Igneous Delaney (920 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: Necro
Rating: 2 on 22 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Snark << snarkk.at.gmail.com (View user info) at 2006-01-06 20:30:01 EST
Igneous Fall - http://www.ubersite.com/m/79673
Igneous Intent - http://www.ubersite.com/m/79748
Igneous Ngana - http://www.ubersite.com/m/80031
Igneous Interrupted - http://www.ubersite.com/m/80458
Igneous Impervious - http://www.ubersite.com/m/81600
I smell smoke.
It's thick and acrid. It's insulation, concrete and flesh. It's too far away to see but it feels greasy, and heavy against my skin nervertheless, as if it's looking for a home in my pours. It's the kind of smoke created by the nature of men rather than nature itself.
Nature ain't got no place here. We pushed her out of the city a long time ago in favor of factories and brick. Industry may be less colorful and infinitely unforgiving, but it pays better. It puts food in the fridge, gin in the cupboard, and dark things in the alleys where the rats and roaches live. It gives men like me things to do.
I'm guiding the rumbling beast that used to belong to Jimmy Six down the restaurants and men's club lined Boulevard that conceals the cities gin joints, and I'm chewing on the last of the bitter leaves Ngana gave me. They don't seem to help with the burn in my guts so much anymore, but at least my mouth doesn't taste like bile and blood.
I'm on my way to the estate of Paulos Pallance, otherwise known as Paul Pennance, otherwise known as the leader of the Necromancers.
Few people know his real name and nature. To most of the city, he's one of the reclusive elite; a man of influence and culture, an immigrant from across the sea, who came to America and found his fortune.
I never delved deep enough into the underworld to learn the true nature of the man myself, but I had a client who did. His name was Harley Post and he gave his life to learn it. He took a bullet and found his way to my doorstep, just in time to pass the secret on as he died in my arms. I watched him fade, then did what anyone with a half-soul would do: I called the Bulls to ask their stupid questions and take care of the corpse, then filed the information he'd died for in the part of my brain that's marked 'No Trespass'.
Pallance is known to have a wife and rumored to have a daughter who he keeps as a glorified prisoner in his house. There's an urban myth about her, something about a kid who caught a glimpse of Dalia and fell immediately in love. They say he snuck through her bedroom window one night, and when he returned the next morning, his hair had turned grey and he fell dead the first time he was kissed by another girl.
I don't know about the hair thing, but I remember the depth of her kiss. A man could lose everything that matters in it.
I don't know if Pallance sent his daughter or if she came of her own free will. I don't know if he sent the old man and the boy to take the book either. I just know that he's the alpha dead, and I hold him personally responsible for his bitches.
I mean to put a bullet in him for my troubles, or die trying. As far as I'm concerned, he's the root of all my problems and the problems of everyone who lives in this jungle. He and his kind have been rotting the city from the inside out for too long. They've been festering in the center of the dark heart of us all, and we good citizens have turned our eyes away, as we've always done.
I kept to the rules. I stayed out of the Necromancer's way, but they broke their end of the bargain. They pulled me in and made me a pawn, and there ain't no turning away from that.
The whole mess is giving me a disturbing new perspective on things. I'm thinking about the life I've lead, and the questionable things I've done, and I have this feeling that where I go when my eyes glaze over ain't going to be all that pleasant.
I've never been one for regret, and there's something annoyingly pathetic about feeling it at the last minute. It's too late to make up for anything. I ain't never been a Saint and I don't have time to join a church choir now, but maybe - just maybe, if I take a bit of evil down with me when I go, there'll be some small bit of redemption in it; some small dampening of the flames.
So I turn my spinning thoughts from the old Necromancer and the boy, and the puzzles they represent. I tear my mind from the riddle of the Necrosiac and each dead end I've run into since my journey began, and focus on the empty road ahead.
It's stupid of me to let my thoughts stray like this. Pastor Boulevard is Martini's turf. It's owned by him and policed by his thugs, and I wouldn't risk it except I got no time and it's the straightest route into the hills where the Pallance estate sits.
