The Fire Eye Chosen_Sequel to The Fire Eye Refugee

by Samuel Gately

  Joah looked back at the grave, then reached into his pocket and threw a handful of coins in front of it. “Hope you enjoyed the Opening, Amos. I’m sure if anything was going to put you in a good mood, it’s talk of Kay breaking Vascal’s fingers.”

  They began the walk back towards the city, the unattended flame before the tombstone flickering and finally dying, returning the graveyard to darkness.

  Chapter 4. The Buy

  The Lagoons was a neighborhood of tightly packed streets, the normal Gol cleanliness and order that dominated Celest surrendered to mean and messy commerce. Secondhand goods piled the thoroughfares. Vendor stalls, both active and abandoned, claimed every inch of excess right of way. It was one of the poorest and most dangerous areas of Celest, so naturally had been one of the few places the Farrow could afford to move into en masse when the gates had opened. The sun shone brightly on streets filled with a gritty gravel of broken cobblestones, worn down by the foot traffic of the city’s cheapest and weariest labor force.

  The arrival of the Farrow four years ago had been marked by a time of uncharacteristic peace among the elements which ruled the streets of the lower neighborhoods. The Farrow had brought gold. The Gol provided them with goods and services which readily satisfied the diminished standards of a race that had learned to content themselves with the humblest shelter and food. It was only as the gold stores diminished after the first couple years, with no sustained opportunity to replenish them and find prosperity through honest means, that the knives came back out.

  New borders and battle lines were drawn among the gangs. New alliances were created and tested. Some gangs held firm to a single racial identity while others integrated. All of them backed their decisions with strong moral justification, yet all of them did what they needed to do to survive and thrive. Bodies stacked up, drugs were pushed, and flesh was traded.

  The Farrow Vascal had emerged as one of the strongest forces in the Lagoons. He’d built a collection and distribution network in the refugee camps, which he’d allowed to disperse across the city when the gates were opened. While his rivals were enjoying the brief peace, Vascal was positioning himself and learning the Celest black market inside and out.

  He found the key early. Blades. Illegal to carry within the city walls without an expensive license from the Dynasty, one that had yet to be granted to a single Farrow, the Gol had learned to live without them. During the peaceful honeymoon, the Farrow were willing to adapt to their new host city and follow suit, exchanging their swords and knives for coin. Vascal’s coin. Then as unrest returned, they were desperate to purchase them back at four times the cost.

  Vascal sat atop an empire. He had become the black market’s gateway to the Farrow, and business had been good. Kay had met him only once, years before, in the Farrow camps as they awaited the Dynasty’s decision on the refugees’ status. She’d been happy to avoid him since, though her run of luck would change today.

  Kay forced herself to walk behind Joah, matching his slower pace. She had found a slimmer, darker cloak back at her office and had it pulled tightly around her. She’d left her favored set of weapons behind, a smooth wooden baton and a pair of glass jars, one holding pearl ash and the other demonlord pepper, all fitted cunningly in a single belt. Instead she’d chosen tools which would better escape scrutiny. In the interior pockets of the cloak, she had a pair of matching brass knuckles. Despite the name, they were made of a lightweight steel. She also had folded envelopes filled with the demonlord and the pearl ash. One to burn her enemies, the other to quell any fire they brought to her.

  Joah sauntered more than he walked as they made their way through the dusty Lagoons streets. He’d passed on bringing the crossbow he’d taken to carrying, but Kay was sure he had a knife or two on him somewhere. When they reached the central thoroughfare of the Lagoons, Sethro Street, Joah strolled to the mouth of an alley. “Lean against the wall,” he said quietly as he lit a cigarette.

  Kay slouched against the brick wall at her back and looked across the alley. Another one of the Fire Eye paintings that had been cropping up all over Celest was staring back at her. It covered the entirety of the wall she faced. It was a beautiful rendering of the Fire Eye, not that Kay really went for that when one could just look up and see the real deal. The images were popping up all over the city, the Fire Eye with bold purple lines radiating below it. Striking works, far surpassing the typical street art of these neighborhoods.

