“Yeah. Not that the cloak turned out to do much good.”
“I think you did all right on your own,” Rondeau said, looking toward the Celestial, who was dimly visible through the translucent mass of angry ancestors berating him for his crimes. “But we need to find her and give her back this cloak. She’s a badass even without it, and normally she doesn’t wear it, but this is some serious high-stakes shit we’re in.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe she gave you her cloak.”
“Well, I told her I’d had a vision about you, and that if you died, we wouldn’t possibly be able to defeat Mutex.”
“Damn it,” Rondeau said. “I wish you hadn’t told me that, B. I don’t need that kind of pressure. I got kidnapped last night, and it’s been a long-ass day.”
“Don’t worry,” B said. “I didn’t have a vision about you. I lied. I just wanted Marla to send me to rescue you.”
“B,” Rondeau said, with real admiration. “You must be one stone-cold liar, to fool Marla.”
“I did used to be an actor,” he said.
“And here I thought you got all your roles because of your good looks.”
“The good looks didn’t hurt,” B said. “But I’m a man of many talents.”
“Right. Speaking of your many talents…Are those ghosts and ghost-monsters and whatnot going to kill the Chinese guy?”
“I think they’d like to, but I don’t think they can.” In fact, the spirits were fading away, though the Celestial was still curled on the floor, apparently frightened into catatonia. Without his conscious attention, the spirits seemed to have difficulty holding their shape, even with B’s help.
“In that case,” Rondeau said. “Hey, apprentice!”
The apprentice looked at Rondeau.
“You’ve got every herb known to man and a few that aren’t in this place, right?” Rondeau said.
The apprentice nodded.
“Then go, quick, and mix up something that’ll put your master to sleep for a good long while. I don’t trust him to stay curled up for long.” The apprentice nodded again and hurried toward the front room, as well as she could in the old man’s body.
Rondeau stood up and stretched, the bones in his spine cracking audibly. “I’ve been tied to this chair for fucking hours,” Rondeau said, glaring at the prone Celestial. “If I weren’t afraid of waking him up, I’d go give that bastard a kick.” He grinned. “Assuming we don’t get killed by Mutex and the golden frog all-stars, I’m going to make Marla help me, and we’re going to do the Thing on the Doorstep trick again, and put things right. We’re going to give the apprentice her body back.”
B clapped Rondeau on the shoulder. “I think that’s a good idea. But, ah…isn’t there a chance it’ll drive her insane?”
Rondeau nodded. “Yeah. There is. She knows that. But she wants us to do it. I think being in that dried-up old body is driving her crazy anyway.”
The apprentice returned with a steaming cup of something, and paused long enough to look at Rondeau. He nodded at her. “Yeah,” he said. “We’re going to get you your body back.”
The apprentice smiled. It was the first recognizable expression she’d made since B arrived. He went to help her tip the sleeping potion down her former master’s throat.
19
Marla parked the van just inside one of the southern entrances to Golden Gate Park. “Snake time,” she said, and climbed into the backseat next to Ch’ang Hao, then clambered over that seat into the rear compartment, where the steamer trunk rested. Marla flipped open the latches and opened the lid. The trunk was filled with green leaves, and smelled strongly of humidity and black earth. A long snake lay atop the leaves, green banded with red, a color scheme Marla recognized from Mutex’s shorts. She’d settle for something a little less tailored. She glanced at Ch’ang Hao, who was pointedly not looking at her. She muttered a brief, nonspecific prayer of thanks, and then snapped the snake’s spine. It didn’t even wake up. She drew her dagger of office and slit the snake open along its belly, then peeled off its skin as deftly as she would peel a banana. “Hand me my bag, would you, Ch’ang Hao?”
Without turning, he passed her leather bag back. Marla opened a side pocket and retrieved a bone needle and black thread. She folded the snakeskin along its length, so that the moist inside didn’t show at all, and quickly sewed it up. Then she sewed the ends together, making a loop like a snakeskin belt. She pressed the snakeskin against her face, letting the scales touch her open eyes, and whispered an incantation. Then she tasted the snakeskin with the tip of her tongue, leaving a generous dollop of saliva on the skin. She slipped the loop of snakeskin over her arms and her head, twisting awkwardly in the low space at the back of the van, until it rested around her waist like a belt. Marla pulled up her shirt and let the snakeskin touch the skin of her belly and hips, then put her shirt back down over it. “There,” she said. “Now I’ve got nothing to fear from frogs.”