Survivor in Death (In Death 20)

“Sick. Dallas, it’s going on fifteen hundred.”

“And?”

“We’re due to get Mavis at fifteen hundred.”

“Right. I got this buzz.” She rocked on her heels, studying the spot where Brenegan’s body had been found years before. “I know we’re close. We push the right buttons, we pull them in, and they’re gone. They’re smart, they’re crafty, but they’re vulnerable because they won’t walk away until they’re done. They’d rather fail than walk away without the mission complete.”

“It’s hard to stop, change tracks, and deal with the other areas.”

“Yeah, it’s a pisser all right. Let’s go get Mavis.”

Eve had been to some of Mavis’s concerts. She’d been backstage and watched the adoring fans lucky enough to gain entrance. But she’d never seen a nine-year-old girl rendered speechless by the mere sight of her friend.

Not that the sight couldn’t render anyone incapable of speech. Mavis wore her hair in hundreds of ringlets, bright gold and shimmery green, that spilled around her face like some sort of electric mop. Her eyes were gold today as well, tipped with green lashes. She wore a deep purple calf-length coat, which she peeled off upon entering the house to reveal a crotch-length dress in swirls of purple and gold. Her green tights were accented with shiny knee and ankle bracelets and a pair of gold shoes with transparent heels filled with those same colorful swirls.

Her pregnancy had progressed far enough that her belly popped out of the swirls in a small, neat lump.

Her bracelets—knee, ankle, wrist—rang like bells as she danced across the floor toward a slack-jawed Nixie.

“Hi! I’m Mavis.”

Nixie only nodded, her head like a puppet’s on a string.

“Dallas says you like my music.”

At the next nod, Mavis grinned. “I thought maybe you’d like this.” Apparently there was a pocket somewhere in the dizzying swirls as Mavis drew out a disc. “It’s my new vid, for ‘Inside Out Over You.’ It’s not hitting until next month.”

“I can have it?”

“Sure. You want to watch it? Okay if we go plug it in, Dallas?”

“Go ahead.”

“This is the ult,” Nixie exclaimed. “The serious ult. Linnie and I . . .” She trailed off, stared hard at the disc. “Linnie’s my best friend, and we watch your vids all the time. But she’s . . .”

“I know.” Mavis’s voice softened. “I’m really sorry. Dallas is my best friend. I’d feel so bad if anything happened to her. It would hurt for a long time. I guess I’d have to think about the fun we had together whenever I could, so it didn’t hurt so much.”

She nodded. “You’re having a baby. Can I touch it?”

“You bet. Sometimes it bumps around in there, and it feels really frosty.” Mavis laid her hand over Nixie’s. “Gotta cook a while longer. In the new vid I’ve got this totally mag belly painting going on. Why don’t you go plug the disc in. I’ll come watch it with you.”

“Okay, thanks.” Nixie looked up at Eve. “You said you’d bring her, and you did. Thanks.”

When Nixie raced off to the parlor, Eve stepped up, laid a hand on Mavis’s shoulder. “I appreciate this.”

“Poor kid. Man, makes you misty.” She laid a hand on her belly, blinked her emerald lashes. “Look, if I can give her a couple hours of fun, that’s what it’s all about. Hey! Bump!” She grabbed Eve’s hand, slapped it to the side of her belly.

“Jesus, don’t! Whoa!” She jerked when someth

ing kicked against her palm.

“Is that uptown or what?”

“Or what.”

But curiosity had her eyeing the ball of Mavis’s belly as the little kicks continued. It was kind of . . . she wasn’t sure. A happy little beat, and not nearly as creepy as she’d expected. “What the hell’s it doing in there, dancing?”

“It’s swimming and stretching and rolling. I’m so knocked up now its nostrils are opening, and he’s got these little air sacs—”