Dead Man s Hand Page 0,18

and shaky. Ezili spat more venom at him in French. "I didn't know," he pleaded. "Please, I can't wait. Ezili, I need the kiss, I need it bad. Listen to me."

Jay knew that voice. He got to his knees, bumped into the edge of the couch, fumbled for a lamp, and turned on some light.

"You don't understand what I've been through," Sascha said.

Chapter 3

"Shut up, fool," Ezili said in English. "You have a visitor.", Sascha's head turned slowly, until it faced Jay. "You." Jay suddenly remembered that he was naked. His clothes were scattered all over the room, pants over the back of the couch, boxer shorts dangling from the lampshade, socks and shoes God knows where. Ezili was just as naked.

Of course, Sascha had no eyes. Somehow Jay didn't think it mattered. "Me," Jay admitted, a little sheepishly. He snatched his boxer shorts off the lamp, climbed into them, and tried to think what else to say. Pardon me, Sascha, I came here to talk to you, but wound up fucking your girl on the living-room carpet, and by the way, she is one terrific piece of ass.... No, he couldn't say that. Of course, he'd just thought that, and Sascha was a telepath, which meant that he already...

"Coward," Ezili snarled at Sascha. "Weakling. Why should you have the kiss? You don't deserve it."

Jay looked at her, a little shocked. This was a whole different side to Ezili, and she sure as hell didn't sound like a hooker talking to a well-heeled customer. She stood with her fists balled on her hips, naked and furious, and Jay noticed for the first time that she had a big, crusty brown scab on the side of her neck. He thought of various venereal diseases, then of AIDS, remembered that she was supposed to be Haitian, and felt like a total idiot. "Where the fuck is my shirt?" he said angrily, louder than he'd intended.

Ezili and Sascha both looked at him. Ezili muttered something in French, spun on a bare foot, and stalked off toward the bedroom. She slammed the door behind her. Jay heard it lock.

Sascha looked as though he was going to cry, although Jay wasn't at all sure you could cry, without eyes. He sagged into an armchair and lifted his head to favor Jay with his eyeless stare. "Well?" Sascha said bitterly. "What do you want?"

Jay, struggling into his pants, felt at a certain disadvantage, but he tried not to let on. "I'm looking for Elmo," he said, zipping up his fly.

"Everyone's looking for Elmo," Sascha complained. He looked like shit, Jay thought, except that he'd never seen shit look as pale and sweaty and trembly as Sascha looked right now. "Well, I don't know where he is. He went off to run an errand and he didn't come back." Sascha giggled. It was a thin, high, frightening sound, on the edge of hysteria. "The dwarf who never returned, that's Elmo. Good for him. They'll hang him for it, you know. Wait and see. He's only a joker."

Jay couldn't find one of his socks. He shoved the other one in a pocket and sat on the edge of the couch to lace up his shoes. The couch was new, expensive, upholstered in plush wine-colored velvet. Jay gave the apartment a good once-over, really seeing it for the first time. The floors were covered by deep-pile wall-to-wall carpeting, as white as snow. On the far side of the pass-through was a modern kitchen where rows of copper-bottomed pots hung between a towering bronze refrigerator-freezer and a microwave that could double as a hangar for small planes. The living room was full of weird but expensive-looking primitive art that Jay figured must be Haitian. Elaborate painted symbols covered the walls. Off to his left, the loft had been subdivided into a maze of smaller rooms; it looked like there could be five or six bedrooms back there.'

"What is this place?" Jay said, a little baled.

"It's a place you don't belong," Sascha said. "Why don't you just leave me alone?"

"I will. As soon as you've answered a few questions." That made Sascha furious. "No!" he shouted. "Now. I told you, I can't wait, damn it, you get out of here, I need the kiss, I don't want you here, I don't want you bothering me." Jay had never seen Sascha this way. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked. "Sascha, are you hooked on something?"

Sascha's rage suddenly changed