by S T Branton
Free country. Still, it didn’t sit right. A hidden motive began to form in the back of my mind.
I finished my drink and set the heavy glass down on the bar. “Thanks for buying.” I directed my eyes toward the buffet table on the other side of the floor. “Is there anything over there that goes well with rum and coke?”
He grinned. “I’d be happy to check it out. Shall we?”
We walked side by side toward the food. I kept my hands clasped primly in front of me as if my every thought was not consumed by figuring out the best way to pick Deacon’s pocket.
CHAPTER TEN
It wasn’t the money I was after, although he looked wealthy enough. I had plenty of cash tucked safely in my purse. I just needed to see what was inside Deacon’s wallet, money or otherwise, because the peculiar angle of his questions had caught on something inside my mental gears. I was worried he might have a badge concealed in his back pocket, and I wouldn’t have a chance of getting to it unless we were on our feet.
The buffet table was the perfect excuse.
“Looks good, doesn’t it?” Deacon handed me a plate.
I forced myself not to inspect his hands for gun calluses, which I had learned to spot on officers of the law. If I flirted a little more, I might be able to hold his hand. That would be foolproof, but maybe too risky. Until I knew otherwise, the safe thing to do was assume he was a cop.
And a cop—a good one at least—would know when a game was being played.
“Thank you.” I pretended to be indecisive about what food I wanted. It wasn’t hard. Eating was the last thing on my mind. I was waiting for more people to come over, maybe form a little crowd around us so I could try and pinpoint the location of Deacon’s wallet. I couldn’t take it right then, obviously, but I’d feel better if I knew where the target was.
No one came close enough. I picked up a few things and let him lead me to a nearby table. Jules caught my eye on the way and gave me an enthusiastic thumbs-up. A terrible thought crossed my mind. Had she set me up? Was the whole party just an elaborate ruse to hook me up with this guy?
Yeah, right. Just my good old-fashioned paranoia taking over again. That might mean I was wrong about Deacon, too, and I was about to make an ass out of myself for no good reason. I’d open that wallet and find his business card as a BMW salesman or something. Of course, if I did it right, I was the only one who would know of my stupidity.
I was determined to do it right.
The tables were small and intimate. Deacon sat across from me. His knee brushed mine under the table cloth. “You know, if you want me to go away, feel free to say so.” That smile lit up his whole face. “I know I can be a little persistent when there’s something that I want.”
I had to admire his confidence. “Bold words from a man I just met, what, twenty minutes ago?”
He checked his silver wristwatch. “Let’s say thirty. That gives us a little more history.”
I raised my eyebrows at him. “Do you turn the charm up this high for every girl you meet, or am I just lucky?”
“When I have to turn it up like this, I’m the lucky one.”
Damn. He really didn’t miss a beat. I sort of wished we were at a club instead of a rented restaurant. Dance floors made pickpocketing shamefully easy. I didn’t even want to keep it. All I needed was a quick glance, or a quick squeeze of his hand. A glimpse at the badge would be better. C’mon. Give me an opening.
Another half hour went by. Forty minutes. I was starting to lean toward giving up when Deacon got up from the table. “I’ll be right back,” he said.
I tracked his path toward the restroom, which went directly by the table where Marcus had been planted since we arrived. It was time to pay my favorite Centurion a visit.
He grinned widely when he saw me. “Hail, Vic! Come be introduced to my new friends.”
I went politely around the table as he explained our current living situation.
“Super cool of you to let him couch-surf like that,” said a kid in a bow tie and suspenders whose name I had just learned was Ezra. “When I was backpacking cross-country, I met some really rad people, but there were a lot of hard-asses, too. It’s like, come on man, I just want to crash on your floor. I’ll be gone before you get up in the morning. How hard is that?”
A general murmur of assent went through the circle. I smiled, nodded, and tuned them out. My eyes flicked surreptitiously to the bathrooms. I had to catch Deacon coming out of there. It was the best chance I thought I would get.
