Butcher Bird

He wasn't disappointed. Following the crowd in the direction the tall man had pointed, Spyder saw a Sphinx. A living, breathing Sphinx, like the sculptures in Golden Gate Park. The Sphinx sat up on its haunches, its lion body acorn brown, muscled and sleek as a cruise missile. Gathered around the Sphinx was a rapt crowd. They were clearly in awe, maybe hypnotized, thought Spyder. The Sphinx's face-the face of a human woman-was easily the most beautiful he had ever seen. Spyder looked away when he caught himself staring, but the Sphinx had already noticed him.

"Don't be shy, my friend. Come closer. I can answer all your questions and tell you your destiny."

Spyder half-turned in her direction. "Nope. Sorry. No thanks," he said.

The Sphinx's eyes narrowed with sudden interest and the crowd turned to see who she was looking at. "Yes, you should keep moving," she said to Spyder. "Don't let anything or anyone stop you from getting where you're going." Lowering her voice, the Sphinx spoke to her adoring crowd. Spyder slowed his gait, listening to her words. "See what passes, my children. A blind fool. A golden champion. What could he be seeking under Heaven's rough gaze? We have a mystery in our midst." When Spyder turned to sneak a last look at the Sphinx, she was staring him right in the eye. The beautiful beast gave him a smile and a wink. "It looks as if heroes are coming smaller this year."

Spyder's head spun. He turned away and hurried down the aisle. At the end, he found what he figured must be the Volt Eater. An exotic bare-breasted beauty, her skin oiled and gleaming, she was inhaling in long draughts from a wrist-thick cable attached to a gas-powered generator. After each breath, she spat lighting bolts, snaking and crackling, over the heads of the happily screaming crowd. People threw money at the Volt Eater's feet after each demonstration of her electric skills. It made Spyder a little sad to see her. On any other night, she would have been the hands-down highlight. He would have been in temporary love and dreamed about her as he went home with whomever he was with that night. Tonight, however, the Volt Eater was just a pretty girl spitting watts, no more or less miraculous than Bible-quoting kittens or the lion-woman who'd just pronounced him both a fool and a hero.

Just when Spyder thought he would never be surprised again, he came to the edge of the market and saw the Coma Gardens. Bathed in light the color of blood and pumpkins, the whole building was engulfed in a spectacular fire. Part of the roof collapsed and flames shot fifty feet into the night sky. The only thing more shocking than the fire was the fact that no one in the market was paying the slightest attention to it. They went on with their selling and haggling even as the whole structure cracked and caved in on itself.

Twelve

Cyanide Recall

The Coma Gardens kept on burning. The beams glowed as if they'd been injected with magma, shedding hot jets of flame and debris over the sales stalls. Spyder walked along the cement broadway between the market and burning hotel, unsure what to do.

If Jenny hadn't taken the cell phone, Spyder thought, he could call 911. Of course, he wasn't sure exactly where he was. Still, all he'd have to tell them is that there was a burning building on the pier. The fire trucks would be able to see it from all the way down at Fisherman's Wharf. In fact, someone had probably already called the fire in, which was both good and bad. It was good in that the fire department would put it out. It was bad in that it brought Spyder back to the fact that he had no idea what he would do if Shrike was inside the burning building. He didn't want to think about it. Spyder turned around one more time to see if anyone in the market was forming a bucket brigade. The market went on as it had all evening-oblivious, a world unto itself.

Then Spyder saw someone at the edge of the crowd. She was talking to a man wearing an enormous, jeweled bird mask, one that covered his entire head (or actually was his head, Spyder later thought). The woman wore her shades, and moved her white cane from one hand to the other so she could shake the birdman's feathered mitt. Spyder ran to her through the smoke of the smoldering Coma Gardens.

"Shrike!" he yelled. The woman turned her head toward him as the birdman walked away. Spyder ran up and grabbed her happily by the shoulders. "It's me, Spyder. You saved my life the other night."

The blind woman gave him a crooked smile. "Oh yes. The pretty pony boy. How are you?"

"I'm:" He started to answer, but realized he had no idea what to say. He felt giddy at having found her, but there was the accumulating wreckage of the rest of his life. "I'm fine," he said. "I can see things now. The real world. That's how I found the market. And you."

"Good for you," she said. "Maybe you're more clever than I thought. A trick pony. Me, I'm off to find new lodgings."

"I can see why," said Spyder.

"What do you mean?"