He let out a yelp.
“Look but don’t touch,” Shiro said.
“That’s the first time in your life you’ve ever said that,” Charly joked.
“I need to know, Drake. Next move, lay it on me. Knowing where we need to be next will help me decide what course to take to lose the cops.”
“Suggestions?” Holly asked, distracted by the thought of Charly touching Shiro’s bare leg. But that was dumb—she had Iain. Shiro belonged to no one, least of all her. She pushed the jealousy aside and focused on their problem. Losing the cops. Not to mention losing The Cocks, who were, for some reason, chasing after them. It was like the fools had nothing better to do except terrorize through the city and pick fights.
And there was that other issue nagging Holly—what Odeon had said inside the museum about stealing the painting and going against her values. It’d been festering since he’d brought it up.
“Unfortunately, they now know our very unique vehicle, Holly,” Odeon said. “Unless we do something, it will be noticed everywhere we go.”
She groaned. He was right. And that added a new complication to their plan. “He’s right, guys. We need to paint it or hide it. Forever. No one else has a car with this paint job.”
“No one has this car, period,” Charly said.
“I know someone who can take care of the paint,” Darius said. “If that’s the route we want to go.”
Holly laughed. “I would have been disappointed if you’d not known someone who could pull that job off for us.”
“I’m flattered. This chase has really just started,” Darius said, speeding through an intersection and weaving between traffic. “I’ll take us in the direction of my contact’s workshop. As soon as we’ve ditched them, we’ll pull into the garage and hide the Mirage.”
“And lose the cops and The Cocks,” Charly said.
Darius began to fumble for something on the bench seat between them. He ran his hand blindly over the loose pile of crap. During turns it had been sliding up and down the seat. Holly had stopped it from flying all over the auto by covering it with her hand, and he’d taken turns holding it back as well. Now he patted blindly for something.
“What are you doing?” Holly asked, vaguely aware of discussion happening behind her between Charly and Shiro. He must have begun to put on his trousers. Sounded like Charly was encouraging him to just keep riding in his skivvies.
“Looking for my communicator. It’s here somewhere.”
“Is now the time to start making calls, Darius?”
“It’s not just a call, Drake. I need to get my guy on the phone. Have him waiting with an open garage. Right now he’d have the bay doors closed because it’s snowing and it’s late.”
“I’ll call him for you.”
“Great. Find the communicator. Then I’ll gladly hand it over to you.”
She bit back more sarcasm and searched through his stack of what appeared to mostly be trash. Crumpled papers, an empty three-bulb mug, large binders, a v-screen, and other odds and ends that she assumed were useful for the tech expert of their team.
“Here it is.” She pulled the small device out of the mug.
“Hold on,” Darius said, popping out into an intersection during a turn arrow. He used the moment to flip the Mirage around and start heading back in the direction they’d just come, screaming past the cops and The Cocks. Holly squinted against the flashing lights of the police vehicles.
“Excellent maneuver lad,” Shiro said, taking a break from the conversation with Charly.
“Thanks big guy! Now Drake, let me get Gus on the line.” He took the communicator from Holly and punched a few buttons and handed it back to Holly. “Drake, when he’s on, give it back. I’ll tell him what’s going down.”
Soon, they’d established that Gus would keep the bay door open for the Mirage, and be ready to close it once the car had slipped inside.
For a fee.
Holly sighed, mentally watching the novas they owed everyone adding up continuously.
“We’ll all chip in. From our share for this job. Once we get the money for the painting,” Charly reassured her.
“Most of this money is paying Le Roi off.”
“I know another job. We could knock it out fast,” Charly said, brightly.
“What about making honest money?” Holly asked. Unable to keep the disgust out of her tone. The Mirage swerved and rocked as Darius dodged a pedestrian that literally appeared out of nowhere. He swore and wiped his brow.
“That was close!” Shiro remarked.
“Nah, I had it.” Darius said.
