Badass and the Beast: 10

by Shrum, Kory M.

  Badass

  and the

  Beast

  Compiled by

  Angela Roquet & Kory M. Shrum

  Copyright © 2015

  Each contributor owns copyright of their own work included herein.

  All rights reserved.

  Distributed by Smashwords

  ISBN-10: 0-9912158-7-7

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9912158-7-4

  Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

  These stories are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Follow the Fox—Mikel Andrews

  Dark Waters— Shelly M. Burrows

  Head Under Water—Jasie Gale

  Sand and Smoke—Jason T. Graves

  Baseline Shift—Selene Morningstar

  Shifting Loyalties—Monica La Porta

  Protect Her, Protector—Kathrine Pendleton

  Hair of the Hellhound—Angela Roquet

  Dire Offering—Liz Schulte

  Life’s a Gas—Kory M. Shrum

  Dedication

  This anthology was written and compiled for charity. All proceeds will be donated to the Animal Welfare Institute. The Animal Welfare Institute is an A+ rated charity according to Charity Watch.

  “Since 1951, the Animal Welfare Institute has been dedicated to reducing animal suffering caused by people.

  We seek better treatment of animals everywhere - in the laboratory, on the farm, in commerce, at home, and in the wild.” (Animal Welfare Institute, awionline.org)

  The work therein amplifies the contributors’ own respect and love for the natural world and our animal companions.

  Follow the Fox

  Mikel Andrews

  Her name was Landry, and I’d first seen her at Mama Louisa’s, one of those little hole-in-the-wall diners, with a bell above the door and a sign in the window that said Regulars Welcome. It was a polite way of saying Scrappers Unwelcome.

  As if that needed saying.

  I’d been frequenting Mama Louisa’s a lot—or rather, the street corner outside—busking with the taped-up mess I called a guitar. Mama Louisa herself, an older lady whose real name was Lois, sometimes let me play inside during the most unforgiving days of winter. I wasn’t drawing any crowds, but I think the Mama part of Lois couldn’t stand seeing a girl my age shivering in the street. Tips weren’t better indoors, but it was nice to actually feel the strings for a change.

  But this isn’t about me, it’s about her.

  I was taking five with a cup of hot broth—my usual pay grade—when Landry walked through the door. I didn’t know her name at the time. For the moment, she was just a strikingly beautiful girl in an oversized jacket, ragged and dirty, like moth wings. Her dark eyes flashed, shutters capturing everything in an instant. She blew a few loose strands of cocoa hair from her faded porcelain face.

  “Can I help you?” Lois asked from behind the register.

  “Maybe,” the young woman replied. “Have any scraps?”

  Lois’s face grew stern, her fists balled at her hips. “I swear, you people get more gutsy by the day. There used to be a subtleness to begging, and now—”

  “It’s not for me! I’m—I’m fine.” The young woman’s hand went to her stomach, nearly a grimace. “It’s for the fox.”

  My eyes traveled to the big bay window. In the lower corner, snowy paws glued to the glass, was a beautiful sterling-furred fox, a Soviet Greyhair. Not the sleek, streamlined red variety that had become so popular with the city’s elite, Greyhairs were more stout, pudgy. The one in the window was no exception. He looked pretty well-fed to me.

  But those eyes, watery amber stones that grew bigger by the second, set in a band of charcoal fur—my heart was a puddle. Even Lois’s frown wilted.

  “He’s been tagging along for a couple days, and I can’t seem to shake him.” Landry laughed. “Couldn’t hunt down a dead rat if he tried. Must’ve been an inside fox.”

  Lois let go a disgusted groan. “Those high-rise yuppies. Can’t be captains of industry without their exotic pets, can they?”

  “No, ma’am,” Landry replied, mirroring her annoyance. “I don’t think he knows how cold it’s about to get.”

  Lois’s shoulders drooped a little. “Let me see what I have in back. Might be a few minutes.”