Smoke is getting thicker now... and two blocks down on the left, it's pouring out of the top window of The Dapper Dan, Martini's unofficial office.
I can barely make out a couple of vehicles parked out front. Both of them are black. One's a car and the other is a truck... or maybe a Van.
I can't help but grin as the notion that Martini's having a bad day flickers in my head, but it winks out as I slam my foot on the brakes, just in time to miss the man who's stumbled onto the road ahead.
He stands unsteadily under the yellow glow of the street lamp. He's got his back to me and his blue shirt sticks wet and black to the small of his back. He stumbles again, then spins right, looks at the car, then stumbles around to let himself in the passenger side. The door swings open and Delaney grunts as he eases himself in, then stops cold as the wide barrel of my gun pushes hard against his temple.
"Jesus, Jimmy it's me."
"Six is dead."
My voice hits him low and hard. He winces then turns his head enough to glance sideways at me and spit a response.
"Kane. You look like a basket of shit."
He's right, and it's all thanks to him, but as bad as I look, he looks worse. As little time as I have left, he has less. He's been infected. I can see the veins in the skin of his neck darkening. I can make out the yellow in his eyes despite the gloom in the car. The Mobian magic will spread through him, turning his blood into something akin to brackish water, and he'll die painfully. The magic will wash the life out of him if he's lucky, and bring him back if he's not. If the caster that did this to him is still alive, and powerful enough, and wills it: He'll rise again to do his master's bidding, just as the men who busted into my office did.
I wanna plug him right here, but I need to know what's going on with Martini. I got a suspicion about it, and about the thing I took from him.
"You wanna spend your last minutes on this earth flirting with me, that's your choice."
"You gonna kill me Kane? For what? You ain't man enough to take a few jabs?"
The cocking of my guns hammer is retort enough, and when he speaks again, his resolve to play the tough man is gone.
"Whoah!... Listen!... you know how it is Kane. It was business, nothing personal. I got my orders and it's my ass if I don't follow them. So I hit ya, sure, but I didn't enjoy it, not one bit. Honest! The Kid tells me you're a solid Joe, considering what you do and all. He says you're on the up-and-up, and if Pitt vouches for you, then you're ok in my books. I'm sorry, I had no choice! I'll make it up to ya Kane, I swear! Just please, get me to a Cleric, I'm shot and I'm cold... so goddamned cold."
I don't doubt that part of what he says is on the level. The truth of it is written in his panic. He didn't mean to kill me. He's stupid and brutal but he's not a murderer, and as far as I'm concerned, it don't make a difference.
"You forget I was there Delaney. I know personal when I feel it. You got a heartbeat to tell me what's going on before I give you a brand new ear hole."
He flinches again then licks his lips, and just like that, the floodgates open.
"It's Martini, he's gone mad. I stopped by the club after my shift to have a drink and he was there. He was plumb drunk and spouting off about going to war with the Necro's."
"Bullshit. Even Martini's not stupid enough to get in their way."
"Yeah, well believe it. He had all his lieutenants there, and he had em as whipped up as he was, talking tough and drinkin hard. He was spouting something about having help from the inside, and a secret weapon to boot. They was gonna put a hit on the Necro boss just as soon as Jimmy got back from collecting whatever it was you took from him."
A war.
Goddamn.
A war between the Mob and the Necro's, and my sorry ass caught in between.
They don't know about Six, which means Pitt didn't call it in, or I hit him too hard.
"Don't matter anyways Kane. We gotta go. We're in danger here."
"We?"
"Fucking Necro's hit the club. They flooded it with dead men then came in shooting and chanting. I took one in the back before I slipped out the side. Last I saw, they had Martini pinned against the wall and his men all tore up on the floor. He didn't look so tough with the crotch of his suit stained yellow."
"Jesus."
"Fucking Martini and his fucking war... over before it even began."
