Sonja Blue - Paint It Black Part 8

'Not all the time.'

'You're right. Sometimes she's awake during the day. But only under special circ.u.mstances.'

Lethe held up the mask so that it covered her face. Her eyes, golden and pupil-less, shone in the empty sockets. For some reason it made Palmer's flesh creep.

'Put that thing away!'

Lethe flinched at the sharpness in his voice and Palmer inwardly cursed himself. His problems with Sonja were beginning to reflect in his att.i.tude toward others. He opened his mouth to tell Lethe he was sorry, that he hadn't meant to bark at her like that, but she was already back inside the house.

Lefty crawled out from under a pile of excelsior and began playing with one of the pull-toys, rolling it back and forth on its wobbly hand-carved wheels. Palmer set aside his tools and ma.s.saged the back of his neck, grimacing down at his former incarnation's left hand 'Well, I screwed the pooch that time, didn't I, Lefty? Just like last night. I should have toughed it out, ridden out the depression until I got to the heart of what's been bugging Sonja, but I was weak. I freaked and took the easy way out, because I was afraid of being alone with the Other again. It's not that I don't want to help her, it's just that she's making it so d.a.m.ned hard.' Palmer shook his head and grimaced in disgust. 'Jesus! I must be crazier than I thought! I'm telling a disembodied hand about my woman trouble!'

Lethe stood in the house and looked out the window facing the courtyard. Daddy was squatting down, talking to Lefty and looking sad. Lethe knew Daddy didn't want to be mean to her. She knew he was having problems - something to do with Auntie Blue. Still, Lethe's feelings were hurt. She looked down at the black mask she still held in her hands. It was turned towards her, the empty eyes and mouth staring up at her, as if awaiting an answer.

Sighing to herself, Lethe placed the mask on her stepfather's worktable, where she'd first found it. She wondered what she would do to pa.s.s the day. She was tired of playing by herself and she'd read all her books so many times she'd lost interest in them. Daddy tried hard to keep up with her needs, but at thirty months she'd long outgrown Laura Ingals, Frank L Baum, and Robert Louis Stevenson. Even David Copperfield and Huckleberry Finn were no longer challenging.

She wished Daddy would let her go into town with him.

She really wanted to see other children, other people, other places. There was the video player and its monitor, but seeing pictures of things wasn't the same thing as experiencing them.

All her life, for as far back as she could remember, she had been kept away from what Daddy called 'normal people'.

Daddy and Auntie Blue agreed that 'normal people' would not understand her. She was different, and 'normal people' didn't like things that were different. They would look at her eyes and get scared. They'd want to take her away from Daddy and Auntie Blue and put her in some horrible place where they would experiment on her. The other reason Daddy refused to take her anywhere was fear of the Bad Man finding her. Lethe knew the Bad Man's real name was Morgan, and that he'd done something to hurt Auntie Blue a long time ago. She also knew that he was somehow related to her. Like a grandfather. Auntie Blue said the Bad Man killed Lethe's real mommy and daddy, back when Lethe was a little baby.

Lethe couldn't remember much of what happened back then.

What memories she did have were of being hungry or cold or wet - baby stuff. If she thought about it really hard, she could dredge up a memory of someone warm and dark, who smelled like milk. When Lethe told Auntie Blue about it, she told her she was remembering her real mother, Anise. When Lethe asked if Anise was Auntie Blue's sister, she said they'd had the same father. So did Lethe's real daddy, Fell. Lethe couldn't remember him at all. The first time she'd been told that Daddy wasn't really her flesh-and-blood father she'd burst into tears and clutched his pant legs, terrified that she was going to be taken away. But that was back when she was a little kid and didn't know any better - twenty months ago.

But now she was growing up - faster than Daddy or even Auntie Blue could possibly realize. The only one who knew that her childhood was nearing its end was Fido. Fido talked to her at night while she was asleep. Well, he didn't real talk. Not with his mouth, anyway. But he didn't talk with his head, the way Daddy and Auntie Blue did at times, either. It was more like he felt things to her.