  “See that door across the way?” Joah said. “That’s where we’re headed. Clemens should be inside. If we’re lucky, maybe Vascal too. It’s his place, but more likely he’ll use one of his purchasers. They know me as Matty.” He quickly looked Kay up and down. “You’re too poised. You need to look scared and desperate, more than a little addled. You’re at the end of your rope, and are trusting someone you don’t know well who’s leading you into a strange place. Stiffen up when you see the men waiting. You had no idea this was coming. Then give in to despair. Until we find our time to move or Vascal recognizes you and we don’t have any other choice.”

  Kay caught herself before she gave a characteristic sharp nod, and instead slumped deeper against the wall, letting out a soft moan as she pulled her hood lower. She wasn’t sure if Vascal would know her face. Her business had brought her to the Lagoons from time to time, but it had been quite a while since the tent out in the Farrow camps.

  “Good,” Joah said. “Let’s go.” He threw his cigarette to the ground and led the way across the street, slipping into his role and impatiently pulling her by the wrist.

  The doorway to the street had no door, just a curtain bunched to the side. A hall led back towards a wide staircase up to what sounded like a bar. Straight ahead on the ground level there was a smaller door to the side. Joah bypassed the stairs and dragged Kay towards the other door. As he knocked, she peeked out from her hood and saw that a thickset Farrow, guard or bouncer, was watching them from his post tucked away inside the door to the street.

  Joah knocked, then impatiently tapped on the door as they waited. When it opened, another large Farrow behind it, Joah’s grip tightened on Kay’s wrist. “What’s your name, guy?” Joah asked. The Farrow didn’t answer, only gesturing for Joah to enter the room. Joah shook his head. “Did you forget it? I know sometimes one too many blows to the head will do that. Me, I’m good with names. And I like to know everybody’s. I’m Matty.” He pointed his head at Kay. “She’s Mallory. So what’s your name, guy?” No response. “All right, we’ll see you later. Come on, Mallory. Wrong place.” Joah turned as if to leave.

  “Matty,” came a commanding voice from inside the room. “Get the fuck in here.”

  “Orders and no names. Not my kind of room. I think me and the lady will go have a drink upstairs instead.”

  “He’s Wilt,” said the voice from inside the room, tinged with amusement.

  “And the one by the door? In the hall? I’d like to know his name too.”

  “Wilt, who’s working the door?” asked the voice.

  Wilt leaned out into the hall to look towards the exterior door. “That’s Riley.”

  “Fair enough,” Joah said. “Riley, we’ll see you soon. Wilt, show us in, please.”

  They stepped past Wilt, Kay drawing closer to Joah as they did so as though she were scared of the big man.

  She snuck a glance at the room before tugging the hood lower. It was Vascal waiting for them, standing near a desk across the long room. He was in head-to-toe black suede with flashes of light coming off the rings, earrings, and chains he wore. Joah gave him a quick look but then immediately busied himself with studying the room.

  “Classy joint,” Joah said. “No chair for the lady to sit in.”

  “She can come over here,” Vascal replied, looking hungrily at Kay.

  Kay gave a murmur of protest and slid closer to Joah.

  “No, not yet. Wilt, be a good man and pull a chair over to that corner.”

  After a bemused look at Vascal and
receiving a nod, Wilt complied. Joah walked over to the chair and half-helped, half-pushed Kay into it. She made a show of protest as he moved away, grabbing at his arm. He hushed her. “We’ll only be here a minute, Mallory, then we’ll go find some music, okay?” He turned away, shaking her hand off him, to approach Vascal.

  Kay tried to imagine Jenna Weiss, her missing girl, in this situation. Would she have let herself fall so far as to be led willingly into a room like this? Into the clutches of a man like Vascal? And if she had been, who was her Joah? Who led her to these men, pocketed their gold and left her in their cruel hands? She struggled to see it. What little insight she had of Jenna was from her paintings. Bold, bright splashes of color that radiated confidence, not fear. That painting of the trees, taking the simple lines her little sister had drawn and filling them with vibrancy. Not the work of someone timid, huddling in a corner as others discussed her fate.

