“But you kept the tires,” a voice behind us said. I spun around, my pulse already racing. Ty stood in the doorway, his hands empty. He looked at Dale, then at me, then back at Dale again, as though he wanted to make us unmeet each other.
“Why is this here?” Dale demanded. “In my home!”
Ty glanced at the suitcase without much interest. “I need it,” he said. “I need to offer it to someone to get him to do something for me.”
“Who?” I asked. “Wally King?”
“Yeah,” he said to me. “You’ve been putting it together.”
“I still have a couple of blank spots in the story. Help me with the rest of it.” He laughed at me. It was a cynical sound; he wasn’t so glad to see me anymore. “All right, then,” I said. “Help me get the guy who did this to you. No one else can.”
“You’re the one who did this to me.”
“That’s bullshit, Ty.”
“Well, what do you expect from me?!”
His shout echoed in the tiny room. Dale bolted to his feet and retreated toward the corner. I held myself absolutely still, and I knew right then I would have to kill him.
“What do you expect from me, Ray? This guy shows up out of the blue at the Bigfoot Room saying he knows you. He says he can do things for us, and Luther is right there to say it’s true, it’s all true. He promises us power, and he delivers, too. All he asks is one favor in return, and he hasn’t even collected from me yet.”
“I don’t think he’ll bother, Ty.” You’re just a distraction. You’re his wooden man. “Tell me what happened.”
He sighed. “What’s the use?”
I thought about Wally’s cabin and my iron gate. Maybe I didn’t need him to explain it all to me. “I’ll tell you, then. You went somewhere secluded. Wally had a circle or square or something painted on the floor—maybe it was drawn in chalk—and it had symbols around it. Then he put a symbol on you, too, and you got into the circle. What was next? Chanting? Music? Did he draw another symbol?”
Ty wasn’t in the mood to answer questions. “How did you know he drew a symbol on me?”
“Because he put a thing on you. Something alive, and the only reason it hasn’t killed you yet is that you’re protected.”
Ty lifted his shirt, exposing ab muscles that gave me a twinge of envy. And a sigil.
It wasn’t large, barely as wide across as seven quarters arranged in a circle, all touching. Three squiggles had been drawn inside a slender ring, but this time I couldn’t figure out what those squiggles might represent.
Then I realized that the ink was fading. The outer ring especially was wearing away.
Dale had leaned in close to me so he could look, too. “It’s henna,” he said. “But fading.”
Ty dropped his shirt to cover the sigil. It occurred to me that I had Annalise’s cell in my pocket. I took it out and lifted Ty’s shirt again. He went stiff and awkward when I touched him. I snapped the picture quickly and backed away. Ty frowned at me and straightened his shirt. “Yeah. The ink was diluted, I think, and when it wears out, I’m history, right?”
I looked him in the eye. “Caramella is already dead.”
“Damn.” He turned his back and stepped over to the bureau. There was another unrecognizable spaceship on it. Ty flicked it with his fingers. It slid across the painted wood and fell to the carpet with a fragile plastic sound.
“Ty,” I said, pointing my thumb at Dale. I chose my words carefully. “Do you care about this victim?”
Dale looked at me, shocked. “Victim?”
Ty laughed sadly. “Oh, Ray, you have no idea. You don’t know how many times I’ve had to pick up a credit card he’s left forgotten on a restaurant table. Or car keys. You don’t even know. But yeah. I love him.”
“Then you have to get away from him.”
“No!” Dale shouted. “Ty, I don’t know what’s going on, okay, but—”
“Shut up,” Ty said. His tone wasn’t unkind, just sad. “I mean it.”
“When Caramella went,” I pushed on, “she nearly took Vi’s daughter with her.”
“Vi’s daughter?” he said, as though it was hilarious that I’d called her that.
“Yes. And not just her, either. When this thing takes you, it’s going to take whoever is nearby, too. Ty, I can—”
“You can what, Ray? What? Tell me what you can do?”
“I can get you away from people—”
“Fuck that. I want to live.” Ty bared his teeth at me as he said it, letting anger give him strength. “I’m not going to give up now! I’m going to find this Wally King, and I’ll offer him the money. If that doesn’t work, I’ll offer him his own damn life. He’ll show me a way—”
“Ty—”
“No, Ray, shut up! He’ll show me how to take it off and put it on when I want, and—”
“Ty, it’s not a goddamn jacket! It’s down in your lungs, isn’t it? It’s breathing for you, and it’s up your nose and in your head. And it’s strong, I know. It’s not going to let you put it on and take it off like a hat.”
“What can you offer that’s better, Ray? I wouldn’t even be in this mess if it wasn’t for you, and you want to take me somewhere quiet to die?”
My ghost knife was in my pocket, but if I used it, the drape on him would kill him, and who knows how many more would come through. Ty wouldn’t be happy to see me reaching into my pocket just then, either.
“You were wrong about one thing, Ray. Wally King did ask me to do a little something for him, but I wasn’t going to do it. I think I changed my mind.”
He turned into a silhouette, giving me a glimpse of the Empty Spaces, then he vanished.
I spun and tore the covers off the bed, throwing them at him. I didn’t have to bother; he wasn’t hiding from me, he was charging. The striped sheet flopped over Ty’s head just before he slammed me off my feet into the wall.
I was pinned, the wooden bedpost digging into my low ribs and kidney. Damn, he was strong. I felt his right hand release my shirt, saw the blanket flutter as it slid off him. I raised my left hand to protect my head.
His first punch glanced off my triceps and the top of my head. It probably hurt him as much as it hurt me. His second struck the part of my forearm protected by spells. That one didn’t hurt me at all.
His weight shifted and I twisted to the left. His third punch landed right on my solar plexus. He might have killed me with it if not for the spells there.
My feet were off the floor, and I didn’t have room to lift them onto the bed. Instead, I kicked low, hoping to hit Ty’s knee. I missed. I had no idea where he was. All I could see was Dale standing in the corner with a horrified expression.
I tucked my chin and protected my face as well as I could. Even though I couldn’t see him, I could feel him. He was still holding me with his left hand. I reached out with my right, trying to find his eyes, but he wrenched himself away and slammed me down on his bed.
I could hear his breathing, ragged and furious, but I looked straight through him at Dale. While he rained down punches on me, I curled my legs and kicked at him again. I needed to get him off balance. I needed leverage.
Ty switched his grip on my shirt so his knuckles would grind into my throat. I finally managed to get a good kick against his knee and made him stagger. He didn’t let me up, but the pressure eased, and I had a moment’s break from the beating I was taking on my ribs and my left arm.
His grip on my throat loosened. I caught his thumb in my right hand and started to peel it back. He wouldn’t let me break it, though. He ripped his hand away and backed off.
For a moment I was afraid he’d gotten smart. If he’d let go of me and hit me with a bit more distance, I’d never have been able to protect myself. I pushed my way off the bed toward him, determined to keep him close.
I hadn’t yet gotten all the way upright when a fat ceramic lamp floated off the bedside table and rushed at me. I swung at it with my protected forearm and shattered it. Broken bits of clay clattered against my face and chest, and the heavy base struck my lip painfully.