by Ben Farthing
He latched onto a new idea. If he couldn't hit Inc back through force, maybe he could help take away what they wanted.
"Hey, let's just focus on the cleanup," said Brian.
"Valid point." Everard returned the stare. "The important thing is that we're all helping."
He sprayed the air between them.
The suit glared and turned back to the fence.
Everard opened his mouth to revel in his smug victory. Brian shot insecticide into it.
He coughed, spit out the bitter taste. It tingled and burned on his tongue. "What the hell?"
"You talk too much sometimes." Brian scanned the air for bugs. "Sorry, that was an impulsive decision."
Everard scratched at his tongue. "That's disgusting."
"Sorry. Shouldn't have done that." Brian waved at Fiametta Vine, who brought over lemonade.
"Wonderful to see you again." She smiled ear to ear at Everard, genuinely, then said conspiratorially, "are you still excited to meet your sister?"
Everard took a cup from her tray and downed it. "Thrilled."
"You have to let me know how that goes." She offered lemonade to the suit, who shook his head. Brian took one, and she gasped. "Oh, I'm so thoughtless. Forgive me, won't you? You poor thing, you must still be grieving. I loved Renae."
"Thanks." Brian grimaced from behind his lemonade.
It wasn't right, making the kid show grief in public. Even if Fiametta meant well.
Loretta stormed up to them. "He's all yours," she said to Brian, then headed off.
Everard followed, with Brian on his heels. "What'd Bill Bill say?"
"Nothing’s changed. Brian teaches you until you complete your deal with Bill Bill."
Everard knew that look of frustration. "He didn't pay you, did he? Or he postponed it."
Loretta stopped behind the shack. "If you can actually pull off your plan of walking away from the Periphery, do it."
That took Everard by surprise. "I will. You're still keeping an eye on my friends, right?"
"The Burgesses pay late, but they always pay. I'm not going back on my word."
"Where are you going now?"
"To finish the job they originally hired me for."
"Proving Inc is funding Undone Duncan?"
"Technically figuring out what the booms are, but it looks like I'll end up proving that, yes."
"I want in."
"No."
"I owe them one."
"You ripped apart their building!"
"You said it yourself—I kicked a wasp nest. And I didn't squash a single wasp. I don't think I can, but at the very least I can keep the wasps from fulfilling their little waspy desires."
"Your metaphor's getting away from you."
"They want power. They want the people's support. I help you prove they're funding criminals, I take that smirk off Bowman's face."
"I hate that smirk. But I don't need your help."
"I'm not saying you do. But I need to help. Bill Bill's protection is only worthwhile when I'm standing next to him. Freaks are going to keep coming after me unless I make them afraid to. Taking Inc down a couple notches might do that."
Loretta tapped her lip. "Still no. I don't know if I can keep you alive. Then Bill Bill would probably refuse to pay me for rescuing you earlier."
"You didn't rescue me. I was already running away." Everard took a breath. "Fine. We'll play it this way. I never told you what the CEO said about the booms. You want to know, you help me find proof."
"He must not have told you much if we'd still need to find proof."
"It's a lead you don't have yet."
Loretta ran her fingers through her hair.
Everard pushed a little harder where he'd seen a weakness. "Bowman hates me. Think of the look on his face when he learns that I helped take them down."
Loretta's mouth curled into a half smile. "I'd like to see that."
"So I'm in?"
Loretta chewed on her lip while she thought about it. "If you die, it's not on me."
"Deal. Wait. If I die, you still keep an eye on my friends. Just long enough to make sure no one's interested in them."
"Clearly." Loretta stepped into the shack. "Go get Brian. He's still your handler."
Chapter Twenty-Five
Back in the SUV, Everard told Loretta what the CEO had said about the booms both pushing and pulling.
"How can you both pull and push people?" Brian started the engine and turned on a hectic pop song.
"Maybe that's why it felt like it was ripping me apart," said Everard.
"No," said Loretta. "Probably different targets. Luring someone but forcing someone else out. Did you get the CEO to admit who they're targeting?"
