Unexpected Quarters (Harlem's Deck 17)

by Paul Smith

  Part of her was slightly shocked at the errant thought, whilst another was busily trying to work out whether she could get away with doing it and claiming it was from a while back...

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  She realised she'd been staring. Forced herself to look away. “Trying to work out how much of a legal risk letting you in here presents.”

  “I can go...” And he was rising, too.

  “Sit down!” She scowled, annoyed at herself now. Pointed at the chair again, irritably discarding the girl-porn plans as guilt tainted. “Sit. I'm not throwing you out in that again. Though you can't stay here all night, precinct security will start asking questions.”

  “I have somewhere I can hole up,” he reassured her.

  “Where...? No, actually, don't tell me.”

  He nodded. “Probably wise.”

  She stood to put the kettle on again in the staff room. Came back and sat once more. “Nuke you a pasty in a minute. Best I can offer I'm afraid... oh!” She rummaged under the counter, produced a half eaten packet of chocolate digestives. Handed them silently across.

  “Thank you.”

  “Don't tell Sam.”

  “I won't.”

  She felt her heart go out to him at the way his hands shook as he put the first one into his mouth. It vanished and he'd eaten another three more before he started to slow, eyes flicking to her guiltily.

  “Seriously, eat them all. You'll be doing me and my diet a favour.”

  His gratitude was belittling. She rose uncomfortably to go and check on the kettle, busied herself preparing fresh mugs and digging out a couple of pasties to nuke. Loaded the rest of the box and the box of breakfast bars she had in the cupboard above the sink into a canvass shopper before returning to the front of the store, where they were sat on opposite sides of the counter. “Here.” She placed the bag wordlessly between them. He nodded equally silent thanks, pausing in his biscuit marathon to stand, walk over to the hat stand where he hung the bag over his coat. Shuffled back on bare feet (his sneakers and socks were drying on a radiator) to perch on the stool once more.

  “So... you threatened Annalise with a sword.”

  He smiled at her wanly. “Yeah.”

  “After terrorising the crowd.”

  “There was a demon!”

  Beth nodded. “Jury's still out on who hell bombed the club.” She sighed. “Christian extremists are spouting their usual shit.”

  “'See what happens to sinners'?”

  “You got it.” Beth smiled humourlessly. “Such charming folk.”

  “Quite.”

  She regarded him across the counter. “Want to explain why I'm aiding and abetting a wanted man?”

  Elliot sighed, leaning back in his chair.

  The microwave pinged.

  “Hold that thought!” Beth rose. Returned a few moments later with steaming pastry goodness and a pair of fresh mugs. “Ok, shoot.”

  Elliot nodded his thanks, broke one of the pasties open to allow it to cool whilst he gathered his thoughts.

  “Harlem was there.”

  Beth narrowed her eyes. “As in...”

  “As in Lennon glasses and an awful taste in suits.”

  “But Masquerade is warded, just like anywhere else.”

  Elliot sighed. “The whole warding is actually more about containment than keeping things out.”

  Beth sat back, expression gone thoughtful. “But I always thought they had that whole psychic territory thing going on.”

  Elliot grinned. “Never heard it called that before, but yes, you're right, they do. Warding's like insurance on that, I guess.”

  “'Here are the bounds, just so we're clear'...?”

  Elliot nodded round a mouthful of pasty, sucking in air.

  “So someone summoned two demons.”

  “Might have been two people...” he held up a forestalling had at the look on her face “...but that does rather stretch the bounds of credulity, yes.”

  “Could have been two working together I suppose,” she conceded, adjusting her glasses.

  “Very true.”

  “But how did you end up attacking Lise?”

  “I didn't attack her!” He glanced warily upward. “Sorry.”

  “Oh don't worry. If I know that lot they wouldn't notice if someone let a pack of hellhounds loose down here.”

  Elliot smiled. “Gather Nigel's doing ok...” as he gestured upstairs.

  “How'd you know?”

  He smirked. “I read forums.”

  “Boy deserves some credit himself...” she relented at the look on his face “...but it was a good thing you did. Set him on the right path.”

  Elliot nodded. “So.”

  “You were explaining how your sword ended up pointed at Annalise Roscan's throat?”

  “Detailed, much...!”

  “There are photos.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Of course there are.”

  “Video footage as well.”

  That earned her a raised eyebrow. “I must get online when I've a moment.”

  “Don't worry, you cut quite the dashing figure right up until the last thirty seconds.”

  He shook his head. “I'm surprised the NPD haven't taken it down.”

  “It went a little bit viral. Not sure they could now.”

  And so the good Doctor's plan begins to take form. Round one to the damned... “Fair enough.”

  “Don't worry, not everyone's jumping to the obvious conclusions.”