“Honest money? Like how?” Charly asked. She sounded genuinely baffled.
“How most people do. Like how I used to do.”
“Right, right, Hols. Yes. The good old days. But remember how your prison record made an honest job almost impossible?”
“I was framed,” Holly said darkly, glaring out the window as though her reflection were to blame for the circumstances that led her to this moment.
“Sure you were,” Charly said.
“What’s wrong with what we’re doing to earn money, now, Holly Drake?” Odeon asked.
“Maybe you could tell me, Odeon. You’re the one who was surprised I agreed to this gig.”
“Here it comes,” Charly said. “Holly’s having one of her integrity crises.”
“It’s not that. I just don’t want to be like my father. He’s scum. But no matter what I do, I’m right back there, making tiny compromises that eventually lead to major compromises.”
“Holly, if you are like your father, destined to become someone who uses children like slaves,” Odeon said softly from behind her, “then what does that make me? You’ve met my parents.”
“So, what, an asshole?” Charly proffered, laughing.
“Exactly,” Holly said, “but not someone doing genuinely evil things.”
“I disagree. My parents are quite terrible. No one is good enough for them. They look down on the people who worship their music. They use their Yasoan gifts to become wealthy and powerful, completely ignoring the noble reasons they have been given those gifts.”
“You make extra money performing, chap,” Shiro said.
“If I do it the same way they do, then I am as evil as they are.”
“Well, don’t look at me, lass. My father makes suits for the wealthy and elite of the city.”
“Very evil,” Darius said. “Hang on again!”
They obliged.
“This is getting old. Have we nearly lost them?”
“Oh yeah, Drake. I got this. Nearly lost them.”
She turned in her seat to check behind them. It was true. The sound of the sirens seemed distant, as did the flashing lights. The Cocks were no where to be seen.
“Good work, Darius. We’ve lost The Cocks.”
“Three words I never want to hear. Except in this case,” Darius said.
Shiro snorted. “I must admit, that’s one of the best lines you’ve come up with, Darius, chap.”
“Four more turns and three more blocks, and I’ll land this puppy in Gus’s garage. And we’ll all be home in time to fall asleep, all cozy and snug in our beds before ten.”
4
The next morning, Charly led the way through Analogue Alley heading to the fence, who was not to be named until they arrived. Charly didn’t want to give away a thing, she claimed. She almost made Holly wear a blindfold so Holly never found out the location, because her connections were that exclusive.
“Don’t want you or anyone else stealing my contacts,” Charly said as they trudged through the snow. The ground was still thick with it. Analogue Alley didn’t get special treatment, or any treatment, for that matter, from the City of Jade Spires. If it was so special, well, then the officials expected the residents and shop owners to handle their own snow removal.
And foot traffic—the only traffic ever allowed in the alley—had been sparse that morning, so the snows hadn’t b
een beaten down naturally.
“Jesus Christ, Charly, you act as though we’re not on the same team.”
“We are. No, we are. I think this is how teammates should be—protecting their assets and aware of human nature. I’m aware. I know what humans do. Despite their best intent, sometimes a bit of backstabbing just happens.”
“When I hear you talk like that, it just makes me feel like, I don’t know I should just go solo. That would reduce my stress by a thousand-fold.” Holly stopped and waited for a decked out Constellation pedestrian to pass them. He wore a set of wooden feathers like a headdress and a wooden collar. Holly had no idea what the style was—something to do with their ancient world, she guessed.
“I’m hurt, Hols. You’d ditch me? I’m stressful? Thanks a lot.”
“Yes, exactly. You’re proving my point. From time to time it would be nice to have things work without having to satisfy an entire crew. I feel like a parent at times. Or…a schoolteacher, again.”
“Stop while you’re ahead, girl.”
Holly clamped her mouth shut. The admonition smarted. Something was getting to Holly but she didn’t really know what. It wasn’t the crew, it was something else. But at the moment, she was taking it out on the crew. It wasn’t fair, but she wasn’t sure how to stop herself—since whatever was bothering here continued to elude her.