He seemed to take forever. My paranoia spoke up: what if he had gone to the bathroom to ditch the party through a window? Not only would I probably never see him again, but he’d tip off his colleagues that he thought I was worth looking into. A girl with two murdered parents was automatically suspicious.
I took a linen napkin off the table and wiped my sweaty palms with it, pretending I had gotten something on my hand. Finally, the door to the men’s room swung open, and Deacon emerged. He walked toward our table with his head down, preoccupied with something in his hands.
I kept myself facing straight ahead with a fake smile pasted on my lips, but my stomach did flips as he came closer. He was holding his wallet, folding a handkerchief into the change pocket. Show it to me, handsome. Show me what I want to see.
“Oh, Deacon!” To my surprise, it was couch-surfer Ezra who called him over. “Hey, have you met Marcus? I think you’ll get a kick out of this guy.”
Deacon’s body swiveled toward us, and as his right hand lowered, the fold of his wallet drooped down. I had only a split second of unobstructed view, but I saw everything I needed to see. The flash of metal convinced me beyond a doubt. Deacon from Dade County was a cop. And that meant we had to get out of here.
I extricated myself carefully from the table and took my turn heading to the bathroom. The soft, flattering light told me that I still looked good, so no one would suspect a thing if I nabbed Marcus and made up a story about a previous engagement. I could say I got a text, that a friend was in from out of town and wanted to meet up.
Any number of excuses would work, so long as they let us leave. I hoped that Marcus’s newfound popularity wouldn’t chuck a wrench into my escape plan.
By the grace of some higher power, Marcus was not engaged in conversation when I emerged from the bathroom. I stepped up to him and laid my hand on his shoulder, squeezing once. He looked up at me, and I quirked an eyebrow. His eyes rolled subtly around the room.
Good. He understood that something was up. We sort of felt like partners in crime, even though I was positive he had no real clue what I was trying to accomplish.
“I got a text from K,” I told him in a regular tone of voice. “He wants to meet up. You wanna go?”
It took Marcus a moment to formulate the correct response to that prompt, but he eventually got there. “Yes, if he sent you a… text, then it must be critically important. Let us make haste.”
Not quite perfect, but close enough. We put on smiles and said our goodbyes. I saved Jules and Deacon for last.
“Aww, are you leaving?” Jules put her arms around me and squeezed. “Thanks so much for showing up. Fill me in later, okay?” A mischievous little grin popped up, and she leaned in close to me, speaking softly. “I saw you cozying up to Ezra’s hot friend. I want all those details.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” I said. “But fine. I’ll make up something juicy.”
“You out?” Deacon slung his blazer over his shoulder. “Want me to walk you?”
“No, that’s okay. I showed up with this guy, remember?” I jerked my thumb at Marcus, who was coming up behind me.
“I assure you, sir, I am all the protection Vic needs.” They shook hands. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Pleasure’s all mine.” Deacon shot me a secret look. “That goes for you, too, Vic.”
I smiled. Then Marcus strode from the restaurant, clearing a path for me to follow. I didn’t relax until the frosted g
lass doors had shut behind me.
“What news, Vic?” Marcus asked curiously. “You look shaken.”
I did my best to wave his concern away. “Not much. It’s just, Deacon is a cop. I saw his badge. So, we had to leave.”
“Ah. There is not much difference between a cop and a centurion, I will assume.” Marcus nodded sagely. “Then we had to depart because of what took place on the night that I arrived.”
“Wait, you know about that?” I blurted the question out before I could stop myself.
The centurion gave me a strange look. “You told me yourself of your encounter with this Rocco Durant and of your intentions to kill him. Do you not recall?”
“Oh, right. No, of course, I recall that.” I ran my hands through my hair, praying I looked only frazzled instead of scared to death. “That night is still such a blur. I’m still half wondering if it was even real.”
“To be truthful, so am I,” Marcus remarked, his voice solemn.
