by Bella Knight
"When I went to work today, I thought I'd be analyzing voices." He took a sip of apple juice. "Now," he said, as he huffed a laugh, "I'm a rock god." He smiled wanly. "My voice to the world."
She pulled out her cell, then checked the website. "Good god. Twelve thousand hits."
"What the..." He commandeered the phone. "Damn! Thirteen thousand three hundred and six."
"What?" She took the phone back from him. "We just wanted to set up buys, not make you a rock god."
"Take them down," said Maxx/Raul. "That woman chilled me to my bones. I could see the knives hidden in their sheaths on her legs. She's got absolutely nothing behind her eyes. I've seen killers before, but she lives to fuck people up, leaves their broken bodies behind, with that nasty little smile on her lips."
"The scary thing," said Wraith, "is that's only one of her little posse. We need to get every single one of the Leopardess' little clones. Not one of them gets away. Not one."
"Agreed," said Maxx/Raul. They fist-bumped, and Wraith vanished into the night.
It took the coordinated effort of every Valkyrie in every branch of law enforcement (or ex-military) in the area, to track the "Vipers," as Wraith called them. "Cubs" didn't fit their deadly nature. They lived to earn money for their queen, deliver punishment to her enemies, and reap the benefits thereof. Each one had a boy toy, usually a customer that hadn't gone too far down the rabbit hole yet, and then that boy toy would be discarded when the Viper got bored, which was often when it came to sociopaths.
The boy toys knew very little; they deliberately got people who didn't speak their rapid, idiomatic Spanish. Once Raul analyzed their speech and got it down, he trained two Spanish-speaking Valkyries in what to say and how to say it for several hours a day. Special Agent Isabella Torturo was from Chicago. and Marine Instructor Ruela Diaz from New York; based in Bridgeport, California, on leave.
They watched video until they could get the swagger down right, and found someone to "kill"--Wraith. Skuld trained them, hour after hour, getting every move down. The padding was military grade, and "bleeding" wounds were created with false skin with spliffs underneath. Finally, they were ready to spring the trap.
Maxx had a new "girlfriend" called Isabella, a beauty with hair so black it shone blue. She had rippling biceps, and a killer smile. They played at Orange, and then did a set at Limoncello. The Viper named Carmela was at the back door. She attempted to sidle up to Maxx/Raul there. Then Isabella, the agent with the clipped tone and no-nonsense attitude, became a harlot, speaking gutter Spanish. Skuld convinced her to back down, and they all got into the back of the limo.
"This girl's our party," she said to Isabella. "She's got something in the bag." Isabella stroked her diamond tennis bracelet. A gift from a high-end lover, thought Carmela. This one has money.
The bag was a shopping bag from a high-end store. Inside were a mix of tiny bottles and glassine envelopes. "Coke, H, Black Beauties, some V, some X, Oxy. All in carefully measured doses to make you feel exactly the way you want to feel," said Carmela.
Isabella got an acquisitive look in her eyes. "Bonita," she said. She eyed the heroin distastefully. "Shooting up is for putas. Mi papi likes the coke sometimes, but ecstasy…" she said, purring the words, and ran a jewel-tipped crimson nail down Maxx's arm, "…makes the motor run. For hours."
Skuld let a hint of disgust pass behind her eyes, and curbed it in the crinkle of her nose, then it was gone. "She's right. No H. Don't need the Viagra." She laughed, an ugly sound. "He got a six-hour boner once, had to go to the hospital."
Maxx cracked her across the face. Her head went up and back. She had his musician's fingers bent back before he could pull it back to himself. "I'll break every single one of your piano-playing fingers if you ever hit me again," Skuld said, her eyes steel.
"Oww," he said, whining. She let him go. He cradled his hand as if it were a baby’s. Isabella kissed it and glared at Skuld. She glared back. "Never tell that story again," he said. He whipped out a candy dispenser and popped two pills, then washed them down with champagne. "It's nobody's god-damn business."
"Hey," said Isabella. "Let's party. Cuanto cuesta?"
Skuld took a block of money out of her own alligator bag and handed it over to Carmela. "This should be plenty. He'll want double the X. He uses it to unwind after a performance."
Maxx smiled, his voice slurring ever so slightly, a lot more Bangalore in his voice now. "I agree." Carmela took the bag back, made some adjustments using her own purse, and handed it back to Skuld.