"It'd be the Burgesses, right?" said Brian. "I mean, that's the obvious answer."
"Maybe." Loretta took out her phone. "Shadow left me a message. Start driving."
A boom shook the city.
The cars around them all braked. Everard was getting tired of all this weird Periphery shit.
"Definitely getting more frequent," said Loretta. "Although I still haven't felt what you described happening in Undone Duncan's workshop."
"Maybe it's building up to it," said Everard.
"That's... actually a possibility," conceded Loretta.
While Brian drove out of Barry Farm and through Anacostia, Everard started testing out his bent.
He stared at his seatbelt buckle. That familiar mental mist gathered, and he felt his will focus into a spear. "No," he said aloud. The spear shot through the mist. The buckle popped open. "Hey. I did it."
Brian looked over his shoulder. "Now do it consistently, and then we'll move on to deny things that actually matter."
Loretta hushed them.
Everard reattached the buckle. He tried again. It didn't work. What had he done differently? Or maybe he was only free enough from authority that his bent was sporadic.
"Here." Loretta handed him her phone. "Shadow wants a word."
He took it. "Hello?"
"I hear you've been getting in all sorts of trouble."
"Sort of. What can I do for you?"
Loretta pointed Brian towards downtown.
"Straight to the point. Aren't you a man's man?"
Everard waited for an answer.
"My brother would like to invite you to a little soiree this evening. He tells me that everyone who's anyone will be there. Sounds like a bunch of stiffs to me, but it's the first time he's invited people over in years. I might stick around inside long enough to laugh at their drama."
"Drama?"
"I'm talking Nuo Che, Fiametta Vine, Peter Miller... you don't have any idea who these people are, do you?"
"Fiametta Vine gave me some lemonade twenty minutes ago."
"Look at you, rolling with the who's who of the D.C. Factions. With that lemonade, I bet your bruises are already fading."
They were. First useful thing to come out of the Periphery insanities so far. "That's amazing."
"She's the rector of the NoGoes, what did you expect?"
"Not lemonade." Everard pressed on his cheek where the reskinned had hit him yesterday. It felt fine. "Tell your brother I'll try to make it."
"Whoa now," said Shadow. "Under no circumstances should you actually come. He thinks you were impersonating him."
"Thanks for the warning."
"I'm serious."
"And I wasn't serious about being there."
"Oh. Right. You know, you just might survive down here."
"Thanks for the ringing endorsement."
"Don't thank me until you live through where Loretta's about to take you. Talk later, now. Don't be a stranger." Shadow ended the call.
"Did the Ailuromancer invite you for cocktails?" asked Loretta.
"Maybe don't make it to that one," said Brian.
"I'm not planning on it. Where are we going?"
"U Street," said Loretta. "I had Shadow use his cats to look for the barrel-and-wire
setup you saw in the Junk Shoals. They've found three so far. Closest one's at U Street."
"I told you." Maybe now more people would listen to him.
"I'll make sure you get a medal."
They drove back up to Florida Avenue, and took that towards the center of the city. Everard closed his eyes and ignored the frantic pop melodies that Brian apparently enjoyed.
It was the early part of rush hour, so their progress was slow. The sun had passed its peak and was shining directly through the windshield. As the made it closer to downtown, the blocks became more cramped. Row houses or apartments were tucked more and more tightly together.
In traditional D.C. style, the character of the city changed almost block by block. One row of houses would be well kept with clean, smooth sidewalks, while the next would have cracked paint and decaying porches, with trash bags thrown by the stoop.
Florida turned directly west and became U Street. Trendy shops and restaurants started appearing, including a taco bar with a storefront made from a steel storage container. The sign above read "El Rey de Sinaloa."
Everard's stomach grumbled. He hadn't eaten since breakfast.
Three blocks later, Loretta said, "Find a place to park."
Brian turned onto 13th and found a spot. They hopped out. Everard tucked the flintlock into his belt. Traffic rumbled by. Loretta led them around the corner, past a red brick Victorian row house.
