Vicious Circle by Mike Carey Read Free Book Online Page B

bruises on my shoulder. “Don’t know what the hell went wrong tonight. He knew who I was, but for once he didn’t seem to give a fuck. In fact, he really seemed happy to be getting a crack at me. Like he hadn’t expected it.”
    There was a long silence. I could see how a lot of this must strike Paul as total bullshit, even after what he’d seen. It would have sounded ridiculous to me if I hadn’t lived through it, if I hadn’t lived through worse things since. All those things in heaven and earth that philosophy tries not to dream about.
    Eventually he opened his mouth to say something, but we were interrupted by the sound of high heels on wet asphalt. Pen came out from the shadow of the building and headed over to us. I looked a question at her and she managed a weak smile.
    “He’s sleeping like a baby,” she said.
    “Good,” I answered. “From past experience, he probably won’t surface until sometime late morning. Whenever Asmodeus takes over like that, Rafi burns up a hell of a lot of energy all at once. The best thing we can do now is to let him sleep it off in his own good time.”
    Pen nodded, but I could see from her face that she didn’t buy my “time heals all wounds” approach.
    “He never has,” she said, “taken over in quite that way. Asmodeus is cruel, and spiteful, and a little bit insane, but that—” She finished off the sentence with a shrug.
    She was right, too. The berserker fit was a new one in my experience, and I couldn’t see what the demon had to gain by it. In the past Asmodeus had told me he was playing a waiting game, in the knowledge that sooner or later I’d figure out a way to undo whatever it was I’d done and set him and Rafi free from each other. Tonight it seemed he’d run out of patience and out of whatever demons have instead of sanity.
    I tried to think of something vaguely reassuring to say, but Paul preempted me by throwing down his unfinished cigar, stamping it out, and stretching his shoulders like somebody warming up for a workout.
    “Gotta say good night to you people,” he said. “I’m on until two a.m., and that’s my break over. You take my advice, you should get some sleep yourselves. The both of you look wiped.” He gave us a nod and headed back into the building.
    “Thanks again,” I called to his retreating back.
    “No problem. I’ll send in a bill.”
    I turned to Pen. “That sounds like sense to me,” I said. “Unless you’re up for some chicken vindaloo? The exotic delights of East Finchley are on our doorstep.”
    Pen shook her head.
    “I’m meant to be going out,” she said. “With Dylan.”
    Dylan? Oh yeah, Dylan Forster—Dr. Feelgood. I’d sort of forgotten about him. The truth was, I kept on forgetting about him again every time Pen mentioned him. I’d long ago abandoned any thoughts of rekindling whatever the two of us had had, but on some level it still disturbed me to think of her going out with someone else. She was part of a triangle whose other two corners were me and Rafi. I knew how unfair that was, and I hated myself for having any reservations when Pen tried to scrape up a little happiness for herself, so whenever she mentioned her affluent, passionate, druid-in-training, Lexus-driving, trust-me-I’m-a-doctor new boyfriend, I put a certain amount of effort into sounding more positive and enthusiastic than I felt.
    “Well, even better,” I said now. “Take your mind off this stuff for a few hours. Hope it’s something good.”
    “I don’t think he had anywhere particular in mind. He just said it was going to be a murderous day, and he absolutely had to see me at the end of it so there’d be something to balance out all the shitty stuff. I told him I was going to see Rafi, and he said he’d meet me afterwards.”
    She gave me a brief but fierce hug and climbed into the car.
    “Drop you somewhere?” she asked, holding the door open for a moment so we could go on talking.
    I mulled that one over, but