by Lee Roland
He stood straight, feet planted wide against the sway of the bus. In a blur of movement, I kicked him in the balls. He squealed and dropped to his hands and knees. I kicked him in the face. My new-used boots worked just fine. I used the bus seats to vault over him. Once behind him, I grabbed the thickest chain, jerked him backward, and dragged him down the aisle toward the front of the bus. He kept making noises, but since I was dragging him by the neck like the overfilled garbage sack he was, he couldn’t use words. My boot had made a bloody mess of his face.
His hands clawed at his pocket. A gun? I used the chain to swing his head to the side. It banged against the metal braces holding the seats. Back and forth, a hollow sound, flesh and bone against muscle; my arms strained to get force out of a short but very satisfying arc. After six solid whacks, he went limp. I relieved him of the contents of his front pockets. A pistol and a knife—and a roll of bills held by a rubber band. I laid them on an empty seat.
The downed bastard moaned. I jerked him into a sitting position.
His eyes rolled a bit, but he was awake. My shoe had flattened his nose. A stream of blood leaked across his mouth and chin to stain his shirt. I dragged him onto the loading platform at the front of the bus. I glanced at the bus driver. “Open the door.”
He grinned and complied. He’d slowed down when the altercation started, but the bus still moved, creeping along. I rolled the beast who had tortured an innocent child down the steps onto the sidewalk. He flopped a few times.
The two elderly ladies sitting behind the driver smiled and gently applauded. The bus driver closed the door and drove away. He laughed. “Lady, that was great. But you know that was a Bastinado, don’t you? One of the Slum Devils.”
The little boy had gone back to his mother and sat huddled against her side, crying. I grabbed the roll of bills and the gun and plopped down on the seat across from her. I handed her the money. “He’s not going to move fast for a while. You take a cab back home. Stay there. Take your mother with you.”
Tears smeared her face. She didn’t speak, or maybe she couldn’t. The boy jumped into my arms. He cried in great hiccups. By the time we reached their stop, he’d calmed a little. He kissed me good-bye, as did his mother and the two elderly ladies who climbed off at her stop.
“Do I get a kiss?” the bus driver asked when we reached the end of the line and the Goblin Den. He had a blunt, square face and lots of gray in his dark brown hair. Wrinkles wove around his eyes as though he smiled a lot.
“No kiss.” I handed him the Bastinado’s gun and knife. “See if you can pawn these where they won’t be traced. The gun is a nice piece. It might be worth something to you.”
He accepted them. His face crumpled. “I’m pretty useless, I guess. I couldn’t help you. I lost a lung in Iraq. Had internal injuries, too. The company won’t let me carry a gun on the job.” He sighed. “You remember what I said. You need to watch out for those Bastinados. That was only one. His gang will be looking for you.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“You don’t understand. Bastinados are more than a gang. To get in, you have to earn points. You get them by killing. Everyone in any gang has murdered someone. Men, women. They get extra points for cops.”
“And if I had killed him . . . ?”
“No one would care. Cops know. You kill a Basto down here, they look the other way.” The bus had stopped in the cul-de-sac overlooking Sullen Bog. “There’s other things out there, too. Especially at night. They don’t believe me uptown.” He chuckled. “See that thing up there?” He pointed over my head.
I saw. A camera. My stomach clenched. Technology had nailed me. How stupid. Again, I’d allowed the moment to get away from me.
The driver must have seen my dismay. “That little jewel hasn’t worked in a year. Cheap bastards uptown don’t give a shit about us drivers. I do the four to midnight most of the time. You see me, my bus, you need help, you wave me down. I’ll stop for you. Name’s Jim, by the way.” He held out a hand and I accepted it.
“I’m Madeline. I’ll probably see you again, Jim.”
He grinned as I climbed off and waved as he drove away.
