Steadfast(58)

I shall never understand the madness of this world, Asa thought.

Captive’s Sound had been turned upside down by these strange people who wielded needles and microscopes, who would try to find a cure for Elizabeth’s dark magic. They would try and fail, and yet he admired the effort. In his day—distant though that was, and fragile as the memories had become over centuries of disuse—humanity was helpless before plagues and pandemics. Sickness swept across the land unchecked, mowing down lives the way a scythe mowed wheat. Now humanity had found the tools to fight back against disease and death.

Not that you could ever defeat fate. Death waited; that would never change. But Asa liked that humanity fought anyway. Elizabeth would have called it misguided; he thought of it as valiant.

What bewildered him were the reactions of the townspeople. Fear should have galvanized them, stirred them to protect themselves. He would have thought at least a few would recognize the marks of witchcraft and begin to suspect others in their midst.

They would never suspect Elizabeth—her glamours had seen to that. But he’d expected to see at least a little random harassment of the innocent-yet-marginalized. Torches. Pitchforks. The classics.

Instead the people of Captive’s Sound had been stunned into passivity. They’d turned as stupefied as rabbits caught in a hunter’s snare. All around him, they shuffled along the sidewalks, staring at nothing. What little fire remained in them only sparked when they had to line up for supplies, food, and the like. Now that stores and restaurants couldn’t receive new shipments, these people whose tags and vans read CDC were the only ones who could provide the basics of life. They couldn’t imagine how much worse it would get.

They were about to learn, courtesy of Elizabeth.

He ought to have delighted in that, reveled in the explosion of fear and fury that was to come. Instead he could only think of Verlaine trapped in the midst of it. . . .

No. No more. Elizabeth could not glimpse this in him—this unbidden, overwhelming feeling that smoldered within at the very thought of Verlaine. That would be an excuse for further tortures, and this time, Verlaine might be made to suffer with him.

Besides, he’d just seen Mateo walking along the other side of the street, which meant he had work to do.

Asa strode across the street, ignoring traffic; horns honked, but naturally everyone braked to make way. At the sound of the horns, Mateo glanced over, then looked wary. He was learning.

“You seem to be in a good mood for a man under siege,” Asa said as he fell into step beside Mateo. “I would imagine you’ve got a bit of time off. Maybe that’s why you’re so cheery.”

“Time off?” Mateo stopped walking when they reached the ATM at the corner. He took out his wallet, then gave Asa a look.

“What, you’re afraid I’ll look at your PIN?”

“Like you wouldn’t.”

“It’s three-four-nine-eight,” Asa said, casually readjusting his scarf.

“. . . How did you know that?”

“Demon. And yes, I figure you’ve got some time off, as La Catrina can’t possibly stay in business like this.”

“We’ve got another couple of days.” Mateo at least had enough sense to go on with his withdrawal, punching the keys almost without looking. “Though tonight we’re only going to be able to serve tamales de pollo, and tomorrow—maybe just pi?a coladas; I don’t know.”

“I should imagine people feel like getting drunk,” Asa said amiably. “And my, what a lot of cash you’re taking out. Curious thing to do, at a time and place when you can purchase virtually nothing.”

Mateo stepped closer, and though he was a few inches shorter than Asa, and only a human, he managed to be threatening anyway. “Stay out of this.”

“Someone’s leaving town.” Asa leaned in even nearer, until he could whisper and still be heard. “Someone’s running far, far away, and I don’t think it’s you.”

“If you tell Elizabeth one word about this—”

“You’ll be as powerless as you are right now.” Asa leaned against the edge of the cash machine. “Besides, when will you understand? I hate Elizabeth even more than you do. If Nadia’s little excursion works against Elizabeth’s will—well, I’d offer to drive if I didn’t have hell’s legions to serve, not to mention that medieval history test next week. Study buddies, you and me? Up for a late-night cram session?”

For a moment, Mateo looked so angry that Asa wondered if he’d be struck. “You leave Nadia alone,” he said. “I swear to God, if you get in her way, I’ll find a way to hurt you. And don’t tell me there’s not a way. If there weren’t, Elizabeth wouldn’t have you doing her bidding, would she?”

With difficulty, Asa kept his smile on his face, but he could tell by the satisfaction in Mateo’s gaze that he’d glimpsed Asa’s anger, and his helplessness.

One of the ironies of being a demon was that you were infected with all the pride of hell just as you were humbled for eternity. That didn’t mean Asa couldn’t teach Mateo a lesson.

“Nadia’s leaving town,” Asa said. “Obviously she thinks she can learn something damaging about Elizabeth that way.”

Mateo didn’t speak. He wanted to contradict Asa, though; that much was clear in his poorly disguised smile. So Nadia was going after the mother, then . . . and they hadn’t yet guessed what ammunition that could give them against Elizabeth. No need to enlighten them, either. Asa had something better in mind.