Fearful Symmetries by Ellen Datlow Read Free Book Online Page A

beating around the bush. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
    He looks at me. He has his work face on now, the one a lot of guys see just before the lights go out. That’s good; I want him in work mode. It makes him focus. The trick now, though, is to keep him on the shy side of violence. You have to play these guys like marionettes. I got pretty good at it back in the day.
    “You want to watch that,” he says. “You want to watch that attitude.”
    I put my hands out, palms forward. “Hey,” I say.
    “I come to you in friendship. I come to you in respect.”
    This is bullshit, but whatever. It’s time to settle him down. These guys are such fragile little flowers. “Hey. I’m sorry. Really. I haven’t been sleeping much. I’m tired, and it makes me stupid.”
    “That’s a bad trait. So wake up and listen to me. I told you that story for two reasons. One, to stop you from saying dumb shit like you just did. Make you remember who you’re dealing with. I can see it didn’t work. I can see maybe I was being too subtle.”
    “Patrick, really. I—”
    “If you interrupt me again I will break your right hand. The second reason I told you that story is to let you know that I’ve seen some crazy things in my life, so when I tell you this new thing scares the shit out of me, maybe you’ll listen to what the fuck I’m saying.”
    He stops there, staring hard at me. After a couple seconds of this, I figure it’s okay to talk.
    “You have my full attention. This is from Eugene?”
    “You know this is from Eugene. Why else would I drag myself over here?”
    “Patrick, I wish you’d relax. I’m sorry I made you mad. You want another drink? Let me pour you another drink.”
    I can see the rage still coiling in his eyes, and I’m starting to think I pushed him too hard. I’m starting to wonder how fast I can run. But then he settles back onto the couch and a smile settles over his face. It doesn’t look natural there. “Jesus, you have a mouth. How does a guy like you get away with having a mouth like that?” He shakes the ice in his glass. “Yeah, go ahead. Pour me another one. Let’s smoke a peace pipe.”
    I pour us both some more. He slugs it back in one deep swallow and holds his glass out for more. I give it to him. He seems to be relaxing.
    “All right, okay. There’s this guy. Creepy little grifter named Tobias George. He’s one of those little vermin always crawling through the city, getting into shit, fucking up his own life, you don’t even notice these guys. You know how it is.”
    “I do.” I also know the name, but I don’t tell him that.
    “Only reason we know about him at all is because sometimes he’ll run a little scheme of his own, kick a percentage back to Eugene, it’s all good. Well one day this prick catches a case of ambition. He robs one of Eugene’s poker games, makes off with a lot of money. Suicidal. Who knows what got into the guy. Some big dream climbed up his butt and opened him like an umbrella. We go hunting for him but he disappears. We get word he went further south, disappeared into the bayou. Like, not to Port Fourchon or some shit, but literally on a goddamn boat into the swamp. Eugene is pissed, and you know how he is, he jumps and shouts for a few days, but eventually he says fuck it. We’re not gonna go wrestle alligators for him. After a while we just figured he died out there. You know.”
    “But he didn’t.”
    “That he did not. We catch wind of him a few months later. He’s in a whole new ballgame. He’s selling artifacts pulled from Hell. And he’s making a lot of money doing it.”
    “It’s another scam,” I say, knowing full well it isn’t.
    “It’s not.”
    “How do you know?”
    “Don’t worry about it. We know.”
    “A guy owes money and won’t pay. That sounds more like your thing than mine, Patrick.”
    “Yeah, don’t worry about that either. I got it covered when the time comes. I won’t go into the