Tenth Man

by Tamara Sheehan

Chapter 20

They went wordlessly up to the apartment and hammered on the door. Howie let them in with a small scowl that softened when he saw Saul’s expression.

“Saw a friend of Toven’s outside.” Saul said, trying to make light, aware of his bloodless face, his thin voice. “It’s bad news, Howie. Really bad.”

“What is it?”

“Incubus.”

“Incubus? This one belongs to your dad?” Toven nodded. “Goddamn! How’d they find me?”

“I don’t know. This is one,” he swallowed vomit, “one you don’t want on your doorstep. Don’t tell it anything, don’t let it into your place.”

“You have to tell me that? You think I haven’t come across them in the sewers?”

“Not like this one.” He gulped in air. It was becoming hard to see, ringing flooded his ears, sweat sprang out on his forehead. He lurched away from Toven and into the bathroom, collapsed over the toilet in a spasm of vomiting.

Howie shared a concerned look with Toven. “You okay, man?” he asked for both of them. He touched Saul’s shoulder as Saul contracted again.

“Feeling a little sick,” he answered when the wave of nausea had passed.

Howie nodded at Toven. “Bring him in. I’ll make some space for him.”

As Toven helped him up, Howie swept clear a space for him on the mattress and watched Toven ease him down there.

All the gear the locker could furnish had been strewn about the floor, heaped high on the bed. His maps lay folded in neat piles, flashlights and spare batteries like discarded toys rolled underfoot. Saul curled on his side around one of Howie’s pillows and squeezed shut his eyes. Howie dredged up a blanket that smelled of dust and put it over Saul.

“Too much magic,” Howie told him, tucking the sides under Saul’s legs. “Way too much, especially without your familiar at hand. You forget how stressful it is on your body. You gotta go easy.” Howie fidgeted, looking down at his friend. “Usually it’s the other way around, hey? You nursing me after too much beer.” He offered a weak smile. “You want something?”

Saul shook his head. He felt irresponsible, felt exhausted. Sour spittle clung to the corners of his mouth and coated his tongue. He reached out to find the incubus but his mind seemed to be clogged. I can’t do it. I’m too tired to do it. My god, what if he’s standing in the hallway right now and I can’t warn them?

Toven stood silent, anxiously tugging at his matted hair.

“Hey, Saul.” Howie’s voice was very soft. “You need anything?”

Saul forced his mouth to work. “I haven’t had a lot of sleep the past few days.”

“Like I don’t know that.” Howie squatted by the bed. “This friend of Toven’s, is he gone now or is he still a problem?”

“Gone, I think.” His head felt heavy, his body hollow. He closed his eyes, reached out and fell back again. Too tired. “Maybe. Hopefully.”

He closed his eyes and fell into terrible, obscene dreams that were the fragments of other’s memories.

It was dawn before he woke. Rain was hammering on the window, pasting leaves to the glass. Saul sat up, found Toven curled like a cat near the crook of his knees and squirmed out of bed to avoid waking him. Howie lay sprawled on his chair, a blanket cast over his face drowned out his quiet snores.

He crept to the bathroom to rinse the sour taste out of his mouth. When he came back to the sitting room, Howie had pulled the blanket off his head and nodded at Saul. “Better today?”

Saul nodded. His mind still felt thick and slow, but the nausea had passed. “Sorry if I made you nervous.” He rubbed at his face. “Too much magic. I should have brought the familiar with me.”

“You need to stop working yourself so hard.”

“Maybe. Didn’t worry you too much, did I?”

“Hell no, I’ve seen you after a night of heavy drinking.” Howie grinned. “No, it didn’t bother me, but you kind of freaked out Toven. He didn’t like it when he couldn’t wake you.” Howie looked over at him. “He’s your puppy, man.”

Saul could think of nothing to say, so he looked down at the sleeping man. Toven had burrowed under the covers, all that could be seen of his face was the tip of his nose sticking out as if from under a hood. His mouth was open, gentle puffs of air making the corner of the blanket flap. One gaunt arm hung off the edge of the mattress at an uncomfortable angle.

Howie climbed to his feet, groaning and stretching as he walked. He went to the window overlooking Dong May’s and peered out. “Still there.” He said and gestured for Saul to come to the grimy little window.

“Someone watching the place?”

“Toven’s friend, the bit of nasty you were talking about. He’s been out there all night, waiting to see when we come out.”

“We can’t stay holed up in here like this.” Saul said quietly, pressing his nose against the glass. Below in the rain washed streets, the Dong May’s sign was cold and grey. The man was a shadow pacing over silver concrete, his face illuminated the by occasional orange flare of a cigarette.

“The longer we leave Bridge, the more I worry about her. Audel killed my dad, now Saiid... I can’t see anything stopping him from hurting Bridge to get to us.”

“Get to you.” Howie corrected. “I’m not really involved.”

“All right, to get to me.” Saul shrugged. “If anything happened...”

He looked at Howie and fell silent. His friend’s expression had not changed, but he was gripping the window ledge with fingers gone suddenly white. After a long silence Howie kissed his teeth.

“We can get into the sewers through the basement of this building, and I can get to Audel’s plant by the sewers. Are you going to come?”

The question startled him. “Of course.”

“What about your puppy?”

“I’ll go, Howie.” Toven’s voice came from behind them. They turned. He was sitting up in the bed, bleary eyed and rumpled, holding the blanket up to his chin. “I want to go.”

“You sure?” Saul asked him. “You’re going to have to see him, maybe Ian too.”

“I want to go.” Toven repeated firmly. “I’ve got unfinished business there too.”

Proceed to chapter 21...