by M. R. Forbes
"Get her to come back with me, and I'm done?"
"Bring her back, and you're done. Oh, but don't think about double-crossing me, Mr. Smith. You're still a step behind. I found you here even without the tracker. I'll find you again, and next time I won't be so polite."
The coldness of her voice gave me chills. "I'll bring her back."
"Good. I'll be waiting."
"What about my fat friend?"
"He should be dead by now. I have more than just what you call 'ferals' at my disposal."
"I didn't like that asshole anyway."
I got up and headed for the back of the coffee shop. Veronica watched me from the table, looking amused.
The back of the shop opened up into a narrow alley. I had only gone a couple of feet along it when I almost tripped over the two men laying on the cement there, both with bullet holes in their foreheads.
"Jin?" I said in a loud whisper. "Jin!"
If she was hiding nearby, she wasn't coming out. I kept walking down the alley, passing a dumpster. I paused next to it and lifted the lid, checking for her inside. She wasn't there.
"Jin!" She could have run back to the van by now, but I had a feeling she hadn't. She would stay close, and try to get a shot at Veronica. She would stay bold. "Jin!"
She materialized from the shadows a dozen yards ahead of me, her gun drawing a tight bead. "Just stay there, Baron."
"What the hell, Jin?"
"Do you think I'm stupid? I couldn't wake you up before I ran. The only reason you're still alive is because she wanted something from you."
"She wants you. I told her I would bring you back."
"Not if I kill you."
"You and I had a deal." I took a couple of steps towards her.
"Just stay there. I can imagine what she offered you, and she can pay right away."
"Jin... I..." I reached into my pocket.
"Leave them."
"I can't throw them that far," I said, digging the dice out. I didn't toss them. I put them on the ground and backed away. "It's the best promise I can make."
She came forward slowly, keeping the gun trained on me. "Back up a little more."
I did. I was ten feet away from the dice when Veronica appeared in the alley behind Jin, flanked by two others in plain clothes. One of them had been working inside the coffee shop. The other we had passed on the street. I thought I was being clever. She had seen us coming from a mile away.
"I was going to bring her," I shouted.
Jin didn't know she was there. She turned and dropped to a knee, squeezing off two rounds that went wide before crying out and dropping the gun. It steamed on the wet street.
"I got tired of waiting. Oh, and I didn't believe you." Veronica looked at Jin. "Come, Miss Red. Don't make this any harder."
Jin eyed her gun, and then looked back at me. There was nothing I could do.
"Well?" Veronica asked.
She started walking towards the wizard, defeated. The two sidekicks approached and took each of her arms, holding her tight and guiding her around the corner towards the street.
Veronica smiled at me.
"I guess this means our deal is off?"
"I'd say it's nothing personal, but necromancers are an ugly sore on the beauty of magic." Her hand raised, her lips moved, and the water lifted from the ground in front of her, condensing and shooting towards me like a bullet.
There was no way I could avoid it. I tried anyway, twisting and falling. The liquid missile slammed into my shoulder, the one that hadn't been raked by the were, piercing clean through and smashing into the wall behind me. The force spun me at least twice before I landed on the ground, my arm quickly growing warm and wet with blood. I lifted my head. She was standing there watching me, amused.
"Did that hurt? I hope so. You're like a human hemorrhoid."
I saw the dice on the ground in front of me, the black energy of the dark soul inside flowing around them like mist. I held my arm, bringing my hand inside of my trench and pulling myself to my knees. Veronica said something I couldn't make out, motioned with her own hand again, and another water bullet formed in front of her chest.
"Enjoy the afterlife."
The tiny cannonball shot towards me.
There was nothing graceful about it. I flopped over like a fish, drawing my gun as I fell. The second bullet grazed my side at the same time I was trying get the firearm in position and struggling to find enough strength.