Fido was as important a part of her life as Daddy, even though he never did things like fix her peanut-b.u.t.ter and banana sandwiches or buy her toys or read Dr Seuss to her before going to bed. Fido made sure she was safe. It was his presence, more than anything else, that ensured that the Bad Man would never be able to find her. It was his job - or 'destiny', as he called it - to make sure she grew up, so she could fulfill her destiny. (Fido used the word 'destiny' a lot whenever he talked to her.) Even now, as she thought of him, Fido lumbered into view.

He was big and bulky and s.h.a.ggy, like a Saint Bernard given human form, wrapped in filthy cast-off sweaters with newspapers stuffed in his boots. Daddy said Fido looked like a homeless person, which confused Lethe somewhat, because Fido had always lived in their house. She knew it took a lot of energy for Fido to maintain his physical form, and that he would be a lot happier if he could go around without his body slowing him down, but it was important for him to remain manifested on the physical plane, at least for as long as she required protection. Which wouldn't be much longer.

Fido was kind of excited about the prospect of being able to rejoin his brother-sisters, but part of him was sad, too, because this meant Lethe was growing up and wouldn't need him anymore. Lethe tried to cheer him up and told him she'd always need him, but they both knew it wasn't true.

Growing up was scary, but then everything really important is kind of scary, once you think about it. Soon she wouldn't be able to turn to Daddy for help, or rely on Fido for protection.

Her success or failure was totally up to her, and n.o.body else.

Part of her cringed at the thought of so much responsibility.

But, at the same time, growing up meant she would finally be free to see the world and everything in it firsthand. She could go to town, if she wanted - or anywhere else on the face of the planet. Thinking about growing up made her scared and excited all at once, mixing her up inside.

Lethe padded down the hall to the bedroom Daddy shared with Auntie Blue whenever she was home. The door was shut but not locked, so Lethe was able to get in. The room was very dark and stiflingly hot. No one human could possibly sleep in such a sweatbox, but Auntie Blue lay on the bed, covered by a sheet.

Lethe moved to the bed while Fido hung back. Auntie Blue didn't like Fido. She said he made her nervous. What she meant was that the Other was scared of him. Lethe sent Fido to go and scare the Other away the other night because she could tell it wanted to hurt Daddy. Lethe knew Auntie Blue loved Daddy, but she sometimes had a hard time controlling the Other.

Auntie Blue lay cold, white, and silent on the bed. She wasn't wearing any clothes under the sheet. She wasn't breathing and she wasn't sweating, although the room's temperature must have been over ninety degrees. There was what looked like blood smeared on the pillowcases and sheets and the room smelled like stinky socks. Lethe looked back at Fido, who shuffled back and forth at the threshold.

'It's okay, Fido. The Other's asleep, too.'

Lethe gently brushed aside a lock of dark hair from her stepmother's forehead and kissed her brow. Sonja's skin was cool and dry under her lips.

'Bye, Auntie Blue,' she whispered. Thanks for helping me get born.'

Palmer decided to fix Lethe's favorite meal as a peace offering and went to her room to tell her to wash up, a.s.suming she was either playing with her dolls or reading books to Fido.

'Lethe? Time for dinner! I made pigs-in-a-blanket - how does that sound? Lethe?'

Fido looked up from his guard post at the foot of Lethe's bed, his eyes unreadable as ever. Palmer's eyes went automatically to the bed, but there was no sign of Lethe amongst the jumble of dolls and stuffed animals. In the s.p.a.ce where she normally slept was what looked like a sleeping bag made of semi-opaque yellow plastic.

'What the--?' Palmer stepped forward, frowning. Maybe it was something Sonja had brought back for Lethe from New Orleans...

As he got closer, he could tell that whatever it was, it sure as h.e.l.l wasn't a sleeping bag. Almost four feet long and two feet around, the thing seemed to pulse and glow from within.

And even though he could not see enough of her to make a positive identification, he knew whose small, slender body it was hanging suspended at its amber core.

'Lethe!'

Palmer lunged at the coc.o.o.n to tear it open with his bare hands and yank his daughter free, but the moment his fingers brushed the outer casing a surge of psychic energy, as painful as it was powerful, shot up his arms and into his brain, hurling him backward as if he'd tried to scale an electric fence.

As he shook his head to clear it, Fido moved to stand between him and the bed. The seraphim's arms were outspread, his chin lowered in what Palmer recognized as a protective stance.

Palmer's legs were wobblier than a newborn colt's and his nose was dripping blood, but he was unharmed. 'd.a.m.n you! Stand aside!' he snapped as he got to his feet.