Delaney coughs then shudder's and his eyes almost glow in the low light.
"What was it Kane? What did you take from him?"
The answer slips out of my mouth despite myself as the vision of an old woman's body fills my mind's eye.
"I didn't take it from him exactly. Didn't realize it was his at first. I had a client. An old woman, never caused anyone any harm. She was a conjurer of sorts, hired me for protection, but didn't really say from whom. I found her all tore up in her basement one day. Martini himself had been to visit her. He'd had her make something but she realized what it was for as soon as she'd finished and hid it instead. The things he did to her... I couldn't let it stand. She was still alive for a time after I found her and she told me it needed to be kept safe, so I took it. I didn't really realize what it was till just now."
My hand is on the heel of my shoe. It's twisting and pulling and something shiny drops into my palm, and I hold it up for Delaney to see.
"That it?"
"Yeah."
"Don't seem like much does it?"
"No."
It takes me a minute to clear the blood and guts out of my head, and an uncomfortable silence fills the car.
"Kane, we gotta go. How bout you drop the gun, and get us moving, I gotta get blessed before it's too late."
"It already is."
At another time, in another place, I might have been swayed by his cooperation. I might have let myself go soft enough to ease my finger off the trigger and drive fast and hard to the nearest hospital, despite the message sent by the frigid air flowing off him, but this is now.
No, This is a time for realism and the reality is: I would never make it. He's done. He just doesn't know it, so I settle a score and do him a favor at the same time, and when my ears stop ringing from the shot; I push his limp body onto the street, reach across, pull the door shut, and drive off down a side alley before the Necromancer's follow the sound.
User Reviews
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2006-01-28 15:37:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2006-01-10 02:12:16 (#)
Ranking: 0
Caes,
Idunno, I kinda came to the conclusion that this site is not for wannabe writer's awhile back, so I just post for myself.
---------------------------------
and for the poeple who consistantly read your stuff!!
Submitted by simple_catalyst (user info) at 2006-01-17 19:25:36 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
i'm running out of compliments...
Submitted by Benny (user info) at 2006-01-12 01:47:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Gripping, that's what this series is man. Incredibly fucking good. Have you seen Sin City? I kind of visually picture some of this the way that movie looks.
I'm just sorry I didn't see the last two instalments at the time you posted them.
Good fiction doesn't get the hits that it deserves but I feel that a hit on a good post is worth several on a dodgy post that was written just to get hits and reviews (such as Thecaes's example "I love teenage pussy". People on this site writing fiction should ignore the number of hits entirely and concentrate on the genuine reviews that they receive. A review from someone that you respect is worth a shit load more than a whole bunch of hits (which don't really get you anything). Having said all that I think it's a crying shame that quality authors seem to have their work ignored, that they don't get the same number of hits as writing a post about "Big titted transexual aliens raping my dog".
Snark your attitude seems to be very healthy: write for the pleasure of it and ignore such things as number of hits.
Submitted by TigerLilly (user info) at 2006-01-10 09:38:36 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by simple_catalyst (user info) at 2006-01-06 23:42:05 (#)
Ranking: 2
you fucking rock man.
yep
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2006-01-10 09:25:28 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Don't sell yourself short Snark. this is pretty damn good, with some cleanup up I would think you could shop it somewhere. What do I know though?
hmmmm...... I know I've read worse that was published.
I know I have thouroughly enjoyed reading this series.
I know I like ice cream.
I know I do appreciate any and all reviews when I do post something I've put any real work into, when it's ignored because it's a series or has a number in the title it's a little frustrating.
good stuff, keep on keepin on
Submitted by Bickerstaff (user info) at 2006-01-10 02:16:33 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Better.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2006-01-10 02:12:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2006-01-09 22:21:48 (#)
Ranking: 2
Watch your goddamn apostrophes, Snark.
Or Else.
=======================
Nevah!
