CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

 

Ken lived in a small house just south of the Broken Arrow expressway. Roy thought he’d live in a mansion by now, but Jim said that Ken probably wanted to lie low until he had everything under control. “A smaller place is easier to protect.”

Jim parked the Harley on the sidewalk, and Roy nodded at the address. “This is it,” Roy said. He had second thoughts about approaching the door, but Jim didn’t even hesitate. Jim had been mentally preparing himself for days. So now that the time was at hand, Jim hopped off the bike and strode across the front yard right up to the door. Roy shook his head, reached into his pocket, gripped the knife, then followed.

The door was unlocked.

“He’s expecting us,” Roy said when Jim pushed the door open.

“Looks that way.”

Inside, there was an awful smell. A hallway led into darkness on the left. On the right was the living room. The furniture looked like garage sale specials. The arms of the couch were split, and stuffing had fallen out onto the floor. The coffee table needed refinishing. A stereo played from somewhere deeper inside the house. It sounded like Johnny Otis’s “Bad Luck Shadow.” The slow blues rhythm bass line bounced along. Roy felt uneasy.

Jim closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He took two deep breaths, then opened his eyes and stepped into the living room.

“Is he here?” Roy asked.

Jim nodded and put a finger to his lips.

“He has to know we’re here too,” Roy whispered.

“He does.”

Jim crept through the living room. Roy followed but kept glancing behind. Ken had left the light on in the kitchen. Roy looked in and saw that the place was clean. That smell was coming from somewhere else. Roy wrinkled his nose.

Jim lifted an unopened but moldy loaf of bread then set it back down on the kitchen counter. “He must eat out a lot.”

“Yeah.”

Jim backtracked through the living room and edged down the hallway. He stopped and looked up and down the walls. He held out a hand, pushed it toward one wall, then drew back. “Stand by the door, Roy.”

Roy did as he was told. Jim shook his head and reached into his leather jacket. He pulled out his little pouch of sand, poured some in his hand, and threw it at the wall.

Roy leaned back, ready to cover his eyes in case the place exploded. But nothing happened. The sand hit the wall and fell to the floor. Great, Roy thought, we came here to dirty up Ken’s house so he’ll have to vacuum. Jim moved down the hall, flinging sand this way and that like a priest with holy water.

The song on the stereo ended. After a moment of silence, Roy heard the sound of a record dropping onto a stack on the turntable. Stevie Wonder started singing “Superstition,” and Roy knew for sure that Ken was planning something. He was drawing them in. The record got caught in a scratch and started skipping back.

“Then you suffer,” Stevie sang. “Then you suffer—” Scratch scratch. “Then you suffer—” Scratch scratch. “Then you suffer . . .”

It got on Roy’s nerves. He started down the hallway after Jim. The smell grew worse with each step he took. He thought he heard a buzzing sound, but it could have come from the stereo. Jim hesitated at a corner. Straight ahead was the bathroom. The door stood open, light off. Roy could see that the shower curtain was tugged closed in the tub. Roy’s heart felt as if it were trying to force its way into his throat. Ken could be hiding in there, waiting. Or maybe he just didn’t want anyone to see the ring of dirt around the tub.

“Then you suffer—” Scratch scratch.

Jim stepped out, arms ready to defend himself. Roy reached the corner and peered around. The door to the bedroom was ajar. A line of light made an L around the door. Jim glanced back at Roy, shrugged, and kicked the door.

It flew open, bounced off the stopper, and swung closed. Roy caught a glimpse of what lay inside the room, and he knew where that smell was coming from. Jim screwed up his face and nudged the door open again.

A teenage girl lay naked on the bed. Her stomach had been cut open, and her blood, splashed all over the walls. There was definitely a buzzing. Flies landed on the girl’s open eyes. Roy closed his eyes and turned away.

Jim went into the bedroom. He looked around, found an open window, and went back for Roy. “Out the window,” Jim said. “Ken’s in the backyard.”

“Can’t we go around to the door?”

“The window.”

As he passed through the room, he averted his gaze from the dead girl and resisted the temptation to kick the stereo. He would have at least taken the record off, but he just wanted to get out of there. Roy climbed out the window and dropped to the ground. Jim followed him.

Ken was on the porch, stretched out in a banana lounger. He had the grill cover raised and a fire blazing. The dancing flames made his smile seem all the more wicked. “You boys took your sweet time getting here.”

“We stopped to sightsee,” Jim said.

Ken waved an arm and laughed as he sat up. “Last tour before death, eh?” His facial expression dissolved from all smiles to a serious stare. “You are going to die now, little brother. I won’t hesitate this time.”

“You don’t have your power around you,” Jim said.

“It has a mind of its own, I’m afraid. I have called for it, but good help is hard to find.”

“You’re going to need it.”

