Someone in the gathering crowd began to sing off-key, “Siren night, smoky night, all is chaos, fire so bright. Round the burning building, mother and child. Holy hot firemen, tender and fine.” Then they switched abruptly to, “We wish you a merry Christmas, and a fiery new year. Praise Satan!”
Miguel shoved to be let down and watched, with jaw dropped, the inferno versus the firemen. To her surprise, Marduke remained by her side while the fire was fought and contained.
He said nothing until she scooped a sleepy-eyed little boy into her arms. “Time to get you to bed,” she whispered, placing a kiss on Miguel.
“Where are you going to stay? Do you need to go to a motel?”
“We’ll find our own way. You can go. I’ve got this.” A lie, but her issues weren’t his problem.
“It’s winter and minus too fucking much,” he pointed out. “Do you have someone you can call?”
She shook her head. Orphaned at seventeen, she’d been working too many jobs in order to survive to make any friends. “Miguel is my only family.”
“What about his daddy? Could you stay with him?”
“I guess we could.”
Marduke accompanied her in the taxi, and it was only as it pulled up outside a cemetery that he growled, “What kind of joke is this?”
“This is where Miguel’s daddy lives now.” Not in the consecrated part or they wouldn’t be able to visit often. “There’s a nice tree by his grave. A good wind break, with sheltering boughs.”
“Sleeping outside in winter is dangerous.”
“God will watch over us.”
“God had a mental break and is on a sabbatical. You’re on your own.”
“I’m sure we’ll land on our feet.” She clung tight to her optimism. It was all she had left other than her son.
“Lucifer is going to pay large for this,” Marduke muttered before snapping, “Driver, take us to a nice motel.” Then added, “It better be dog friendly.”
10
Finding a motel proved easy. Marduke used his Hellcard—good in all the nine circles and anywhere fraud was accepted—to pay for it. The attendant paid them little mind, not looking up from his phone as he handed over two keys.
The motel was the kind with a wing on either side of the office. Their rooms were on the first level, side by side with a cheater door between them.
“This is yours.” Marduke handed over a key and shoved Merry in the direction of number twelve. The boy clutched her hand.
“Thank you. This is really nice of you to help us.” It should have been sarcastic, not sincere.
The boy eyed him and inclined his head, his version of thanks. The puppy didn’t glance his way at all, following at his little master’s heels. The leash still in Marduke’s hand.