by Sean Platt
Sasha looked down at Sebastian’s arm. “You need to go inside.”
“No.” He saw a blur coming behind her. Shoved her out of the way and threw his dagger into the face of a swordsman.
A massive man swung a giant mace, causing Sasha to stumble back into Slum Lord, before losing her balance atop him.
They hit the ground together.
The man came at them before they could stand, moving incredibly fast for his size.
He swung.
Sasha’s boot caught the man’s hand, pushing both it and the mace aside.
She thrust herself forward and stabbed him in the crotch.
Slum Lord raced over to his blade, still stuck in the fallen man’s face. His fingers closed around the blade and he yanked it out, just as someone was running at him.
He couldn’t move in time.
Axl propelled himself between Slum Lord and the man.
A blade pierced Axl’s chest as he tried to protect his boss. Straight through, jutting out of his back.
Slum Lord leapt at the man before he could pull his sword from Axl and knocked him to the ground.
With only one functioning arm, he gripped the blade tight and shivved the man on repeat until he finally stopped moving.
He saw something in the bloodlust: the tree inside him responding.
Sebastian could sense his right arm healing. He couldn’t tell for certain unless he lifted his shirt, but the pain was easing and he could feel both his flesh and bone repairing themselves.
He was so lost in awe, he didn’t hear footsteps coming until they were right on top of him.
Sebastian spun around, swinging the blade to kill whatever fucker might be sneaking up behind him.
Fortunately for them both, Sasha dodged his strike in time.
He had come too close to killing her, a splash of ice water on his senses. He looked around. The attackers were all dead. So far, Axl was the only one of theirs to hit the ground.
He joined Sasha at Axl’s side, staring helplessly down at the blade.
“I’m sorry, boss.” His lip trembled and his eyes were welling with tears.
“Sorry? You saved me. And come on, we’re not letting you die this easily.”
Slum Lord looked down at his arm, raising the shirt and seeing that the wound was, in fact, healing. A tear in his flesh was knitting itself as a bulge that was likely a bone shifted back into place.
In less than a minute, he felt no pain at all. Completely healed.
Sasha looked at his arm, then up at his eyes. Before she could say anything else, Solomon appeared with a warning. “I hear more people coming downstairs.”
Sebastian looked down at Axl and grabbed the sword, breaking it off above the hilt, afraid to remove it completely.
He stared at his hands, surprised that he had managed to break the metal so easily. He was stronger than most, but not that strong.
The Tree had somehow changed him.
He needed to get Axl some help.
“Leave him. We have to go and deliver me.”
Not yet. I need to help this man and then take care of Jackie.
He felt the Tree sending impulses to his body, telling him to turn and leave. The thing might be inside him and able to enter his head, but Sebastian refused to let it control him.
“Your will is stronger than most. After this, we must go. If we’re too late, a powerful ally will die.”
Fine.
Slum Lord looked at Sasha and Solomon. “Can you all handle them?”
“Yes, sir.” Solomon nodded.
“Hell yeah,” Sasha said. “Why?”
“I’m bringing him to get help.”
“Who can you trust? If The Six sanctioned this attack, then our doctors won’t help us. They’ll be too afraid of retaliation.”
“I have someone.”
“Who?”
“Someone that owes me a favor.”
He gathered Axl from the ground, then leapt from his rooftop to the one across the street.
Leo Rinetti lived two blocks from The Baxter in an apartment above his pasta restaurant on Fourth Street.
Slum Lord softly knocked on his door, not wanting to alert his neighbors or any of the many people looking to kill him tonight.
Leo answered, holding a bat. His eyes widened at the sight of Axl.
“Wake her up.” Sebastian pushed past the man and brought him inside the apartment, sitting him down on the kitchen floor. “You said your daughter wants to be a doctor. Now’s the time, I need her help.”
Leo nodded, then went to a back bedroom and woke her.
Francesca came out of the room, slipping on her glasses as she swept her long, curly dark hair into a ponytail.
“What happened?” She stared at the broken blade sticking out of Axl’s body like the sword in the stone. Francesca didn’t need the answer. She ripped off his shirt and inspected the wound, which seemed even worse now that Slum Lord could see it in the light.
She looked up at her father. “Can you get the kit?”
Leo was already on his way.
Francesca looked up at Slum Lord. “I will try my best.”
Axl glanced down at his wound and the blade sticking out of him. He went from confused to terrified. Reached up and tried grabbing the sword.
Sebastian stopped him, taking his friend’s hand and squeezing it. “They’re going to help you. I need to take care of business.”
Axl nodded.
“Thank you,” Sebastian said to Francesca. “I’ll be back.”
Then he left for The Sacred to finish his business.
Sixty-Four
Slum Lord
Slum Lord wanted to get back to The Baxter so he could look in on Sasha and the others, but he had to trust that between them and Yugo’s crew, the job was getting done.
He needed to reach Jackie at her club before she heard news of her operation’s success or failure and figured out Slum Lord was coming for her.
