Sonja Blue - Paint It Black Part 6

I turn my head in his direction. My face looks like it has been smashed then rea.s.sembled by a well-meaning but inept plastic surgeon who only had a blurry photograph to go by. My eyes glow like those of an animal pinned in the headlights of an oncoming car.

'What?'

Judd leans closer, his eyes reflecting a hunger I know all too well. 'When you did those things to me, at first I was scared. Then, after a while, I realized I wasn't frightened anymore.

I was actually getting into it. It was like the barriers between pain and pleasure, animal and human, ecstasy and horror, had been removed! I've never known anything like it before! I love you, Sonja! All of you!'

I reach out and caress his face with one of my charred hands.

A renfield. The Other turned him into a renfield. And he doesn't even know it, the poor sap. In the s.p.a.ce of just a few hours he had been transformed into a junkie, and now I'm his fix.

'I love you, too, Judd. Kiss me.'

I want to think I am being merciful.

I sit behind the wheel of the car for a long time, staring out into the dark on the other side of the windshield. Nothing has changed since the last time I was out here, disposing of Kitty.

I press my fingertips against my right cheek, and this time it holds. My fingers are healed and straight again, as well. I readjust my shades and open the car door and slide out from behind the wheel of the Caddy I bought off the lot, cash in hand, earlier in the evening.

Judd is in the trunk, divvied up into six garbage bags, just like Kitty. At least it was fast. My hunger was so intense, I drained him within seconds. He didn't try to fight when I buried my fangs in his throat even though I didn't have the strength to trance him.

Maybe part of him knew I was doing him a favor.

I drag the bags out of the trunk and head in the direction of the alligator calls. I have to leave New Orleans, maybe for good this time. Kitty might not have been missed, but Judd is another story. Arlo is sure to mention the missing Judd's weirdo new girlfriend to the authorities.

It is time to blow town and head for Merida. Time to go and pay Palmer a visit and check on how he and the baby are making out.

Palmer.

Funny how I'd forgotten him. Of all my human companions, he is the only one I've come close to loving. Before Judd.

I hurl the sacks containing Judd's remains into the water and return to the car. I try not to hear the noise the gators make as they fight amongst themselves.

I climb back into the car and slam a ca.s.sette into the Caddy's tape deck. Lard's The Last Temptation of Reid thunders through the speakers, causing the steering wheel to vibrate under my hands. I wonder when the emptiness will go away. Or at least be replaced by pain. Anything would be preferable to the nothing inside me.

I don't see why you had to go and kill him like that. We could have used a renfield. They do come in handy, now and then. Besides, he was kind of cute . . .

'Shut up and drive.'

From the diaries ofSonja Blue.

It was late afternoon, sliding toward evening, and Palmer was out in the courtyard, hammering together a shipping crate for a collection of hand-painted Day of the Dead masks.

The masks - made of papier-mache and painted in primary colors so bright you could still see them when you closed your eyes - were piled in a small heap nearby, grimacing blindly at the failing sun.

Palmer dropped his hammer and straightened up, ma.s.saging his lower back. He pulled a bandanna from his pocket and mopped his brow. G.o.d, he hated this part of the business.

Building the crates for shipping was a relatively minor ha.s.sle.

It was loading up the Land Rover and taking it into the city that was the real ball-buster. Still, the pay was pretty good, and money went a lot farther in Yucatan than it did back in the US.

Looking down, his gaze fell across the masks in their nest of excelsior. He'd bought them as part of a larger job lot from a family of artisans who'd been producing carnival decorations for over four generations. Until now, he hadn't paid that much attention to them. He shifted through the collection, studying the workmanship. Most of the masks were small, designed to cover the face of a child. All of the traditional carnival personae were represented: there were skeletons, their teeth bared in aggressive, lipless grins; what were supposed to be tigers, judging by the stripes, but looked more like jaguars, broom-straw whiskers bristling from snarling muzzles; blood-red devils with grease-pencil mustaches and shoe-polish goatees, licorice-black horns jutting from their foreheads; grinning clowns whose noses and chins met, like the ancient Punch puppets of Europe.

Yet there were less typical false faces scattered throughout: a sheep's head, the wool cunningly made from b.a.l.l.s of cotton; a wolf, fangs bared in a predatory snarl; a rooster caught in mid-crow, its beak open and throat sac extended.

Palmer chuckled to himself as he sifted through the empty masks, remembering Halloweens spent dressed as a pirate, a cowboy, a hobo, and other exotica.

