"Let 'em go," he growled, and Orion took one last glance at their backs before easing his arm from the ork's grasp and turning back toward Kellan.
She slumped against the wall until the gangers were out of sight. Then she raised her hand toward the elemental once again. Return, she commanded silently, to where you came from, and wait until I call again. She felt the spirit accede to her wishes, and the pillar of water collapsed back onto the pavement with a splash, spreading across the alley and extinguishing the last flickering remains of the burning alcohol.
The show obviously over, and faced with the glares of three angry shadowrunners, the crowd quickly dispersed, going back to whatever it was they were doing, or moving on to avoid trouble. Newt shouldered aside and scattered the few that remained as he approached.
"You guys okay?" the troll rumbled, looking them over for any signs of injury.
"Yeah, we're just wizard," Kellan said bitterly, dusting off the sleeve of her jacket.
"Well, I guess we know what Akimura wants," G-Dogg said just loud enough for Kellan to hear.
"Yeah." She had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. "I guess we do." The cyberdeck Kellan carried over her shoulder and the data it contained suddenly felt very heavy.
6
"Where are we going?" Kellan asked Lothan, as he 111 guided her into the darkened alleyway. Strange shapes seemed to loom in the shadows, just out of sight.
"You'll see," he said quietly. "This way."
It got more difficult for Kellan to see where she was going. She didn't have troll night vision to rely upon. She reached out a hand for the wall to steady herself and to have a point of reference.
"Keep going!" Lothan growled, pushing her roughly from behind.
Kellan stumbled forward, then tripped over something, falling face-first into a puddle of cold, oily water. She sputtered and coughed, the wind knocked out of her, and rolled over on her side. Her foot was caught on something—whatever she'd tripped over. A sack or . . .
Light flared in the darkness as Kellan looked down to see Midnight's lifeless eyes looking back up at her. Some of the elf's long, dark hair was floating on the surface of the puddle. Her dark eyes were wide open and staring into nothing, a look of surprise frozen on her still, cold, pale features.
"Oh, God," Kellan moaned. "Midnight. Oh, God...."
A massive pair of booted feet stood just on the other side of the prone corpse.
Kellan looked up to see Lothan standing over her. One hand clutched a ball of fire, but the flames didn't seem to affect him. He just smiled wickedly, showing his tusks, the flames illuminating his craggy features from below.
"Akimura says, 'See you in hell,' " he growled, and with a whoosh, his entire body was engulfed in flames, a dark, shadowy bulk surrounded by fire, eyes glowing, crooked fingers reaching out toward her. . . .
The shrill tone of Kellan's phone jolted her awake with a gasp. She gulped in air, surprised and grateful that it wasn't burning her eyes or lungs. Then she fumbled for the still whining phone, hauling it out of her pocket and flipping it open.
" 'Lo?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes with her other hand and trying to clear her head.
"Kellan, it's me," Midnight said on the other end, causing her to sit bolt upright.
"Midnight!" she said. "Where have you been? Where are you? Frag, what time is it?"
"It's morning, Kellan," Midnight replied, her calm tone cutting through Kellan's confusion, and making it clear she had no idea why Kellan was so out of sorts. "I'm calling to let you know how things went. Is there something wrong?"
"You could fraggin' say that. I think this Akimura slag tried to have me killed last night."
"What? What happened?"
"A bunch of Halloweeners jumped us when we left the Inferno."
"Well, that is Halloweener territory . . ." Midnight began.
"Yeah, except one of them said, 'Akimura says, "See you in hell" ' before he threw a Molotov, then they rushed us. Midnight, how could this slag know about the run?"
"I don't know," she replied.
"So you haven't heard anything about this?"
"No. I just called to let you know things went smoothly last night, and the Johnson was pleased with the results of the job."
"Was Akimura the Johnson?"
"I don't know," Midnight replied. "I met with a middleman, and he said the client was happy with the results."
"After they came after me," Kellan said, "I was worried something might have happened to you."
"Was anyone hurt?"