  “Thank you so much, ma’am,” Landry gushed. “Anything you could scrape up would be amazing.”

  Before she left, Lois tried to be subtle about locking the cash drawer with a key tied to her apron. When she was gone, I went back to my broth, but it suddenly seemed less appetizing with the fox’s desperate, pink tongue flicking in and out.

  All the while I kept a sliver of my vision on Landry.

  Her eyes found some baked goods under glass, the carnival posters on the wall—the cash register—the grumbling percolator, the napkin holders—the cash register again—and finally landed on me.

  “Are you in a band?” she asked, staring at my open guitar case. It was mostly empty, save for a few coins. I toed it closer beneath me.

  “I busk,” I said, quietly.

  “Busking.” She had a tone.

  “What of it?”

  “Where I come from we call that begging with music.”

  I finished my sip of broth. “Better than begging with a fox.”

  She stared down at me. “I’m. Not. Begging.”

  “You’re right. He is.” I nodded at the fox. “Very noble.”

  Something came across her face. Whimsy, maybe? “What’s your name, little girl?”

  “Alice,” I lied.

  “Well, Alice,” she said, steepling an eyebrow, “if you’re very quiet, I’ll show you a magic trick.”

  Before I could even ask what that meant, she leaped over the register, getting up close and personal with the keyhole.

  “What are you—”

  “Quiet,” she hissed.

  My stomach went icy. “You’re robbing her?”

  “Do you know what quiet means?” she grunted.

  I couldn’t believe her nerve. She wasn’t just biting the hand that fed her, she was tearing it off and serving it for brunch!

  The only reason I kept my trap shut was the thought of her getting caught red-handed. I knew firsthand the register didn’t open without the key. And even if she did by some miracle pop the drawer, the stupid bell that always threw off my timing would signal Lois. No, this girl’s only shot was to run off with the entire bulk of the register, which was impossible as it was bolted to the counter. It wasn’t going anywhere.

  Landry cleared the counter again, landing elegantly. She blew more hair out of her face and flashed a wad of cash. The whole till.

  My mouth hung open. The register hadn’t made a sound.

  “Abracadabra.” She dropped a five spot into my case. It looked out of place among the coins. “Not a peep, Alice.”

  “You’re gonna get caught.”

  “We’ll see.” She chose a pocket and stowed away the cash, getting back into character just in time.

  Lois handed her a little bundle. “It’s not much, but it’ll get him by if you parcel it out right. And there’s a little something for you in there too.”

  “That’s—you didn’t have to do that.” Landry’s eyes welled up on cue. She patted down her many pockets, finally plucking out a single bill of Lois’s hard-earned cash. “What do I owe you?”

  Oh, bravo, I kept to myself. A truly masterful performance, but here’s where you slipped up.

 
Lois had a good heart, but this wasn’t St. Mary’s. Not even my broth was truly free. Lois would ring her up, see the drawer was empty, and the only thing Landry would be eating was a knuckle sandwich.

  “It’s just scraps, dear,” Lois replied. “You just take care of that darling little fox.”

  “I will,” Landry said. “Bless you.”

  I nearly gagged.

  Landry pocketed the goods and smiled warmly at me. Too warm. “Good luck with the busking.”

  My eyes became slits as she walked out into the cold, gray afternoon. She snapped her fingers twice. The Greyhair pulled away from the window and heeled at her side.

  Tagging along for a couple days, huh?

  “What an angel,” Lois muttered.

  I stood up quickly. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going, dear?” Lois asked. I didn’t usually leave my guitar unattended.

  “I think your angel forgot something.”

  I buttoned the only button left on my green canvas coat and hung a sharp right out the door. I could see my breath instantly, a reminder of how grateful I should be for my current station. For Lois. It only pushed me faster.

  I spotted Landry’s coat up ahead, hood up. You big, dirty moth. As I drew closer, I could see the fox trotting at her feet. I was on her in seconds, grabbing her arm. The fox growled as I whirled her around.