Then he found the black mask.

It was at the very bottom of the pile. He frowned and picked it up, turning it over in his hands. Like the others, it was papier-mache. Unlike the others, it was adult-sized. And, except for the eyeholes, it was without features of any kind.

There were no overexaggerated human or animal characteristics, merely an oval painted black and coated with several layers of varnish, so that it shone like a scarab's carapace.

There was something oddly compelling about the mask, something that made him set it aside from the others as he prepared to load them into their crate.

It was dusk by the time he finished driving the last nail into place. He tossed the hammer back into the toolbox and stepped back to appraise his handiwork. A boot heel sc.r.a.ped behind him. There was a figure standing in the door leading to the front of the house. Whatever had breached the security of his home could not be human, or else he would have heard - or at least felt - its thoughts long before it reached the front door.

Before Palmer could launch his psionic strike, the figure laughed dryly and stepped from the shadows.

'h.e.l.lo, Bill. Did you miss me?'

'Sonja!'

She stood there looking tired, her leather jacket powdered with road dust, her mirrored shades equally grimy. In one hand she held a battered black nylon duffel bag, in the other a neatly wrapped present bound with colored twine. She smiled tightly, as if the corners of her mouth concealed fishhooks. Her head was surrounded by a blackish-red halo that strobed and pulsated like a lava lamp. The Other was very active tonight, it seemed. Palmer tried not to let his dismay taint his own aura.

He hugged her, savoring the smell of her as he pressed his face into her hair. For a moment her shoulders seemed to quiver, as if struggling to shrug off an invisible burden.

'Auntie Blue! Auntie Blue!'

Palmer and Sonja stepped apart as Lethe bounded onto the patio, grinning broadly. Dressed in a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle T-shirt and a pair of bright yellow stirrup pants, she could have pa.s.sed for a normal child - except for her golden, pupil-less eyes. Shambling in her wake, Fido paused at the sight of Sonja. Although Palmer could rarely 'read' the seraphim's aura, he knew that it, too, was disturbed by evidence of the Other's activity.

Sonja smiled at the sight of her G.o.dchild, the stress draining from her face, and dropped down on one knee, opening her arms wide. 'C'mere and give me a hug, sweetie!'

Lethe shot into Sonja's arms like an arrow, clinging to her tightly.

'Are you staying this time, Auntie? Are you really staying for good?'

'Maybe not for good, but at least for a couple of months.

Here, let me have a look at you... You've grown, child! Hasn't she, Bill?'

'Eighteen inches in the last six months.'

'Did you bring me something, Auntie Blue?'

Sonja laughed and ruffled Lethe's dark hair. 'Here you go, darling. I just hope you haven't gotten too big for dolls.'

'I'll never be too big for dolls! They're my babies!'

Palmer stepped forward, gently nudging Lethe in the direction of the house. 'Lethe, why don't you and Fido go play with your new doll? Auntie Blue and I have some things to talk about. And tell her thank you for the gift.'

'Okay, Daddy. Thank you, Auntie!'

Sonja watched as Lethe skipped away, Fido lumbering after her like a demented pull-toy.

'She's big, Bill. Too big for thirty months.'

'You're telling me? That's why I've been trying to get you to come home. We need to figure out what to do with her.'

It was several hours before they could be alone. First Palmer had to prepare dinner for those members of the household that actually ate food, then they had to go through the process of readying Lethe for bed. After baths and bedtime stories, it was close to midnight before he could join Sonja on the front porch. He found her curled up in the hammock, watching the night sky. She was still wearing her sungla.s.ses.

'I brought some refreshments,' he said, holding up a bottle of tequila. 'Any room there for me?'

'Maybe,' Sonja smiled, moving so he could join her.

Palmer cracked the seal on the bottle and took a hefty swig before placing it on the floorboards of the porch. He lifted his arm and Sonja flowed into its hollow like a shadow, one cheek pressed against his breastbone. They lay there for a long moment, Palmer idly stroking her hair.

'Things are getting weird, Sonja.'

She lifted her head from his chest and gave him a quizzical look. '"Getting"? I thought they'd been there for some time now!'

'You know what I mean. This stuff with Lethe is getting out of hand - I don't know what to expect from her one day to the next! h.e.l.l, this time last year she looked like she was ready for kindergarten! Now she looks like she should be in the fourth grade!'

'Is she giving you problems?'