"No, Orion and G-Dogg cracked some heads, and I called up an elemental and scared them off. We took off before any more trouble showed up."
"Where are you now?"
"At Lothan's place. I didn't know if it was safe to go home, so I asked him if I could crash here."
"Did you tell him why?"
"Just that there was trouble at the Inferno. He didn't ask."
"All right," Midnight said firmly. "I'm going to see what I can find out. You should probably stay put for now, until I can get an idea of what's going on."
"I can help . . ." Kellan offered.
"I'll let you know when there's something you can do," came the reply. "Don't worry about it, Kellan. We'll figure it out. For now, just lay low. Odds are this will blow over."
"Okay," she sighed. "Let me know what you find out."
"I'll call you later. Keep your head down, wakarimasuka!"
Kellan nodded, even thought Midnight couldn't see her. "Yeah, yeah, you, too," she said, hitting the iind button.
"Ah, Kellan," Lothan stuck his head into the room. "You're awake. I thought I heard your voice."
Kellan slipped her phone back into her pocket and stretched, hands balled up into fists, arms reaching up overhead. "Yeah," she said, "what time is it?"
"Almost time for practice," Lothan replied. When Kellan flashed him a sour look, the troll returned a crooked smile. "But first, I think some breakfast and perhaps a morning toilette are in order?"
Kellan stretched again and nodded. "Yeah, thanks," she said, throwing off the blanket and getting out of bed. She grabbed her bag and headed for the bathroom, trying not to think of the image of Lothan standing over her and Midnight's dead body in some dark alley. She knew Lothan and Midnight had some history, and weren't too fond of each other, but she told herself it was just her imagination getting out of control, the stress after the run-in with the Halloween-ers. That had to be it.
The Jackal's Lantern was naturally closed during the daylight hours, its patrons and hangers-on usually staggering back home (or wherever it was they slept it off) in the early hours before dawn. The front door was locked, the shades drawn, the closed sign flipped on in the window, and no doubt whatever passed for a security system in the place switched on to deal with the daytime predators of Redmond.
Midnight took only passing notice of these things, and made her way around to the alley entrance. The narrow passage was strewn with trash that had been ground down into the asphalt so many times it was practically part of the alley surface. The brick exterior of the rear of the bar was, if possible, even more layered with graffiti than the front, covering every centimeter of the metal door and the exposed pipes and wires. She was a little surprised it didn't cover the guy who was lounging against the wall in a metal folding chair. Though if you were willing to count his face paint as graffiti, she guessed it did.
The kid appeared to be of a mixed Hispanic heritage, with dark hair shaved down to little more than black stubble across his skull. Upside down black triangles were painted over his eyes, a jagged black grin across his mouth. A black tank top clung to his skinny torso, and loose-fitting black pants with orange trim and piping sagged from his waist, held up by a discarded seat belt turned into a fashion accessory.
He jumped to his feet when Midnight came into the alley; she gave him the barest nod of acknowledgment, feeling his eyes assessing her. He slotted a credstick in the door and pushed it open as sh
e approached, and Midnight favored him with a brush of her fingers across his chin and a dazzling smile.
"Thanks," she said as she breezed past into the back of the bar, paying the sentry no further mind, and allowing the door to swing shut behind her. Midnight kept alert for any signs of trouble as she made her way past the storeroom and what passed for a kitchen, and out into the bar itself.
The Jackal's Lantern was decorated—if such a term applied—like some sort of demented concentration camp: coils of barbed wire running across the tops of the backs of the booths; mutilated dolls dressed in black dangling from nooses or shut into wire cages hanging from the ceiling;.parts of mannequins festooned with bits of black and orange crepe paper, and rubber Halloween masks nailed to the walls, along with black-light posters, and light-up orange plastic jack-o'-lanterns on the tables. The shades were drawn so that only narrow, hot bands of light cut through the cool dimness of the place, painting stripes on the floor to match the very old-fashioned striped prison clothes of some of the dolls.
