks at me.
“It doesn’t even know, does it?”
“It doesn’t have a clue.”
“Know what?” says Delon.
He pulls his pistol and points it at me, swings it to Nefesh, and then back to me.
“What are you up to? I’ve done what I’m supposed to do. I got us here.”
“Brigitte got us out of that dead end you walked us into. If you were still leading, we’d be somewhere south of Borneo by now.”
“Put the gun away, son,” says Nefesh.
“Son? A minute ago you called me ‘it.’ Why?”
“ ‘Son’ was just me being polite. And you can put the gun down or I can turn you into a pillar of fire where you stand.”
Delon swings the gun back to Nefesh again. He doesn’t know where to point the damned thing. After he thinks about it, he lowers it to his side. He looks at me.
“Why did he call me ‘it’?”
“Forget it. Let’s just finish the job and get out of here. You’ll give the Qomrama to the father, right?”
I look over at Nefesh.
“How will you keep it from Aelita?” he says.
“With the father’s permission, I can hide it in the Room of Thirteen Doors. She can’t get in there. Even you can’t get in there.”
He smokes the Malediction a bit more. Takes a couple of steps across the top of the water like he’s thinking.
“Come on,” I say. “Haven’t you spent enough time down here floating around like a rubber duck? Just give us the 8 Ball and you can blow this place. Go stay with Mr. Muninn in Hell. He’ll be happy to see you. He can use the company.”
Delon sprints across the baths, and when Candy isn’t looking, he grabs her from behind and puts his gun to her head.
“Someone is going to talk to me. If you’re really God and this isn’t one of Stark’s scams, then tell me why you said what you said.”
I say, “Let go of her, Delon. You’re not going to like how this ends.”
“I called you ‘it’ because that’s what you are,” says Nefesh. “I’m sorry no one told you earlier, but that’s how things are. You’re not a man. You’re a mechanism.”
Candy twists and slams her elbow into the side of Delon’s head. He gets off one shot but misses her. She goes Jade, her skin darkening, her teeth sharpening to shark knife points, and bites down on his wrist. Delon screams, smashing his fist onto the back of her head while she digs in her fangs. With one last deafening scream, his hand comes off. Candy knees him in the balls, and as he falls, she spits his hand at him. A few seconds later, she’s Candy again, panting and wiping his blood off her face with her T-shirt.
Delon cradles his mangled arm against his chest. When he gets the guts to look at it, he sees the steel armature poking out of his wrist. The pulleys and gears, all the delicate clockworks buried under his skin.
“Fuck. What did you do to me?”
“Me?” says Candy. “Go ask Atticus Rose, you prick.”
I start to tell him about Norris Quay. How he’s Geppetto and Delon is his Pinocchio. But even I don’t feel like rubbing it in to a guy who didn’t just lose a hand but his whole life.
Delon holds out the stump of his wrist to Nefesh.
“If you’re God, fix this.”
Nefesh drops the last inch of the Malediction in the water.
“You don’t want that arm fixed. You want me to make you real. Sorry to tell you, friend, but I’m not the Blue Fairy. The way things are these days, I’m barely me.”
Delon grabs his gun with the other hand and blasts a couple of rounds at Nefesh. Bullets kick up sprays of water as they pass right through him. Nefesh smiles and looks at me.
“That’s funny. I was expecting you to do that.”
“If you didn’t remind me of Mr. Muninn a little, I probably would have.”
Delon swings the gun around so it’s pointing at me. He struggles to his feet and walks toward me.
“You knew this all along and you didn’t say anything? Fuck you.”
Glass explodes at Delon’s feet. By the time he looks down, it’s too late. His legs have turned to a loose, powdery stone. As the effect moves up, he starts to collapse, his body unable to support its own weight. Vidocq stands behind him, another potion bottle in his hand. When he sees Delon go down, he puts the bottle away. Delon’s powdery remains slide into the bath, dissolve, and sink to the bottom as a faint red stain floats on the surface.
“You couldn’t have done that when he was back against the wall?” Nefesh says to Vidocq. “You had to get blood in my water.”
Brigitte says something to him in Czech. He says something back.
“What was that?” I say.
“I told him he was already swimming in blood,” says Brigitte. “He said I was a child and that I had no idea what it is to be a deity.”
“Mr. Muninn said that same thing to me.”
Traven says, “Are you going to tell us where to find the Qomrama?”
Nefesh looks down and takes a step back from the spreading red.
“You’re going to hate me if I tell you. Maybe we should play Twenty Questions. That way you’ll ease into the answer. What do you say, ex-priest?”
Traven shakes his head.
“I give up. I don’t care about the world or any of this anymore.”
“You were right,” says Nefesh. “He is a sentimentalist. Okay. I’ll tell you. Up in the lobby. Is there still a Christmas tree?”
“Yes,” I say.
“That’s where the Qomrama is. The ornament at the top of the tree.”
“Merde,” is the first thing I hear, then more curses echo around the room.
“I told you you’d hate me,” says Nefish.
I really want a drink.
“So, we could have been in and out of here in twenty minutes?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“This really is a nightmare,” says Traven.
“Keep it together, Father.”
I go to Candy and wipe off the last smears of blood on her face.
“Okay. The fucking thing is on the tree. How does it work?”
Nefesh comes across the surface of the water to the steps and walks out of the pool.
“Oh. I don’t think I’m going to tell you that.”
“It’s not going to do us much good against the Angra.”
“We’ll see if they make it this far. I’m not convinced. If they do, maybe then I’ll tell you.”