I’d let myself be sidetracked, dangerously, but I couldn’t have let that scene unfold any other way. Would a Sister do that? Compromise a mission for a child? Lillian would. And Eunice. They would have handled the event more efficiently, though. They would have dragged him off, not tossed him. They would’ve hauled him into an alley and promptly rid the world of such vermin. Do the deed where no one could see, and clean up the mess. No one would ever know it happened. And my mother? Had she been on that bus, she would have smiled and his body would suddenly be covered with bleeding, oozing, and incredibly painful sores. Defense is appropriate, even for a witch. I’d overlooked a camera—again. The very thing that had nailed me when I’d killed my parents’ second murderer. I was lucky this time, maybe not so lucky the next.
Chapter 13
Since light and color still filled the sky, I walked around the building to the alley. No sign of my battle remained. Perhaps it was the confidence of the new weapons, but I wanted to take a few minutes to explore.
I walked into the alley, away from the Den, past the walls of ruined buildings. Some of brick and block stood strong; others with wooden frames sagged. Once upon a time this had been a vibrant street. No housing, but probably wholesale businesses, from the look of the large bay doors and loading docks that faced the alley.
I heard no out-of-the-ordinary sounds, only the distant traffic of River Street and the occasional soft whistle of a breeze through the buildings. Light faded as I walked back toward the Den.
Riggs met me as I walked in. “Michael called. Says you got a new job.”
“Yes. I’m your bouncer. You got someone to bounce, you let me know. I’ll take care of it.”
“I’ll bet you can.” He shrugged and walked away. Riggs was a man of few words. I appreciated that.
His departure, of course, left me with nothing to do. I walked out front and watched the sunset. It turned the watery parts of the Bog into sheets of gold. As it faded, the lights came on in the front parking lot—brilliant lights, not the soft yellow of those in the suburbs. They left only the undersides of cars in darkness.
With my promotion, Kelly had to work the bar by herself. I felt sorry for her so I brought her supplies, clean glasses, bottles of mixers, and booze from the storeroom. I mixed a few orders for the floor waitresses, too.
A little later, I walked back outside to the scene of my earlier disaster. The back parking lot had no additional lights installed, but the roof did, apparently in the belief that it would scare flying things away. I went back to my box, the one where I’d observed my first Drow.
A Dumpster sat about twenty feet from me. Something moved inside. Trash rustled and banged against the side. A large plastic bag flew out and plopped on the pavement. I froze.
A creature vaulted out of the Dumpster. Human shaped with two arms and two legs, it stood at least eight feet tall. It had four-inch claws and brownish gray armor-plated scales covering it from its rounded head to its massive clawed feet. The bulge in the scales between its legs strongly suggested a male. His claws were blunt, but formidable. He straightened when he saw me.
As my little dragon had, he stared at me with odd but intelligent eyes. Somebody was home there. He made no move to attack. I slowly stood and held out my hands, palms up, to show I had no weapon. Something whimpered and I saw a smaller creature, very similar to the large one. A young one, holding back in the alley. The male, apparently deciding I was harmless, tore open the bag and began to sort through things. The Den didn’t have much food waste, but he found some old moldy oranges. The young one scrambled forward. He gave it what he found. An herbivore, not carnivore, he fed the child first. How had they come to be here? The young one devoured the oranges in seconds. He was starving.
I went back inside. Pity had overtaken me. No one was around. I grabbed a bag and
went to the refrigerator. I raked packages of celery, oranges, and apples into the bag. In the storeroom, I found a whole case of nuts in small packages and dumped them all in.
When I went back out, the large male had finished sorting through the Dumpster’s pitiful contents. The young one was holding the remains of someone’s fried chicken lunch, a single leg bone. He stared at it, then dropped it. The male stood as I approached. He flexed his claws. He was not a killer, but he would defend himself. I held out the bag, laid it on the ground, and backed away.
He stared at me for a long time, then went to the bag. The not-so-shy little one had full faith in the ability of the big male to keep him from harm. He raced forward to receive the bounty. I stood back and watched. I knew I shouldn’t feed strays. That never stopped me when they collected behind Daddy’s restaurant. And the day Animal Control stopped by to pick up my friends, I used a butcher knife to poke holes in their tires. Daddy had stood by me and sworn to the juvenile judge that the Animal Control officers were on private property.