The gang members sitting at the tables and stools scattered throughout the bar were subdued. A few were idly playing pool, but most were just talking, drinking and smoking, creating a faint haze that hung near the ceiling. The quiet buzz of activity became complete silence the moment Midnight walked through the door. A dozen pairs of eyes focused on her.
She headed unerringly toward the one ganger sitting at the bar. He was wearing a rubber mask that was a poorly made imitation of a troll's face. The dark eyes behind the mask were surrounded by puckered scar tissue, and they narrowed as Midnight approached. A blunt-fingered hand stabbed out a cigarette in a cheap tin ashtray on the bar, then he leaned forward, elbow resting on one knee, his other hand on the bar, looking like he was ready to pounce.
"Do you have it?" he asked in a gravely voice. Midnight's expression didn't change.
"Ever consider the theater, Slash?" she asked, and beneath the edge of the mask the gang leader's mouth twisted in a bitter smile.
"What the frag are you talkin' about?"
"The performance last night. I understand there was some improvisation. Was that your direction?"
"Hey, we got the job done, and nobody got hurt," he growled, "and nobody needs to, as long as we get what we were promised."
Midnight was well aware of the other Halloweeners on their feet, none of them more than three or four meters away from where she stood. In particular, she took note of the ork with the livid scar down one side of his face that gave him a kind of lopsided grin, standing quite close to Slash, black-gloved hands resting near the heavy knife sheathed at his belt.
"I expect to get what I pay for," Midnight replied coolly, not taking her eyes off of Slash.
"And you got it."
"Close enough, I suppose," she said. She reached into one of the pockets at her waist and produced a credstick, which she tossed into the air. Slash caught it with ease, turning it over in his fingers.
"It's all there," she said, "certified, but it's encoded. I'll transmit you the code on my way back downtown."
If the Halloweeners' leader was surprised or disappointed by Midnight's caution, the mask covered it. He set the credstick down on the bar, one hand covering it.
"You've got my number," was all he said, and Midnight nodded.
"I do, and I'll keep it in mind in the event that any further opportunities come up."
Midnight didn't look back when she walked away from Slash, deliberately didn't make eye contact with any of the Halloweeners, trusting to Slash's desire for the credit over any momentary fun he might get from causing her trouble. He might be crazy, but he wasn't stupid: the Halloweeners let Midnight walk out, and quietly resumed their conversations. The ganger at the back door watched Midnight go with another appraising leer.
She waited until she was a few kilometers from the Jackal's Lantern and just outside the edge of the Redmond Barrens before she pulled over and took out her phone, tapping a preset sequence. It would unlock the escrowed funds downloaded onto the certified credstick. She probably could have cheated the gangers and gotten away with it, but she couldn't afford trouble at this stage of the game, and if a little credit in the hands of the Halloweeners furthered her plans, then it was a small price to pay.
Tucking the phone away and kicking her bike back to life, Midnight smiled. "Well, Silk," she said quietly to herself as she lowered the faceplate of her helmet, "let's see you get Kellan to listen to you now." Everything was going according to plan.
Kellan allowed the hot spray of the shower to wash away the lingering images of her dream, along with the cobwebs in her head. By the time she got dressed again—in her fatigue pants and a clean shirt from her bag—and towel-dried her hair, Kellan could smell something cooking in the kitchen. Her stomach growled, and she realized she couldn't remember the last time she ate. When a run was going down, in the planning and preparation leading up to the action, she often skipped meals or forgot to eat altogether.
In the kitchen, Lothan handed her a steaming mug.
"Coffee?" he asked, and Kellan accepted it gratefully.
"Thanks," she said, sipping at the hot brew, savoring its taste and aroma. Kellan was incredibly grateful at that moment that Lothan was a connoisseur who hated soykaf. He was willing to spend the cred it took to get real coffee—which wasn't as expensive in coffee-obsessed Seattle as it was elsewhere, but it still wasn't cheap. Out of respect for the quality of the drink, she had learned to drink it black, rather than adding soymilk.
