by Guy Adams
"He stays with us," I replied quickly, noting that Biter was having difficulty taking these insults in silence.
"That's sweet," said Greaser. "He maybe do a few tricks? I don't know... catch a ball or something?"
Biter actually coughed at that, trying to swallow back the hollered cures he desperately wanted to offer. He knew better than to put us all in danger though and just looked at the ground, his fists clenching and unclenching. "Sounds like he has a hairball or something," Greaser suggested. "Hope it's not too serious, I'd hate to see it choke to death if you're fond of it."
"That certainly would be a shame," I replied.
I turned to Meridiana. "Maybe it would be best if Biter hang back here?" I suggested. I gave him a look that I hoped he understood as a sympathetic. "We don't want to cause anyone upset do we?"
Biter looked about ready to tear my head off but, in truth, it was him I was thinking of more than Greaser. There would only be so many insults he could take and I had no doubt that our host would be quick to retaliate—and likely in a manner that ended the argument permanently. Meridiana nodded, she understood at least, and pulled Biter to one side. The old man followed me as I walked towards the pool, and turned my attention back to Greaser, desperate to move the conversation along. "Shall we take a seat?"
"Surely, let us do just that." He waved towards the house where a maid had appeared.
"You folks want something to drink? A mint julep or something?" His smile widened. "I have the sweetest tooth."
"That would be lovely," I said.
"Fetch us three mint juleps, Cassandra, honey," he shouted.
By the side of the pool was a large table, Greaser pointed to one of the chairs and I sat down in it, the old man hovering behind me.
Meridiana, having consoled Biter briefly, sat next to me. I looked over towards the driveway where Biter was clearly muttering to himself and thinking long and hard about what he'd like to do with Greaser.
After a moment our drinks arrived. "Thank you Cassandra, honey," said Greaser. "You might want to tell our guest we have company, I believe they already know each other."
The maid nodded and retreated to the house.
"You think you can manage this, kid?" asked the old man. I smiled, hoping that was reply enough. After all, it wasn't as if I had much choice now, was it?
I took a long draught of my drink. It was the nicest thing to have happened to my mouth for weeks.
"So," said Greaser. "Tell me about this livestock of yours."
"Well, as you know, on my side of the fence we did well out of slavery for years," I said, "then the war came along and attitudes changed. There are some who regret that deeply. Some who have enjoyed the bounty such industry used to pay their families. In the years since that regrettable conflict, fortunes have been spent, certain privileges lost. Then I hear tell that maybe there's someone who might still be willing to do business." I looked at him. "By which I mean you."
"I'd got that," he said, with a laugh. "And what do you think I might be doing with such livestock. If indeed, I am doing anything with it all?"
"Now, that really wouldn't be any of my business would it?" I replied, taking another sip of my drink. It really was nice.
"I suppose it wouldn't," he agreed. "And what sort of assurance might you be able to offer me that you're on the level?"
"I don't think I'd be stupid enough to come marching in here otherwise," I said, laughing a little too loudly. I put the drink back in my mouth to keep it busy.
"Mint juleps are alcoholic, kid," said the old man. "You might want to go easy on that." I put the drink down, I'd all but finished it anyway. So that's why I suddenly felt the urge to be really, really loud. When you've made it your business never to touch liquor you'll find a little goes a long way.
"You'll forgive me—or not, I don't really care—if I say you do seem kind of stupid," said Greaser. "I mean, a wet-behind-the-ears kid, a dog and a dancing girl. It's not exactly the most intimidating posse."
"I wasn't trying to be intimidating, quite the opposite, I'm here to make friends not enemies."
"Friends, yes... here's another one now." He looked over my shoulder. "Agrat, darlin', I believe you know my young visitor?"
"Brazen it out, kid," said the old man. "It's your only chance."
I stood up, too quickly as it happens because I became immediately aware that my legs might give way at any moment.
"Madame Agrat," I said, as if greeting an old friend, lifting her hand to my lips. "How lovely to see again so soon! I'm doing everything you suggested and keeping my life interesting."
