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The Night Children

"I know you like her," said Mark. "I like her too. But she's gone and you should let her stay gone. It must have gotten too much for her."
      "I'm finding her," I said.
      "I thought you wanted her to quit."
      "Not like this. I didn't want her to leave without a word."
      "What does it matter? Are you in love with her?"
      "I'm finding her," I said. "And that's that. I need my gun."
      "Are you sure about that? After what happened last night?"
      I said nothing, just held out my hand. Mark picked the gun up from the floor and handed it to me. "I can send someone with you."
      "Not this time," I said. "I'll go it alone. This isn't strictly business, so I can't ask you to risk your men. We can go to Benjamin's when I get back."
      "And then we can hit these bastards?"
      "If the stars are right."
      "What are we waiting for?" asked Commando. He was healed up and ready to go. "I don't go for this Satanic shit. All we do is sit here."
      "It's all right," said Mark. "We'll do it. Just hang on till I give the word."
      Commando turned away. He was muttering something to himself.

#

It was colder now, and it had started to snow. I walked down the street in broad gray daylight, making no attempt to be inconspicuous. If Apache and Joe found me, I would open fire. But I didn't want to miss Rose by getting too clever.
      Dozens of strange faces passed me as I walked. There was a time when I would have been recognized on these streets, a time when I couldn't have walked from Bryant Square to Statue Square without being stopped by a dozen acquaintances. Those days were gone. Now I was just another of the city's many transients, like the man across the street who was having a bitter argument with himself, or the woman who was dancing to her own music with exaggerated and almost hostile intensity, oblivious to her audience as they passed. I glanced up, and in the forgotten eaves of some long-neglected building I saw the blank leer of a gargoyle coated in the black streaks of the years. One of the deaf and dumb defenders of a city long past saving.

#

I kept my eyes open for any sight of her, but I didn't expect it to be that easy. Why had she skipped out on us? Was Mark right, that she was simply scared? She didn't read that way to me.
      I went to the library first. There were some street kids there, including a guy with a white rag and a green trenchcoat who looked at me as if he might have heard a description of me somewhere, but wasn't sure. But Rose wasn't there.
      "Oh, it's you again. Remember me?"
      I turned around and saw the blonde girl we had spoken with before. She was chewing bubble-gum and smiling widely. She stood a little too close for normal conversation.
      "Sure," I said. "How's it going?"
      "Not too bad." She shrugged. "My boyfriend's getting out of the Youth Center soon. But not for a week."
      Her smile widened even further at this last point. Her hand brushed my arm.
      "Have you seen Rose?" I asked her.
      "Huh-uh. I thought she was with you."
      "So did I," I said grimly. She laughed.
      "She has a bit of a reputation," said the girl.
      "I'm sure you're shocked by her behavior," I said. She didn't follow me. An old lady shushed us, and went back to her Book Review.
      "I see those guys haven't killed you yet."
      "Have you seen them?"
      She shook her head. "I don't like them much. Except for Teardrop, he's a sweetie."
      "Who's Teardrop?" I asked.
      "I guess you met him. He was talkin' about you."
      "Is he one of Joe's guys?"
      "Yeah, I guess. He has a teardrop tattoo next to his eye. It means he killed someone," she said proudly.
      "If I had killed someone," I said, "I wouldn't advertise it."
      "Have you?"
      I just looked at her.
      "Well, I gotta go now," she said nervously, "so I guess I'll see you around, okay?"
      "Sure," I said. "If Teardrop doesn't kill me."
      She didn't say anything to that.