  “Which are?”

  She grinned at his slightly affronted tone. “That you're a dangerous psychopath who needs locking up.”

  “Comforting to know.”

  “Well, you know: previous rep and character witness have to stand for something. Nigel makes a very convincing case.”

  He smiled. “Nice to know I have a champion left out there. Even if he is a teenage nerd. And I'm not knocking the nerds; you know I lump myself in with you lot.”

  She nodded. “Meant to say earlier by the way, like you new tat. Zach's handiwork?”

  Elliot nodded. “I'd have gone to him but...”

  Her turn to nod. “Switzerland.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Only way of maintaining what passes for us trusting their kind, I guess.”

  “Quite.”

  “So why did wave your pointy stick at her?”

  “I thought she was Ishra...” eyes downcast, he studied the remains of the first pasty “...the woman was stood behind me just moments before but I got distracted when the demon made a run for it. Didn't want it running unsupervised round the club.”

  “Okay.” Beth nodded. “Now, don't get me wrong: I've more love for that trollop than you...” they shared a smile “...but what had the delightful Ms Demontaire done to earn your ire? Aside from breath, obviously.”

  “She snuck off with Jay just before the shark appeared. And the daemon appeared from the room she and Jay disappeared into for their tête-à-tête.”

  “So you're assuming she was the one summoned it and Harlem.”

  Elliot nodded round a mouthful of pasty. Raised a hand. She waited patiently whilst he chewed and swallowed. “The shark was one of Chiang's boys.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I'm not sure I want to know what you're on about.”

  He shrugged. “Grand family dirty tricks. Probably best you don't.”

  “Quite.” She gazed thoughtfully out at the rain in the street light outside. “We have a link between Harlem and Chiang then.”

  “So it would seem. But then where does that leave his connection with Jones?”

  Elliot shrugged. “If I were him and I had the resources I'd play both sides, see who comes out on top.”

  “Yeah, that sounds suitably dastardly.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Sow a bit of chaos. Keep everyone guessing. See who comes out a winner.”

  “And discredit the kya into the bargain.”

  Beth nod
ded. “And Harlem's his link to the otherside.”

  “Looks like it. This thing about The Kid was just a line to sucker Jay in.”

  “And we're all so surprised at that.”

  “Hey!” Elliot scowled. “You ever tried talking Jaret out of something?”

  “No.”

  “Well then.”

  Beth clamped down firmly on the desire to say more. Some things are best left buried. “So what's next?”

  Elliot shook his head. “I need to get Jaret out of Harlem's claws.”

  “Easier said than done. Anything Daiko can do to help...? What?”

  Elliot was regarding her strangely. “Nothing's been said about that?”

  “What?”

  He shook his head. “Daiko's gone. Last I saw of him was him and Lise setting off to mingle at the start of the night. Then Steph found me and said she'd seen him and Lise talking to Ishra.”

  “What?”

  “Yes.” He looked up at her, the pain written clearly across his face. “I can only assume he's in on this somehow...? But then if he is...”

  “...then so is Lise?” Beth shook her head. “But that doesn't make any sense...” Unless... But she quashed the memory. Now is not the time. “What are you doing to do?”

  Elliot shrugged. “See if I can get some face time with Jaret I guess. I need to talk to him without anyone else around, find out what he knows. I just hope none of this was his idea...”

  “Jay's arrogant and foolhardy, but even he wouldn't summon a daemon into a public place.”

  Elliot nodded. “That's what I'm hoping.”

  Beth glanced up. “I think the troops are packing up. Best hide you whilst they go. I'll tell Nigel I'm staying late to do inventory.” She gestured brusquely towards the door next to the staff room entrance. “Go hide yourself in the stockroom.”

  Elliot nodded. Stood, hooking up his mug and the plate with it's second pasty and disappearing towards the back of the shop. Beth watched him go, shaking her head. Then she stood, picking up the empty biscuit packet (Elliot had apparently scoffed the rest whilst she made their second brew) and sweeping crumbs off the counter as the sound of feet on stairs announced the teenage cavalry descending. Glanced about, then dropped the empty packet back onto the counter again, deciding it served as an alibi for her no doubt guilty look. Most of the regulars here knew she was supposed to be dieting.

  She pulled her journal out onto the counter top again just as the door to the staff room opened, spilling out the first of a long line of pimpled, eager faces.

  “Elliot!”

  “El, I'm sorry...”

  Elliot peered up from the issue of Warp Runner he was reading, wide eyed surprise softening as he recognised the awkward kid at her side. “Nigel.” The Nu Shakya slid the comic back into its sleeve and placed it on a stack (whether or not it was the right one remained to be seen but she'd let him off for now), crossed the space to stand before her assistant.