"I know how we can party for free, baby," said Isabella.
"How?" he asked, with an expansive smile, the hurt hand forgotten in his pill-induced, pretended bliss.
"We gotta kill some bitch. Me and mi hermana are gonna do it." Isabella leaned in, nearly in Carmela's face. "Gonna wreck that bitch, hand her over to some woman who call herself Tigre, or some bullshit like that. Panther, maybe." She leaned back her head and laughed, mouth open, then held out her hand. Maxx shook a little blue pill into it, and Isabella swallowed.
Carmela smiled with absolutely no warmth. "It's La Leoparda. Who you gonna fuck up?"
"Some bitch everyone be talkin' about with hair the color of ice."
Carmela leaned forward. "Do you know where she is?" she hissed.
"I know where she gonna be." She pointed at the bag. "Get me one, and mi hermana and I, we will give you her body."
"Baby," said Maxx, the whine back in his voice, "I got a show. Can we do this later?"
"Of course, baby," said Isabella, kissing his neck.
"Mmm," he said. Both Skuld and Carmela looked at them in a thinly veiled disgust.
"I'll call after the show," said Skuld, pointing a chin at Isabella. "Her sister's some fighter, kickboxer I think. They could take out whoever you want; just give them a bag of your pretties." She stroked the bag appreciatively.
"I will stay and see the show," said Carmela.
Yeah, and sell coke to all the coke girls in the bathroom, thought Skuld.
Maxx opened a cherry water, downed it, then burped into his hand. "Let's sing."
"Of course, baby," said Isabella. She helped him out of the limo as it came to a stop in a dark alley. The band inside was playing Led Zeppelin.
"Oh, god," said Maxx, and he vomited onto the sidewalk. Skuld handed him a wipe, and he wiped his mouth, then threw down the towelette. Isabella dragged him into the club.
"How can you stand him?" asked Carmela, as the door swung shut.
Skuld smiled an alligator's smile. "Money, honey. He's got it, and makes more every fucking second on YouTube. Gotta attach myself to him until he crashes, then find another one of him."
Carmela handed her a tiny burner phone. "We get separated, call me. Only number on there. I'll give you back half the brick you gave me if you follow that bitch there and find out where the ice woman is. Finder's fee."
"Done," said Skuld. "Mama needs more diamonds. They are portable, and they go with everything." Isabella nodded, impressed. They followed the sound of Bangalore cursing into the back of the club.
The show was louder than an airplane, with the mixed smells of cigarette and marijuana smoke, both illegal in Vegas clubs. Then, alcohol, sweat, dirt, and drugs. Carmela did a brisk bathroom business. Thanks to the pin-sized mics and slightly larger camera lenses, focused only on the sinks. Skuld got an excellent record of the event while she sang onstage.
They went through a list of hard-rock and indie favorites. They did a twisted version of the deeply disturbing Death Cab for Cutie's song I Will Follow You Into the Dark. Even Skuld was feeling a little suicidal after that one. Then, a few more numbers before they took a break. They had three encores. They were exhausted by the time they got back in the cab. Thank god, the next part's not my gig, thought Skuld. They deposited the fawning Isabella and the seemingly-high Maxx, into the limo.
"Get that bag ready," said Isabella, laughing in Carmela's face. "He won't last long." She giggled. "No Viagra!"
She laughed at her own joke, and helped drag Maxx out of the limo. Carmela said nothing, just twitched a finger at Skuld. Skuld nodded. They entered the hotel.
They really did have a room, and it really was a comped suite; Maxx had given several performances in the hotel bar over the last two days. They needed a break, and to get ready. They also couldn't pop out of character. Skuld spotted two, separate, beautiful women in come-fuck-me dresses, with heels. They seemed to be eying them much too closely. She made the tiny hand sign that meant, "We have a tail." Maxx flicked acknowledgment with two fingers, and stumbled into the elevator, Isabella laughing on his arm. Skuld went in.
The agents inside were reviewing the video and audio, and typing up warrants. Skuld handed off the bag of drugs, and they started following the fake money.
"Gotta take them all at once, or this whole thing is blown," said Skuld, sinking into an overstuffed chair. She pulled out the tiny burner phone. "Gotta call Carmela when we're ready."