#

I went down by the park, but there was no sign of her. The park was empty even of birds. The paths had a thin dusting of white snow, and the hard frosted grass was too frozen to shift in the growing wind. I wrapped my coat a little tighter, and remembered.
      This wasn't the first time I'd come here looking for a girl. Erika had been drunk on cheap tequila, trying to forget about a bad breakup. No one knew where she had wandered off to, and we had all been searching for her for hours. I found her down here, by the old playground, where Rose most definitely was not, and I walked her back up to Bryant Square to talk it out because she didn't want to see the others yet. She showed me the tiny burns on her forearms, where she'd been testing her discipline against fire.
      "Grigori says I'm a natural," she said, her pride clear despite her sniffling. He had been teaching her meditation. I didn't know very much about him, but his Endeavor Society had many students. It seemed like a New Age mishmash to me. Still, I congratulated her, and she held my hand.
      "I have a question for you," she told me. Slow, almost timid, but gentle as always. We sat on a bench beneath the statue of Bryant while an old lady fed crumbled bread to the pigeons.
      "Go ahead," I said. "What is it?"
      "No, never mind. It doesn't matter."
      I put my arm around her shoulders. "Of course it matters," I said. I often held her. Gail's laughter was like clean water, but Erika's sorrow held a darker beauty. She would tell me the secrets of her struggle in the night-time, when the others were sleeping but she could not. She would call me, and I would come over. I'd hold her, and listen to her, and trace her scars.
      "Do you love Gail?" she asked.
      "I love all of you. We're the night-wanderers, aren't we? We're a tribe."
      "But are you in love with her?"
      "I don't know. Why?" I asked.
      She pressed her head to my chest.
      "Nothing," she said. "I just wondered, that's all. Maybe 'cause I'm drunk."
      I ran my hand through her hair to try to calm her. Maybe I did love Gail, now and then. Her joy opened vistas for me, and I couldn't ignore that. But at that moment the only thing I cared about was Erika crying. The warmth of her hand in mine. Her quiet breath.
      The softness of her tiny hand in my own had brought a slow warmth into my bones, a radiance that had not quite faded away from me even now. But the last of it would soon be gone. I looked at the play set and the wooden swings, trying to jumpstart that old joy with her memory. There was a little juice, but not enough to turn the motor over. I wasn't sure why I had even tried.
      Just then, something stirred in my head. I didn't know what it meant, but it bothered me. Once it occurred to me, I couldn't let it go. Why had the twins gone alone? I knew they had never trusted Benjamin Roman. But, still, why hadn't they even asked him what he thought? That was a senseless thing to do.
      Did I have the whole story here in the first place?

#

I didn't think Rose knew many places in this town. That meant there weren't many places to look, unless she had simply gone off somewhere at random. She couldn't be at Katie's place, because Katie stayed at the shelter and until sunset that was closed.
      I stood on President Street, looking back and forth. I had taken her to the park, and to the old factory. She had been scared of that place, she wouldn't be there - but I checked anyway. All I found were dust and nothing, and both of them lay heavily on the old place. As for places she might know on her own, I simply had no idea. There was nothing to do but walk around. So that was all I did, all day.
      I browsed in the bookstores and glanced at a volume by Weldon Kees. He had disappeared, just like me. And he'd had a question that explained why: "Oh why go there when we know there is nothing there but fear?"
      Why indeed? I thought. Why indeed?
      I skimmed through a magazine article about William Hjortsberg. I drank black coffee in a café, and had a conversation there with a girl named Becky about the early punk movement - she liked my The Damned pin. I sat on park benches and watched it snow. In those long hours of waiting in one place and then another, my mind kept coming back to the same question. Why had the twins gone alone? They had spoken to no one except Martin, and he was beyond interrogation. Something was wrong here. The Swamp was too dangerous for just the two of them. They must have known that. It didn't add up. But I could find no hint of a solution.
      Wherever I was, I kept an eye on the street. She could come walking by at any time. I didn't know why she had walked away, but I was going to have an explanation.
      Why are you doing this? I asked myself. I decided not to answer.