Fido did not offer to move.

'She's hurt! I've got to help her!'

Fido's arms wavered for a second, then lowered.

Palmer stepped forward.

The second blast kicked him into the hall. His goatee and hair were singed. Without using his hands, Fido closed the door to Lethe's bedroom.

It took Palmer a few seconds, but he somehow managed to get to his feet. His nose was still bleeding and his ears rang as if he'd been sitting on top of an air-raid siren. He staggered down the hall, propping his shoulder against the wall to keep from falling.

Sonja was still asleep. Her skin felt strangely dry and cool under his hands, like that of a reptile.

'Sonja!'

She moved sluggishly, brus.h.i.+ng at him with her left hand as if he was a bothersome insect intruding on her sleep. She mumbled something under her breath, then rolled over, pulling the sheet over her head. Trying not to let the panic overwhelm him, Palmer took a deep breath and stepped back from the bed, focusing himself long enough to fas.h.i.+on a heavy-wattage thought bolt. Then he threw it at her head.

Sonja!

The thought bolt bowed Sonja's body upward as if she'd been juiced with a car battery. Her eyes flew open and she sat up like a knife blade. The hair on her head stood on end and crackled like static on a radio. When he reached out to grab her naked shoulder she drew back and hissed at him.

'Sonja! Sonja - it's me! Something's happened!'

Sonja blinked and lifted a hand to her brow. 'Something's happened to Lethe?'

'How'd you know that?'

Sonja slid out of the bed and began pulling on her clothes.

'I had a dream she told me goodbye.'

She followed Palmer back up the hall, listening to him recount what had happened earlier. The door to Lethe's room was still closed. She tried the door; it wasn't locked.

'It's probably safe to go in. Fido would never let anything hurt Lethe, so whatever you were planning to do was probably interpreted as dangerous to her.'

'I was going to get her out of that... that thing?

Sonja gave Palmer a hard look. 'Bill, just shut up and let me handle this, okay?'

The door opened effortlessly. Sonja stepped inside, Palmer following her. Fido still stood on guard, shuffling from one foot to the other, watching them intently with his golden eyes. Sonja held up her hands, palms outward, smiling nervously.

Being in such close proximity to the seraphim was actively unpleasant - it felt as if she'd been dipped in honey and placed on top of an anthill.

'We don't want to hurt Lethe, Fido. We know you won't allow that. We're not going to touch her, Fido--'

'Like h.e.l.l we aren't!'

'Shut up, Palmer! Don't mind him, Fido. He's just scared. 'He thinks something bad has happened, and he just wants to help Lethe.'

The seraphim continued rocking back and forth, its head wavering like that of someone suffering from Parkinson's disease.

Sonja turned back to Palmer and grabbed his arm above the elbow, squeezing it until he grimaced. "Bill, I want you to promise me that you won't do anything stupid, like try and touch Lethe. You got off lucky the first two times, but if you try it again Fido will burn your brain like bacon in the pan, do you understand me?'

'Yeah. I don't like it, but I understand.'

Sonja turned back to Fido. 'We just want to look at her, That's all.'

Slowly, the seraphim moved aside, allowing them an unimpeded view of what lay on Lethe's bed. Sonja could see why Palmer had first mistaken it for a sleeping bag, since it resembled one of the mummy-case models. It was close to five feet long and three feet around, and seemed to be made from amber. It was translucent in spots and filled with a thick fluid that gave off a diffuse light, like that of a glowworm. Deep within the fluid she glimpsed what looked to be the outline of a child.

'It's grown,' Palmer muttered. 'It wasn't this big when I first found it... Whatever it is.'

'By the looks of it, I'd say it's a coc.o.o.n.'

'What the h.e.l.l is she doing in a f.u.c.kin' coc.o.o.n?

'Undergoing some sort of metamorphosis - that's what coc.o.o.ns are for.'

'For the love of G.o.d, Sonja, aren't you going to do something? That's our little girl in there!' Palmer shouted, lunging for the bed.

Fido moved to block his path and the sound of dynamos gearing up filled the room, the vibrations causing Sonja's fangs to ache. Swearing under her breath, she grabbed Palmer and tossed him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, slamming the door shut behind her.

