John J. Miller - George R.R. Martins Wild Card Universe: Death Draws Five

GEORGE R.R. MARTINS

WILD CARDS XVII

DEATH DRAWS FIVE

An original novel by John J. Miller

Copyright 2006 by George R.R. Martin and the Wild Card Trust

An ibooks,. eBook

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Printed in the United States by ipicturebooks, LLC., New York. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright holder. The ibooks colophon is a pending trademark of

J. Boylston & Company, Publishers.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

John J. Miller

George R.R. Martins Wild Cards XVII, Death Drarws Five

ISBN 13: 978 1-59687-297-4

1. Miller, John J.,

Science Fiction

ibooks.

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New York, NY 10128

www.BrickTowerPress.com

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First ibooks printing January 2006

First Kindle Edition, April 2010

Cover art by Mike S. Miller

DEDICATION

In memory of Mookie, beloved and loyal companion for almost fifteen years, and for faithful companions everywhere.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The author gratefully acknowledges his obvious debts to all Wild Card writers over the many years and many books, without whose contributions this novel would have clearly been impossible.
Thanks, guys.

J erry Strauss and John Fortune walked through the double doors that opened onto the Mirage auditorium and stopped just inside the entrance to the cavernous room. Jerry didnt like the way it was set up. He didnt like it at all. About fifteen hundred seats clustered around a t-shaped stage whose runway projected deep into the auditorium. John Fortune had insisted on getting as close to the action as possible, so their seats were next to the stage, about half-way down the runway on the right side

The kid looked at Jerry. Whats the matter? he asked.

Jerry, who had chosen the appearance of Alan Ladd (circa The Glass Key) for this assignment, grinned at Fortune in Ladds semi-sinister manner. Nothing, kid, he said. As long as the tigers dont go berserk. If you havent noticed, our seats seem to be well within claw reach.

Ah, jeez, Jerry

Jerry could see the look of disgust on the kids face, and forestalled further complaint by holding up his hand. John Fortune had been closely protected, too closely in Jerrys opinion, all his life. His mother, the beautiful winged ace Peregrine, had watched over him nearly every second of his existence. When she wasnt able to watch over him personally, she hired men like Jerry for the task.

Jerry, who usually called himself Mr. Nobody, had almost as many names as faces. It got confusing sometimes. John Fortune knew him by his real first name, but as Lon Creighton he was Jay Ackroyds partner in the Ackroyd and Creighton Detective Agency. Peregrine had retained the Agency for nearly sixteen years to help shield her son from danger. Actually, from even the remote possibility of danger.

The irony, Jerry thought, was that John Fortunes biggest danger was his own genes, and neither Jerry nor anyone else in the world could protect him from that.

Okay, Jerry said. Its cool. I guess Ill have to just throw myself in front of you if a hungry tiger tries to make you his early evening snack.

John Fortune grinned as they went down the aisle to their seats.

Not much danger of that, the kid said confidently. Siegfried and Ralph have been performing in Vegas for more than twenty years and no one in their audience has been eaten yet.

Jerry grunted. Theres always a first time for everything, he said.

Still, the kid was right. Peregrines paranoia was rubbing off on him. Vegas, after all, presented a carefully groomed environment that encouraged visitors to relax, have fun, and spend as much money as humanly possible. Of course, hed done nothing but bodyguard John Fortune since theyd arrived for the premier of Peregrines latest documentary at the Vegas Film Festival. Not that he was a decadent hedonist who habitually sunk in the depths of every available fleshpot, but hed hoped to catch the All Naked Review at the Moulin Rouge, or perhaps the charms of Brandy the Topless Magician, or maybe even the Midnight Fantasy at Jokertown West. Needless to say, having the kid in tow made all of that impossible. Jerry couldnt even get in any gambling. If he was on his own he could have hit the casinos that catered to wild carders, but he couldnt drag John Fortune along to those often-dubious establishments.

The show wasnt due to start for half an hour, but the auditorium was already thronging with patrons seeking their seats as performers went through the room, warming up the crowd. Not that John Fortune needed it. Ever since theyd arrived in Vegas all he could talk about was Siegfried and Ralph. It hadnt been easy to score tickets on short notice, but Peregrine had the connections and the bucks. Too bad, Jerry thought, she also didnt have the time to accompany them to the show.

As they made their way through the press of tourists they stopped suddenly as a tall joker with the head of a bird stepped before them and looked down at them intently with unblinking eyes. He was a lanky six eight or nine with long thin legs, long thin arms, and a long thin beak that jutted at least a foot out of his head. His face was covered by fine, downy feathers, though his sleeveless Egyptian-style tunic (similar, Jerry thought, to that worn by Charlton Heston in The Ten Commandments) revealed normal human skin on his arms and legs.

Jerry pushed himself protectively between the joker and John Fortune. He hadnt guarded the kid all these years only to have him pecked to death by a skinny old bird-man.

It is the one, the joker intoned in a deep voice, punctuated by odd clacks as his beak broke off his words, peppering his speech with oddly-placed silences.

Jerry suddenly relaxed. He didnt want to be bothered by paparazzi while working on a case, so he usually chose the appearance of old time actors, hence his current resemblance to Alan Ladd. But sometimes someone in the crowd still recognized him. Or rather, the particular face hed chosen.

Oh, well, he said to the bird-faced man, I get that a lot. Of course, Im not really

He fell silent when he realized that the man wasnt listening. The joker sagged awkwardly to his knees, as if suddenly over-balanced by his long beak. He bowed his head and held his hands straight out, his palms up.

It is he blessed with the strength of Ra, the bird man intoned. The power of the sun is his, the fire to light the world.

Jerry realized that the joker wasnt talking about him, but John Fortune. And Jerry also suddenly realized that they werent alone.

Theyd come from all over the auditorium, moving silently and swiftly through the tourists who were mostly too busy finding their seats to pay them much attention. A handsome, broad-shouldered dwarf. A sinuous, fur-covered female feline with claws on the tips of her fingers and toes. A lean bald man with a braided chin-beard who looked like a leather-faced rock star whod somehow survived the turbulent sixties. A man and a woman, obviously siblings, floating hand in hand five feet off the floor.

Jerry realized that they were the Living Gods, jokers, deuces, and even some rather minor aces whod taken their names from the old Egyptian pantheon. He remembered reading that theyd been driven from Egypt by the rising tide of Islamic fundamentalism, but he couldnt imagine the bizarre fate that had brought them to Las Vegas as members of Siegfried and Ralphs performing troupe.

They gathered around Jerry and John Fortune, kneeling before the boy, reaching out beseechingly to him. John Fortune looked on in consternation, but not a little disguised delight, as they were led in murmuring prayer by the bird-headed joker, who Jerry now remembered was named Thoth after the ibis-headed god of knowledge and writing.