“For you?” Ken started laughing again. Then he leaped to his feet and threw his arms forward. He stood fifteen feet from Jim and Roy, but when his arms went forward, Jim staggered back as if struck.

Jim raised his arms, lowered them to his chest, then pushed forward. Ken fell over the lounge chair.

“I’m impressed,” Ken said, climbing to his feet. “You’ve been practicing.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Jim said. His ring blazed a fiery red. His lips flared back from his clenched teeth.

Ken rushed at him, and Jim thrust a fist out. It connected and Ken fell to the ground. Jim picked him up and swung him around. Roy had to jump back to avoid being hit. Jim slammed Ken against the brick house. His hands closed on Ken’s throat.

“Mother wouldn’t like this,” Ken choked. His eyes still glinted with amusement. “Or this.” He kicked Jim in the balls.

Jim released Ken and doubled over, taking little breaths. Ken smashed him on the back, and Jim dropped to one knee. Roy ran forward, drawing the knife. He stabbed at Ken, but Ken twisted so the blade merely grazed his arm. He backhanded Roy, sending him flopping backward to the ground. Roy felt as if electricity were pumping through his veins. But he managed to keep his grip on the dagger.

Ken stalked toward him. “You screwed up, blues man.” Roy raised an eyebrow. “Yes,” Ken said. “I know who you are. When I found out that you survived the cave-in, I had a little chat with a man named Lawrence Peterson. He didn’t believe in magic until I showed him its effects on human anatomy. Tore off his arms and legs. He died but I held on to his spirit. You’d be amazed at how long I had to torture that spirit before I could get information on you.”

Roy backed away and Ken followed him. “I ain’t nobody special,” Roy said.

Ken laughed. “You won’t be. I’m going to rip you apart.”

Roy stared at him but stopped moving. He saw Jim get to his feet. Ken nodded, not seeing Jim, and made as if to launch a magical attack on Roy. But Jim caught Ken’s arm and twisted him around like a dance partner to face him.

“Never turn your back on your opponent,” Jim said, punching Ken in the face. They locked hands, fingers intertwined. A contest of wills began. Ken forced Jim back a step, but then Jim exerted more strength. The air seemed statically charged. Jim’s hair floated up. So did Ken’s. Their eyes were red.

Roy got to his feet and raised the knife.

Ken suddenly broke contact with Jim, spun, and busted Roy in the mouth. Then he took off running. He vaulted over the fence, and Roy heard an engine start.

Jim was out of breath.

“You okay?” Roy asked.

“Never better.” Jim smiled and straightened. “I almost had him there, but he was afraid. I got my mind inside him, tried to grip his soul.”

“Yeah, well, he’s getting away.”

“But I know where he’s going. He wants to meet up with his elemental. Only then can he kill me.”

“Then maybe we ought to get after him.”

“We will but first you need to wipe that blood off your lips.”

Roy used his shirtsleeve to clean his mouth. “He killed Slide’s son.”

Jim nodded. “He’s killed a lot of people.”

“But Lawrence died trying to keep information about me away from Ken. I ain’t worth nobody’s life. Nobody’s!”

“Lawrence must have thought otherwise.”

“I ain’t nobody!”

“So you keep saying. Everyone else seems to think you’re wrong.”

Roy sighed. “If I can help you kill your brother, then maybe they’re right.”

“Then let’s get going.”

***

They rode over to Riverparks. Jim stopped by the pedestrian bridge where Danny had been the second person to die. He’d been on the other side of the river when it happened, but Roy still found himself thinking of the old guy. Jim parked his bike on the path and looked around.

Roy walked over to the bridge. It used to be an old railroad bridge but had been converted for foot traffic. Roy looked out at the river. On one side of the bridge was a multitiered fountain; on the other, a water breaker. Roy stood on the path. There weren’t any joggers this evening. Curfew wasn’t until ten, but with all the violence the past couple of months, people must have decided that it was better to be alive than to be in great shape.

There weren’t too many places for Ken to hide down here. He could keep out of sight on top of the bridge or behind trees or down by the riverbanks. There was another motorcycle parked off the path up by the sculpture.

The sculpture was essentially a giant, metal spike made of carbon steel that jutted out of the ground at a thirty-degree angle. At night it looked solid black, though Roy knew it was more a rusty brown. The top end was honed to a deadly point. Roy looked at it and shivered.

He turned away, letting the chill run down his spine. “Is that Ken’s motorcycle?” he asked, pointing at the Kawasaki.

“It isn’t a Harley, so it isn’t a motorcycle,” Jim said. “But yes, it’s Ken’s.”

“Damn right it’s mine!” Ken said, stepping out from behind the sculpture.

“Be ready with the knife, Roy,” Jim whispered. “When you’re sure he’s drawn the elemental inside him, let him have it.”

“I’ll try,” Roy whispered back, but Jim wasn’t listening; he was already walking toward Ken.

