Free Fantasmagoria by Rick Wayne Page A

always fell to whoever had fucked up last.
    “I don’t get it.”
    “It’s a simple question.”
    “Why come back?”
    Jack shrugged. “Versus what?”
    “I thought . . . after that night . . .”
    “That I was done?”
    “Are you really just going to be Erasmus’s homicidal puppet forever?”
    “Don’t have much of a choice.”
    Zeek looked into the tank with Jack. “What if you did?”
    “What do you mean?”
    Zeek shook her head. “You’re not here to kill me?”
    Jack scowled. “Is that what that was all about?” He nodded back toward the service door.
    “I thought . . . never mind.” She blinked hard.
    Jack watched tiny children push and pull each other on the far side of the massive tank. Behind them were the spinning rides, the swirling banners, the freak show tent, and all the rest. And above it all, the rooftops of the city and the tall, black spire of City Hall rising like an ice pick to the throat of the sky. It was a moor for an airship, a constant reminder that an Imperial zeppelin could arrive at any time.
    “I never said anything,” she whispered.
    “I know.”
    “You do?”
    “We’re both still alive.” Jack stood straight to face her. “So let me get this straight. You thought he found out and called me back to kill you.”
    Zeek shrugged. “I thought maybe it was his way of making you prove yourself, of buying your way back in.”
    Jack shook his head. “If Erasmus knew what really happened that night, he’d kill me same as you.” If LaMana was right, Jack thought, then it would happen as soon as they came back with the books. He wondered what trick Erasmus would ask of the samurai.
    “No, he wouldn’t,” Zeek snorted. “You’re the only one left from the old days. You’re his favorite. You’ve always been his favorite.”
    “The only favorite Erasmus has is Erasmus.”
    “You’re wrong, Jack. You’re just too much of a machine to see it.” Zeek noticed the mother from the hallway talking to someone and looking at the pair. “But we should get going.” She started walking toward the stairs at the front of the carnival.
    Jack followed. “Not gonna shoot me in the car, are you Zeek?”
    The woman with the peeking stubble smiled back at him. “Just keep your hands to yourself, mister.”
    Zeek’s car was parked on the street across from a lunch counter. It was an old Deckard, solid and steel and burgundy red. She opened the door and Jack looked at the seat. He wasn’t only moving slow. He was getting weaker and didn’t have the strength to lower himself properly. As he plopped into the seat, the car dropped to the ground and showered the asphalt in sparks. People stopped and turned. A row of fairies snickered from a power line, then fluttered off to steal fries from children.
    Jack waited for the car to stop shaking. “Sorry.”
    “It’s all right. I didn’t realize you weighed that much. I mean,” Zeek corrected, “you don’t look it.”
    The atmosphere in the car was stiff and nervous, so Jack turned and stared out the window as they pulled into light traffic. Shops lined the road. A wealthy woman walked a small green wyvern. Its tongue hung out of its mouth. Jack looked at the leash.
    “Lot’s changed, Jack.”
    “Oh?”
    “Nothing’s the same since you left. Rabid, Togo, the others, they don’t have your style. Sciever’s insane. Ruud hardly even shows up anymore.”
    “Where is everyone?”
    “Out picking up the pieces. As soon as he heard LaMana died, Erasmus has had us all running around. He’s got some plan.”
    Jack nodded. Erasmus always had a plan. “I’m sure your family misses you.”
    Zeek turned and look at him. The car swerved a little. A car honked from the neighboring lane and Zeek turned back to watch the road. “What do you mean?”
    “Woman puts on weight, lets her makeup go, means one of two things. She’s either dying, or settled down.”
    “You’re a pig, Jack.”
    Jack shrugged.
    “And that hardly means I have a