She stomped into the kitchen and dropped him, unceremoniously, into one of the chairs. Palmer was livid, his anger so fierce he was choking on his words, It didn't matter - she could hear what he was thinking.

'You can think I'm a cold-blooded b.i.t.c.h all you want, William Palmer,' Sonja snapped. 'But I just saved you from having your brains scrambled in your skull! If Fido had let you have it, you'd be s.h.i.+tting in diapers and eating through tubes for the rest of your natural days!'

Palmer's face lost some of its blood. 'I ... I realize that, Sonja. I'm sorry I thought those things about you, but surely you can't expect me to stand by and do nothing!'

'That's exactly what I expect you to do - and that's what you're going to do! Bill, you've known all along that Lethe isn't a human child. h.e.l.l, you were there when she was born.'

'Don't remind me,' he 'mumbled, ma.s.saging his calf. 'I still have scars from where that mutant h.e.l.l-twin of hers tried to chew off my leg.'

'Lethe was born of two human vampires - creatures such as myself. But she's obviously not a vampire. I used to think she was some kind of seraphim, but now I'm not so sure. But whatever she might be, the seraphim have-considered her important enough to be placed under their protection. And for all we know, this coc.o.o.n stage is perfectly natural. The fact that Fido won't let us touch her suggests that interfering with this - I dunno, call it a larval stage - would be dangerous to Lethe.'

Palmer shook his head and got up to retrieve the bottle of tequila he kept in the pantry. Sonja was surprised by how old he looked. The psychokinetic pummeling he'd taken certainly didn't help matters; his face was puffy and bruises were slowly blossoming under his eyes, as if he'd been struck by the world's biggest air hammer.

They had first met two and a half years ago, when Pangloss hired him to track her down. Not even three years, and already he was starting to age. His once-dark hair and goatee were now liberally shot with gray, and his nose was beginning to dominate his face. Palmer had changed dramatically during their time together, what with his obsession with Mayan body modification, and now he was starting to grow old. Funny that she hadn't noticed that before. Was this how it was between vampires and their human lovers? One day they're a handsome youth, the next they're old and withered? She had to struggle to remember his age. Forty-three? Forty-four? How old was that in human years?

And, without realizing it, she began to think of Judd. About his youth and his innocence and his humanity ...

'Sonja?"

She reined in her thoughts, slamming them behind a protective wall. 'Yes, Bill?'

He was sitting there at the table, the tequila bottle at his elbow. Palmer watched her with eyes as distant and unreadable as a dead man's.

'Nothing. Nothing at all.'

Sonja woke up just as the sun went down. She showered immediately, making sure to wash away the previous evening's blood and s.e.m.e.n. Then, wrapping herself in a kimono she had picked up in Tokyo, she went to check on Lethe's coc.o.o.n.

She soon discovered that it was no longer resting on the child's bed but out on the patio, with Fido still standing guard.

Palmer was in the kitchen, drinking tequila. In the three days since Lethe retreated into her golden coc.o.o.n, Sonja had yet to see Palmer do anything but drink. Maybe he ate while she was asleep, but she doubted it.

'What's the deal? Why's the coc.o.o.n on the patio?'

'Dunno,' Palmer slurred, lifting the bottle to his lips. He wasn't even bothering with the rituals of salt and lime. 'Mebbe it got too big for the bed. f.u.c.ker's almost six feet long now.'

Sonja glanced out the window facing the courtyard. Palmer was right. The coc.o.o.n had grown at least another foot in length.

'All I know is that when I woke up today, it was sittin' out on the patio. Guess laughing boy there moved it while I wasn't looking.' Palmer set aside the bottle and began pawing through the pile of mail and invoices on the kitchen table.

'By the way, you got a letter ...'

Sonja stiffened. 'A letter? Addressed to me?'

'That's what I said - here.' Palmer retrieved a business length envelope from the pile and handed it to her. 'There's no return address, but it was mailed from the States.

There's a New York City postmark.'

She took the letter, smiling grimly. He was still the private detective, even pickled in tequila. Or perhaps being this drunk made him feel more like the old Palmer, the one who had existed before he learned the truth about the things in the shadows.

The envelope was nondescript, addressed to 'Sonja Blue c/o Indigo Imports'. The address was typed, not handwritten.