Jacked Cat Jive

by Rhys Ford

  None of us were mentioning Duffy. For me it was too soon, too raw. For Sparky and Jason, they probably had no idea what to say. We were used to losing our own on a run or even to stupidity, but she was outside of that circle. Violence and death dogged our every step, but someone like Duffy should have been safe.

  Lots of should haves that meant nothing.

  “Forget what I said before. It was a ménage à trois. The rhino and the Jeep had a threesome with an accordion.” I walked around the vehicle, whistling under my breath. “Iesu, this thing is ugly.”

  I wasn’t exaggerating about the accordion. It looked like Sparky welded the plated accordion folds of a medical evac mobile unit with the front and back end of mismatched tactical assault vehicles. I couldn’t even come up with a name for what it was. Technically I could’ve left off by calling it a transport, but I’d never seen one so heavily armored or as broad. Low to the ground, it resembled a flattened wheeled centipede, about eighteen feet long and mean-looking. I was about to open the folding door to peer into the cabin when I stopped myself before I touched the latch.

  “Go ahead. It’s not powered up to electrify.” Sparky glared at Jason. “And if it is, I’ll kick that one’s ass.”

  “Come on,” Jason protested. “You’ve got to admit it was funny. How was I supposed to know he was standing in a water puddle?”

  “You’re lucky he didn’t shoot you where you stood,” she tsked at him.

  “Still might.” I left that promise hanging in the air.

  The interior of the beast was utilitarian—a couple of racks of sonars and other equipment we’d need to map through the underground part of our journey. I liked that Sparky enjoyed her comfort on long runs. Her preference for plush captain’s chairs was a damn sight better than Dempsey’s “here’s an apple crate you can sit on, kid” approach to seating in a tactical vehicle. Although his lean and mean way of doing things was more because he was cheap than for any character building on his part.

  “I like the fold-down bunks. That’ll come in handy when we’re underground.” I walked the length of the cab and ducked my head slightly so I didn’t hit the ceiling. Calling out of the open door, I braced myself for an answer I didn’t want to hear. “Any weapons on this thing?”

  “It’s built for power and climbing. If you get shot at, it’ll take it. There may or may not be some heavy artillery that can pop out the sides, but all that’ll do is run hot and jam on things. I’ve got the slots open if you want them, but those kinds of things usually fall open when you least need them to.” Sparky leaned on the frame of the open door and chewed through more seeds. “Won’t take but a minute to put them in if you’re willing to get hung up on something jutting up off the cavern floor.”

  She had a good point. The cleaner the outside of the tactical vehicle was, the easier it would be to maneuver through tight spaces. The beast she’d brought with her was a squat, matte-black bulldog of a machine. A few more rounds over the vehicle and I’d located the water filtration system she’d worked into the back as well as the charging solar plates on its roof, which would be handy when we popped out of San Diego’s tunnels.

  “Lots of crap in the water down there.” Jason hooked his fingers into his belt and rocked back on his heels. “No refrigeration, but there is a cooling system for the air once you get back up on top. If you want something cold, there’s space inside of the unit to shove a few small things. Figured having potable water was more important than making sure you had ice cubes for your tea. There’s a hot water spigot, though. We could give you that.”

  “Cari does like to bathe when she’s on a run, so at the very least, she gives herself a whore’s bath.” I didn’t mind them myself. I liked to be clean after spending so much of my life covered in filth. “Now comes the hard part—how much?”

  “That lordling of yours said he’s picking up the bill for this, and since he didn’t even blink at the number I quoted him, we’re just gonna call it a done deal.” Sparky grinned at me with a gleeful madness only found in scalping an easy mark. From the twinkle in her eye, I guessed she probably charged him twice the amount he should’ve paid. “I like dealing with him directly. And he doesn’t try to shove green beans at me when he’s dropping off groceries.”

  “You cannot keep cheating him,” I groaned and rubbed at my face. “I’ve got nieces there to think about. Every penny you strip out of his hand is one less they’ve got.”