“Yeah? Why’s that?” I had to resist the urge to look back as we walked away from the building. Maybe Deacon had followed us out and would think it looked suspicious. Or maybe I was just being paranoid. Again. I told myself to take a deep breath and listen to Marcus, who was answering my question.
He gazed up at the murky New York City night sky. “I had never dared to imagine the possibility that Kronin might fall, though I believe he knew what was in store. He was resigned in the last days, as a man might be who had laid eyes upon the future. Now, he is gone, and I am not sure where this new path leads. Perhaps to a hero, or perhaps…” He trailed off, then shook his head. “No matter. We will do what we can with the time we have.”
“You’re making it sound like this is going to be the end of the world.”
“And you make it sound like you would not miss it.” He glanced sideways at me, and I looked down.
“This dump?” I asked nonchalantly. “Are you kidding me?” I kicked at a pebble in the street and watched it skitter over the curb and underneath the wheels of some beater coughing up clouds of black exhaust. “Somehow, I don’t think I would.”
“I am sure your feelings are justified,” Marcus said. “But there must still be beauty in it somewhere.”
I rolled my eyes. “Not here.”
He frowned. “I did notice that the stars appear to be… invisible.”
That made me chuckle. We walked in silence for a while, in no particular direction. I was too jumpy to want to head home just yet. I needed to work off some of these nerves somehow, and when he wasn’t prattling on about something I didn’t understand, Marcus wasn’t a bad walking companion. He was imposing enough that the usual pricks on the street might actually leave me alone.
He cleared his throat. “Can I ask you a question?”
I sighed. He was doing so well. But I had nothing else to do, and the edge had fallen off my mood. “Shoot.”
He furrowed his brow. “I have no bow or arrows.”
This fucking guy. “I mean, ask away,” I said with a deeper sigh.
“Are there still churches in this version of the world?”
If I’d been drinking something, I would have done a spit-take. “Why? You need to go to confession?”
Part of me decided he had to be for real, or for real delusional. Nobody normal was this dedicated to a character.
He shrugged, plainly unoffended by my reaction. “Your attitude is so secular that I thought perhaps the rituals of worship had fallen by the wayside. This is not true, I take it.”
“Oh, buddy.” I patted his rock-hard bicep. “Buddy. Pal. There is so much you don’t know for some reason. So much.”
“Would it trouble you to explain? You are my guide after all.”
From anyone else, with any other voice coming out of any other face, a question like that might have warranted a punch from me, but Marcus was different somehow. Innocent was a weird word to apply to a grown man, but that was the one that first sprang to mind.
“Okay, look.” I drew in my breath. “I don’t know why the hell I’m doing this with you, but here goes. We have gods. We have a lot of gods, but they’re not the ones you’ve been talking about, see? They’re like Jupiter. And Mars. And Venus.” I ran my hand through my hair again, corralling my jumbled thoughts. It had been forever since I’d had to articulate a point on religion, much less in this context. “But the thing that’s most important about our gods is this.” I stopped, and I made him stop, too. “They’re all made up.”
He frowned. “What does this mean?”
“It means that man invented gods to make himself feel better about dying someday. Humans need to find meaning or else we get sad. That was like one of the first things we learned about ourselves, ever. Then we learned that making up stories about all-powerful beings allows us to ascribe that meaning to something which can never disappoint us. That’s how I see it, anyway.” I glanced at him. “Now do you understand why I have trouble just believing you about this Carcerum thing?”
Marcus appeared to be deep in thought, and he didn’t respond.
“Humans believe in tons of shit that doesn’t actually exist. And you know what else? A lot of times, even if you do believe, it doesn’t help.” My voice dropped to a mutter. “Which has been my personal experience.”
He was quiet for a significant period of time. The longer he went without saying anything, the stupider I felt. I didn’t even know the guy, and I was out here trying to alienate him for his beliefs while he was still living in my loft. I tried to paint my convictions as simple education, but I was perfectly aware of how all of this sounded.