It was a good thing I didn't need to raise my arm very far. I squeezed off every round in the clip in rapid succession, emptying it even as I crumbled against the ground. Hot casings burned into my trench while the bullets ricocheted off the pavement, sending up sprays of water, chipping away at the cement in front of my target.
Veronica laughed at me. She thought my effort was futile, that my wound had killed my aim. She raised another water missile and prepared to fling it.
She didn't know I wasn't shooting at her.
She didn't know I had activated the dice when I put them on the ground, that I had given the dark soul her name.
She didn't know I had been expecting her to cheat me, because that's what people like her did. I knew more than I was supposed to, and that made me a risk she couldn't take.
My aim was shit, but it was good enough. The vibrations rattled the dice, shaking them and lifting them into the air. They may have only turned one face, but it still counted.
I couldn't see the symbols from where I was. All I saw was the black mist waver, and then the bitch was on her back, crying out in pain and terror. The cry turned into a gurgle, and the gurgle into silence.
The barista had heard the screams, and he rounded the corner a second later. My clip was empty, my arm too damaged to quickly load another. I rolled across the alley as he opened fire, bullets clipping the ground next to me, and then the dumpster when I made it behind. I put my back to it and tried to flex my arm. It was still bleeding, and it hurt like hell, but I could move it. I started reaching for a new clip.
More gunfire echoed in the night from around the front of the building. Had Jin tried to get away, or had they heard Veronica scream and executed her? I found the bullets, managed to reload, and then rounded the dumpster. The barista had gone back the way he'd come, and I saw his body quiver from the bullets that tore through it. He toppled to the ground, and I ducked back down behind the bin.
It was quiet. I heard someone moving out near the street. I stayed behind the garbage and waited.
"Hey, Baldie! What are you hiding? Fucking baby."
Amos. I came out of my hiding place. "You're still alive?"
He laughed. "I didn't want you bringing my fat ass back from the dead."
"Where's Jin?"
"The assholes had an Escalade. She's looking for the treasure."
She wouldn't find it. Whoever had wanted it had gotten it, but it seemed they wanted her, too. Alive.
"I need to go get Evan before law enforcement shows up. Can you get the van?"
I started walking down the alley. My shoulder was killing me, and I was feeling a little light-headed. I looked over at my arm, and saw that my clothes were soaked with blood. How much had I lost? I started to feel hot, really hot.
I made it to the dice, kneeling to pick them up. I got them into my pocket before I lost my balance and started to topple over.
"I think you're gonna keel," Amos said, putting his arm under my good one and helping get me back to my feet. "We need to get you to a hospital."
"No. No hospital. One look at me, they'll never let me leave. I need to get Evan." Everything was starting to spin, and the world was fading. I wasn't ready to pass out. I pushed against Amos, but he was way too heavy to dislodge. "Let me go!"
I felt a rush of air, and then the blossoming of new pain in my shoulder. I grew numb and tingly everywhere, and my eyes forced their way closed.
I'd told him to let me go.
I hadn't expected him to actually do it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Lost
FIVE YEARS EARLIER...
I didn't know what time it was. I didn't know how many drinks I'd had, or even the name of the dive I was sitting in. I knew it was late, and I was drunk. I knew I didn't care.
My cell vibrated in my pocket for the fiftieth time. I didn't need to look at it to know it was Karen, wondering where the fuck I was, and what Rob had said. I knew she was worried about me. I was worried about her, too.
How was I supposed to go home, look her in the eye, and tell her that I was a dead man walking? How was making her wake up next to a corpse every day for the next two months supposed to help her, or me, or Molly?
The bar was cold and moist against my forehead. Some part of me thought I should pick up my head, but the other part had lost the will, and it was winning. The world was a dangerous place nowadays. The dead of night was the last place someone like me should be. I had a life insurance policy, I was going to die anyway. What was the point?
"Hey, shithead. It's two o'clock. Pay up, and get the fuck out of my bar."
I heard the voice, but I didn't know it was directed at me until a ham hand grabbed my hair and lifted my face from the bar. An angry mug was glaring at me from the other side.
