The Devil Is a Gentleman (17 page)

“Jesus, Gage,” I said. “Let up, will you?” Janis slid the drink across to me and went back to her stoop. I grabbed it and stalked over to the booth by the door. Sam was watching me. I sat down across from him. “When were you going to tell me?” I said.

He frowned. “Tell you what?” he said. His nostrils flared. “And why do you reek of angelwine?”

“Knock it off,” I said. “When were you going to tell me what you are?”

“It doesn’t really come up in polite conversation, does it?” he said. But he looked pained as he said the words.

“This isn’t some goddamn dinner party, Sam,” I said. I took a drink of the whiskey. It was smooth. “How does it work?” I said.

“How does what work?”

“What you do,” I said. “How do you do it?”

“I don’t actually kill them, if that’s what you mean,” he said, indignant. “My part comes after they die. I guide them across. It’s quite simple.”

“I’ve never seen you,” I said. “And I’ve seen a lot of dead people.”

“I choose to remain invisible usually,” he said. He looked uncomfortable. “I don’t exactly look the same when I go through that door.”

“Invisible to the living?”

“And the dead,” he said. “Unless it gives them comfort. But it rarely does anymore.”

“What do you look like?” I said. “Out there, I mean.”

“How do you think?” he said. “It’s not pretty, I’ll tell you that.”

“So with all the ghosts stuck here
—
”

“I’ve not been able to do my duty,” he said. “It’s maddening, really.”

“But I’ve helped people cross over,” I said. “I thought I was, anyway.”

“Yes,” he said. “I’ve seen you.” He narrowed his dark eyes. “It isn’t usual, you know. To have such a gift.”

“It’s not a gift,“I said. “I just tell them to let go.”

“Indeed. And do the job of Death.”

I looked down into my drink. “Is that why you hired me?” I said. ” Are you training me to be your lovely assistant?”

“No,” he said without hesitating. But he continued to scrutinize me. “I watched you, though. A few times. I often feel that this world is so dismal. Everyone works so hard to feel nothing here. You, too, Niki, don’t try to deny it.”

“I’m not denying,” I said. I sipped my drink.

“But when I would watch you, and you were helping these lost souls to find their way, you felt such pain and sadness for them. Like you were taking on their torment so they could continue. You didn’t help them often, but I don’t think it’s because you didn’t want to. I think it’s because you couldn’t. It hurts you, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I said.

“But you do it anyway. Watching you was like seeing color in a sea of gray.”

“Jesus,” I said. “How long did you watch me?”

“Long enough,” he said, finally looking away.

“Stalker,” I said.

“I have the peculiar ability,” Sam said, “to look into people and surmise who they are, what they want, what they’ve done. You’re a walking contradiction. It intrigued me.”

“It’s still stalking, buddy,” I said.

He laughed. “I suppose so,” he said.

“Sam?” I said, looking back down at my barely-drunk glass. “Do you know when someone’s going to die? Just by looking at them, I mean.”

“Good god,” he said. “That’s a terrifying thought. To see every person’s death? No, that’s not my burden. I don’t find out until they’ve died. And then I help them.”

“How do you do it?” I said. “There’s so much, is it just you?”

“Time isn’t really a constraint for me,” he said.

“So you can go back and forth?” I said. “Past and future?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever saved anyone?” I said.

“No,” he said. “What would be the point in that?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “If you didn’t think someone should die that day. Like JFK, or Jesus.”

“No,” he said. “It never occurred to me.”

I sighed and took another drink, a long, lingering one. “An angel died tonight,” I said. “He passed on. Why was the angel allowed to move on, but all these others can’t?”

“Only humans are affected by the block,” he said. “Not angels. Not demons. Remember Abaddon passing on?”

“Will it ever be over?” I said.

“Everything ends,” he said softly. “Just a matter of time.”

“I have a sister,” I said. I didn’t know why I was telling him, but it felt good to say it. Just the act of telling made it less heavy in my chest. “Had a sister,” I corrected myself. “She’s probably dead now. It was her fault the angel died.”

“I’m sorry, Niki. How did she die?”

“She was hooked up to the angel,” I said. My mouth tasted bitter, like bile. “Do you know why? Because The Blood fed her angelwine her whole life, until she couldn’t function without it pumping directly into her veins. She was just a baby. Her whole life in a metal box. Can you imagine? My father, Sasha, it turns out he wasn’t on some useless rampage. He was exacting justice. At least how he saw it. All those people, they knew what was happening to Natalie. They did nothing.” I glanced at Sam who was just watching me quietly. “I know what you’re going to say. He shouldn’t have killed them.”

Sam frowned. “I’m not one to judge right from wrong,” he said. “If he thought it was right, then maybe it was. You wish he was here.”

“Did you peer into my soul to find that?” I said.

“No,” he said. “I didn’t have to.” I looked at his face. His eyes shifted.

“I miss him, Sam,” I said. “I barely know him but I miss him.”

“It’s a frustrating feeling,” he whispered. He looked over at Gage, who was talking to Janis. Janis suddenly laughed raucously. “Where is Mr. Cooper?” Sam said.

“Eli?” I said. I took a swig of whiskey. “He’s off to say his goodbyes. He’s going back to Hell. Imagine, someone going to Hell on purpose.”

“Everyone that goes to Hell does it on purpose,” he said. “It’s all intention. Even the afterlife.”

“He wanted to marry me,” I said. “Take me back with him.”

“What was your answer?” he said.

“Take a wild guess.” I took a drink. “He was angry.”

“He was hurting,” said Sam. “It was different for him. Anyone could see that he loved you.”

“Did you look inside him?” I said.

“No, but I saw you together. He would have done anything for you.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe I’m not capable of love anymore. I used it all up. Maybe I let the world change me. Maybe I’m just a cold thing now.”