#

Around sunset, I drifted down by the shelter. I stood in the shadows by an old brick wall, around a corner but at an angle where I could watch who was going in. There were at least twenty or thirty kids there, milling around in front of the door, sharing last cigarettes before the night. No sign of Rose, no sign of Katie. But there were some kids who might be with Joe and Apache. I ducked around the corner and walked away.
      "Blood Eagle." A sudden whisper.
      I glanced behind me while my heart stopped. Joe and Apache, in a dark car. Parked on the street, and me oblivious, so focused on Rose that I hadn't even been watching for this. Joe had a sick smile of anticipation. He also had a long curved knife for opening my chest up. He showed it to me, grinning. Apache just stared at me.
      I cursed whatever part of me wasn't broken yet, and went for my gun. They hit the gas, and the car jumped forward.
      I couldn't stop an oncoming car with a bullet, not unless I just stared them down and shot right into their faces. Even then, I'd have to get lucky. I jumped out of the way as they bore down on me, intending to shoot from the side. But Apache stuck a shotgun out the driver's side window and fired a blast that tore up the cardboard boxes a few inches from my head.
      I ducked down an alley and started running. My only chance was to run a zigzag pattern, hoping to make it a little tough on the shooter. Then I could climb a fence or go somewhere else a car couldn't go.
      I was on their right side when Devil Joe pointed a small 9mm out the window and opened fire. Three rounds tore the brick apart just behind me. They were laughing like a couple of crazy kids smashing mailboxes as they chased me.
      I tried to head to the right, to make my way down by the bars. There would be people there; they'd have to back off. But the car swerved and cut me off. After a little while, I tried to take a left. There was a supermarket down there. They didn't allow that either. My head pounded; my ears sang. My gut hurt like I'd lost a bad boxing match. Every breath burned my throat. Pretty soon I'd have to turn and start shooting. I might be crushed, but I might get one of them too, and they wouldn't get to cut me.
      They were just behind me the whole way, close enough for me to hear their idiot laughter, close enough for bullets or shotgun blasts to scorch the air just behind me. But they made no attempt to catch up.
      They were driving me like a deer.

#

I came through at last to the old factory. They followed just behind me as I stumbled past the faded murals, and I thought I knew why they'd chosen this place. They had people waiting for me in the darkness; they could take their time with me and leave the body there to rot. No one would ever even look.
      I stood just inside the entrance, where there was no light to expose me, ready to shoot if anything moved. I could hear every cell of my blood as it pumped from my heart to my head. Maybe for the last time, if they caught me.
      The car door opened, and someone got out. I could hear footsteps on gravel, approaching.
      "The Blood Eagle," he whispered again. "Time for the Blood Eagle, Jim."
      Closer. Closer. I got ready to come out shooting.
      And then there were sirens. Maybe someone had called about the gunshots. Yes, the sirens were getting closer. Apache and Joe pulled out and drove away.
      I fanned my gun across the darkness. If they had people here, they would fire. If they missed the first time, I'd aim at their muzzle flash. No one would leave this place alive.
      "Is that you, Jim?" she asked me. It was a quiet voice, and scared. Before I could tell my finger not to, it squeezed the trigger. The blast was so loud I thought I'd been shot in the head.
      I heard the bullet bounce off something metal.
      "Jesus Christ, Jim, it's me!"
      Rose stepped out of the darkness, glaring.
      "You're always slinging that thing around like it's a magic wand. Put the goddamn' gun away!"
      I did what she said. She came up closer and pushed me once.
      "This is for scaring me!" she said.
      Suddenly her face was red and blue. I threw us both down flat on the floor, and covered her mouth up with my hand. There were police cars outside the building.
      "Anybody in there?" yelled a cop.
      "Come out with your hands on your head!" yelled another.
      I didn't move, of course. Neither did she. Her face was directly beneath my own, and I felt her heart beating through her neck. I could practically hear it.
      Something scurried across our legs. She squirmed a little, and I held her. A flashlight beam arced over our heads and across the room.
      "Just the night children," said one of the officers. "I'm not gonna follow them. They give me the creeps."
      "I wouldn't go in there without a machine gun," said the other.
      After a minute, they drove away.