"I said, pay up, and get out."
He let go, and my chin hit the counter. That was enough to nudge me out of my stupor, and I slid off the stool and stumbled to my feet. Where was I anyway? I couldn't remember.
I'd left work and driven to... I couldn't recall. I'd driven away, into some other part of the city, and came to a stop when I saw the sign for the bar. I'd planted myself on the stool, and cried for an hour or two while I drank. Then I just drank. Maybe I'd passed out at some point? I didn't know.
The bartender came around the bar. He didn't wait for me to find my wallet, he just reached into my back pocket and pulled it out, taking my card and scanning it.
"Don't forget the tip," I mumbled. He smiled and scanned it a second time, and then returned everything to its place.
"Good luck out there," he said, at the same time he led me to the door. "All the smart guys sobered up and left hours ago."
All the guys who gave a shit if they survived the night. I didn't say anything else, letting the guy aim me out of the door and into the street. It was dark and cold, a light drizzle coating everything in a layer of moisture. I tucked my arms for warmth and started walking towards where I thought I had parked the car.
Two blocks later, I decided I had gone in the wrong direction. The car must have been the other way. I blinked some of the wetness from my eyes, shook my head to try to get a better feel for my balance, and turned around.
I didn't see the guy who hit me. All I saw was that I had a whole group of thugs surrounding me, their white smiles standing out from their pale faces and facial hair. The first punch made me stumble. The second knocked me over.
"Oh shit," one of them said. "That was a nice shot."
I felt hands on my ass, searching for my wallet. Once it was safely in their possession, the kicks started coming.
"How many 'till he bleeds?"
"How many 'till he shits himself?"
They all laughed.
"He smells like a sewer already."
More kicks.
"That pretty face of his. I think it needs a little remodeling."
I saw the toe of a boot out of the corner of my eye, and then it was almost in my eye. Pain ran through my whole body, and I tried to get up.
"Where are you going?"
"What kind of fucking idiot walks around drunk this time of night?"
More blows to my side, my legs, another to my head. I fell over again, rolling to try to protect my face. Maybe I didn't want to live, but I didn't want dying to hurt so much.
"He's taking it pretty well," one of them remarked.
"Should have taken bets."
"How much do you assholes want to bet you walk away with all of your limbs intact?"
That voice was a new one. The blows stopped. I rolled over to see a woman in a leather jacket and blue jeans having her way with all six of them. I heard a crack when she grabbed an arm and broke it, a cry of pain as her fist found a nose, and then the pounding of feet as the rest of the posse made a break for it.
"Not such hot shit against anyone sober, are you?" she shouted after them.
I tried to keep my eyes open, to see what she was going to do, but my they were swelling closed.
"You look like shit," I heard her say. "Don't worry, I'll get you out of here."
###
I woke up in bed, a cold compress against my cheek. The smell of incense was heavy in the air, and soft, meditative chanting was flowing from the walls. Every part of my body hurt, and my left eye was still swollen closed. What the hell did I do?
I tried to sit up, and thought better of it when my ribs threatened to explode. I groaned in pain, and settled back, defeated.
"You're awake."
I angled my eyes downward, finding my savior standing next to the bed. Long, dark hair, an olive complexion, high cheekbones and a strong nose. She was beautiful in a non-standard way.
"You brought me back to your apartment?" I asked.
"I didn't know what else to do with you, and I couldn't leave you out there for the ferals, or wait to see if those little turds brought friends back with them." She sat down on the bed next to me. "My name is Danelle. You can call me Dannie if you want, or Dan, or Nell. Just don't call me easy." She smiled, to indicate she'd made a joke. It hurt too much to laugh.
"You should have left me out there," I said. Now that I was sober again, I had the clarity to remember why I had been there in the first place.
"A hot guy like you? It would be crime. I saw you in the bar. You probably don't remember. You looked miserable, and I'm the type of person whose strangely attracted to miserable people."