A cold wind began to howl. Roy tried to stay close to Jim but not so close that he’d get in the way.

Ken seemed recharged, ready to take on the world. “Let’s finish this now, Jimbo,” he said. “The way we used to fight when we were kids.”

Jim nodded. “If that’s the way you want it.”

“It is.” Ken pulled out a length of rope. “Come here, blues man. Make yourself useful before I kill you.”

Jim gave him a nod, so Roy went over. Ken told him what to do. Roy didn’t like it, but he did as he was instructed and tied Jim’s right wrist to Ken’s left wrist with a little more than a foot of rope hanging slack between them. Now neither of them could run away. Jim was at a slight disadvantage because he was right handed, but he didn’t seem to mind. Ken’s eyes gleamed when Roy let go of their wrists.

“Do your best, little brother.”

They circled each other, both ready to defend and attack. Jim took hold of the rope between them with his right hand, cutting the distance even more. He yanked on the rope, and Ken stepped forward into Jim’s fist. But Ken grabbed Jim’s hair and head-butted him in the face. Jim looked slightly dazed, blood pouring from his nose. Ken tried to sweep Jim’s feet out from under him, but Jim stepped over the attempt. They turned and each landed more blows. Push, pull, punch, kick—they moved around in a violent dance.

Jim landed a flurry of punches to Ken’s face, and Ken almost fell but then smashed Jim one that broke Jim’s nose. Roy heard the crack from where he stood a respectable distance away.

Roy hated just watching, but that was all he could do.

Without warning, the nature of the fight changed. The men stopped throwing punches. The air grew charged with static electricity. Roy could see the red glow of Jim’s ring.

Jim yanked Ken around and let loose a blast of energy from his hands. The rope that held them together incinerated, and Ken flew back ten yards, hit the ground hard, and rolled to his feet, his chest on fire. He patted the blaze down.

“Nice shot,” Ken said.

Jim threw another blast, but Ken waved his hands, and the air in front of him glowed. Then it faded to dark. Ken glided toward Jim, apparently standing several inches above the ground. Roy decided it had to be a trick of the darkness.

Ken launched a bolt of darkness, and Jim leaped to one side. The blast plunged into the ground, sending divots of dirt and grass exploding into the air. They traded shots. Some hit; some missed. All were destructive.

Then Roy felt something. There was something else there in the clearing between the spike sculpture and the large tree Roy stood under. It had to be the chaotic elemental because it seemed to enjoy the pain and violence. At least, that’s the impression Roy got from it. It floated closer to the battle like a giant shadow with nothing to cast it. Roy started moving in too. He put his hand inside his coat and gripped the handle of the dagger. The blade pulsed as though it were hungry for blood. Not yet, Roy thought, moving closer. Not just yet.

Ken must have felt the energy too, because he started really laying into Jim. He sent a flurry of blasts then tackled him. They rolled over the ground, and Ken came out on top. He went for the eyes. Jim twisted his head aside, and Ken’s fingers ripped into the flesh of Jim’s cheek. Blood stained Jim’s beard. Jim threw a punch for Ken’s throat, but Ken blocked it and smashed Jim’s nose again. Jim grunted in agony.

“You’re messing up, little brother,” Ken said, smiling through the blood. “Maybe you need more of an incentive to fight. You remember Trisha, don’t you?”

Jim’s eyes filled with rage.

“She came to me the night before you killed her and said you weren’t man enough to satisfy her. I asked if she wanted a real man.” He hesitated, his smile growing wider. “She was quite a devil in the sack, wasn’t she?”

Jim slammed Ken so hard with a blast of energy, Roy thought he’d knock the man’s head right off his neck. Ken flipped through the air, but the elemental surrounded him and set him on the ground, snuffing the fire that had engulfed him.

“That’s more like it,” Ken said. “She told me I was better in bed than you, Jim. She begged me for it. Offered to blow a dog if I’d give her sex and power.”

“You fucking liar!” Jim screamed and let loose with an assault that should have killed Ken. A dark bolt shot from Jim’s ring and slammed into Ken. Blood flew but Ken didn’t go down. The dark elemental swirled around Ken.

“Keep on, Jim! That feels good! Give me some more pain before I send you to join your lover in Hell. That’s where sluts like her belong.”

Jim went wild. He screamed. The scream was a primal thing that held all his pent-up anger, fear, and resentment. It tore Roy up inside. And the chaos pulled in and dropped into Ken’s body.

“Jim, no!” Roy yelled. “You’re feeding it more strength!”

Jim ignored Roy and ran at Ken, his body practically glowing with rage. Ken grabbed Jim. Ken’s eyes glowed. He squeezed Jim in a bear hug. Darkness pulsed around them like a physical thing. Jim arched his back and screamed. Then Jim shuddered and went limp.