“No,” said Sam.

I remembered something Natalie said. “My sister,” I said. “She was half crazy, but she saw things. She could hear thoughts and see things before they happened. She said there would never be anyone for me. Do you think that’s true?”

“Perhaps,” he said. “Would it bother you?”

“Shouldn’t it?”

“It would bother most people,” Sam said. “But I think it’s a relief to you.”

“Relief?”

“Yes. How do you feel about not having to worry about Mr. Cooper? About not being responsible for him?”

“I feel sad for him.”

“Besides that,” said Sam. “Dig deeper.”

I looked at him and frowned. “Honestly?” I said. Sam nodded. “I feel lighter. Like he was a weight on my shoulders. Does that make me a bad person?”

“No,” he said. “Only practical.” He leaned forward. “I know you won’t listen, Niki, but I would ask you a personal favor.”

“Yeah?”

“Stay away from The Blood.”

“You know I can’t promise that,” I said. “Why? Don’t tell me they’re connected to you, too.”

“Of course not. I find them repugnant. I only worry, that’s all.”

I smiled. “You’re worried?” I said. “About me?”

“I always worry for you, Niki,” he said. “You always seem to get into the most delicious trouble. But this time, the trouble may be more than you can handle.”

“No matter what I do, they’re trying to kill me,” I said. “I’m not going to wait around for that.”

“I could protect you,” said Sam. “For what it’s worth.”

“Thanks,” I said. “But I’m going to have to deal with this.”

“This is more dangerous than anything you’ve done in the past,” said Sam. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Well, I guess you might have some more stalking to do,” I said.

Waking up in my own bed seemed strange. After the events of the last few days, the silence of my own apartment made me uncomfortable. I started the coffee and showered and dressed. I turned on the television, bracing myself for more bad news. I wasn’t disappointed.

A perky blonde woman with a wide smile and terrified eyes was sitting behind the anchor desk. Her cleavage jiggled as she spoke. “…and Congressman Dorrance is firm in his belief that the American citizens will be much safer after the arrests are completed. Abnormals on the Registry are encouraged to turn themselves in before the police scour the city. Homes and property will go towards beautifying the city. In other news…”

I clicked off the television and looked at my jacket, draped over the back of a kitchen chair. I reached in the pocket and pulled out the vial and sat down on the couch. I stared into it, turning it this way and that. It was metallic, almost. There was a sheen to it that my eyes couldn’t understand. It made me dizzy to look at it. I thought of what Natalie had said.
Don’t let them smell it.
Sam had smelled it right away. I closed my eyes, feeling the heat of the vial in my hand. Hotter than touching Sam. Natalie had been cryptic, but she seemed to be certain I’d need this stuff. And for some reason it had made her sad. I sat up. I couldn’t think about it right now. I went to the kitchen to look for the duct tape.

I was just putting the tape and sewing kit away when there was a knock at the door. Probably Gage. I opened the door to find a tall, wide man with black hair graying at his temples. A tattoo crawled up his neck and a fading cross was tattooed on the back of one hand, which he held in front of him. It was an odd stance, but I recognized it. Men had approached my father like this when I was a child. It was meant as a gesture of respect.

“Miss Slobodian,” he said. “So good to finally meet you.” He pronounced ‘good’ as ‘hood.’ His accent was old Ukrainian, like my father’s. Like Naz. Not the harder Russian accent like a lot of the men that had worked for them. His voice was soft, hardly above a whisper. But he didn’t seem like the kind of man that had to raise his voice to be heard.

“Who are you?” I said, suddenly aware how stupid it was to not be wearing my gun to the door. I glanced at the kitchen table, where I usually left it. It wasn’t there. I must have taken it off in my bedroom the night before.

“You don’t need your gun,” he said. “Although, I am surprised you are answering door without it. Dorrance wants you dead. I am Yuri. Yuri Polzin.”

“Polzin?” I said. “Like Naz?”

“He is
—
was
—
my cousin. May I come in?”

I narrowed my eyes, trying to size him up. He might be here to kill me. But if that were true, he could have done it by now. My building wasn’t exactly the kind of place where people talked to the police. He would probably get away with it.

He held up his hands. “I promise, I will not hurt you,” he said. “I only wish to talk.”

“Fine,” I said, swinging the door open. “My partner will be here any second, though.”

“Big magic man with the books?” he said, as he passed. He sat down on the couch. “He does not frighten me.” Yuri was so big he practically took up the whole couch.

“You want coffee?” I said. Despite the company my father kept, Sofi had taught me manners.

“Thank you,” he said. “Black.”

I brought him the steaming cup and sat down in Sofi’s rocker. “So why haven’t you killed me?” I said.

He smiled and was surprisingly handsome. “I knew your father, you know,” he said.

“Doesn’t surprise me. Lots of people knew my father.”

“I was rotting in a Russian prison,” he said. “Let me show you something,” he said, standing and pulling his shirt up to reveal his chest. He was barrel-chested and had a slightly soft belly, though I could see that he was very strong. He was covered in tattoos that were riddled with scars. I saw two bullethole scars on his side, just above his hip. The rest appeared to be knife wounds. The most noticeable thing about his midsection, though, was an intricate tattoo of a large cathedral in the Russian style with the virgin Mary holding a baby in the forefront.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

He smiled. “You see the spires? The towers in the cathedral?” He pointed to the top of his chest. I counted eleven spires. “One for every year in prison,” he said. “Russian prisons are worse than Hell. I would choose to die over going back.” He pulled his shirt down. “They say, when a man goes away to a place like that, he cannot ever get out again. When he does get out, it is temporary. He will go back. I am put there for life. No chance for even temporary release. Do you understand this?”