  Landry didn’t look happy. “What do you want?”

  “Guitar lessons,” I snapped. “What do you think I want?”

  She smiled, frosting laced with arsenic. “It’s too late to be a snitch, little girl. I’m already out the door.”

  “Just give me the money.”

  “You’re robbing me?” she said, loudly. A few heads turned.

  I lowered my voice. “Of course not.”

  “I know,” she whispered. She gestured around us with her eyes. “But I can be a pretty convincing victim, can’t I?”

  “I don’t want any trouble, and I’m no snitch,” I told her. “But—you can’t take her money. She barely has anything!”

  “Barely has anything?” Landry put a hand to her chest, feigning shock. “My heavens, whatever could that be like?”

  I grit my teeth. “You know what I mean—this is wrong.”

  “Thou shalt not judge,” Landry said. “Least of all a beggar like you.”

  “Is that worse than being a thief?”

  “Girl’s gotta eat.”

  I let go a sigh. “Please. Just give it back. Or some of it, at least.”

  Landry fumed through her nose. “Alice. Darling. You have no idea how the world works. I’m not saying that to insult you, I’m saying it to remind you. I know you’re not going to believe me, but your friend and her diner are going to be better off because of this.”

  “How could she possibly—”

  “I said you weren’t going to believe me,” Landry pressed. “But you’ll see. Trust me.”

  “Trust you?”

  A screech of rubber on cobblestone erupted from the street, followed by the pop-plop of a sputtering engine. My head jerked towards the commotion in time to see a Highboy coming to an abrupt halt, one of its rims rolling away into a gutter. The car behind it barely had time to steer out of the way, the driver jacking the hand brake for dear life. As shouting broke out, I noticed a streak of silver fur bolting from the middle of the scene.

  The fox.

  I quickly turned back to Landry but, of course, she was gone. The fox too. Both of them had dissipated like phantoms.

  I stamped my foot. I didn’t know how I was going to explain to Lois what happened.

  As I opened the door to the diner, I realized there were more pressing matters.

  Inside, three men in fine suits and trilbies fanned around the register. At the bell, the shortest of the pack tipped up his hat to see me better. His grin was like a cut across his face that went too far up.

  “Bad timing, bambina,” he said to me. Another suit, much bigger, took a step in my direction.

  “No.” Lois said, quickly. “She’s just picking up a delivery for me. It’s in back, honey, then out you go, okay?”

  I stared wild-eyed at her.

  “Use the back door,” Lois said. Her eyes flicked like a caged bird’s. “I’m just finishing with my guests.”

  I bit my lip and nodded. Keeping my eyes on the short man, I slipped away.

  Something was wrong. The diner didn’t have a backdoor.

  I ducked into a dry goods pantry behind where Lois stood. The only thing separating me from her was a thin sheet of wood painted to look like a real wall.

  These guys were gangsters. Not the two-bit kind like the Deep Pockets, or any of the local thugs, who talked the talk around the neighborhood. No, these were mafiosi. Authentic mobsters from the old country.

  I pressed my ear to the dummy wall and held my breath. When the mobsters thought I was gone, they picked up their ‘sales pitch.’

  “As I say, Mama Louisa,” one of them said, and I knew instantly it was the short one with the twisted smile. “Your due is owed to the family. Capisci?”

  “I don’t owe anything to—”

  Something struck the wall, piercing the wood inches from my nose. I barely stifled a scream. Feeling along the wall, I found the tip of the something.

  A tiny throwing knife. A leaflet blade.

  No real gangster bothered with a gun anymore—on account of the Scrappers—but the mafia had become so deadly efficient with their blades that folks almost missed bullets.

  My fingers trembled in the dark.

  “Don’t make me ask again, Mama,” the short one said. “My associate here, his holster is running out of politeness, I think.”

  Lois said nothing, but I heard her fumbling with the register key.

  No.

  She didn’t know the register was empty.