"Carmela has got six kills that we know of, and is wanted by Interpol," said Agent Arjun Virk, Isabella's partner in the FBI. He wore chinos and a white shirt. Topped off with a gold necklace to look like a hanger-on to Maxx. "She kills Wraith or Saber, she's going to get half a mil in mixed drugs and money." He fast-forwarded through some tape. "Looks like we have so many counts, keeping her in jail isn't that much of a problem."
Isabella worked on her hoochie-mama hair and makeup, giving herself that just-had-sex look. "She's going to kill me and my fake sister the minute she gets what she wants, and take the credit." She took off her dress, and added a very thin, bulletproof vest, then slipped it back on. She walked in it, and ripped her hose in two places.
"Better," said Skuld.
Raul/Maxx was laying on the bed, hands over his eyes. "Those eyedrops hurt, and now I want all the lights off."
"Get some sleep," said Skuld.
"You too," said Raul. "This next bit takes precision, and you're exhausted.
"Preaching to the choir," she said, and closed her eyes.
They went back out nearly an hour later, after they all downed caffeine pills to wake up. Skuld made herself look worse for wear; it wasn't hard. Hoochie-mama Isabella got on a bike with Ruela Diaz. They looked to be the same height, coloring, even the same tilt to the nose, in the light. Skuld called Carmela to say they were leaving, then rushed to her own bike, this one a rented crotch-rocket. There was no way she was bringing her beloved Harley to an op. She leaned into the curves, and easily kept up with the two agents.
They stopped for drinks, and Skuld dutifully sent a text. Then, they went outside the city and pulled off on a lonely stretch of road. There was a small natural bowl in the rock. Wraith was there, in a tent, a campfire going. She came out, and spoke to Isabella and Ruela. Skuld could hear the cars and bikes approaching, quite a few of them. Then, when they were sure they had enough of an audience, the fight began.
At first, Wraith held her own against Isabella, throwing her around quite a bit. Then Ruela stepped in, and fought dirty. Wraith's wrist was broken, her cheek gushing blood, when Ruela buried her knife in Wraith's thigh, then her chest. Blood spurted, and Wraith fell to the ground. It looked real.
Skuld was stunned when eight separate women came over the rise, from all angles, encircling them. La Leoparda herself, came over the hill, stalking her prey. She knelt beside Wraith, took her pulse, then stood, and moved to shoot her in the head. Wraith kicked up, and the night exploded into violence, with knives and guns, hands and feet. Agents hiding in hollows popped up, and took out woman after woman. Skuld went after the one on her left, and laughed at the sounds of battle. Two Vipers were shot as they shot at agents, their beautiful faces marred by holes in their heads. They fought savagely and with absolutely no rules. Finally, they were all under the spotlights, with women face down, and now with cuffs on them, except for the dead ones.
La Leoparda was swearing steadily at high volume. "Well, that woman's got a potty mouth," said Isabella. She took off her shoes, and changed into running shoes another agent handed her.
Agents rushed in with cameras; women were tasered as they tried to kick, bite, head-butt, and trip up the agents. It looked like a cross between a war scene and a dark comedy. They were put in wrist and leg chains, and taken away.
Wraith stood, holding her wrist in her hand. "Medic," she said. "Broke my wrist." She winced as the medic came forth with a portable x-ray machine and a wrist brace. "Gonna make typing up the paperwork a mess."
"You are a mess," said Skuld, coming over to her Valkyrie sister. "What did you do? Roll around in spliff blood?"
"Some of it's mine," said Wraith. She was smiling despite the blood running down her temple. "Ruela danced a good dance."
Ruela came over and looked Wraith up and down. "If you want to dance, call anytime," she said. "Now, I intend to take a real leave, before I have another batch of half-baked recruits." Wraith hissed as the medic immobilized the hand. "And I do mean half-baked. Making marijuana legal is not good for the future of mountain training."
"A few will get dead," said Wraith. "Call attention to the problem."
"Not my soldiers," said Ruela. "I'll kill 'em first. Or wash 'em out. Good news is, most potheads find advanced training not in their best interests, so they don't sign up all that often."
Skuld smiled. "Let them dance with us. They'll change."
"Might take you up on that," said Ruela. "With your shield."
"Or on it," said Wraith.