I went to sit back on my box, pleased with myself and at the same time thoroughly confused. These creatures were far from the monsters Cassandra had described.
Another creature rushed out of the darkness. Spot, my little rescue dragon.
“Hey, Spot.”
Spot chirped and started toward me as the back door of the Den opened.
The male grabbed the bag and the young one and raced away into the darkness. Spot followed him. I stood and faced Riggs. “I’ll pay for the food,” I said. I lifted my hand toward the dark alley. “These creatures are not evil. They’re starving.”
He stared into the darkness, his face blank so I couldn’t tell his thoughts. Finally, he just turned and went back inside. I followed him.
Chapter 14
At seven p.m., the tables and bar filled, though not to capacity. I sat at a corner table and watched the act onstage. The lead singer had a nice, if not spectacular, voice. If the Den were to attract a better clientele, it needed better talent. At first, the mood in the room seemed genial, professionals winding down after work. After eight, those looking for more serious action began drifting in.
Michael came back around ten, and I discovered why men and women came from uptown to this renovation project at the end of the road. He walked into the room and, for a brief moment, all voices ceased. Then the crowd gave a collective sigh and went back to their drinks and conversation, casting an occasional glance his way. While Michael had an instant effect on everyone around him, I didn’t believe this was the same as the connection that I had with him. I wondered if his charisma was intentional or simply beyond his control, an unintended effect or a weapon. He was impeccably dressed in slacks, a shirt, and a jacket in brown and cream; everything about him screamed money and class—and sex. He’d drawn that glorious corn-silk hair back and clipped it at the nape of his neck.
Michael’s enchantment was not magic as I knew it. He’d created it out of his own hypnotic presence. I doubt that even the most powerful witch could have spun a stronger spell of rapture over this crowd.
He walked the floor, a smile here and a few words there. A nod of his head created futile longing. The blessing of his warm smile enthralled. Control. It was about control, and he was a master. But he had not tried to control me in that manner. Why? He obviously wanted something from me. Did he see me as someone who could provide him with something he wanted and needed me to be free of his spell to accomplish that?
Michael graced me with an occasional smile, but mostly ignored me. I watched him and the individual reactions to him. If someone came across as angry or resentful, he paused and soothed ruffled feelings. He was cool and polite to attractive women and kind to those who were less comely. I concentrated on everything. Details. The women who wanted to touch him but didn’t dare. They curled their hands into fists in their laps. The men he spoke to as comrades. They accepted his neutral offer of semi-friendship with smiles—and an occasional glance at their women.
I did notice one thing. No one actually touched him. No one.
At midnight, I gazed out over the crowd. My mouth fell open. I almost dropped the glass of water I’d been sipping. Sitting in the back, watching me, were Sister Lillian and Sister Eunice.
Eunice had traded her fatigues for khakis and a brown shirt, but she wore a vest with many pockets, every one probably stuffed with deadly weapons. Lillian wore navy pants, a crisp white shirt, and a jacket that I’m sure covered her own personal arms. What were they doing here? Had something changed? I went to them, more than a little perturbed at their presence.
“What’s going on?” I sat at the table.
Eunice gave a deep, rumbling laugh. “I wanted another one of your kisses, sweet child.”
“Oh, be still, Eunice.” Lillian spoke without any actual censure. “We are worried about you.”
“Thank you, Sisters, for caring.” I had to confess—or maybe brag. “I killed something night before last.”
“And I hear it almost killed you.” Lillian spoke softly, but I heard the concern. “I hear an unusually gracious earth witch drew a mighty spell to keep you in this world. Why did you confront something like that? We couldn’t show you the Drows, but did you not believe us when we said they could be deadly?”
“I heard your lessons, but I couldn’t let him . . .” I stopped myself. “I couldn’t let someone die if I could help it.”
Eunice raised an eyebrow. She’d heard the word him—and the unintended emphasis.
“We’re not Sisters here, Madeline.” Lillian reached over and patted my hand.