  The bell dinged as the drawer shot open. Nobody said anything. The tone just reverberated in the air.

  “What d’hell eezis?” a much thicker accent asked.

  More silence. Then Lois said, “Business has been slow—”

  Glass shattered almost instantly. Lois screamed.

  The short man made a clicking sound. “My associate. Bad temper. Our business has been slow too. Ness and his boys running around town, keeping us on our toes. Nobody’s business is doing too well without hooch, is it? But that’s why it’s so important for my associates and I to make these house calls. For when this silly—what do they call it?”

  “Proibizionismo,” one of them said.

  “Prohibition, yes,” the short man translated. “When it goes away, good folks like yourself will have us businessmen to get you back on your feet. You understand that, don’t you, dear?”

  Lois kept quiet.

  “Fortunately, Mama Louisa, I’m not an unreasonable man. My associates and I will come back later. Friday, I think. I bet business will be so good, we can collect a little extra.”

  “How much extra?”

  “Two.”

  “Hundred?”

  “Add a zero.”

  “Two thousand?” Lois choked. “That’s—that’s impossible.”

  “It’s only a couple grand, Mama. A small price to pay for the insurance we offer.”

  More glass shattered. The leaflet blade tore free in front of me, leaving behind a strand of daylight whirling with dust.

  “See you Friday, Mama.”

  Fancy shoes crunched over glass, the bell tinkled, and they were gone. Lois began crying.

  I took a deep breath and squeezed out of the pantry. The low window where the anti-Scrapper sign hung had been kicked through, shattered. I tiptoed through the glass.

  Lois look startled when she saw me. “Those men, they—they’re just—”

  “I heard,” I admitted. “And I heard they’re coming back.”

  Her posture melted, and she cried freely. “I don’t know what happened. There was no money to give.” She gestured at the register with bo
th hands.

  I took a step toward her. “I know—”

  A wad of cash fell out of my coat pocket, hitting the floor with the thud. For a moment, we just stared at it.

  “Is—is this from the register?” Lois asked quietly. She picked up the money and counted through the bills. “This is mine. Why do you have this?”

  Great question. One I didn’t have an answer for. Even if I did, I couldn’t seem to find my voice.

  “It’s not all here,” Lois said quietly. Sheepishly, I went to my guitar case and plucked out the five spot. I handed it over.

  “I’m still short twenty.”

  Girl’s gotta eat, was all I could hear in my head. “I—I know what this looks like—”

  “Get out.”

  My eyes welled up. Real tears, not like Landry’s. “No, wait, please—”

  Lois came forward in a flash, taking me by the arm only to shove me back towards my guitar case. I nearly fell skittering across the loose glass. “Out. Now.”

  “Lois, please—you have to believe me—it was that girl,” I pleaded. “The girl with the fox, she—”

  “Take your guitar and go,” Lois said, her voice cracking. “And don’t come back. Understand?”

  “Please just listen—”

  “I should’ve known the minute you walked in,” she said. “I can usually tell a Scrapper a mile away.”

  My eyebrows knit together. Guilty as I felt, that one genuinely confused me. “Scrapper? I’m—I’m not—”

  “You think I’m a fool?” Lois shouted. “I’m calling the police. They’ll pay good money for one of you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re—”

  “Out!” she spat, then softened. “Don’t make me call.”

  I wiped saltwater from my cheeks and retrieved my guitar from the chair in the corner, packing it quickly into its shoddy case.

  I turned back at the door. “Wh-what about Friday?”

  “Not your problem,” Lois said, holding out a finger. “Go.”

  I went, hugging the guitar case to my chest. I sobbed into it like someone’s shoulder. Folks squinted at me, or dodged out of my path to avoid me. I didn’t care. I got a block away from Mama Louisa’s. Two blocks. Further than I’d been in a while. Maybe it was my imagination, but it felt like it was getting colder the further I got from the diner. The familiar smell of cherry tobacco and shoe leather disappeared, and I missed it instantly.