"A glutton for punishment?" I didn't even remember being in a bar.
"Broken home, shitty childhood. I'm the poster child for dysfunctional. But I know when I see something I like."
"Do you adopt puppies from shelters, too?" I asked. I was being a dick, but it was the mood I was in.
She didn't react to it. "What's your name?"
"Conor."
"Irish?"
"The name is, yeah."
"Okay, Conor. The way I see it, either I saved your life, or I fucked you up by not letting you kill yourself."
"Thanks for the effort, but I would have been satisfied to not wake up."
Her eyes turned a deep shade of sad.
"Why?" All of the cheeky humor was gone.
"I'm already dying. I figured I'd just speed it up a bit, and save my wife and daughter from the misery of watching me waste away."
She looked at me for a few seconds. There was no judgement in her eyes. "I couldn't just leave you there to get beaten to death."
I smiled. "It isn't your fault. You didn't know. Toss me my clothes and I'll get out of your life. No harm done."
She shook her head. "I'll tell you what, Conor. You can repay me by sleeping on it. If you still want to kill yourself in the morning, I'll drive you out to the woods and you can wait and see what gets you first. If you have second thoughts... We might be able to help one another."
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
That's amore.
I woke up in a round bed with red silk sheets and a mirror on the ceiling above it. The mirror showed me that I was half-covered by the sheets, and my arm had a huge wad of bandaging around it. I tried to move it, to test it out, and was greeted with enough pain that I questioned my sanity. Then I tried to move it again, gritting my teeth through the pain and forcing it to shift. A wounded ghost on a job was like a wounded gazelle on the savannah.
I turned my head to get the layout of the rest of the room. This wasn't the Arcadia hotel. The walls on either side of me were red and covered in luminescent, glittery hearts. The one in front had a large flatscreen hanging from it, thankfully tur
ned off. There was a vending machine full of sex toys in the corner where a dresser should have been.
Where the hell was I?
I sat up and took a minute to cough up all the shit that had been settling in my lungs for however long I had been out of commission. It was only once I was through a full cycle of hacking that I thought maybe I should be more quiet. There was no guarantee I was somewhere safe. The only thing I knew for sure was that I was still alive.
I slipped out of the bed. I was in a pair of black silk boxers with red lips plastered all over them. They would have looked ridiculous on anyone. They looked even more insane on me.
There was only one door, so I went for it. I put my ear against it, and didn't hear anything. I slowly turned the handle to ease it open a crack. I looked out into a larger room with a red leather couch that had some kind of freaky, painful-looking contraption hanging next to it. Behind the couch was a massive black and white photograph of all kinds of flesh intertwined in all sorts of ways that should have been impossible and I was certain had to be illegal.
Maybe I was dead after all. Rayon had warned me about what was waiting. Eternity as the Devil's bitch?
A block of chunky black and purple hair fell into my view.
"You're up."
My heart started racing, and I stumbled backwards, startled. I hadn't even heard her coming.
She pushed the door open and came in, holding a stack of clothes in her arms and wearing a smile on her face. "How are you feeling?"
"Confused," I said, backing up until I could sit on the edge of the bed. "Where are we?"
"Brooklyn. The Greens."
"I don't know it."
"Really? I thought you were up on your history?"
"I guess I missed that class."
She put the clothes next to me. "These are for you. I got them at the Salvation Army on our way here."
I picked up the top piece, a dark green hoodie that smelled like mothballs. "Who died in this?"
"Beggars can't be choosers. Before the reversal, the Greens was a public housing block, a pretty rough neighborhood. Then came the leathers, the riots, the First House... Thanks to them, Governor Rojas moved the old residents to more gentrified areas and the property was given over to the new humans to do whatever they wanted with it. Kind of like a reservation, only for orcs and goblins and dwarves and any other homo nuevo that wanted to call the place home. They had to come up with some way to make a living, legal or not, and so they settled on vice. Gambling, prostitution, drugs, and other things."