"Where is this supposed to be?" Everard watched the driver of each car.
"Somewhere around the Lincoln Theater."
"Pretty busy area to hide something like that," said Everard. In addition to the steady traffic, there were a dozen or so pedestrians in sight.
"Could be in a small nook," said Brian. "The Perforated Woman does some wild stuff with bending space."
"Shadow said it's topside. But cats aren't real great with directions."
"Speaking of bending space," said Everard, "what's with the second Washington Monument?"
The Lincoln Theater was a tan brick building with hints of Greco design that were overshadowed by the red accented box office. If any shows were playing today, they weren't starting any time soon.
"What are you talking about?" Loretta led them down the alleyway. "Let's we'll take a look around back."
"As long as you don't suggest splitting up," said Brian.
Down the alleyway, the walls were painted with murals of Obama and Bill Cosby. Around the back of the theater was a parking lot, opening up into V Street.
Everard spotted it first, since he already knew what to look for. In the last spot, next to a concrete divider, was a fifty-gallon steel drum, with wires looping in and out like a tangle of hair around a brush.
"That's it," said Everard. "That's what I saw."
Loretta opened her palm to stop them. "Undone Duncan wouldn't leave it undefended. One of his gangs has to be around here."
"More Lynch Mobbers?" asked Everard. "Or reskinned?"
"Could be anybody," said Brian.
"Keep an eye out for a second." Loretta sent a text. "I want Bermuda over here. He'll be able to tell us about the machine."
There were fewer pedestrians on V Street, but enough that it took Everard a moment to notice the cloaked woman. She wore a green cloak spotted with glistening jewel stars. She turned into the parking lot, revealing a red dress underneath the cloak, and a skull mask covering her face.
Everard's stomach dropped. He pushed away thoughts of roaming perforations in skin, or incomprehensible entities. Maybe she was just a lady in a mask.
He doubted it. He wrapped his fingers around the grip of the flintlock. "Hey guys."
Loretta and Brian looked up.
Brian moaned. "Why'd it have to be Narco Saints?"
"What's a Narco Saint?" asked Everard. "Are they worse than Lynch Mobbers?"
"It'll be fine." Loretta stretched her fingers like she was in an Old West duel. "Just stay behind me. Keep an eye out for anyone with a gun."
"Perfect," muttered Everard. He'd gotten himself into a shitshow, and there didn't seem to be any way to prove Inc was involved.
"Santa Muerte." Loretta addressed the cloaked woman, who stepped in front of the barrel. "You get one chance to walk away. I'll even turn down the inevitable job offer to bring down your Narco Saints."
Santa Muerte laughed. It was disdainful, and human. Maybe she was just a woman in a mask. When she spoke it was a thicker accent than Loretta. "You are a traitor to la Raza."
"Soy Cubana."
"Peor. Tu familia no tiene de comer mientras que estas aqui engordandote."
Everard and Brian exchanged a confused look. Everard casually stepped to the side so he'd have a clear shot around Loretta. He stepped in something sticky.
Despite Santa Muerte's increasing anger, Loretta remained calm. "No eres ningun Robin Hood."
Blood pooled at Everard's feet, bubbling up from the concrete. No, not at Everard's feet. At Loretta's. He stood in the outskirts blood lake that spawned beneath Loretta's heels.
"Yo no," said Santa Muerte. "Pero ellos, si."
A decayed corpse burst up from the blood. Everard stumbled backwards. Bullet holes pockmarked its jacket and trousers, revealing grayed skin and wounds beneath. A quarter of its forehead was gone, now only rotting gore, where a bullet had come in from behind. Its eyes dissolved decades ago, now two coins floated inside the sockets, darting about as if connected to ocular nerves.
Loretta only had time to gasp before the corpse wrapped its arms around her and pulled her into the crimson puddle.
The empty parking lot suddenly felt exposed. Blood seeped up from the cracked concrete in twenty other places.