“Who’s the fence? That would go a long way toward helping me get over the built-in drama of managing a bunch of willful, opinionated crew members—who I love, of course.”
“I doubt you know her. You’ll meet her soon enough,” Charly said.
Holly stopped. “I just figured out what’s bothering me.”
Charly paused and turned back. “What?”
The morning sunlight began to spill over the jade spiretops, shining down into the alley and coating everything in a powerful sheen. The air was sharp and clear from the cleansing of the recent snowfall. Charly’s brown and blonde-streaked curls were pulled up into a ponytail. She gave Holly an open look, as though nothing Holly could say would really ever come between them.
Holly wasn’t so sure, at least not this time.
“First, I’m frustrated that the last gig wasn’t stealing back. You know how important that is to me. Charly. I can’t be like George.” Her father. That was it. That was consistently it since she’d found out the truth about the Heart of the Shadow Coalition. The revelation that it was George Wolfe had shaken Holly to her core, stripping away all the truths that she’d surrounded herself with. Little walls of protection that—no matter the terrible things she’d experienced with her dead, former husband, Graf Drake—had provided solace about who and what Holly was.
Sure, she’d killed Graf in self-defense after many beatings at his hand, before he could finally succeed in killing her. Still, she wasn’t a murderer. Holly was concerned with integrity. Justice. Honor. Social contracts. Even over the course of many jobs and gigs on behalf of Dave and her crew, Holly found rational thought at the center of her choices and actions—she was not a thief. Not in the villainous sense of the word. Maybe she was a bit of a rogue, a dashing woman willing to rush toward danger, where angels feared to tread, to rescue a thousand kids, or a stolen statue.
But she wasn’t a true villain. Not like George had been.
But to keep that pearl of truth at the center of her world, she had to follow her code.
And she wasn’t sure Charly’s job followed it.
“Who’s to say, Hols? We’ve got two Centaus arguing over a painting. Pretty standard. Half our jobs have been exactly like that.” Charly’s voice was monotone like she knew this wasn’t going to turn out well and she wasn’t in the mood for a big fight with Holly in the middle of Analogue Alley.
In all honesty, Holly wasn’t either. She just needed to get the weight off her chest and express her displeasure to her best friend. They’d been through hell together—surviving in the relatively cush City of Jade Spires Minimum Security Women’s Prison, and on top of that, quite a number of dangerous jobs—and even a small tiff like this was hardly a threat to their foundation.
But still. Holly couldn’t hold it inside and let it fester. Getting it out where Charly could see it, and where Holly could study it in the brilliance of day, was very necessary.
“I just needed to tell you. I guess.” Holly began walking again, still letting Charly lead once the other woman caught up.
“Great. You told me.”
“So you’re pissed?”
“Not pissed. Annoyed. I feel like you’re being ungrateful as hell. Beggars can’t be choosers, you know? And you’re the one who got into the bind with the madwoman, Danielle Le Roi. I was just trying to help. Rescue you, you know?”
“And I appreciate that. For future jobs, let’s just make sure we’re all clear on the nuances. I can’t turn out like George.”
“I wouldn’t let you turn out like George, Hols. If you were on your way, I’d tell you.”
“I hope so.” Holly bit her lip for a few minutes, wondering if she dared to say the next thing. “Also, what was up with you trying to get Shiro to not put on his pants?”
Charly drew up short. “What?”
Holly paused and turned, her face flushing in embarrassment. “Never mind.”
“Too late. What the hell, Holly?”
“You were flirting with him like crazy. Does Torden know you have a thing for Shiro?”
“I don’t have a thing for Shiro,” Charly protested.
Holly shrugged one shoulder, trying to play it off as nothing. “It just didn’t seem like it. Seems like you do.”
“You’re high,” Charly said, shaking her head and hurrying past Holly.
That simply proved to Holly that she was right. A chill passed over her. Charly and Shiro? It sounded terrible. Or did it?