#

"Who are the night children?" she asked.
      I helped her up from the floor. Dirt fell from our clothes like dry rain.
      "That's what some people call the kids who live here. Plenty of people sleep here now and then, but the upper floors belong to the night children. They're another breed entirely. We don't want to cross them, I can tell you that."
      "Yeah. You told me people lived up there. You said they were dangerous. That's why I stayed down here."
      "What were you doing here in the first place? Why did you leave us?"
      I watched her face in the dim light that came in through the windows. It looked to me like she was thinking about her answer.
      "I ran into Katie on my way home," she said. "She waved me over from the sidewalk. She told me she had some important news to give me, but she was in a hurry and I should meet her here later. After she left, I dropped the car off, but I didn't want to sit in the club all day with those guys. I don't trust them if you're not there."
      "You're more than a match for any of them. And you should have left a note. Rose, I've been looking for you all day!"
      "Isn't that sweet of you?" she said. She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. "I'll make sure to leave a note next time. I took a bus to the shopping mall. I saw a movie and had some ice cream. It was a nice day, so don't ruin it."
      "Just promise me you won't go out alone again. Not till the war is over," I said.
      "I don't make promises, because I don't keep them."
      I stared at her silently. She said, "I'll try."
      "All right," I sighed at last. "So where's Katie?"
      "She should have been here by now," said Rose. "I was a little bit late to our meeting. But if she's on the second floor or something I wouldn't know. I didn't want to go up there alone."
      "I doubt she would either," I said. "But we can check. There's something funny here, though, and I don't like it. I came here running from Joe and Apache. They chased me to this building, and they did it deliberately. I thought they were driving me into an ambush."
      "That would explain you acting like a cowboy - if I hadn't seen you do it before."
      "But what's in here? Why did they want me here?"
      "Holy shit! Jim, if Katie was setting me up . . ."
      "They could be trying to kill us both. Get your knife out."
      She already had. I drew my gun.
      "They could be anywhere," she whispered. "I can't see a thing."
      "Did you hear anything when you came in here?"
      "Just some movement from the upper floors. Kind of a shuffling sound. That's all."
      "They're either down here somewhere or on the second floor. They wouldn't have gone any higher than that. I don't think they're up there, because they couldn't know we'd follow. That means if there's an ambush it's down here."
      "We aren't too far from the door," she whispered.
      I shook my head.
      "We could try to leave, but the light from the doorway would make a perfect target for a shooter. If we stick to the thickest shadows we might make it to the stairway. I doubt they'll follow us, and, if they do, the advantage will be ours. We can get them as they come up."
      She nodded once, and I started walking. I was alert for the smallest sound. If there was a rat, I was going to blast it. But there was no movement from the dark corners, no breath of air from the dead old machines. We were trespassers in a crypt.
      We made it to the stairway without a problem.
      "Help me up," she whispered. "Quickly."
      I gave her a boost and she pulled me up behind her. I fished a tiny flashlight from my coat pocket.
      "Come on," I said. "Let's go in here."
      It was the first door on the right.
      Rose almost choked when she saw Katie lying there. In the thin beam from the flashlight, it almost looked like she was still alive.

