Authors: R. S. Belcher
Nightwise (39 page)
As always, a pleasure doing business with you,
L
I looked up from the card, and the black roses were gone. I looked down and the card was gone too. Late-morning sun was falling through the windows, and it looked like spring had truly arrived. I hobbled toward the door; my wounds were stinging, and the drain was poking me too.
“Couldn't completely heal me, could you, you cheap SOB?” I muttered, and found myself laughing.
I opened the door and looked down into Pam and Bruce's living room. For a second I thought maybe I had died and this was Heaven, or maybe it would be pulled away from me in an instant, and I would realize the Devil had found his method of eternal torture.
In the living room were Bruce and Pam, of course; Grinner and a super preggers Christine; Ichi, looking exactly like he had the last time I had seen him; Didgeri; and a beaming Magdalena.
“Hi!” she said, looking up at me. “Look who's back.”
Everyone stood, except for Grinner, who yelled about trying to watch the TV and waved to me absently.
“Hey, bro,” he said, then went back to the tube. “See, I told you he'd be fine. Can't kill Elvis, baby.”
Pam made her way up the stairs, black bag in hand. Magdalena raced up ahead of her and hugged me. I winced.
“Easy⦔ I said. “I'm kind of duct-taped together.” Magdalena hugged me and kissed me gently on the cheek.
“You've been here for about two and a half weeks, since Torri brought you here, and Bruce called all of us to let us know,” Magdalena said.
“Torri?” I said. “Where is she?”
“She said she couldn't stay,” Bruce said. “Work.”
“You were touch-and-go,” Pam said. “But I'm pretty sure you are going to make it.”
Everyone settled down, and things fell back into pleasant chaos as Pam ordered me back to bed and everyone back downstairs to give me some peace.
I leaned against the rail and watched and smiled.
“So pleased with yourself,” Didgeri said. She hugged me gently, kissed me on the cheek, and walked away, shaking her head.
I was alive, living on credit. Hell, who isn't these days? I thought back to Boj and Harel and me. The Occult Rat Pack, the old band. I wish I had been able to give Harel a wish too. He deserved one. I guess everyone really does, but supply and demand says otherwise.
And now these people, trusting me when they damn well shouldn't, caring when they damn well shouldn't. I remembered what Harmon and I had talked about, about the true nature of life and the lesson it taught you.
“Who the hell has the remote?” I heard Grinner bellow.
“You shall get it back when your beautiful wife and I have concluded watching this
Bridezillas
program,” Ichi said. “And not a moment sooner.”
I watched a group of loners, freaks, oddballs, and outlaws enjoy the solace of not being lost in this cold, sharp world, at least not today. There was a treasure here more valuable than all of Harmon's gold, all of the Greenway's secrets, maybe even more valuable than being the most badass wizard alive. Maybe.
Anyone who has lived knows life is savage and unfair and cruel, painful in its irony. Everything we experience in this life is an exercise in loss and gain. We hang suspended between the two.
Perhaps for most of us it's not an equitable exchange between misery and joy, good and evil. In the end, we all know we rise and fall between debt and credit, windfall and loss. We hope God, or whatever it is that waits for us, is more forgiving than the tax man. We hope for mercy, or at least a not-too-thorough audit of our accounts.
However, it's up to us to balance the books while we can, and as always, it's better to go out in the black than in the red.
I felt the debts of winter in my bones, but the flowers were waiting in the garden, and for today, at least, it was spring.
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This book was a long time coming. Writing it helped me to cope with an awful event in my family's life. I want to thank so many for their love, patience, and support during that journey.
Thank you to Leslie Barger, who was the first person to read this novel in its earliest form and gave me encouragement to finish the short story and make it into a novel. To Velvet Vernon, a brilliant editor, who saw the embryonic version of this book and saw potential there, and to Heidi Schmidt, who was a huge and passionate advocate that “The Greenway” should see print. I am in debt to all three of you for your kindness, talent, and belief in my words, even when I didn't believe in them.
I also want to thank my agent, Lucienne Diver, for immeasurable support in the writing of this novel and for believing in it, and me, enough to make its publication a reality. You are more than a wonderful agentâyou are a wonderful person. Thank you.
As always, to my children, Jon, Emily, and Stephanie, who give my life its greatest happiness. You're my strength and my comfort. I love you.
To Katherine Milliner and Michelle Jirout, for joining our dysfunctional little family. Thank you for making it better and brighter. You are loved, and you always have a home here.
To my mother, Mable Belcher, and my sister, Vickie Ayers, who raised me through their own sorrows and losses, challenges, and struggles and always made me feel loved and supported. I count myself lucky to have had two such amazing people as my parents.
To my grandmother, Beulah Swansonâthe real-life inspiration for Ballard's granny. She was always kind, wise, and strong in her faith and in her love for her family. We love you and miss you, Granny.
To Joyce Wallace, for her enduring and fierce love of my children and her love of life. You are a wonderful grandmother to my kids. Thank you.
To my awesome beta readers: Faye Newsham, Susan Lystlund, David Lystlund, and Kim LaBrecque, thank you for all the hard work and tough love.
Thank you to the unflappable Greg Cox, the incomparable Diana Pho, and the amazing Adynah Johnson of Tor Books, for all the support and assistance in every aspect of this novel.
To Steve Franco, Tim Delano, and Charles Kalanik: You saw me through so many good times and bad times, and I am honored to call you my friends and my brothers.
And finally, to Karen Bess Carter, James, Jenna, and Chelsea Carter, and Russ Bess for making me part of your family in its darkest hour. And to Jareth Saundersâyou were your momma's life, her breath, and her greatest pride and joy, and you always will be. Torri Lyn is loving and kissing you all, and always will, in the gallery of memory.
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R. S. B
ELCHER
is the acclaimed author of
The Six-Gun Tarot
, which made several year's ten-best fantasy lists, and
The Shotgun Arcana
. He is a former newspaper and magazine editor and reporter, and lives in Salem, Virginia. You can sign up for email updates
here
.
    
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BOOKS BY
R. S. BELCHER
Nightwise
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Contents
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
NIGHTWISE
Copyright © 2015 by R. S. Belcher
All rights reserved.
Cover illustration by Trevillion Images
Cover design by FORT
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
Tor
®
is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to [email protected]
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Belcher, R. S.
    Nightwise / R. S. Belcher.âFirst edition.
          p. cm.
    “A Tom Doherty Associates book.”
    ISBN 978-0-7653-7460-8 (hardcover)
    ISBN 978-1-4668-4274-8 (e-book)
    I. Title.
PS3602.E429N54 2015
813'.6âdc23
2015015284
e-ISBN 9781466842748
First Edition: August 2015