I grinned at Eunice. “You won’t hit me if I call you Eunice?”
Eunice’s mouth twisted down in a fake pout at the accusation.
“Did Mother Evelyn send you?” I asked. “I’ve been here for only three days. She doesn’t expect me to find it this soon, does she?”
Eunice scowled. Her voice turned sharp. “No. She did not send us.”
Uh-oh. Trouble.
“She doesn’t know we’re here,” Lillian said.
“I don’t believe it. Mother Evelyn knows everything. And I’ll bet I know you two. You asked. She said no. You came anyway. Why?”
Lillian smiled. “We hadn’t seen Sister Hildegard in a number of years. It’s time we get reacquainted.”
“Did you bring oxygen masks?”
Eunice laughed, deep and low. She lifted her glass to salute me. So, Hildy was a Sister or former Sister, and apparently these two knew her well enough to know about her noxious habit.
I spied Riggs at the door arguing with a man about twice his size. “I have to get back to work.”
Lillian’s eyes narrowed. “Hildy said you were a bartender.”
“I got a promotion.”
After I helped Riggs put the colossal drunk in a cab, I went back to observing. I kept an eye on Lillian and Eunice through the evening. Lillian simply sipped a glass of wine, and the floor waitress brought her a new one occasionally. Eunice went to sit with a lovely young woman who’d caught her eye. The woman was obviously fascinated with the rough Sister. Lillian rolled her eyes when she saw me looking. Knowing the cheaper house wine, I bought her a glass of the better stuff and took it to her.
“Don’t you have any faith in me at all, Sister?” I couldn’t make myself leave off the title. I placed the glass in front of her and sat by her side. “I thought I needed to do this on my own.”
“We have faith.” She laughed softly. “But a gray curtain of boredom fell over Justice after you left.”
I smacked my hand on the table. “I knew it! You and the others sat around at night and plotted evil things to torment me.”
“And we rejoiced at your triumphs. Each day, we watched you learn, overcome obstacles. We watched you fall and get right back up again.” She sipped the wine. “Oh, this is much better.” She lowered the glass. “You’re not ready for this, Madeline. You were to be sent out with an experienced Sister for mentoring and more traini
ng. I don’t know what Mother Evelyn is doing in this matter. I can’t challenge her, but I can try to protect you.”
“I think the Earth Mother wants me here for some reason. Beyond that, I don’t know either. I thought this was my mission. My final exam. You want me to cheat? Okay. I’ll let you help me. Give me answers. Give me facts and not platitudes and surreptitious hints.”
Lillian nodded. “I can’t. I know much, but I know little of this place. The Barrows. Hildy is the expert here. She is supposed to guide you.”
“She has.” I drew the knife out of the sheath at my hip and handed it to her, hilt first. “She gave me this.”
Lillian hesitated, then accepted the blade with careful fingers, as if it would bite her. She turned it over and stared at the runes. “Hildy did not give this blade to you, Madeline. This is a Morié. It’s one of five in the world. Like the blade I gave you, it was made thousands of years ago. Legend says the Earth Mother herself created it in the heart of the earth and melded the metals with powerful magic. And like many objects of its kind, it chooses its custodian.” She frowned. “You have a gun.”
She’d seen it when I drew my coat back to draw the knife. “Yes. Filled with bronze-coated bullets.”
She made no further comment on the gun. She handed the knife, the Morié, back to me. “That trinket Eunice gave you to wear around your neck is called the Solaire. You should keep the Solaire and Morié together and on you at all times. Each is powerful in its own right, but together they offer great protection, protection from magic. They allow three Sisters to come together and form what we call a Triad of Sisters. And they enable a Triad to take down, to kill, any witch.” She sighed. “I’m happy you have the Moiré, but I had no idea Sister Hildegard had one in her keeping. But then, she is one to keep secrets. She has a long history of animosity toward the Sisterhood, much as you do.”
“Secrets are the daily bread of the Sisters of Justice. How many of you have died because one of you hoarded secrets?”
