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“Damn right,” says Declan. “Your little blitzkrieg drove the price way up. Now it goes to the highest bidder.”
“That sounds dangerous,” says Candy.
“Nothing ventured nothing etcetera, sweetheart. I saw the light after he killed Moseley.”
“I didn’t kill him. He jumped in front of a bus.”
“Same thing, you fuck. He was a true believer and happy to die for the Angra cause. I’m not. Whoever ponies up can have it. That includes you, you know. You find a buyer and we can do some real business.”
“You suppose your Flayed Heart buddies know how the 8 Ball works?”
“What the fuck do I care? They can give it to their kids at Christmas instead of an Elmo doll.”
I don’t know any other actual Angra freaks. This might be my only chance to meet some real ones.
“I know someone who wants the 8 Ball. You sell it to your people, then put me in touch so I can make a bid on it.”
Declan considers this.
“I don’t know that I’m going to sell to Der Zorn Gottes. Why don’t you tell me your buyer and I’ll sell to him? I’ll give you a ten percent finder’s fee.”
“No. I want to meet your people.”
“I have the Qomrama and the gun. What you want isn’t really relevant to the discussion.”
This is starting to piss me off. Ten more seconds I’ll be chewing his face off myself. I could throw some hoodoo at him, but he still might get a shot off and hit Candy. I’ve got to find another angle.
“I have to make a tiny confession.”
Declan is already edging for the door.
“What?”
“That 8 Ball is a fake.”
He stops and looks at it like maybe he can tell the difference.
“It better goddamn well not be,” he says, and shoots a glass vase holding some long-stemmed lilies. Thank God. I was planning on knocking the ugly thing over myself. Declan shakes the 8 Ball. Uses his gun hand to try to make it do something.
A whirring, clicking noise starts behind me.
“What are you two doing out here? Fucking each other with cannonballs?” says Kasabian, bleary-eyed, creaking out of his room on all fours. He sees Declan with the gun and jerks upright, which, if you aren’t used to it, looks even worse.
“Shit!” yells Declan. He shoots at Kasabian, hitting him in the leg. I pull the Peacemaker from the waistband behind my back and, before he can turn the gun on me, put a hole in the side of Declan’s thick skull. He drops the 8 Ball, but Candy’s Jade reflexes are quick-like-a-bunny fast and she catches it before it hits the ground.
“What the fuck?” yells Kasabian, grabbing his injured leg. “Your fucking hit man crippled me,” he says. He hobbles over to Declan’s body. “This is exactly the kind of thing I was talking about. You don’t kill me, so you bring in someone to do it for you.”
“Calm down. I didn’t know he was going to shoot you. I wanted to see if he knew how to use the damned 8 Ball. Someone besides Aelita must.”
Candy sets the Qomrama on the coffee table and looks at dead Declan like she still wants to eat him.
“Fumbling with the 8 Ball, he looked like a junior high kid trying to take a girl’s bra off for the first time.”
I put the pistol back in my waistband.
“Hey, the first time can be confusing. And then some girl fools you with the kind that closes in the front and you start getting worried about how many other ways bras can open.”
“That’s the girl IQ test,” says Candy. “Can the rat run the maze and find the cheese?”