  Joah was looking around the room in an exaggerated manner. He was drawing the attention of Vascal, of Wilt, of everyone. Kay could see it was strategic. By collecting the attention, he could take charge of the room. And if anything seemed odd, it was him, not her or this situation. “So where’s Clemens?” he asked finally.

  “In the back room,” Vascal replied. Kay could hear the smile in his voice. “Aren’t you going to ask my name?”

  “I know your name, Vascal.” Joah stopped his constant movement for a moment to look Vascal in the eyes.

  Vascal’s grin widened. He glanced over at the corner which held Kay. “Why don’t you bring her over here and let me take a closer look?”

  “Not yet. We’ll get there. I want a word with Clemens before we go any further.”

  Vascal gave a sarcastic half bow, then gestured towards a door just past the desk. He and Joah walked to it together, Vascal tossing the door open. From under her cowl, Kay couldn’t see much of the room beyond the men’s backs. They stood in silence for an uncomfortably long time.

  “Kay,” Joah said finally, sending a bolt of alarm through her. “He knows.”

  She stayed in the chair. Her arms were hidden inside her cloak as she slowly slid her brass knuckles over each hand.

  Vascal turned to direct his grin towards Kay. “Tell her what you see, smart guy. You know that one’s name too, right, Joah?”

  “I see Clemens, dead in a chair.”

  “And I see the one and only Kay the fetch, sitting in my office in all her glory. Take off the hood, honey. I’ve been dying to see more of you for a long time.” More forcefully, “Take it off, now, or your man Joah gets it first.” Wilt was hovering near her and she saw the guard from the front, Riley, was now at the door to the hall.

  Kay shook the hood from her head without using her hands, keeping her fists inside the cloak.

  “There’s my lovely,” Vascal said. “Now that everybody knows everybody else, we can get down to it.” Joah opened his mouth to speak but Vascal cut him off. “Find a chair, errand boy. Your role in this is over. I’m speaking with your boss now.”

  “You know why I’m here?” Kay asked Vascal.

  “Trying to put your finger on whether there’s a train of Gol girls being lined into the flesh trade right under your nose, I’d say. I don’t mind telling you the answer to that is no. Your man’s request stood out exactly because it was so unusual. No one risks that kind of action. The market’s in Celest, which means it’s too hard to keep unwilling local girls from running back home. The trip ain’t far and once they get there they’ve got a story to tell. Names and faces to go with it.”

  “If that’s true, why kill Clemens?” Nothing about this situation was good. “This could still be civil. That kind of information is worth money. I can pay.”

  “Honey, you know you’ve had a target on you for some time. And you jump right into my lap? Ordinarily I’d be happy to look the other way…but you came to me. I have to have some ethics.”

  “And who put out the target?”

  “All this time and you don’t know?”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “Hon, you disappoint me. But who isn’t the important question. I won’t even tell them I was the last to see you. I won’t claim the bounty. I’ve got plenty of money and it would just make me sad. The important question is the why.” Vascal shook his head slowly, never losing his smile. “You’ve been making friends with the wrong people. Nobody gets to put one foot in both worlds. Too dangerous.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You honestly think you can run the streets and the Palace halls at the same time? There’s a reason no one does that. It don’t work. We’ve got a whole way of life and it’s built on them minding theirs and us minding our own.” He was looking around the room with wide eyes and shaking his head. “I don’t want the Dynasty knowing my name. That could be very bad for business. You know my name. And you know the Dynasty. I’m afraid that’s just not sustainable for me. And I’m not alone in that.”

  “So you killed Clemens because he set up this meeting.” Inside her cloak she carefully opened the envelope of demonlord and took a pinch out, gripping it clumsily in fingers restricted by the brass knuckles. “Because he knew Joah and I came in. And you’re not planning on Joah and me coming out.”

  “’Fraid not, darling. Can’t let word get out I was the last one seen with the Dynasty’s little treasure. Incidentally, if you were wondering why you’re still drawing breath when there’s been a line out on you for months, you can thank your Wrang friend. Made it pretty clear to the Home Guard your protection was part of their job. Scared off the bounty chasers, even if it only strengthened the resolve of those of us who sit…a little higher.”