Roy knew it was now or never. He ran forward, dagger in hand. The symbols blazed to life and swam the length of the blade, swirling around and rearranging themselves. Roy plunged it into Ken’s back, and Ken let Jim drop to the ground. Ken staggered back, reaching for the blade. He spun and swatted Roy to the ground. Then he toppled face-first to the grass. Ken’s body went into convulsions. The knife wriggled and started to glow blue.

Roy pushed himself to his feet and moved away, not sure what to expect. His heart raced so fast, it seemed like a continuous beat humming along.

Jim sat up. “Roy,” he said.

“Is it over?”

Jim looked over at Ken’s body, which twitched once more and lay still. Jim painfully climbed to his feet. He walked over and nudged Ken’s body with the toe of his boot. Ken’s body rolled over, driving the knife further in. Then Ken stood up as if pulled by the invisible strings of a giant puppeteer.

He stumbled forward and Jim backed up. “Don’t leave me!” Ken cried out in a hollow voice like a child screaming for his mother.

The chaos shrugged out of him, moving away.

“Whoa,” Roy said. “Shouldn’t that be gone? Destroyed or sent away or . . . ?”

“Come back!” Ken yelled.

The dark energy whipped around, dropped low, and slammed into Ken. Ken flew up and the elemental shook him around like a rag doll. He flopped back and forth. Then the energy released him, sending him flying through the air. Ken slammed down on the point of the spike sculpture. The spike drove through his chest, and he hung there, arms and legs dangling, unmoving.

“The chaos is still free!” Roy said.

Jim stared off into space. The chaotic elemental swung back around. Roy could see it clearly now as a mass of black anger. It smashed into Jim, knocking him backward ten feet.

“Jim!” Roy called.

Jim got up and pointed toward the path. “Get to the bike, Roy!”

Roy ran while Jim danced to the side, waving his arms and calling out to the chaos. It slammed into Jim again, but he quickly rolled to his feet. He ran and the energy chased him. It clipped him on the back, and Jim flew forward, slamming into the ground on his face. He clambered to his feet again and ran, brushing dirt and blood from his beard. He made it to the bike at the same time Roy did. He leaped aboard and came down hard on the kick-starter. The bike coughed.

“Damn!” Jim said, kicking it again.

The chaos sailed at them. Roy climbed onto the bike and gripped the sissy bar.

“Start, goddamn it!” Jim jumped up and down on the kick-starter.

The chaos dived at them, but finally the engine caught and the bike burned rubber, whipping around and out onto Riverside Drive. The chaos plowed into the ground, sending huge divots flying into the street.

Two cars swerved to avoid the Harley before Jim had the bike under control and up to speed. Roy pressed himself against the sissy bar, making himself a part of the bike. He knew that if Jim leaned one way, he’d damn well better be leaning the same way or they’d wipe out. He figured the best way to do that was to just hold tight and keep himself in line with that sissy bar. He just hoped he wouldn’t fall off.

Jim raced down Riverside. Roy saw a sign that indicated the speed limit was forty miles per hour, but they were doing at least twice that. The elemental gave chase and caught up. Jim must have sensed it. He cut over to the next lane, barely avoiding a car right in front of them. Dark energy blasted into the car’s gas tank, and the car exploded, flying into the air in a burst of orange fire and screaming metal. The car did a half turn and skidded upside down over the center median into the oncoming traffic. Roy heard the crashing of metal into metal and shot his gaze straight ahead; he didn’t want to see the results.

There was a truck up ahead—one of those big pickups with a camper shell on the back. The elemental crashed through the window of the truck as they came up on it. The truck careened into the lane with Jim and Roy.

“Hang on!” Jim screamed.

He popped a wheelie and bounced over the center median. The traffic raced directly toward them. One car tried to swerve to avoid them, but the chaos blew out two of its tires and sent it spinning at them. Jim leaned left and they skidded to the side. The car flipped by, missing them by scant inches. Roy screamed and closed his eyes.

“Hold on to me, Roy, not the bar. Hold on to me!”

Roy wrapped his arms around Jim’s waist and leaned forward. They darted between the cars that came at them. The road curved up ahead, and there was a red light at the end. Jim squeezed the brakes, and they skidded around onto 71st Street, headed west across the river. A huge Homeland truck cut over, and Jim nearly laid the bike down. They shot under the truck into the next lane. Roy almost wet his pants.

The chaos started slamming into the road, sending chunks of asphalt into the air. Jim dodged the holes and twisted the gas, pouring on the speed. They raced into the night, out of the city. The chaos darted past and crashed into the street right in front of them. Jim tried to dodge it and the energy shot into the wheels, ripping the spokes and flipping the bike.

Roy felt himself go airborne. He lost track of Jim as he flew forward.

The Harley flipped end over end and crashed into a tree, exploded, then fell, burning, to the ground.