Evil Dark (2 page)

  "A fairy." Noonan shook his head. "Well, fuck me."

  "Listen, Noonan – is the fire department coming?"

  "Yeah, I had Chief Mertz on the horn a few minutes ago. They're sending a truck."

  "With the usual equipment for this kind of thing?"

  "Yeah, far as I know. What's it to you?"

  I took in a deliberate breath and let it out, cursing myself for getting involved in other people's problems, especially when the one with the real problem didn't even qualify as
people
.

  "Once the SFD gets here, I'll have a word with them," I said. "Then I'd like to go up there and see if I can talk to
him
."

  "You know the guy – or the fey, or whatever the fuck you call them?"

  "I don't think so, but it doesn't matter. I've had some experience with fairies. Look, if you want me to butt out, I will. But I think I can get him down from there alive."

  Noonan looked over my shoulder. "Fire truck's here." He returned his gaze to my face. "What the fuck, Markowski. You know these damn fairies better than I do – which in my case, is not at all. You think you can get the flitty bastard down, then go for it."

  I nodded. "Let me talk to whoever's commanding the truck, then I'll go on up."

 

About ten minutes later, I was leaning half out the twelfthfloor window that was closest to the suicidal fairy. The people in the law firm that owned the window weren't too happy about it, but I waved my badge at them and they'd let me though. I wondered if the jumper was one of their clients, who'd just got a look at his bill for legal services.

  Speaking loudly enough to be heard on the ledge, I said to the fairy, "Hey, how ya doing?"

  He didn't start when I spoke to him, fortunately – he'd probably heard me opening the window. He turned his head slightly in my direction and I could see that his eyes were shut tight – good.

  "If you have to ask that question of me in the present circumstances, then you are too stupid to comprehend any answer that I might give."

  I'd just been told to "fuck off" in Fairy. Yeah, they talk like that – most of them. I learned a new word from
Reader's Digest
a couple of months ago that I'd immediately thought applied perfectly to fairies –
supercilious
. This specimen of the fair folk was no exception.

  "Just a figure of speech," I said. "I am well aware of your predicament."

  "Oh, are you?" Yup – supercilious is the word, all right.

  "Well, the part that is visible to the eye," I said. "I'm sure there must be other matters I don't know about that have driven you to this… extreme situation."

  Now he had me talking that way – jeez.

  "Other matters, indeed. And I warn you – do not try to force me, or persuade me, off my current perch. I am not going back inside. For me, the only way out is down, and I shall take it as soon as I can gather my courage sufficiently."

  "Of course – I respect that. My name's Stan, by the way."

  He sighed dramatically, then said something in Fairy, followed by, "The closest name to mine in your language is… Butch."

  Butch. I felt the smile forming on my lips, but beat it back with an effort of will. He might open his eyes and see me.

  "Uh, Butch, I couldn't help but notice that your wings have been, um…"

  "Amputated. Removed. Hacked off. Is that what you are trying to say?"

  "Something like that. If you don't mind me asking, does that have something to do with your present… predicament?"

  "It has everything to do with it," he moaned.

  "I see," I said. "Or rather, I don't…"

  "The matter is none of your concern, human. Go away and leave me in peace. I will seek true, lasting peace soon enough."

  "Don't you want the other fey to know why you did it? Wouldn't you rather give your last act some meaning, so that others will understand what drove you to this?"

  He was quiet for several seconds before answering me.

  "I loved –
love
– a female of my kind who is a member of Queen Mab's court. Though I am but a common fey, she returned my love. She gave me the gift of her body – not once, but many times. We thought no one would ever find out." The way he said that last part was bitter enough to curdle milk.

  "I take it someone
did
find out."

  "Oh, yes – one of noble blood who also desired her but had been spurned – spurned for
me
. He wasted no time in bringing my
crime
to the attention of the Queen."

  "Messing around with a member of the Court is illegal, huh?"

  "It is considered an insult to the Queen herself – which makes it the most heinous of all crimes. My punishment – well, that you see before you."

  "Forgive a dumb question, but your wings will grow back, won't they?"

  "Yes, in a year – perhaps two. But the shame is eternal – that, and the loss forever of the one I love."

  Sounded like fairies were as fucked up as humans – just with fancier vocabulary.

  Now comes the hard part.

  My back to the window, I went ahead and put my butt on the sill and slowly pivoted my legs, until my feet were on the ledge. Then I carefully eased my head and shoulders through. That done, I gripped the window frame tight with one hand and slowly raised up to a standing position, my knees screaming the whole time. But finally I'd done it – I was standing on the ledge, maybe ten feet from the fucking fairy drama queen who had caused all this.

  As happens every time I'm in the process of doing something stupid, I started hearing from my gut.

  Then my brain decided to join the conversation.

  Shaddup.

  Now for the
real
hard part.

  Two feet wide, that ledge was – give or take an inch. People say "Everything's relative," and that sure is true. Two feet would be pretty impressive if it was, say, the length of my dick. But right now that ledge I was on seemed about as slim as my chances for sainthood.

  The fey opened his eyes for a second, saw what I was doing, then clenched them shut again.

  "What do you think you're
doing
, you fool?" he snapped. "If you try to manhandle me back inside, I will simply jump, and take you with me."

  "I wouldn't dream of it," I lied. "But I really want to understand your pain, your desperation, and I feel that I can only do that if I share this with you."

  Arms spread wide, palms flat against the concrete wall, I started edging toward him.

  "But why should you care?" he said.

  "Maybe I once fell in love with the wrong woman," I said. "And maybe, just maybe, I lost her forever. We may be more alike than you think, Butch."