'No, far from it. She's a little angel. A little rambunctious at times, but she's no real trouble. But she's starting to want to go with me on my trips to the city. She's becoming curious about the outside world. We can't keep her hidden away forever, Sonja.'

'We can't risk anyone finding out about her. You know that as well as I do. If Morgan discovers where she is, there's no telling what he'd do to her. Or with her. I promised her parents I'd never let Lethe fall into that b.a.s.t.a.r.d's hands. Besides, the locals would probably not look kindly on a child as ... unique ... as Lethe.'

'I realize that, Sonja. It's just that... well, it's not natural for her to be alone like this! All she has in the way of playmates are Fido, Lefty, and me. That"s hardly what I'd call a "well-rounded" play atmosphere.'

'What do you expect me to do? I know as much about Lethe's true nature as you do. h.e.l.l, you probably know more, since you're the one who actually takes care of her. As far as I can tell, she's a healthy little girl who just happens to be somewhat... advanced ... for her age. There's nothing either of us can do except try and take care of her and wait to see what will happen. And as to her having playmates... well, Fido and Lefty will have to do for the time being. At least she isn't being raised by the lousy TV set!'

The subject was closed. Palmer knew enough not to reopen it. At least not now. He took another hit from the tequila bottle, offering it to Sonja. She shook her head.

'So ... How was New Orleans?'

Her body tensed, like a cat preparing to leap. 'Fine. Why do you ask?'

'No reason. Just curious, that's all. That's where we first met, after all. Remember?'

'Yeah. I remember.'

'Hey, what's wrong? You're really tense, you know that? I feel like I'm cuddling an ironing board!'

'Sorry,' she muttered, pulling away from him. 'I guess I'm not ready to relax yet. It's just that I..." She let the sentence trail off.

'Just what? Did something happen in New Orleans?'

She turned her mirrored gaze away from him. 'I had some trouble with the Other. Bad stuff.'

'Want to tell me about it?'

Silence.

Palmer took another hit from the tequila and began to climb free of the hammock. 'I better go check on Lethe ...'

Sonja touched his arm. 'No, you stay here Let me do it.'

Palmer shrugged and settled back. 'Whatever. Bring me back a couple of beers, won't you?'

'Sure thing.' As Sonja entered the house she paused on the threshold, fixing Palmer with her unreadable eyes. 'Do you love me?'

Palmer looked up, slightly taken aback by the question.

She rarely spoke the word 'love' with her mouth - only her mind. 'Of course I love you!' He gave a short laugh to show how silly a question it was.

She paused, as if weighing his response. 'Why?'

Palmer blinked, his smile slowly dissolving into a frown. 'I just love you, that's all.'

'Oh.' Again the pause. 'I'll be back with your beer in a few minutes.'

Palmer sat in the hammock under the starlit sky, listening to the calls of the night birds, and wondered what the h.e.l.l had gone down in New Orleans.

The door to Lethe's bedroom was slightly ajar, allowing light from the hall to filter in, so Lethe wouldn't wake up in the middle of the night and be scared to find herself alone in the dark. Sonja was uncertain whether Lethe was actually scared of the dark or not, but it seemed the proper thing to do.

She stuck her head inside the door, her eyes automatically adjusting to the dim light. Lethe lay on her side, her back to the door, surrounded by a mult.i.tude of dolls. She had kicked off her bedclothes. Sonja stepped inside the room, quiet as a shadow, and stooped to retrieve the discarded covers. As she straightened up, she noticed something moving out of the corner of her eye.

Fido had shifted from its sentinel position at the foot of the bed, its eyes glowing like molten ore. Although she knew the seraphim meant her no harm, Sonja felt the hair on her scalp p.r.i.c.kle and a low, guttural growl begin deep inside her chest.

Lethe rolled over and opened her eyes, smiling beatifically.

'Don't be afraid, Auntie Blue. Fido's just protectin' me, that's all.'

'Why should he have to protect you from me? I'd never hurt you, sweetie.'

'I know, Auntie. But the Other would. It wants to hurt me right now, doesn't it?'

Smart little f.u.c.ker, isn 't she?

'I would never let the Other harm you, Lethe. You know that'

'I know, Auntie Blue. But Fido isn't so sure.'

Palmer started from a light doze as a Tecate, still dripping ice from the cooler, was pressed into his hand. He jerked awake like a science-lab frog zapped by a dry-cell battery.

'Uhn! Oh, thanks.' He tilted back the bottle for a quick slug.