  Her jaw worked back and forth, a bulge of muscle set firm with stubbornness. “If he’s willing to—”

  “Sparky, they’re my family.” I was playing a trump card I’d never played, never ever had the chance to play. “I mean, sure they’re just little babies now but….”

  “Fuck you, Gracen,” Sparky growled back. “I’ll give the bastard half of it back. But that’s fair market value. I’m not going to go any lower than that.”

  “Throw the guns in but don’t mount them,” I countered, “and we can call it a deal.”

  “I DO not understand your unwillingness to pay full price for anything,” Ryder grumbled at me as we packed the squat centipede with supplies. I’d scrawled its new insect name along the side in dark brick-red spray paint—anything to give it a little personality—but there was no fighting its dreary, dull finish. “She told me a number, and I thought it was reasonable.”

  “I would like to take the time right now to remind you that, at one point in your life, you thought your grandmother was reasonable.” I stopped packing rations into one of the overhead bins. “She was fleecing you, Ryder. From now on, you’re not allowed to buy any vehicle ever again. I’m not even sure if you should be allowed to buy our food.”

  “Alexa did that.” Cari climbed into the back of the centipede, her arms burdened with rolled-up inflatable mattresses. She’d taken one look at the centipede’s interior and done a quick run over to Jonas’s place to grab stuff out of his warehouse. “I like these. They come with pillows that blow up too.”

  “We’re on a run,” I reminded them, “not camping. What else did you bring down? A hot tub?”

  Ryder was saved from being involved in our discussion by the arrival of Alexa’s SUV. Its throaty roar was a mimicry of a larger engine, the sound driven by a power adapter installed on the drivetrain. It made her happy, so I didn’t say anything, but if it were anybody else, I would’ve mocked them mercilessly.

  I also was fairly certain she could take me in a fight and pound me into the ground, so keeping my mouth shut was the most intelligent thing I could do.

  “Oh joy.” I spotted her passenger and curled my lip. “She brought her brother.”

  “I will get Kerrick settled.” Ryder closed the cabinet he’d filled with medical supplies. “And before you say anything, Kai, I will reiterate to him that you are in charge on this run and I will support you in your decisions.”

  “That’ll be a first,” I muttered at him as he brushed past me. “There’s a couple of heavy crates of ammo out there. See if you can’t drop one on his foot. If he stays behind, maybe we can fit in that wet bar Cari probably wants to put in the back.”

  He ghosted his hand across my thigh and brushed down toward my knee. If it were anyone else, I would’ve thought the touch was accidental, but this was Ryder. My eyes flicked up to his face, and there was concern in his gaze—worry for me and maybe for the job as well.

  I opened my mouth to tell him to fuck off and to keep his hands to himself, but instead I said, “I’m good. It’ll be okay.”

  It must’ve been what he needed to hear, because he gave my wrist a quick squeeze and headed outside to deal with his cousin. I turned and found Cari staring at me with a stupid grin plastered across her face.

  “Why don’t you help me put away supplies instead of smiling your fool head off?” I picked up the first crate I saw and shoved it at her. “We’re going to be on rations all the way over, but some of them are the high-protein, high-cal-count I grabbed this morning. Leave those in the boxes and shove t
hem in the back. We need to save those for our refugees after we pick them up. They’re probably going to need that kind of fuel to get them up to fighting weight, since from what Duffy said, those kids are in pretty bad shape.”

  “That’s one thing I don’t understand about this.” She took the crate I handed her and balanced it on her hip. “Children are supposed to be precious to the elfin, but the Unsidhe treat the Dawn Court kids born to them like they’re animals. Well, worse than animals. I don’t get it.”

  I continued to unpack things and find places to put what we would need along the way. It was hard sometimes to reconcile Cari’s optimism with the world we lived in. Even though she possessed the power to see the last moments of the dead, the filth of our races’ deviant natures never seem to sink in.