"So it would appear," she replied, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to decide how to respond to me.
"She'll do whatever amuses her most," the old man had said. "That's just the way she is.
It's all about the game. You need to convince her that she'll have the most fun by playing along."
"I've just been talking to Mr Greaser here," I said, trying to talk quickly so that she didn't have time to say anything, "trying to convince him it would be an excellent idea to go into business together. Why don't you come and help? You can tell him what an industrious young fellow I am." "I suppose I could," she said, sitting down at the table. "But what would be in it for me?"
"A woman after my own heart," said Greaser. "Always looking to the profit."
"Well," I said, "just imagine what fun we could have if he did decide I was worth investing in! I dare say my life would be one long adventure."
She smiled again. "I dare say."
"That's the trick, kid," said the old man. "She has to decide what's more interesting and valuable to her in the future: you getting a bullet from Greaser in your forehead—for all the good it would do him—or allowing you to continue the pretence."
"So," said Greaser, looking at Agrat, "should I listen to what he has to offer?"
"Oh certainly. Where would be the fun in doing anything else?"
"She's all about fun," said Greaser, turning his attention back to me. "I think that's the only reason she came knocking on my door. You make a name for yourself and all the women come calling."
"Well darling," Agrat replied, "that and the fact that I suddenly found myself without transport. When a lady's in need she knows to knock on the most expensive door in reach."
"And that certainly would be mine," he agreed. He turned back to me. "The lady found herself stranded after her boat sank. You hear anything about that?"
"I did indeed," I admitted, before turning to Agrat. "I would, of course, have helped in any way I could."
"I'm sure," she replied.
"So," Greaser drained his drink and slammed the glass on the table, "let's get back to my favourite subject: business. What exactly are you offering me?" "I'm offering an open channel for livestock between my world and yours, I am in partner ship with some of the leading suppliers and we only want to deal with the best over here, I am led to believe that would be you."
"And who is it, exactly, that leads you to believe that?"
"You must be aware that your name has become well known in certain circles."
"I am, indeed, aware, I just want you to start naming those circles. Who have you done business with before? Who can I go to in order to get some sense of your bona fides?"
This was difficult because, of course, I couldn't name anyone.
"The Greel Enclave," said the old man, "they were always the big movers down here."
"The Greel Enclave speaks highly of you," I said, "and their word, I am led to understand, has weight."
"The Greel Enclave? Really? How interesting."
I looked at Agrat who was slowly shaking her head. I turned my attention to Meridiana who had been doing her best to seem invisible throughout the entire conversation.
"Everything's unpacked, boss," said one of Greaser's henchmen, sidling over. "You want me to pay the man?"
"Not really," said Greaser with a smile. "I want you to take him and that dog-face
d son of a bitch and tie 'em up in the stables. I'll be wanting to have some fun with them a little later on."
"I don't think there's any need for that," I said, though I could tell I had lost whatever power I might have had.
"I don't rightly give a fuck for your opinion on the matter," said Greaser with a grin.
"You're full of shit and I want to know what brought you to my door. The Greel Enclave hasn't been in business for the best part of twenty years. Why, I killed old Changez Greel myself." "I am a little out of touch," the old man admitted, "sorry. It may be we have to figure an other way out of this." He pulled his gun and pointed it at Greaser's head. "Tell him that you have a sharp-shooter ready to empty his brains into that goddamned pool of his unless he lets all of you walk out of here right now."
"You sure that's a good idea?" I asked.
"What's a good idea, boy?" asked Greaser, assuming, sensibly enough, I'd been talking to him. "In my experience any idea I have is, by its very nature, a good one." He leaned forward.
"I'm a clever little bastard you see, that's how I got to be where I am."
"Just do it," the old man said, "afore I have to listen to anymore of his posturing."
"I had hoped not to have to fall back on this Mr Greaser," I said, "but I'm not so stupid as to come in here unprotected. I have a man with a keen eye and an eager finger training his rifle on you this very minute. If I raise my hand then he will fire."