"You Valkyries scare the hell out of me," said Agent Virk. "I'll stick with Raul, if you don't mind." He looked entirely different in black combat gear, no longer the suave hanger-on he'd dressed up as, before.
"Where is Raul?" asked Skuld.
"Sleeping. Once the eyedrops wear off, he's going to help document this mess."
Skuld handed Wraith a towel to wipe off the blood; fake and real. They walked back to the bikes. "What about his singing career?" asked Wraith.
Skuld threw back her head and laughed. "One-hit wonder," she said. "Definitely." She helped her friend off the field of battle.
After a shower and medical treatment, including four stitches in her head, and a cast for her broken wrist, Saber was graciously allowed to come in and type Wraith's reports for her. She then had fun going after woman after woman, showing pictures of evidence, fingerprints, and photographs of cell phones that held the numbers of wealthy junkies and arms dealers.
They all cried for lawyers in gutter Spanish. Ximena Cabrero was all fire, demanding her clients be set free, the victims of entrapment. She looked just like them, with a red slash of lipstick, caramel hair, big brown eyes, but a killer suit (in black) rather than a dress. She pushed and pushed, but the agents held the line, leaving the room when the gutter Spanish got ugly.
La Leoparda was an ice queen, the only one who was absolutely ice-cold, despite the mounting evidence. Her face was bruised from her fight with Wraith. "Federal crimes call for federal time," said Wraith. "Your stupid vendetta took you down."
"They will deport me," said La Leoparda. "I will be home in two hours."
"Not after you paid off a judge," said Wraith. "Judge Jones' wife has wanted to divorce him for years. She knew he was doing something shady, so she asked for a federal wiretap on all her phones. Judge Jones got cute and used his wife's phone for your payout; it seems he wanted to divorce her as well. We've got him accepting two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. From you. Your voiceprint. Traced it and everything, and followed the money to the Cayman Islands." She sat back, watching the drug trafficker in front of her attempt to find a way out. "And, no deal, for anything. We've got you, and your little crew… all sewn up, with enough time that when you get out of a Supermax, you'll be in a pine box."
"I can give you the name of a man in Mexico. Policia, police. Our cookers here."
"Already got two out of three," she said. "Phone traces, remember? Your labs are shut down. And the police will let Mexico deal with
it. Not my jurisdiction." She stood. "No deals," she said. "Have fun in an orange jumpsuit and wrist and leg chains."
La Leoparda lunged, and Wraith stepped just a whisper to the side as the woman attempted to claw her eyes out, screaming in gutter Spanish, with hexes and curses and vitriolic invective. Wraith gave her a little wave as she was carted off, then tasered as she tried to take an agent's gun.
"That one's going to try to buy her way out again," said Saber to Wraith. They were listening outside the room. "I also predict dead bodies in the Supermax. She's a scorpion, not a leopard."
"No bet," said Skuld. "They'll have to stick her in solitary, just to keep her from offing the other inmates."
"Couldn't happen to a nicer monster," said Herja, now smiling at Skuld.
"Word," said Saber wincing, holding his side. "Need a bed."
"We all do," said Skuld. "Let's collect your lady and go home."
"On it," said Saber, moving to intercept Wraith. She helped him to the car, then they drove home.
Saber walked in, absolutely delighted to be home. He looked around, touched things, and inhaled. Something smelled amazing.
Sigrun came out of the back bedroom, smiling. "Made baby pizzas with black olives and Italian sausage. Um, basil and pesto, and gorgonzola," she said.
"Shut up and come here," said Saber, and melted into her arms. "I fucking love you, woman. I missed you."
She laughed, and went silent as he grabbed the side of her face and kissed her deeply. "Welcome home," she said. "Omigod. Are you okay?" she asked Wraith.
"Welcome to you, too," said Wraith, as the kitten stalked and attacked her leg. "Missed you, little one," said Wraith. She picked her up, and scratched her tiny ears. The kitten purred so loudly that they all laughed. "I have a hairline fracture in my wrist and four stitches in my chest. I'm sorry, but it looks like you have two to nursemaid."
"No problem," said Sigrun. "Come and eat."
Wraith walked over and kissed Sigrun. "How was the art tour?"
"The Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles is stellar!" said Sigrun. "I did a project for school on it, and got an A!" She laughed and pushed Saber gently away as he began kissing her neck. "The pizza will get cold."