  “He saw your coat,” Beth explained. “Forgot he knew what it looked like.”

  Elliot nodded. “I should have brought it back with me.”

  “No harm done, I think...?”

  Nigel raised hands that looked about two sizes two big on his gangly body. Beth was fairly sure he'd started working out since his fateful first meeting with the kya. Certainly the lines around his jaw looked a little harder. Nigel had never been a fat kids, but he was your typical lazy teenager, content by all accounts to spend his life sat in his bedroom in front of a screen, with occasional bouts of partying and getting high. The most exercise he likely got probably involved his right arm... Beth suppressed a shudder, pushed her mental train onto safer rails. “So... I'm going to give you boys a minute.” Retreated just slowly enough to see Elliot reach out and touch the boy's arm, the tentative contact turning into a full on embrace.

  Oookay...

  Beth had always found the average male's issues with physical contact to be a little strange, though on the flip side she'd never been entirely comfortable growing up with the tendency amongst the more introspective crowd to go in for the whole touchy-feely thing. Whilst she applauded the sentiment in principle, it just wasn't her. A fact that set her apart as something of an outcast even amongst the outcasts themselves, until she figured herself out. There had been a huge collective sigh of relief at that point, as everyone was finally able to place her in a box of sorts.

  Explains everything.

  Should have spotted it sooner.

  So that's why...

  So forth.

  Initially offended at being so pigeon-holed, she'd eventually decided she didn't mind. Stereotypes were there, after all, in order to help people deal with each other more easily. If you could label something then it was no longer 'other', no longer 'different' and therefore less of a threat.

  It helped of course that this all worked towards her getting laid a lot more than she had. Sex made everything easier to forgive.

  The guys emerged a few minutes later, Elliot with a casual arm slung round Nigel's shoulders. Nigel nodded to her, apparently too choked up to speak as he wordlessly gathered his coat and bag, pulling the hood up on his top before slipping the army surplus over his shoulders and diving out into the rain. A brief backward glance and a tentatively raised hand, which they both returned, then he was gone.

  “He won't tell.”

  Beth nodded. “He's a good kid.” She glanced about, sighing. “Stay. I'll leave you the keys, and there's an emergency sleeping bag upstairs. Just don't turn any lights on in the night. And try not to move around too much if you can help it. I'll zone the alarm so it ignores upstairs and the staff room, but it can be a bit temperamental.”

  “You don't have to...”

  “Sam would have my hide if she thought I didn't.”

  He nodded, his small smile showing he saw through the excuse for the obvious face saving it was.

  “Right, well. Best be off.” She handed him the keys as she gathered her bag. “There's a bit more food in the cupboards, I think. Not entirely sure what's in date though. Alarm code's Sam's birthday, probably best if you're gone first thing.”

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  “just put them back through the letterbox when you go. I have a spare set.” She pulled on her coat, shooed him towards the staffroom at the back where the alarm panel sat against the wall. Keyed in the code before flipping out the light.

  As she looked back at the door he stood limned in the doorway. Raised a hand in farewell. She returned the gesture awkwardly as she stepped out into the rain. Pulled the door shut and locked it behind her before hustling off into the deluge.

  Later, sat at home her phone pinged. She raised it, almost choked on her beer when she saw the picture pinned to the store wall. Calmed a little as she read the caption beneath. They'd been very clever, the shot taken against one of the stockroom's plain walls, so that it was difficult to tell exactly where they were. Beth sighed, unable to stop the smile spreading across her face as she gazed at the image of Nigel stood beaming next to Elliot, who had his arm about the kids bony shoulders.

  “What am I going to do with you?”

  “Everything alright babe?”

  She looked up at Sam, who was crossing with steaming mug in hand from the kitchen towards the study, where she was working on her column for The Times. “Work stuff.”

  Sam nodded, blew her a kiss with her free hand before continuing on her way.

  Half an hour of digging confirmed Nigel had indeed been careful, uploading the offending picture via a hotspot on his way home to an unrelated forum board for Ugly Unicorn that one of her other part timers ran. She tried calling his phone and smiled when the number came up as unreachable.

  “I've taught you well, young padwan.”

  The picture had since been reposted to a number of sites by either people who knew Nigel (most of whom appended a comment questioning his sexuality) or the expected teenage girl contingent, the majority of whom seemed to be
doing the predictable swooning. It was one of these that had put it up on the store's wall, presumably knowing That Cave sold the tee in question. Ugly Unicorn was a popular franchise with her regular geeks.

  No one, as yet, had tied the face in the photo to the events at the Urban House launch, but it was only a matter of time.

  “I hope you know what you've let yourself in for...” she mused quietly, as she regarded Nigel's beaming face. Sighing, she took another swig of her beer. “Hope I do too.”