Kellan sat down at the kitchen table, sipping her coffee while Lothan busied himself at the stove. Watching him handle the pans and utensils was like seeing a big man use children's toys, but he had a deft hand nonetheless. Lothan poured eggs from a carton into a bowl, and whipped them with some soymilk and dried herbs.
"Are you planning on a lesson today?" he asked, keeping his eyes on his work.
"Yeah, if that's okay," Kellan replied.
"It's fine. I just didn't know if your other business was concluded or not."
Kellan took a gulp of coffee. "Not exactly. Well, I don't know," she said. Lothan still didn't look up from what he was doing.
"Oh?" was all he said.
"Just a few loose ends to wrap up."
"I see. Well, I assume none of these loose ends are going to show up on my doorstep like you did last night?" Lothan poured the eggs into a pan, to the accompaniment of a sizzling sound, and began stirring. Kellan stared into her coffee mug. He had a point: by coming to him, Kellan had involved him, which meant he had a right to know at least some of what was going on.
"We had a run-in with some Halloweeners," she began.
"I know that much from what G-Dogg told me," Lothan replied, tapping the spoon on the side of the pan, then tipping the skillet to allow the uncooked egg to run to the side. "What he didn't tell me is why the Halloweeners decided to cause trouble right in front of Dante's place. G-Dogg and Orion seemed to have no idea. Do you?"
"The Halloweeners wouldn't mess with you, Lothan—" Kellan began, but she was cut off when the troll moved the pan to a cold burner and set it down with a loud clack.
"I realize that," he said, turning to look at her for the first time. "I'm not worried about some gangers, even ones as psychotic as them. What I'm concerned about is trouble from whoever convinced the Halloweeners it was worth their while to risk pissing off Dante."
"It's not a problem," Kellan said firmly.
"Well, good, then," Lothan said, scooping the eggs onto a plate and setting them in front of Kellan. "Then why don't you eat and clean up the dishes, then meet me in the study when you're done?" The mage left the room without further comment. Kellan heard the door down the hall close behind him as she picked at the steaming scrambled eggs with a fork.
As always, she felt bad not telling Lothan more about her potential problem, but, frankly, the less he knew, the better for everyone, including him. He was a professional. He knew the score. She didn't want to cause trouble by ge
tting the old mage any further involved than he was already—he couldn't reveal what he didn't know. That, and Kellan didn't know if she completely trusted Lothan.
Drek, Kellan didn't know if she completely trusted anybody. That was life in the shadows. Everybody looked out for number one, and half of them would frag you just for some extra spending cred. The trouble was telling which half. It was one of the first things Kellan learned in the shadows of Seattle, the most valuable lesson Lothan had taught her so far. On their first run together, Lothan chose not to tell Kellan that he had his own, separate deal going with an employer who was setting them up. She stumbled across this knowledge in the middle of a firelight, and, fortunately for her, Lothan switched sides for his own benefit. It was "just business," after all.
Still, Lothan was the most experienced mage and shadowrunner Kellan knew, and he was teaching her how to expand and control the magical talent she'd discovered she possessed. She'd learned plenty about the magical arts from him, and now could do a lot more than just throw fire around. Like Midnight said, in the Awakened world people with magic were a valuable commodity, and spell-slingers were in demand in the shadows as much as anywhere else. Kellan owed Lothan something, didn't she?
She glumly pushed the food away and admitted to herself that there was no way she was going to be able to concentrate on anything Lothan wanted to teach her today—not until she knew more about just what she had stepped into. It should have been easier to let Midnight take care of things, but Kellan just couldn't wait around for something to happen. She needed to find out more on her own. She needed to do something, and she knew just whom to talk to about it.
Kellan got up from the table, dumped the eggs in the garbage, rinsed her plate and fork and grabbed her gear. She pulled on her jacket and threw the strap of her bag over her shoulder as she headed down the hall to Lothan's study. She knocked, then waited for Lothan's response before opening the door to the dimly lit room. The troll mage was ensconced in his massive leather chair, scrolling through some document on the small fold-out computer screen on his desk. He swiveled the chair around to face the door.
Shadowrun 43 - Fallen Angels Page 6
