The Book of Death (Bourbon Kid 4)

her
shoulders. Her head hung back limply over his arm. Sanchez could see that she
was either unconscious or dead.
    The Kid looked down at Beth, his
face showing some genuine concern. ‘We’ve got to get her to the museum,’ he
said.
    ‘What’s at the museum?’ Flake
asked.
    ‘Not much,’ said Sanchez. ‘I
went once. It’s mostly paintings and old statues. Crap really.’
    The Kid ignored Sanchez and
headed towards the double doors at the end of the hall, carrying Beth in his
arms. ‘The Eye of the Moon is at the museum,’ he said. ‘I’m gonna need your
driving skills, Flake. You coming?’
    Flake picked up The Book With No
Name from the floor, brushing some of the remains of Jessica from its cover.
‘You bet,’ she said, hurrying after him.
    ‘Me too!’ Sanchez called out, making
sure they hadn’t forgotten about him.
    He took one last look at the
pile of ash that had once been Jessica. How had it come to this? Jessica was
dead and now he was heading off to a museum with the Bourbon Kid.

 
    Fifty-Four

 
    It took Kacy less than twenty
minutes to race across town to the museum. By the time she arrived she was in a
state of panic. Dante still hadn’t replied to her text. She’d even tried
calling him as she raced through the deserted streets, but his phone was
switched off. In desperation she had also called the Bourbon Kid’s cell phone.
He hadn’t answered either, so she had left him message, a rather garbled,
stupid and incomprehensible message by all accounts, but she hoped the general
gist of it had gotten through. She needed him to get his ass to the museum as
soon as possible.
    When she reached the museum she
scoped the area outside for any sign of the Kid’s car. It was nowhere to be
seen, and there was no trail of bodies leading up to the museum entrance, which
was a likely indicator that he hadn’t arrived yet. She was on her own.
    Her legs felt weak with nerves
as she raced up the steps to the front entrance. The double doors were open.
She peered through them into the reception area and saw that it was empty. At
least, it looked empty from the outside, but as she stepped inside she saw a
body lying flat on its back at the far side of the reception hall. She
recognised it immediately. It was Vanity.
    After first checking both ways
for any lurking enemies, she hurried over to him. Someone had worked him over
real good. His face was bloodied and bruised, his once handsome looks gone
forever. His eyes were closed and very badly swollen. In a strange kind of way
Kacy hoped that Dante had inflicted this beating on the leader of the Shades clan.
But somehow she doubted it. Her gut instincts were telling her that regardless
of what had happened to Vanity, Dante was in trouble. If he was still alive.
    She reached down and prodded
Vanity in the chest to see if he was conscious. As her fingertips touched his
chest she felt sure she saw him breathe in, ever so slightly.
    ‘Vanity,’ she whispered
tentatively. ‘Are you alive?’
    He didn’t respond so she nudged
him in the chest again, a little harder this time. His eyes snapped open and
his left hand reached up and grabbed hers, grasping it tightly. It startled her
momentarily, but once the shock of it had subsided she reminded herself that he
was practically dead and in no condition to be a threat to her.
    ‘What happened here?’ she asked.
‘Where’s Dante?’
    Vanity’s mouth opened slightly.
His teeth were covered in blood, mostly his own by the looks of it. A great
deal more blood was stuck in his chin beard, drying rapidly. He stared up at
her, his eyes almost lifeless.
    ‘Kacy?’ he croaked.
    ‘Yes. Where’s Dante?’
    Vanity coughed up a little blood
and it dribbled out onto his chin. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Gaius has him.’
    ‘Where? Where did they go?’
    ‘Downstairs.’ He swallowed a
mouthful of blood, before spluttering out a few more barely audible words.
‘They’re burying him in a tomb.’
    Kacy started to stand up, ready
to rush downstairs to find Dante, but Vanity (with every last ounce of strength
he had) kept a grip on her hand and pulled her back down.
    ‘Wait,’ he croaked. ‘There’s too
many of them. You’ll need this.’ He pressed a small solid object into Kacy’s
hand. Then he released his grip on her and let both his arms fall to his side.
    ‘What am I supposed to do with
this?’ Kacy asked.
    Vanity swallowed hard once more.
His time was coming to an end. He took in a short