Butcher Bird

"Fast forward a few hours and I'm somewhere, but nowhere I've ever seen before. And now the sun is going down. Out of nowhere comes the kid who wanted English lessons. At first I think that I've just walked in a big circle. Then, I realize that the little fucker's probably been shadowing me all day. My eyes are red and my head's full of broken glass and dust bunnies. I was wearing a brand new shiny pair of two-hundred-dollar New Rock boots. I had to trade 'em to the kid to get out of there, and walked back to my hotel barefoot."

Spyder couldn't quite figure out a pattern to the city. A street would be laid out like an ordinary one in any town, but then a building would be gone and in its place would be a pile of junk. Lost things, Spyder guessed. Not objects, but the memory of them. There were mounds of keys, piles of every kind of money, great meals laid out on endless banquet tables, the wan clowns and listless trapeze acts from forgotten circuses, lost limbs (fingers still trying to grasp some long lost something, feet flexing with somewhere to go). There were packs of dogs, flocks of birds, colonies of house cats and stacks of dirty aquariums holding every kind of fish imaginable, lost pets all.

They stopped to look at the trinkets laid out on tables in a small street market on a yellow boulevard that intersected theirs. A trader with leathery skin and blue, chapped lips clasped his hands and greeted them eagerly. He stared at Lulu. "I see you've been doing some renovations, my dear." He took a bite of a juicy, green-skinned fruit. "What will you take for her?"

Spyder didn't bother looking up at the man, but kept studying the charms on the table. "She's not for sale."

The merchant leaned in close, speaking in intimate tones. "You think I won't keep her well because she lacks eyes. Don't worry. Those are not the organs that interest me."

Spyder tucked his hands in the waist of his jeans, pushing back his jacket to make sure the man saw Apollyon's knife. "I missed that. Say it again," Spyder told the man.

The merchant's gaze flickered from the knife to Spyder's eyes. "You misunderstood me, friend. There is no business here," said the merchant, licking his thin lips. "Thank you. Have a good day." He walked quickly away.

Spyder turned to Count Non, who loomed close behind him. "I was doing all right, you know. I don't need you doing Hulk Hogan over my shoulder."

"Perhaps neither of us frightened him," said the Count. "Perhaps for once he heard his own words and was appalled."

Lulu said nothing, but swept her arm across the merchant's table, knocking his wares to the pavement.

"Yeah, he seemed like the real reflective type," said Spyder.

"'God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty.'" The Count laughed. "I like you, little brother. You disguise your nobler qualities to play the fool."

"Uh, thanks."

"Would you take some advice from someone with a bit more experience of the world?"

"You don't look that much older than me."

"Trust me. I am."

"Are we talking Paul McCartney old or Bob Hope old?"

"More like those mountains in the distance."

"Damn. You must get all the senior discounts."

"Be quiet," said the Count. "It's not necessary to fill every moment with your own voice. Silence terrifies you. You see your own existence as so tenuous that you're afraid you'll pop like a bubble if, at every opportunity, you don't remind the world that you're alive. But wisdom begins in silence. In learning to listen. To words and to the world. Trust me. You won't disappear. And, in time, you might find that you've grown into something unexpected."

"What?"

"A man," said the Count. He started out of the market and back to the main boulevard. Spyder and Lulu followed.

"Don't feel badly. This is just a chat between friends, not a reprimand. If you feel lost and foolish sometimes, don't worry about that, either. All great men begin as fools. It's one of life's little jokes."

"Spyder, he just called you a joke of the universe. Kick his ass," said Lulu. She put an arm around Spyder's shoulders. Count Non smiled at her.

"Food for thought," said Spyder. "We'll cover more ground if we split up for a while. I'll meet you back at the corner where we started."

"I was just fucking with you, man," said Lulu, but Spyder was already rounding the corner in the other direction.

Thirty-One

The Future

In a street of nightmares, Spyder saw the Black Clerks.

The street had been roofed over, like the souks of Morocco. The sound attracted Spyder to the spot, a strange and deliberate animal wail-screams extracted with mechanical precision.