Greaser laughed. "Will he now?"
"He will. And let me reiterate: I have no wish to go that route, I just wanted to have a civil conversation, but if that's what it takes for us all to be able to leave this table intact then that is what I will do."
"Raise your hand," said Greaser, his voice low.
"I'm sorry?"
"You heard me, you little pissant, raise your goddamn hand."
"I can assure you..."
"Assure me, fucking nothing..." He turned to his henchman. "Braxis, you and the boys are to do nothing, understand? If this little pecker manages to have me shot you will let them walk on out of here. You will, in fact, wish them on their merry fucking way. Understood?" "Sir."
Greaser turned his attention back to me. "So, there you go, there's your escape route. All you've got to do is kill me and you walk out of here a happy little band. You can even take the woman with you," he gestured at Agrat.
"Who says she wishes to go?" Agrat asked. "I think you may be assuming a connection between us where there is none."
"I don't care what you think, either. You're all in the same boat as far as I'm concerned and you know how that worked out for you last time."
"I don't take kindly to being threatened."
"And I don't take kindly to being lied to." He turned back to me. "So. Raise. You're fucking. Hand"
"To hell with it," said the old man, lifting his gun and pulling the trigger. Nothing happened. He pulled again. Silence.
"Raise it!" Greaser screamed and I did so, for all the good I already knew it would do me.
He got to his feet, turning around, holding his head up in the air. "Just so's they can get a clear shot. I wouldn't want them to struggle on that score."
After a moment he sat back down. "I am assuming either you were lying and there weren't no shootist in the first place. Or you were telling the truth and you now know precisely how much use he is to you. Nobody," he leaned forward, as if I needed this point hammering home, which it most certainly did not, "but nobody can hurt me here. This is my home. This is sacrosanct territory. This whole place exists in a state of fucking grace. It would take more power than you've got to break it." He turned to Agrat. "And that goes for you too, bitch. You may be one of the first family, all-powerful missy, wouldn't stain her knickers Agrat, but my friends are more powerful than you. I am dealing with the real power in the Dominion of Circles, hand in hand with the best, and he looks after his friends."
He leaned back in his chair, relaxed and amused. "So let's get back to our wonderful conversation about livestock shall we?"
Agrat got to her feet. "It seems clear to me that your disagreement is with this young man, not me. I shall forgive—albeit reluctantly—your threats upon my person but I certainly don't intend to listen to any more of them."
"Sit down, bitch," he said, his face still at utter peace with itself. "I made it clear enough, I think, you're staying with the rest of them."
"We'll see about that," she closed her eyes and muttered under her breath.
"What's that?" he asked. "Little incantation is it? Little translocation spell? I heard you could jump limited distances. Pretty impressive. Won't work either. The controlling focus here is my will, that's what the state of grace offers. What I say goes. If I don't want to be shot, I don't get shot. If I don't want you to leave, you don't leave. I can't actually control you, but I can block anything occurring that goes against my wishes. Useful."
"That sort of power isn't for the likes of you," she said.
"She's right," said the old man. "If he's got this sort of protection he's not bragging about his friends in high places."
"And doesn't it just piss you off?" he said, laughing. He looked at me. "See? You were offering your services as a business partner, I already have the best. Do you have anywhere else to go from there? Didn't think so. On your feet, I'd like to show you some stuff." We clearly had little in the way of choice, though Agrat was fair fuming at having been proven to be so powerless. She was not a woman you wanted to get on the wrong side of. Unfortunately.
"Thank you so much, young man," she said as she stepped past me. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate the situation you've put me in."
"With any luck," said the old man, "we've put her in exactly the position we need. Tell her if she wants to get out of this she needs to perform a Damnatio Memoriae reversal, when you give her the signal."
I nodded and whispered as much in her ear. She gave me a look that was half surprise, half disgust, but said nothing.
Meridiana took my arm. "You know how I said I wasn't going to come here with you?"