#

Katie was naked, lying crumpled up on the floor. Her bare feet were still wet and raw with her blood. Her lips were pulled back from her teeth in a horrible imitation of a seductive smile. On the wall behind her there was a charcoal drawing of a black sun rising over an open book, like the pendant that Joe had been wearing. I knew what would happen next, and there wasn't much time.
      Rose took her shirt off in a rustle of cloth. Her breasts were full and pale in the flashlight beam. The nipples were erect as if we had come here as lovers. I could almost taste them in my mouth, but I knew better than to linger. There was a high whine that came from nowhere.
      There it was, above the door. I stepped past Rose, and she turned so I could still see her. Her smile offered me everything, but her eyes were stark panic. She unbuttoned her jeans, and started to unzip them. I saw her dark hair as I ran my hand along the threshold, and I wanted to touch her there, in her wetness. The stone slipped away from me at first. Something skittered across my fingers.
      Rose had started to dance. It was just a swaying of her hips as she pushed her jeans down by her ankles. She had been paid to do this, a hundred times. But this time it would kill her before it was done. She was kicking her jeans off the rest of the way when I found the stone again and took it down from the threshold. She fell on the floor like an epileptic, shuddering.
      I left her there for a moment. I had to make sure I was right about this. Yes, a stone wrapped in virgin parchment, and a sigil drawn in blood. I happened to know that it was bat's blood, and this was the mark of the demon Frutimière.
      I quoted from the Grimorium Verum: "She will dance unceasingly until death, if one does not remove the character; with grimaces and contortions which will cause more pity than desire."
      "I want to kill them," Rose whispered.
      "We will. But there was a working here, and I need to know why."
      I leaned down for a closer look. She had given them blood and pain. Was this a working for strength, or to find where our hideout was? Or was it only to punish her?
      "You're a cold one, Jim. In fact, you're sick. You're standing there studying a dead woman. This was Katie, Jim. She was my friend."
      Her voice was flat and hard. Not sorrowful. I turned and looked at her. She was shaking. Her hand was opening and closing on her discarded jeans.
      "If anyone avenges her," I said, "it will be me. Hopefully with your help. It has to be this way. If I could still get choked up, I might miss something."
      "Oh god," she said. "What's that?"
      I shone the flashlight where she pointed. There was a tongue stuffed up between the girl's legs. The symbolism was obvious.
      "Women talk too much," I said.
      I vomited a second after Rose did.

#

"We got her killed," she said. "We got her killed."
      She was crying into my shoulder. I was trying to quiet her down. She had put her clothes on, and broken down.
      "We don't want the kids to hear us," I whispered. "I need you to be a little quieter, Rose."
      "You can go fuck yourself!" she snapped. But she stopped sobbing and wiped her eyes.
      "You get a lot of people killed," she said. "You must be used to it. I'm not."
      "I'm not used to it," I said. "It's just one of a thousand horrible things I have to stare down every day. I don't blink because they don't."
      "She was a friend of mine," she said. "Not a very close friend, but a friend. And now look what I've done to her. I must be evil."
      "You're not evil, Rose," I said. "This is evil. We're just trying to stop them, that's all. Sometimes it goes bad. That's the way of it."
      "I can't be as cold as you about it. I just can't."
      "I'm not cold," I said. "I'm not. I will have nightmares about this for years."
      I could have prayed that this was true.
      "Do you ever think about me?" she whispered.
      Ever since the moment we met. All the time.
      "Why are you asking me this? What does it matter? I thought I meant nothing to you - remember?"
      "Oh, I was just teasing," she said. "I thought you knew that. Sometimes I say the first thing that comes into my head. I don't even know if I really mean it or not."
      "Why shouldn't I think about you? I see you every day."
      "You know what I mean." She pouted. Then: "I think about you."
      "Oh yeah? That's good to hear." My face ghost-like, expressionless.
      "Yeah, I look forward to seeing you when I wake up in the morning. I think we were meant to meet, Jim. You know, like fate."
      "What do you mean?" I asked. "You're not saying . . ."
      "No."
      She made a face, and my heart sank. I thought, serves me right.

#

There was a shuffling sound, and I looked up. And they were standing outside the door. Pale shapes with eyes that stared like fish. A stench of rot, and dead old dirt. Their faces seemed to melt into the darkness, but this was only a trick of the shadows. They watched us curiously, in silence. The night children had come down from the upper floors.
      "Why don't you respect the old school?" one of them whispered. He took a shuffling step closer. I aimed my gun. These kids would pull us apart like cold chicken.
      "I have a gun," I said, "and I will use it. Our enemies did this, not us. We were about to leave."
      He stopped. There was a whispering. He stepped back.
      "They have been taking us," he said. "They took Jamie from us last week. Kill them for us. Or we will kill you now."
      "They will be dead," I said. "Or I will."
      There was a whispering again. They let us pass.
      "Do not come back until it is done. We will be watching whoever comes here."
      We walked away from there, and I shuddered. We made an anonymous call from a payphone. At least her parents would have the body to bury.
      Wherever they were.

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