  She was short and spunky, her dark hair pulled back into two ponytails on either side of her plump-cheeked face. At first glance she looked like the kind of woman who woke up on Saturday mornings and took her dog down to the beach to chase a few tennis balls before she caught a cup of coffee with her friends. There’d been a lot of discussion in the Brent household about Cari becoming a Stalker, and she’d listened quietly as arguments flew about her head.

  Then she went and got licensed and hit Jonas up for an apprenticeship, which pissed her dad off so much he didn’t talk to me for a few months because he thought I’d convinced her to do it. It wasn’t until her mother straightened him out and Cari became his apprentice, going on runs at his side, that her father grudgingly accepted that his baby girl turned out to be a damned good Stalker.

  He still looked at me funny, though.

  “Anything I say is going to sound like I’m preaching at you,” I said as I walked the crate over to the standing cabinets. I laid the box down on the short shelf behind the second row of chairs and contemplated what to say to her. “There’s a lot of shit in being a person. You come into this world hungry and stupid. And most of us leave that same way. I think we’re kind of like those chameleons that grab at anything in front of us, thinking it’s going to hold us up. But it’s just a piece of twig someone has pinched between their fingers.

  “We spend a lot of our time filling our bowls, and I think since life began, there’s always been people who have worked very hard to make sure they filled their bowls by stealing from others or convincing them to hand over half of their food because of fear or trickery.” I turned and faced her. “I don’t have any love for the elfin, but that’s not because I think they’re less than I am. That would be kind of hard, because I’ve got the same pointed ears and teeth. There are people out there who hate my kind because we’re different, but in reality, it’s because we are a threat to their resources. I think a lot of blind hatred comes from other people being stirred up and told that guy over there is going to steal your pig or murder your wife so you two can’t have children. No matter what race we are, we’re driven to survive, and there are some who feed on that. I think that’s why the elfin hate each other so much. Deep down inside, all they’ve got is fear.”

  “And the children have to suffer for it?” Her dark eyes glittered, even in the centipede’s shadowy interior. “There are times I question how the gods lead us. Why does there have to be so much pain in order for us to expand our souls?”

  “Cari, the gods don’t lead us. They give us someone to swear at when we stub our toe or thank them when there’s an onion ring in our french fries. But lead us? You’d be better off looking for someone you respect and following their example.” I chuckled and shook my head at her. “Do I worship Pele and thank Odin? Yes. I also ask Iesu why I deal with morons, but I don’t expect him to answer. It’s not that the gods are deaf, it’s that we’re not worth listening to.”

  “So then why do good? Why should we go on this run to save people we have no connection to?” She gestured toward the Sidhe standing outside. “Because you’re telling me that the Dusk Court only sees those children as parasites. So then why should Ryder help them? Why should we? And it’s not that I don’t believe we should, but what do you think we gain by doing that? Because I know why I do it. I can’t sleep at night knowing someone died because I didn’t give a shit. I became a Stalker to help people, but there are times when it feels like I’m banging my head against the wall.”

  “Yeah, we bang our heads against a lot of walls, but we also do some good. That’s why we become Stalkers. It isn’t just the bounty. Sure, some people are just after the cash, but you and I both know not everybody is. The pay is lousy, we could die doing it, and nobody ever comes up to you and thanks you for pulling the ass end of their cow from the dead dragon’s mouth. More than likely they get pissed off because it’s the wrong end of the cow, but you know they would’ve died if you weren’t there, even if they’re too scared to admit it.” I had a simple truth to tell her—simplistic even—but that truth drove me to do things my gut told me not to. “I help because I was helped. Fucking Dempsey helped me, and he’s possibly the shittiest human you know. But he still found it in himself to do the right thing for once in his life, so I should be able to do the same for this pack of kids and anybody else who needs me.”

  Eleven

  DRIVING THE centipede transport through San Diego’s lower level got us more than a few curious looks, and as we turned onto the main drag of the Barrio Logan district, a cop pulled me over. I knew the guy, and I tried to ignore Cari sitting in the back on the passenger side as she took selfies of herself with the cop’s flashing lights going off behind her.