Caes,
Idunno, I kinda came to the conclusion that this site is not for wannabe writer's awhile back, so I just post for myself.
Submitted by peckerhead (user info) at 2006-01-10 01:28:33 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2006-01-09 21:49:53 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2006-01-09 19:14:04 (#)
Ranking: 0
Nah, I'm ok with it.
*********************
I don't know, man. I'm slowly becoming aware that I crave feedback, and I think I've gotten accustomed to a certain level of interest, so when only half the people turn up to the party, I get a little bummed.
And it's also a little depressing to see that most people would rather sling ridiculous and redundant internet insults at each other than spend time reading something good, something interesting, like this.
You know what? Not even something GOOD. Just -- SOMETHING. Someone who at least makes the effort, someone who wants to get better at fiction, someone who recounts an interesting experience, someone who wants to share an opinion more thoughtful than "I love teenage pussy" or whatever.
I'd take this giant knotted stick out of my ass, but then rocking back and forth in my chair would become pointless.
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2006-01-09 22:21:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Watch your goddamn apostrophes, Snark.
Or Else.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2006-01-09 21:49:53 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2006-01-09 19:14:04 (#)
Ranking: 0
Nah, I'm ok with it.
*********************
I don't know, man. I'm slowly becoming aware that I crave feedback, and I think I've gotten accustomed to a certain level of interest, so when only half the people turn up to the party, I get a little bummed.
And it's also a little depressing to see that most people would rather sling ridiculous and redundant internet insults at each other than spend time reading something good, something interesting, like this.
You know what? Not even something GOOD. Just -- SOMETHING. Someone who at least makes the effort, someone who wants to get better at fiction, someone who recounts an interesting experience, someone who wants to share an opinion more thoughtful than "I love teenage pussy" or whatever.
I'd take this giant knotted stick out of my ass, but then rocking back and forth in my chair would become pointless.
Submitted by HadToBeDone (user info) at 2006-01-09 19:24:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I would call all of these fucking assholes a bunch of ungrateful shits but.....
In light of the passage of H.R. 3402, I have been advised by my attorney to cease all comments which could be construed as annoying or harassing.
Carry on.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2006-01-09 19:14:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Nah, I'm ok with it.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2006-01-09 18:37:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
My last post got about as much attention as this. It's a damn crime.
Submitted by wookie (user info) at 2006-01-09 10:00:30 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2006-01-08 11:23:51 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by HadToBeDone (user info) at 2006-01-08 09:38:52 (#)
Ranking: 2
DO NOT IGNORE THIS MAN'S WRITING OR YOU WILL BE STRUCK DEAD BY A GIANT SEA TURTLE NAMED FRED.
Submitted by HadToBeDone (user info) at 2006-01-08 09:38:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
DO NOT IGNORE THIS MAN'S WRITING OR YOU WILL BE STRUCK DEAD BY A GIANT SEA TURTLE NAMED FRED.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2006-01-07 12:58:31 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
as if it's looking for a home in my pours. --> that's "pores."
Solid, as usual, turkey. I quite liked the last paragraph, and the bit about the byproduct of industry. Really well done. Everything you write in this story contributes and fits in to the overall mood and style of the piece, and that's not easy.
You fucking rock.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2006-01-07 05:00:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by HadToBeDone (user info) at 2006-01-07 01:08:21 (#)
Ranking: 2
I demand that more of you assholes worship the literary God that is my nigga Snark!!
================================
You fucking crack me up.
Submitted by HadToBeDone (user info) at 2006-01-07 01:08:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I demand that more of you assholes worship the literary God that is my nigga Snark!!
Submitted by simple_catalyst (user info) at 2006-01-06 23:42:05 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
you fucking rock man.
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2006-01-06 22:03:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I am in love with your writing.
No kidding.
Submitted by GodChicken (user info) at 2006-01-06 21:05:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You, me, my entire library of H.P Lovecraft stories, a week and a constant stream of coffee, and I bet you we could take the world by storm.