Everard drew the pistol. Brian's music erupted from his speaker. Darts of lights flashed into the air to dance toward Brian in a syncopated rhythm.
"What the hell just happened?" Everard pointed the pistol at Santa Muerte. "Is she dead?"
Did he need to start running and not stop until he was in a different hemisphere?
"I don't know." Brian's breaths came short and quick. The happy irony in his voice that had been replaced with forced happy irony since Renae's death had now decayed into a monotone drone. "If she is, her dead man's switches are about to kill everyone she's ever worried might threaten her family."
Santa Muerte called across the lot. "I might have taken her up on her offer if she hadn't brought you along, rebellist. But you're too valuable."
Everard reached into his pocket and started his phone recording video. He hoped it would pick up Santa Muerte's voice over Brian's music. "Too valuable to who?"
"What are you doing?" hissed Brian.
"Don't play dumb," said Santa Muerte. "The Narco Saints are loyal to Undone Duncan."
Shit. So much for an accidental confession that Inc was involved.
The puddles of blood bubbled and spread.
"You should embrace it," said Santa Muerte. "Every gang in the city will report to you, once you're at the Cursed Strongman's side."
Everard raised the flintlock and fired.
Those same dead arms reached up to pull Santa Muerte down through a pool of blood.
The beam of condensed sound shot through the empty air where she'd been standing and smashed a dent into the door of a parked car. A man in a suit looked at Everard in horror then turned tail and ran.
Shit. He had to worry about collateral damage. Now he wished he was in the Periphery.
The corpse hauled Santa Muerte up through blood at the edge of the theater's back wall. It dove back in.
The Narco Saints leader took cover around the corner of the wall.
Everard blew a chunk of brick out of the wall.
"What's the plan?" Brian glowed like a Christmas tree on cocaine, hundreds of thousands of multicolored pinpricks of light covering his body.
The corpse popped out of another blood pool, pulling up another corpse onto the ground, then disappearing again. This one was even more decayed, a tattered robe hanging over muscle and bone
. Beneath its coin eyes, its lips had been pulled forward and spikes driven through to seal its mouth.
Everard tried to think up a plan through his revulsion. "We could fight them off so we can study the machine."
The new corpse pointed at Everard, and his voice shattered. His lips and tongue moved freely but his vocal chords produced no sound.
"I'm down," said Brian in his empty tone.
No. The corpse had cut short Everard's plan. They could fight off the Narco Saints if Loretta crawled back out of one of those blood puddles. Otherwise, they should try a few more times to get a confession about Inc, then get the hell out of dodge.
Too late.
Brian turned up the speaker volume. He danced toward Santa Muerte and the muted corpse, the light gathering in his fists.
Everard tried to get his attention. He'd had enough of confronting these freaks head on, didn't think he could handle it again.
Brian spun around. A cord of light lashed out, connected with the corpse's leg, ripped it off.
Frustration turned to fury over being forced into yet another insane situation. With a growl of rage, Everard fired the flintlock, striking the corpse in the chest, sending it pitching down through a blood pool.
In rapid succession, the first corpse brought up three men armed with automatic pistols. Brian's light disarmed them, but the Narco Saints' rank-and-file kept popping up like a bloody game of whack-a-mole.
Everard grabbed Brian's shirt to yank him to cover behind a dumpster.
"Don't kill the rebellist," shouted Santa Muerte.
Everard pressed his back against the cool steel of the dumpster. It smelled rancid. He glanced around the edge. The gang members were fanning out, forming a half-circle around the dumpster.
"I liked your first plan better." Brian leapt out of their cover.
Everard shouted silently. The kid was going for some pointless sacrificial act, following after his sister. Maybe he saw it as penance for not preventing Renae's death.
The Narco Saints had sights on every escape route. The bare parking lot offered no cover aside from this dumpster. Everard could try to sprint back to the alley, but he'd have to drag Brian, and that would leave exposed for too long.
Why wasn't the gang telling them to surrender, or to drop their weapons? He thought both Inc and Undone Duncan wanted him alive.