"Yep."
"I'm really wishing I'd not changed my mind."
"I know, sorry."
Greaser led us towards the stables, his henchmen parting to let us past, their hands never far from their guns.
We stepped through a pair of double doors, and the first thing that hit us was the smell.
Stables are never the nicest-smelling places but this was something else. A sharp, painful scent that had my eyes watering as soon as I was inside.
"Takes your breath away don't it?" said Greaser. "Never smell anything like it. Something to do with the process. Leaking memories, I guess."
Just inside the door I saw both Biter and Abernathy, securely tied and gagged. They seemed unharmed thus far, bar an eye that looked like it was going to blacken up a treat in Biter's case. I wasn't all that worried for them. I had no doubt that whatever Greaser had in mind would be worse for us than them. After all, they were almost beneath his attention.
Greaser pushed open another pair of doors and, finally, we were faced with the cause of the smell.
The room beyond was vast, bigger somehow than it had appeared from the outside. It was lined with row after row of narrow, almost coffin-shaped cages. Hundreds of them. Inside each cage, forced to stand upright, was a naked human—mortals like me I assumed, given what we knew of Greaser's business. The cages were too small to allow movement, the wires cutting into their skin and forcing it into puffy diamonds. Thin, rubber tubes ran from the heads of each of the prisoners, their tips forced into the skin of their temples, bulging from pink wounds.
"You see?" said Greaser, "I already have all the livestock I need. And this is just my private stock, where I play around and experiment. You may have seen my main farms along the way?"
I remembered the plain we had passed, filled with what I had assumed were cattle sheds.
I guess, in Greaser's mind, that's exactly what they were.
"What
are you doing to them?" I asked.
"Milking them," he said. "You know about Buzz?"
"I've heard of it."
"It's my main business. Folks just can't get enough of that stuff. Crazy isn't it? All the power we have here in the Dominion of Circles and yet it's the experience of mortals, that momentary hit, that really fires my customers up. This is where it comes from. I siphon off the memories and experiences of the livestock," he waved at the tubes. "It's then trapped, condensed, distilled—some fucking thing... science is not my skill—and then turned into Buzz. I'm making oceans of the stuff."
I walked up to one of the cages. The woman inside was only being held up by the wire, her legs had grown a deep purple where the blood had settled.
"Hey," said Greaser, running over to me. "Watch this!" He reached up and pinched the rubber tubes with his finger tips. Immediately the woman began to shake, the wire cutting into her even further as she thrashed against it. The side of her head where the tubes went in began to swell. "It gets so that they're producing so much," said Greaser, "something blocks the pipes and they swell up like balloons."
"I get the picture," I said. "You can let go now."
"You get the picture? I don't think you do. I'm going to put you in one of these cages. I'm going to do shit like this to you every day. After a couple of weeks you won't have a fucking clue who you were anymore at which point I'm going to take you out, mince the fuck out of you and feed you to your buddy next door if he's still alive. T hat's the fucking picture."
"Ask who's helping him," said the old man.
But I couldn't get a word in, Greaser was on a roll. Now he had put his arm around Meridiana's neck. "And while you’re in there maybe I'll bring this little sweetness along and give you a little show. Would you like that? Just to liven your days up a bit. I could keep those memo ries of yours topped up a little longer, remembering all the times you'd seen me fuck your girl friend in her ass."
"She's not my girlfriend," I said, which was about the most pathetic thing possible but I was panicking. Really panicking. I could see that Meridiana was weighing up her response. Like Biter earlier, she was not the sort of person who would take a comment like that in her stride, she likely itched to force the threat back into Greaser's mouth, word by word. At the same time, she knew that she would be dead within moments if she were to try anything. Greaser could probably manage that all on his own, but if he was of a mind not to break a sweat he'd just have one of his henchmen do it instead. We had nothing up our sleeves. Well, possibly nothing, I guessed it would depend on what my old friend could do after Agrat worked her magic. I looked at the old man.