  Wilt was standing right over her. She gave him a look as she readied herself. “You might want to be careful,” she said to the big man.

  As he gave a snort and turned to look at Vascal, Kay leapt up from the chair. She flung the demonlord pepper in his face then, without waiting for a reaction, ran at Riley in the doorway. He was caught off guard and she drove an armored fist hard into his chin, cracking into his jaw and toppling the large man backwards.

  Joah was tangled up with Vascal, his knife out. Vascal laughed as he slapped Joah away, retreating into the room which held Clemens’ body. There was the sound of more men mustering back there.

  Joah bolted across the room, shoving the reeling Wilt to the ground as he passed. They ducked out of the office and raced for the exit, only to see more men running towards the door. After a moment’s hesitation, Joah grabbed Kay’s arm and pulled her up the stairs at the back of the hall. “Fire!” he started screaming as more of Vascal’s men burst out of the office and ran for the foot of the stairs.

  Kay emptied the rest of the envelope of demonlord into her palm where it immediately began burning. She flung it in a wide arc back down the stairs. A few shrieks came up from behind as she and Joah raced into the upstairs bar.

  It was busy with a midday crowd, everyone staring at the stairs, drinks halfway to their mouths. There was a long bar on the interior. Doors on the opposite wall opening to a balcony over the street. Round tables spaced evenly throughout. “Fire!” Joah yelled again.

  His attempts to create a panic they could use to escape failed. Everyone could see they were being pursued up the stairs. The Lagoons crowd, seasoned to trouble, held their seats and drinks alike firmly, stoically turning their gazes inwards as they prepared to ignore whatever transpired.

  Kay and Joah had made it halfway across the room before they had to slow and brace themselves for an onslaught. The workers from behind the bar attacked, probably seeing their opportunity to curry favor with their employer.

  Kay put a young bartender who boldly charged her on his back with a punch from her loaded fist. There was the sound of breaking glass and then another leapt forward with a broken bottle held out. Joah slid in front of Kay, his cloak wrapped around his arm. He turned the man’s thrust and kicked his legs out from under him. This set of attackers wa
s enthusiastic, but this wasn’t their day job. The crowd from the stairs, Vascal’s real muscle by the look of them, were moving across the room.

  Kay and Joah ran for the back door beyond the bar, weaving between the patrons who carried on stubbornly ignoring them with impressive conviction. “Now we’re having fun!” Vascal screamed as he topped the stairs.

  The door to the back was unlocked and unguarded. Kay and Joah burst through, nearly tumbling down into the narrow and dark stairs. Their steps rang out as they pounded down, joined moments later by those of their followers. Kay ripped her cloak off, balled it up and threw it behind her to trip up their pursuit. From the curse, followed by a crash, it succeeded in buying them a few precious seconds.

  Kay reached the exterior door first and rammed her shoulder into it hard. It slammed into a waiting bouncer and threw him back into the alleyway. Kay slipped on the slick garbage which choked the alley, and sprawled out on the ground, tearing her pants and bloodying her knee on the alley’s stones. As Joah ran past, he pulled her to her feet by the back of her shirt and then they were racing down the alley.

  Moments later, they hit Sethro Street and ran into a wall of people. Joah knocked a woman over, nearly falling himself. Kay caught his arm and dragged him into the center of the thoroughfare. Some of the crowd was backing away from their frantic retreat but there was no space. Kay and Joah turned to face the three men who were just behind them. They slowed from a run and closed the gap.

  As Kay watched the meaty smiles on Vascal’s Farrow muscle, she felt a cold calm wash over her. With all the mystery and disappointing false leads which had plagued her last few weeks, there was something nice about an enemy standing right before her in the daylight, lacking the guile for a hidden agenda. No mask, no ambiguity. It made it so much easier. She tightened her grip on the brass knuckles in her hands, feeling their weight. She liked her baton. She’d never replace her baton. But these could be fun too.