Before I could summon a solution, Andre reappeared. He crossed the roof of the office building beside the bombed-out warehouse, weapon in hand, working his way toward the front. Thank Saturn or his guardian angels, he was alive! Except he’d see the soldiers in the street any second, and war would ensue.
Shit and triple shit. The rage factor decreased enough for me to think again. How did I keep a lunatic from killing everyone in sight? I was operating on overload. Adrenaline coursed through my system like a hallucinogenic drug.
Justice. Concentrating so hard that I forgot I was a sitting target out here on the balcony, I shouted to the Universe, “In the name of Saturn, I command justice against thugs who blew up a building and attacked the injured. The punishment for such harm . . .”
I didn’t finish the sentence aloud but visualized the penalty. I was feeling mean, but the only image forming in my mind was that of big bad soldiers pushing baby strollers with screaming toddlers, changing dirty diapers, and singing incessant nursery rhymes for a week.
Damn, Clancy, is that the best you can do? I could almost hear Andre’s voice in my head. But it wasn’t easy balancing the scales of justice and trying to save lives—and maybe Andre’s soul—at the same time.
The acrid stench of the explosion still burned in my nasal passages and stung my eyes, but I grabbed the rail and watched the street for a miracle.
Andre released a hail of automatic fire from his position on the roof. I hadn’t visualized stopping Andre. Damn.
The troops in the street looked startled, broke ranks, and ran like rabbits—to a nursery school somewhere, if there was any justice in the world. Let them nurture instead of destroy for a few days.
Thank you, Saturn.
The red-rage juice drained out of me. Sliding to the floor, I couldn’t even look up to see if Andre had left bodies in the street.
12
It wasn’t quite noon yet on my day off, and I was completely wiped already.
Milo licked my face but I didn’t have the energy to view whatever chaos Andre had generated on the street. I wanted to wish myself into a quiet law library, but I was pretty sure now that the red-rage juice provided the energy for my visualizations and I couldn’t wish myself anywhere without it.
Lying on the balcony, watching smoke drift by, I realized that if I’d made copies of the case the judge was working on, I could have taken the file over to the university law library today and worked on it on my own.
Back in the good old days, that’s exactly what I would have done. I’m goal-oriented.
But my mind was apparently being controlled by a planet. Or Satan. Or insanity. Depending on the day of the week, maybe. I no longer thought like my old self. I thought like the Avenger of Justice or some other dingbat instead of a type-A legal beagle.
Maybe Max was right. Maybe I needed to move out of the Zone and its environs.
I was thinking of taking a nice nap when I heard voices in the attic. Invisibility would be a neat trick if I could pull it off. Maybe I’d ask Tim for pointers.
“Schwartz is the law,” Andre shouted. “He’s gone off to write a report, a freaking report, when Acme just blew up my warehouse and sent armed troops after my fucking family! The line was drawn and Gloria crossed it.”
“We’re not hurt. Calm down and be sensible. Where’s Tim? Did he get out of the warehouse?”
I recognized Julius’s soothing murmur. I also recognized that Andre had reached a plane beyond reason. I waited to hear about Tim. If Tim had been hurt, I’d probably go all red-ragey again, but I just didn’t have it in me otherwise. I lay on the balcony and clung to mellow.
“The kid’s not stupid,” Andre yelled at his father. “He sneaked out and bashed one of the van drivers. He drove off with two of the old guys, but the other van got away with our people. Do you want to be responsible for whatever the hell they’re doing to them up there in that frigging Frankenstein lab?”
Well, I could say the same about Julius’s infirmary and Paddy’s weird attic, but admittedly, neither of them had gassed a neighborhood and gone to extreme lengths to hide the fact that their chemicals had knocked people comatose.
Tim was safe. He hadn’t been dragged into Acme’s dungeon. No one was shooting at us. My mellow stayed mellow. I wondered if Tim had rescued the van with Leibowitz inside and if he’d done it while invisible. Not having to worry about him, I could breathe again. Andre’s curses weren’t all in English. I amused myself by making up translations. Vaca was cow, wasn’t it? Cow-fornicating bastards?
“I’m just asking you to wait, clear your head,” Julius said. “Check on your businesses. See if anyone is feeling any effects from the gas. Don’t do anything hasty until you’ve had time to cool down.”
“If I don’t act now, the storm troopers will be back. Do you want to move Mom out of here? Put her in a nursing home somewhere?”
The silence was telling.
“I rest my case.”
The snapping of locks and slamming of cabinet doors followed.
I waited for Andre to notice me through the French doors, but he apparently really was in his own world. I glanced up and saw Julius standing in front of me—deliberately?
“You can’t confront Gloria,” Julius said firmly. “Acme provided your scholarships at her behest.”
Yup, deliberately. He was telling me where Andre was headed. Andre had told me once that his father had once worked with the Vanderventers. Pretty closely, apparently, if Gloria had provided Andre with a scholarship.
Julius was protecting Granny Vanderventer. Or Andre. I wasn’t sure Gloria needed or deserved his friendship. But going after Gloria wasn’t smart.
Controlling stockholder of Acme Chemical, Gloria Vanderventer had bloodthirsty goons out the wazoo, I knew from personal experience. They killed first and asked questions later. I figured the rotting corpses of her enemies composted her rose gardens. Or maybe since Dane’s departure, she’d taken up knitting baby booties.
I stretched out and annoyed myself by wondering if I’d killed anyone today, and if I’d be rewarded in the morning. But I’d avoided damning people to hell, so maybe not. My, my. I yawned. Milo settled on my tummy. Now that I’d publicly blown up my boyfriend and sent him to hell, unseen deaths were reasonably anticlimactic. Or so I’d like to believe.
Andre slammed out of the attic. Julius followed. I could stroll on home, check my e-mail. I really needed to figure out how to find Themis one of these days. My mother’s friends could have responded about body dumping by now.
I knew I wouldn’t do any of the above. Really, I was too predictable.
I needed food if I was going to take the next step. Waiting until both sets of angry feet pounded down the stairs, I dragged myself off the balcony. Milo tagged along at my heels. Noticing a stout canvas tote bag hanging on the back of the door, I appropriated it. Milo needed a larger mode of transportation. I dropped him in. He poked his head out.
“I don’t like war,” I told him conversationally. “Do you think I could wish for peace on earth? Visualize ammunition melting?”
He gave a kitty snort. Yeah, that was my thought, too. My brain was too fuzzed to even picture the sandwich I intended to make. Maybe those old gurus got it right by living the hermit life on top of mountains where they could concentrate without interference. Unfortunately, I’m not much into masochism.