Whatever. It wasn’t up to Holly anyway.
“We’re almost to the fence’s. Keep moving, Hols. Let’s get that item off our hands fast. Before anyone has a chance to steal it from us.”
Holly watched Charly’s back as her friend walked away from her. The street was getting more crowded as the minutes passed and morning waxed into early afternoon. Holly looked around. She knew this spot. Could it be?
Charly suddenly took a turn into a stairwell that led down into a basement shop.
“I know this place, Charly,” Holly said, catching up. “Used her before. So your silly attempts to protect your assets have been a waste. I know this woman.”
Charly shook her head and scoffed loudly as she pushed the door to the establishment open. “Whatever. Fine.”
Holly followed her in and stopped, breathing deep and looking around. Amaya’s interior design emporium, or something. That’s what Holly would call it, but the shop had no name placard above it. She just knew that Amaya was the owner and the fence. An affected woman with a contagious sense of style and drama.
As if on a cue from Holly’s thoughts, the woman fluttered into the main area of her shop, appearing from a back room somewhere. Her green robe sported golden birds and tropical trees. It fluttered behind her like wings as Amaya swept into the room. “Bonjour!” She said effusively in greeting. “Welcome! Welcome to my interior design emporium. What can I help you with today, my friends?”
She threw her hands out as though she were about to hug them. But the moment she laid her eyes on Charly and Holly, she blinked in recognition. “Ah, you two,” she said, then seemed to think it through. “Wait, you two know each other?”
“You know Holly?” Charly asked, then looked at Holly. “So you weren’t lying.”
“Please, please, no names,” Amaya said, moving her light brown hands to cover her ears.
“Ixion’s ghost, Charly, why would I lie? To you?” Holly glared first at Charly, then at Amaya.
Amaya withdrew her hands with a sigh, perhaps thinking that it was too late to protect their anonymity, or realizing that she struck a ridiculous shape covering her ears—like a child afraid to hear ‘b
ad words.’
“Yes, Charly, dear, I know your friend. Have done some work with her.” She made a face. “You know, work.”
“I know what you mean, Amaya, cut the dramatics,” Charly said.
Amaya was unfazed by Charly’s temper. “Let’s head to the back room, then.”
5
The shop owner led the way. Charly and Holly had to give her about six feet of clearance for her trailing silk robes. Despite her irritation, the vibe that Amaya gave off was causing Holly to grin uncontrollably. The woman’s energy was catching. She carried as much passion for life as a six-year-old that had never been hurt by the meanness of the world. Like an innocent, thrilled at every turn over the fascinations of living and experiencing, as though every experience was, indeed, a new one.
In the backroom, Amaya directed them to sit down and placed a tray of drinks and recently brewed kasé on the coffee table in front of them. Holly lifted the tube holding the painting over her chest and balanced it beside her knee where it leaned against the cushion of the sofa.
Amaya sat across from them and prepared a kasé for herself, fussing over the condiments.
“Please, help yourselves,” the woman invited.
“No thanks,” Charly said.
Holly wanted to roll her eyes, but withstood the urge. Charly had clearly been affected by their exchange out on the street, and wasn’t letting on how much it bothered her. Well, she was, actually and maybe it was all calculated to send that message to Holly. So what was she most upset about? Holly’s criticism about the job or her remarks about having a thing for Shiro?
She couldn’t think about it now. And….
And she wasn’t going to reveal that Charly’s irritation even bothered her. She grabbed a two-bulbed mug and began preparing herself a kasé. She almost started whistling a tune just to rub in her good mood and how over it she was.
But that seemed too petty.
Some part of her was aghast at her desire to get on Charly’s last nerve. She must be more stressed than she realized—looking for outlets anywhere. Tick off her best friend. Burn bridges. Ignite conflict everywhere.
The Colossus Collection : A Space Opera Adventure (Books 1-7 + Bonus Material) Page 128
