Bleak History by John Shirley

Author:John Shirley
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: American Science Fiction And Fantasy, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fantasy fiction, Horror, New York (N.Y.), Contemporary, Fiction - Fantasy, Fantasy - Dark, Fiction, Fantasy, General, supernatural, Occult fiction, Mediums, Bounty hunters - New York (State) - New York, Demonology, Fantasy - Contemporary, Bounty hunters
ISBN: 9781416584124
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2009-08-18T07:24:12.295000+00:00

***

ABOUT THAT TIME, the same evening, Atlantic City.

Gulcher was getting thoroughly sick of the casino. He was even sick of this claustrophobic little room, though it contained ever-growing stacks of money. Jock wanted to pile a van high with that money and just take off. Sooner or later the Baronis' people would come around.

But the whisperer didn't want Gulcher to leave Lucky Lou's Atlantic City Casino.

“Not yet, “the whisperer had said to him, last night. “You're needed right here. To focus through. The Great Power hasn 't fed enough yet. Still hungry. We will go to other casinos and take those over too; in other parts of the world. Las Vegas. Europe. All be yours, you wait for it.”

He wasn't going to admit he was scared of the whisperer. And Moloch. But how did you argue with a thing like Moloch—or his whisperer? And Moloch was the only reason he wasn't in prison. But he was going stir-crazy in this place.

“Jock,” he said, staring at the piles of money in the counting room, “I can't believe I'm bored with this money, here.”

Jock leaned on a table stacked with cash, grinning. He was fucked-up again, looked like. “I'm not bored with it. Sure would like to take it with me though.” He reached past the two Chinese guys and took a big, sealed stack of twenties. Tossed it up and caught it.

When would they be able to get out of here? Gulcher tried to call the whisperer, to ask, get some kind of answer. But there was no reply. Hadn't been able to get a response since last night.

“Whisperer,” he muttered. “You there?”

Maybe it was gone. Maybe he was free of it. And maybe that was a good thing. “Boss?” A voice from the air.

Not the whisperer. The whisperer definitely didn't think of Gulcher as “boss.” Which worried Gulcher. No, it was Stedley talking on the intercom.

“I hear you, Stedley, what's up?”

“There's federal agents all around the damn place. Surrounding the casino. FBI, ATF, all kinds of guys. State troopers too, did I mention that?”

“Okay—” Gulcher's mouth was dry but he was almost glad. “Don't do nothing yet.”

“What do you mean, 'Okay, don't do nothing'?” Jock demanded, throwing the money on the table. His eyes were suddenly wild and he was breathing hard. The bonhomie was gone; the paranoia was back. “You bring these guys here? You tradin' me for some deal, that the idea?”

“Cut that tweaky shit out, Jock, goddammit, and get upstairs and help Stedley. You forget we got the whisperer. What happened is obvious. Those greaser Baroni fucks went missing and they musta told somebody where they were going and somebody infiltrated the place, checked it out. Probably ID'd me. But we got the power to turn their little minds around, all right? Now cool your fucking jets.”

Jock was gaping at him, his eyes pinned, but Gulcher just walked away from him, went out to the elevator.

Just before the doors closed, Jock caught up and shoved his way into the elevator, breathing hard.

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