of mannerisms, his slipshod persona. I still don’t believe he was even British.
Charlee fished half a roll of spearmint Life Savers from a jeans pocket and passed one to B.
“Why am I here?” I asked.
“Come after a ball of fire, did we?” B mumbled around the spearmint Life Saver. He clicked it about in his mouth, then scratched at his stubbled face again. “Might be,” he said, “I want to help you, Quinn. Lend a hand, as it were. Mind you, not out of the goodness of my heart.”
“No offense, B, but . . . you don’t even look like you’re in any shape to help yourself, much less me. You want my advice, cut your losses and sit this one out.”
“Did he say he wants your advice?” Charlee asked, and the way he asked it left no doubt that he was getting angry. I began to wonder if maybe this kid was more than arm candy. Maybe. Or maybe he only had aspirations.
Either way, he was pissing me off.
I said to him, “Charlee with two e’s, you want to remind me how this shit’s any of your business?”
“Now, now,” said B. “Let’s all be friends.”
“I didn’t come here to make friends, and I think your twink needs a shorter leash.”
Charlee made half an admirable stab at shooting me a withering glare, and I showed him my middle finger. Nice try, boy, but no banana. B sighed, sucked on his Life Saver, and checked his wristwatch.
He said, “You and me, kitten, seems like we’ve perfected the fine fucking art of finding ourselves between a rock and a hard place, Scylla and Charybdis, demons and the deep blue sea. And this time, well, here you have those inbred albino lunatics up in Beantown, got it in their collective fucking loaf they’re gonna see some ancient prophecy come to fruition, yeah? Believe they’re the chosen ones, gonna lead all the wee little downtrodden ghouls to the pearly gates of Kingdom Come.”
He stopped talking just long enough to spit what was left of his Life Saver onto the floor.
“While on the other hand, you’ve got the venerable Mr. Pickman and his merry band of counterinsurgents, the agnostics in this right holy Barney the Snows are trying to incite, and that lot figure what they got now is better than reopening old wounds and picking a losing battle with the Djinn. Id est, the plonkers you appear to have aligned yourself with, my darling dear.”
“B, I haven’t fucking aligned myself with anyone. I’m just trying to get Selwyn back. And I’m gonna assume you know who she is.”
“Indeed, I do. Your aforementioned heart’s desire and lady love,” he replied. “And do let me pause to congratulate you on having found that special someone. I was tickled pink at the news, I was.”
Right then’s when I realized there were a couple of kids, a boy and a girl, watching us from just a few feet away. They looked to be seven, maybe eight. Eight at the most. Small wonder they were the only ones giving us the hairy eyeball.
“I haven’t taken a side,” I said again.
“Why didn’t Pickman hold on to the Madonna?” B asked, and now he was staring back at the two kids.
“Beats the ever-loving shit outta me. Why’d the twins cut off your hand? You get greedy and try to pull a double cross with them?”
“I had unexpected expenses,” he said, speaking very softly now, still watching the two children who were watching us. “It happens. I’d underestimated my out-of-pocket, tried to renegotiate the terms.”
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
Then B leaned forward a bit, towards the two kids, and he rolled his eyes back in their sockets until only the whites were showing. Actually, the whites were a little yellow, like possibly B’s liver was reaching the end of its rope and jaundice was setting in. Also, he smiled. For a human, B’s got a creepy fucking smile. I have, on occasion, speculated he might have a dash of infernal blood from a few generations back; it would explain a lot. Like that smile.
The two kids promptly stopped staring and melted into the crowd flowing by between the dinosaurs.
“Neat trick,” I said. “Though, I do wonder why you thought meeting here was a good idea.”
“Lately,” he replied, “I’ve sort of developed a fondness for crowds, if you get my drift.”
“Well, hey, then that makes one of us. What do you want, B? You’re charming as ever, but I’m getting tired of sitting