I was resting in a very large bed, with several large pillows, a newspaper and a glass of spring water on a bedside table. None of it was making me feel any better, however, and in fact I was becoming greatly frustrated by the whole thing. It had been two days since Aloysius Pendergast had saved me from the clutches-greatly skilled and terrible though they be—of his brother. In that whole time, I had been salved and soothed and treated like a queen on her throne. By his servant.

Not once in the entire two days had Pendergast himself been within spitting distance of me. He’d carried me to a hospital, whisked me off to a private flight, physically carried me from plane to car to apartment, laid me on the bed and then—poof! Vanished. It was enough to give a girl a complex, considering what we’d been through and how...   read more »

Diogenes Pendergast’s Letter to Santa Claus 1969 (?)

Dearest Santa Claus,

It...   read more »

I swung my gun hand, making sure to hit Diogenes hard enough to knock him out and it connected with his forehead. It was only fair, considering what he’d done to Charles. Proctor caught him before he could fall onto me and dosed him with god-only-knew what to keep him unconscious until I decided otherwise. I helped Proctor maneuver him to the wall, where I’d installed shackles the day before.

Dear brother was heavier than I’d expected him to be and Proctor had to help me while I shackled his wrists above his head. I gave him enough slack to take most of the weight off his shoulders but not enough for...   read more »

I remember waking cold, wet, shaking all over. And pain. Confusion. Something horrible lurked just beneath the surface of my mind, looming toward realization. Something so horrible that I wouldn’t be able to...

It hit me suddenly. Pendergast, intent on freeing me, trying to accomplish that and watch all the doors and corners at the same time. Me, seeing the approaching danger but able to make only unintelligible sounds through the gag. But it was enough to alert him, and I saw him hesitate for a split second, making the choice to cut my last binding before whirling to save himself. A fatal sacrifice. Not at all surprising, given what I had come to know about him.

I saw the gun being raised, saw Pendergast, rushing low in desperation, toward the point-blank powder burn that would surround the wound that would kill him. I do not remember thinking anything at that...   read more »

There came another knock at the door.

Greg Kawakita glanced up irritably from rabbit serum he was purifying. The knocking sounded again, hesitant and rapid. Kawakita slipped his shoes back on and hurried over. He wasn’t expecting any of his regular buyers, but that didn’t mean this might not be a new client. At the door, he paused and checked loaded a clip into the small handgun he kept nearby. Just in case.

For a moment Kawakita didn’t recognize the man on the doorstep, shifting his weight from side to side and glancing around apprehensively at the surrounding darkness of the docks. He was no cop, though, nor some drug lord’s thug looking to get rid of competition.

Kawakita replaced the handgun in its hiding place and opened the door, smiling. “You made it! I’m so pleased.”

The visitor stepped inside hurriedly, then froze, looking surprised at his own impudence. It had...   read more »

Diogenes sings:

I would not be just a killer
Inspiration for a thriller
A forerunner of woe
(Do do, do do do do do)
I would be Mr. Rogers
Maybe playing for the Dodgers
If I didn’t have a bro.

Not so much an evil genius
Just bursting with the meanness
A scoundrel head to toe
(Do do, do do do do do)
I’d be friends with the kiddies
Sing them cutesy little ditties
If I didn’t have a bro.

Picture me
All bloodlust free
A happily married man
A Laz-z-boy and a minivan
Maybe a kid, not a master plan.

I’d be just another guy
Without a dead blue eye
See colors all aglow
(Do do, do do do do do)
Why, I might be presidential
I would have so much potential
If I didn’t have a bro.

***

Aloysius sings:

I would not be quite so scary
I might even remarry
Or get myself a ho
(Do do, do do do do do)
I’d be something of a sprite
And I’d get laid...   read more »

“Charles? Are you alright?”

Charles DuChamp struggled against the blackness that had enveloped him with such sickening swiftness. He tried to open his eyes, but the pain forced them to stay shut.

The voice came again, more insistent, but also familiar.

“Charles? Charles?” A cool, dry hand touched his face. “Wake up, Charles.” The voice, soft, mellifluous, with a syrupy New Orleans accent, started to break through the fog that clouded DuChamp’s brain. A sudden surge of elation coursed through his heart when he finally thought he recognized the voice.

“Aloysius?” whispered DuChamp. “Is that you? I thought—.” He opened his eyes to stare at the man bending over him, and cold dread cut through him like a knife.

“I’m afraid not, Charles. Aloysius is otherwise…occupied.”

“Diogenes. B-b-but…you’re supposed to be—.”

“Dead? Such rumors have been greatly exaggerated, I’m afraid.”

DuChamp, his heart pounding in his chest, struggled to back away from Diogenes, but his...   read more »

Charles watched him sleep.

Aloysius lay curled up tightly beside him; face as expressionless as always, even in sleep. But he still looked peaceful. His back was to the wall and he was painfully vulnerable, Charles didn’t dare touch him; Aloysius had reflexes like a viper. And he was significantly more dangerous. But he wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon, the doctors had given him something for the pain and something else to help him sleep.

I should change the bandage... Charles...   read more »