Then he said, “I am sorry, Vic. I did not realize that these things had painful relevance in your life.”
“They don’t.” I lied. “I just want you to know where I stand.”
“And now, I do.” He turned to me and extended his hand. “Peace?”
I stared at him, at his hand, and back. “Yeah. Sure.”
As annoyed and confused as I was by the current situation, which seemed to be almost entirely his fault, I couldn’t help but find Marcus’s quirks endearing. He was kind of like a kid—a kid who was eerily well-spoken and jacked as hell for some reason. Clearly, he thought he knew a lot, and he might have, back wherever he was from.
But he had a lot to learn about New York. “Who needs stars when you’ve got Times Square?” I asked. “C’mon. We’re already out, so we might as well have a good time. If you’re looking for unusual, I can show you some stuff that’ll blow your mind.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
As usual, Times Square was lit up like a technicolor Christmas tree, almost negating the darkness of night. It was raining a little bit as we arrived, and the lights reflected in forming puddles on the pavement. To me, it was the same old garish carnival I’d always known it to be.
To Marcus, it must have been inconceivable.
He craned his neck back and stared upward, openmouthed and totally oblivious to the rain. Watching him, I realized what a brilliant idea it had been to bring him to the square—he was surrounded by tourists and fellow weirdos on every side. No one gave him more than a passing glance. Not to mention that he doubled as a pretty good path-clearing device.
“This place is astounding,” he said to nobody in particular.
I pushed him slowly through the throngs still clogging the sidewalks. An off-tune chorus of taxis honked in the streets. Someone close by reeked of piss and liquor.
“Glad you think so,” I answered. “I hate it.”
Marcus whirled to stare at me, aghast. “How could you hate it?” He swept an arm out in a grand gesture as if I was obviously just missing the point. “It is marvelous.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s a dump, dude. Don’t tell me you’re not hearing how noisy it is. It never shuts down. The lights never go off. People never stop coming here.”
He turned in a circle, half ignoring me. “It is a miracle of engineering.”
“And a damn tourist trap.” I yank
ed him out of the way of a stampeding group of people, all wearing those I Love New York T-shirts. “Hey, maybe we should get you one of those. You’re technically a tourist.”
His face lit up. I regretted mentioning it. “That is where we are? New York?”
“Uh, sort of.” A geography lesson had not been part of my plan. “We’re in New York City right now. This is Times Square, which is in Midtown Manhattan.” I pointed. “Over there is Broadway. Over here is Seventh Avenue.”
“Is this where the king resides?” he asked.
I smiled slightly. “Not exactly. But some people call it the Center of the Universe.” I stretched my arms out and laced my fingers behind my head. “Personally, I think if this is it, then we’re all doomed.”
“This is it.” The raw wonder in Marcus’s voice had been replaced by a surprisingly fierce determination. “This the place for me to find my hero.”
At first, I just looked at him while my brain took its sweet time processing what he had just said. Then I groaned. “Oh, please. Don’t come at me with this hero talk right now, man. I thought we were gonna come out here and have some fun. You get to see the city, and I get…”
I trailed off. What did I get out of this, other than cheap amusement from seeing Marcus dumbstruck by modern technology? Already, I could feel my decent mood starting to sour at the edges. Would it kill him to drop the hero business for like, ten minutes?
“You do not sound like you want to have fun,” he remarked. His eyes were constantly moving now, scanning the sea of faces with impressive, laser-focused intensity. In a matter of seconds, he had transformed from gawking out-of-towner to a man on a serious mission. It was obvious he wouldn’t be deterred.
“Maybe I would, if you’d let me,” I muttered. I’d made a transformation too: from somewhat begrudging tour guide to sulky teen on a field trip. “Your hero isn’t the only thing to see around here. If you can even find him.”
Marcus cut a quick glance at me. “Perhaps you would be happier if you were not so negative,” he suggested.