  "You have rare understanding, for a human," he said.

  Another foot. Another. Almost there.

  "I understand more than you know," I told him.

  
Mistake
. He realizes my voice sounds too close. He opens those big blue eyes that they all have, stares at me in disbelief.

  "You
idiot
! What are you–"

  No point in stealth now. I shuffled toward him a couple more feet, then grabbed his wrist where it was pressed against the wall behind us. Butch gave something like a gasp.

  Then, after a quick mental prayer, I stepped forward into nothing – taking the screaming, flailing fairy right along with me, all the way down.

 

I never did get to Luigi's, but, on the plus side, I arrived for work ten minutes early. Who says clouds don't have silver linings?

  My partner was even earlier than me, for a change. Karl was absorbed in something on his computer monitor, but when I came in he glanced up, then did a double-take.

  "Jesus, Stan, what the fuck happened to
you
?"

  "Went flying with a fairy," I said. "Trouble is, neither one of us had wings."

  He looked at me for a couple of seconds. "OK, you don't get to dangle something like that in front of me without providing the details. So, spill."

  "Yeah, all right. I'll tell you as much of it as I can until McGuire sends us out on a call."

  "Oh, that's right," Karl said. "You haven't heard yet."

  "Heard what?"

  "Start of our regular shift is gonna be delayed for an hour or so. A couple of Feebies are in town, and they're putting on some kind of dog and pony show for us. McGuire says the detectives on every shift have to sit through it."

  "Oh, great. That means the FBI wants something from us."

  "It always does," Karl said. "One of them's kinda hot, though – in a hard-ass sort of way."

  "I hope you're talking about a woman here," I said. "Not that there's anything wrong, you know, if you're thinking about changing teams."

  "Hey, you're the one who was goin' on about flying with the fairies. Now, let's hear it."

  "All right," I said. "I left the house early tonight, with the idea of having a leisurely dinner at Luigi's…"

  We weren't interrupted by Lieutenant McGuire or anybody else, for a change, so I was able to tell him the whole thing.

  "Holy shit," Karl said, about eight minutes later. "You just grabbed him and
jumped
?"

  "Sure. I knew the fire department was going to set up some of those big, semi-inflated air bags they use at fires, in case somebody falls from a ladder. I saw them do it once for a jumper, too – about three years ago. I made sure they did it this time, too."

  "So, how'd you get all banged up?"

  "Aw, I hit the fucking bag face first. I don't do this kinda thing every day, you know. The impact got my nose bleeding, although it's not broken, they tell me. And they make those air bags out of pretty rough fabric – that's where the facial abrasions came from. It'll all heal in a few days."

  Karl shook his head. "What I don't get is why you even bothered, man. I mean, if the dude, uh, fairy's choices are either jump into an air bag or go back inside, he'll make up his mind by himself sooner or later. Either way, no harm."

  "I'm not so sure," I said. "If he was determined to off himself, he could've found a section of asphalt the air bags didn't protect. They don't have enough to cover the whole front of the building, you know. That's why I was glad he kept his eyes closed – he didn't see the air bags deployed down below until we were on our way down. And, besides…" I shrugged.

  "Besides what?"

  "I hate to see city resources tied up for hours over bullshit like that. That fire truck and those black-and-whites had more important things to do than wait for
Butch
to make up his fucking mind. It offended my sense of… I dunno, efficiency, I guess."

  "My partner thinks he's Batman," Karl said in mock despair. "And I thought I was the vampire on this team."

  "You are, and besides–"

  That was when McGuire came out of his office and yelled, "All right, everybody head to the media room. Let's go, people."

  There was a general shuffling of chairs and feet as detectives got up, most of them grumbling a little.

  "Time for the dog and pony show," Karl said.

  I walked with him to the door. "Didn't you tell me that you saw one of those once, in Tijuana – a dog and pony show?"

  "Nah, that was a donkey and a midget. A couple of chicks were involved, too, although it turned out one of them was a dude."

  "Hope this exhibition's gonna be better than that," I said.

  "It could hardly be worse."

  How wrong we were. How fucking wrong we were.

 

We sat in darkness for maybe half a minute. If we were watching old-tech VHS, I would have figured it was just leader tape we were looking at. But this was a DVD, which doesn't need blank space at the beginning. I guessed the darkness was part of the program – a way to build suspense, maybe. If so, it was working.

  Some people like total darkness – they say they find it restful. Me, I slept with a nightlight on when I was a kid, and I still do. Complete darkness freaks me out. I read once where Freud is supposed to have said that fear of the dark is subconscious fear of death, which the dark symbolizes. Of course, a lot of people think Freud was full of shit.

  Personally, I think it goes back to prehistoric times, before man figured out how to make fire. The blackness between sundown and sunrise must've been an uneasy time for Joe Caveman, especially when there was no moon. Most predators see better at night than people do. In the dark, a man can't tell what's creeping up on him with dinner on its mind – until it's too late.

  Some things never change, I guess.

  Suddenly, a light illuminated the video screen – bright and sudden, like you find on a film set. You know how it goes – some guy yells "Lights!" and,
boom
, the sun comes out. What I was looking at on the screen didn't exactly fill me with eager anticipation, however.

  The red circle, which was maybe ten feet across, looked like it had been carefully painted on the concrete floor. The five-pointed star inside it had also been done with care, probably by someone who understood the consequences of getting it wrong. It was easy to see the detail under those bright lights.

  Inside the circle squatted two heavy wooden chairs. One of them was stained and splattered along its legs and side with a brown substance. When it was fresh, the brown stuff might have been red – blood red.