She’d probably already planned for it. The woman was smart, and probably kept at least two or three of her highest-ranking security members close to protect her in case shit blew up.
The Sacred was a two-story bar, three counting the basement, nestled in the heart of The Slums between twin fourteen-story tenements.
He stood on the southernmost rooftop, looking at The Sacred’s front door. Music thrummed, even from up this high. The place was packed with a pair of armed bouncers standing vigilant guard outside.
Sebastian considered his options. He could go in through the front doors, but the guards outside might attack him, or warn Jackie and send her fleeing and ruining his surprise.
His eyes locked on a hatch door used to service the rooftop HVAC units and backup generators.
He leapt, landing to a roll on the roof, then waited to see if the noise had attracted any attention from below.
Nobody was coming. The music seemed to have covered his impact.
Sebastian opened the hatch.
The dull sound of music grew louder as he descended into a utility room lit by a soft crimson glow.
He was in the back of the club. He’d been here a couple of times over the years when talking with Jackie or others, so he was familiar with the layout and where he was in relation to her ground floor and basement offices.
He would either have an easy path or a circuitous route which required the slaughter of anyone standing in his way.
Slum Lord had no problem killing those who came at him, but it was slightly different when he was attacking guards or employees with no choice but to take up arms for their boss. He felt no joy in killing those who didn’t deserve to die.
“I can find her if it gets this over with faster.”
Slum Lord could feel the Tree tapping into heightened senses he was barely aware of. He could hear more clearly, amplifying sounds it wanted to hear and squelching what it didn’t. The Tree found her by her heartbeat alone.
How can you distinguish hers? I don’t even
know hers from others.
“She has a faster resting heart rate and a slight skip in the pattern. And yes, a part of you did know this even if you never consciously sensed it.”
So you found it in my memory?
“That is correct.”
Slum Lord wondered how many other things he knew but wasn’t aware of. The Tree’s enhancements and healing power alone might make a man unstoppable.
“Don’t worry. I don’t want to be in you any more than you want me here. She’s in the basement.”
The circuitous path.
Slum Lord left the utility room, making his way into the busy club. The dark dance floor was illuminated in staccato bursts of colorful strobing lights. Drunk and drugged patrons were grinding against one another as Sebastian made his way through the crowd, using it to mask his identity, his blood-soaked clothing, and the sword he pressed to prevent it swinging at his side.
Keeping to the dark, Sebastian managed to avoid the quieter, more well-lit bar area along the far wall, navigating a path toward the rear double doors to the basement.
There were two guards. The bigger one had a sword at his side, and the smaller no weapons that Slum Lord could see. Both were in suits with their hair slicked back like they were about to pose for a vintage photo.
He stayed in the cover of the crowd, surveying the room for more guards or Kiril.
He saw a few other men trying to appear casual, but their slicked-back hair gave them away. He counted six in total.
“We need a distraction,” said the Tree.
Got any ideas?
“One,” it said. “Go up to him.”
Slum Lord found his eyes darting toward an extremely intoxicated rough-looking man leaning against the wall holding a glass of beer, glaring at someone in the crowd.
Slum Lord approached, uncertain what the Tree was planning.
The Tree took control, thrusting Sebastian into the passenger seat of his own mind so fast and with such surprising ease that he was frightened.
He approached the man, leaning forward and putting his hand on the rough man’s shoulder, “Hey, man, I just wanted to—”
He didn’t finish the sentence before whatever thing that had leapt into Slum Lord found its way into the man.
He felt it leave his body and go into the man’s. And as it did, he felt an immediate heaviness. Sensations he didn’t immediately realize had left his body were suddenly back — the aches and pains that came with age and with fighting.
Only now did he realize how much better he’d felt since the thing had entered his body.
He watched as the man studied him, then broke the glass against the wall, went into the crowd, and stabbed a man in the neck.
What the hell?
Screams erupted as the man turned his glass on another man.
Slum Lord wanted to stop the Tree from killing people, but then he recognized the opportunity it was offering as chaos erupted.
People were scrambling to flee the area as several guards, including one of the two men at the double doors, came to intervene.
Slum Lord made his way in the cover of the madness toward the exit.
He was able to use the crowd until the last thirty feet.
Then the man with no weapons saw him.
Slum Lord raced at him, blade drawn.
The man disappeared in a puff of dark smoke.
What the—?
Then he reappeared behind Slum Lord and stabbed him in the back.
Slum Lord spun around, swinging.
The man vanished again.
Slum Lord threw his back against the wall, trying to see every possible angle of reappearance.
The man blinked into existence to his right and stabbed Slum Lord in the ribs before he could so much as raise his sword.
The man was gone in another poof.
Fuck!
Slum Lord backed himself into a corner, wedged right against the doors, sword drawn.
The little man appeared again, right in front of him.
Slum Lord swung and the man was gone.
Then back again, his blade at Slum Lord’s throat.
“Drop your sword or die!” he yelled over the music.
Slum Lord had no choice.
He dropped it.