  “Could you not flash a peace sign behind my head while I’m talking to the cop?” I muttered at Cari when the officer stepped back to his car to call off the backup rolling in to intercept us. “It’s… just stop.”

  “It’s not a peace sign,” she sniped back. “They’re bunny ears, and I told my mom you got pulled over. She said you have to go back to driving school. Not like you went in the first place.”

  I couldn’t argue with that, especially since I’d learned to drive in Dempsey’s beat-up trucks and whatever welded-together piece of shit he’d bought off Sparky for a heavy run. The centipede was a far cry from those days—not because she got better at building vehicles but because I wasn’t cheap like Dempsey and didn’t intend to drive around in something that should have been left on the trash heap.

  Officer Davies let me off with a slap to the shoulder and a promise from me to have a good time. Laughing at the irony of a cop telling me to enjoy a run, I fired up the transport and began the slow trundle toward the exit tunnels that led to the buried depths of the city.

  The rest of the drive through the district was quiet for the most part, with a few humming tidbits of commentary from Cari—especially when we passed a churros-and-tacos stall advertising an octopus special. I told her to stuff her chortling where the sun couldn’t touch it, and that only made it worse. I caught Ryder hiding a sly smile before he turned his head to look out the window and sighed.

  Then, after ten minutes of stop-and-go traffic and a near altercation with a tik-tik driver, Kerrick spoke up. “We shouldn’t have had to stop. We have diplomatic immunity. We are outside of human law.”

  “First off, only one in this car with diplomatic immunity is Ryder, and he ain’t driving.” His tone was haughty, or maybe that was just me. Either way, I stepped into the stream of conversation before Ryder could jump in. Pitching my voice up to be heard over a round of honking someone in front of us had started, I continued, “Second, if ever you do get a court and it’s in the middle of a human city, you’ll get along better if you’re not an asshole and stop when the cops pull you over. Because, from my experience, they tend to shoot up cars that ignore them, even with diplomatic plates.”

  “To be fair,” Ryder interjected, “the last time I had police officers shoot up my car, it was because I stopped to pick you up.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that one.” I inclined my head to acknowledge the point. “Thing is, I don’t know how they do things up in Elfhaine—’cause you kn
ow that one time I went was shitty from the get-go—but if you’re going to try to get along with people, you’ve got to respect their society and culture.”

  “Like you do, changeling?” Kerrick responded, a slither of Sidhe curling around in the air behind my head. “Because I haven’t noticed you affording me much respect when I’m clearly your better.”

  “You and I have very different ideas on what makes someone better, bucko,” I shot back and glanced up into the rearview mirror to meet his hard gaze. “And I respect you fine. Well, Ryder at least. He’s the one who talked me out of knifing you and tossing your body into the river.”

  “You’ve got to stop threatening to kill people, Kai.” Ryder shook his head. “It’s—”

  “Right, because if I don’t carry a couple of them out, no one’s going to believe me.” I cocked my head when Kerrick narrowed his eyes at me. “Don’t think Ryder holds my leash.”

  “Trust me, chimera,” he replied smoothly. “I don’t think anyone has you leashed. That is precisely the problem.”

  TRAFFIC DIDN’T lighten up for another tense fifteen minutes. With a sharp word over his shoulder at his cousin and using a Sidhe slang I didn’t know, Ryder prevented me from responding to Kerrick. From the look on Cari’s face, it was going to be a toss-up on who stabbed Kerrick first—her or me. The silence was itchy and getting under all of our skin by the time the comm crackled open on a frequency only Stalkers used.

  “Gracen. Do you copy?” The voice was a ghost from the past. Perhaps poltergeist was a better word. Ryder looked at me curiously, and the transmission continued. “Gracen, I know you’re out there. I just heard the police scanner, and the cop who pulled you over said you were headed into the underground. I’m hoping to pay you for a quick job since you’re headed that direction.”

  “You better answer him,” Cari said with a disgusted snort. “He’s just going to hound you until you do or until we can’t hear him anymore.”