The man smiled. “You’re gonna die, anyway.”
“Wait!” the big guard yelled, racing over to them.
The little man turned, freezing.
The big guard approached, his sword dripping with blood, maybe belonging to the man that the Tree had leapt into. “Jackie wants him alive.”
“Fine,” said the little man, backing off of Slum Lord.
As he stepped away, Slum Lord saw at least four injured, including men and women, on the dance floor with the other guards tending to the victims. The Tree’s meat sack was dead on the ground with two guards standing over him like he might reanimate at any moment.
Slum Lord looked around trying to see if the Tree had leapt into anyone else. He could sure as hell use a distraction.
“Bring him to her,” the big man said, bending over and grabbing Slum Lord’s sword from the ground.
The little guard said, “Turn around and walk. Slowly. Do anything and I’ll kill you.”
Slum Lord obeyed and got closer to Jackie. He still had an ace up his sleeve if everything failed.
They entered the hallway and started to descend the stairs as the double doors swung closed behind them.
He could hear both men walking close behind him.
Then he heard a gasp.
He turned around to see the big guard running his sword through the little man before he could poof away.
The Tree!
“Go,” he said. “Let’s finish this.”
The big guard, with Tree inside him, escorted Slum Lord into the basement where Jackie was sitting with Kiril at the table.
There were five guards in the room, three of them armed. He wondered if the other two also had Alt powers like that little teleporting fucker.
Jackie was lighting a cigarette as the guard ushered Slum Lord inside. She looked up, and smiled.
Slum Lord met Kiril’s eyes and spat, “Traitor!”
Kiril looked away.
“No, it was you that betrayed us, your people, siding with the shanty-town scum,” Jackie said. “Now, sit.”
Slum Lord took a seat at the table, two away from Kiril and across from Jackie — the same place he’d been sitting when she’d threatened him.
She stared at him hard. “I had such high hopes for you.”
Slum Lord said nothing.
“What did you hope to achieve by killing Hobarth? By coming after me? You want power?”
“This was never about power.”
“Then tell me, Slum Lord: what was it about?”
“Something you wouldn’t understand.” He tapped the table, acting more casual and relaxed than he felt, trying to unnerve her and the guards. Teasing them with the something he knew that none of them did.
Two things.
“Try me.” She blew a ring of smoke in his face.
“I did it for the people. The same people you pretend to care about.”
A brittle laugh turned into a terrible cough. She spit on the floor again, then looked at him, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. “So, what, you’re the hero now? I think you’ve taken this Lord thing a bit too far.”
“So I’ve been told.” He moved his hands to his lap, not a care in the world, his unaffected smile unsettling her before he turned to Kiril. “So, old friend, why side with her?”
Kiril finally found the courage to meet his eyes, no longer fearing the consequences of speaking his mind.
“It was nothing personal,” Kiril said. “As a practical man, I saw your ideology slowly corrupting you. I kept my mouth shut a long time while you continued to behave in questionable ways. Sleeping with the mayor of Hope Springs, ignoring the growing threat of drugs and criminals coming from shanty town. You couldn�
�t even take care of Yugo, despite your meeting with him. I didn’t betray you, Slum Lord. You betrayed yourself, your family, and this city.”
Slum Lord kept smiling. “I should’ve killed you earlier tonight, but I wanted you to have a chance at redeeming yourself. Please do remember that in your final moments, that I am the one who gave you everything, including your last chance.
They locked eyes, Kiril’s expression smug. “And yet, somehow, I won’t be losing any sleep.”
Jackie lit another cigarette. “Your time is over, Slum Lord. You, Sasha, Axl, and that little shit, Yugo. You’ll all be hanging by first light. An example of what happens when you step out of line.”
“I don’t think so,” Slum Lord said.
“What?” Jackie furrowed her brow.
“I said I don’t think so.”
“And why is that?”
“I try not to ever play the game without at least one ace up my sleeve.”
The guards were moving closer in his peripheral vision, drawing their weapons. The big guard, the one with the Tree inside him, approached the door as if knew what was about to happen next.
Maybe the Tree had seen inside Slum Lord’s head. Or still could.
“An ace, eh?” Her smile showed no fear.
He presented his fist, then placed it palm-down on the table.
She stared at his hand curiously.
With a smile, Slum Lord lifted his hand to show her the two grenade pins that had been hiding underneath it.
Jackie looked up, her eyes wide, filled with horror and understanding.
He let one grenade roll to the floor beneath the table, then sprung from his seat toward the door, too fast for anyone to stop him, despite giving chase.
He dropped the second grenade on his way to the door.
Tree Guard was holding it open.
Slum Lord raced through.
Tree Guard slammed the door shut and locked the guards in the basement. The explosion rocked their world, blasting the basement doors open and sending Slum Lord sailing backward into the hallway.
His ears rang and his head might as well have been underwater as he slowly rose to his feet.
The big guard collapsed to the ground, chunks of door embedded in his body. Jackie, Kiril, and every one of her guards was now lying dead in the basement.
