Fallen Angels

by Stephen Kenson

  "Never rains but it pours," Orion observed wryly.

  G-Dogg regarded Kellan with an unreadable look for a moment before breaking into a wide grin.

  "Hey, I’m always willing to help lighten yer cred-stick, kid," he said. "Let’s get a new round. I’ve got some catching up to do!"

  They got a table, and Kellan bought another round of drinks. As soon as they arrived, she excused herself to go to the bathroom. Once she was out of sight in the shadowy hall leading to the restrooms, she immediately took out her phone and dialed Midnight’s number.

  "Please leave a voice message at the tone," said a pleasant synthesized female voice. Fraggit, Midnight wasn’t answering for some reason. Probably at the meeting with the Johnson.

  "Hey, it’s me," Kellan said curtly. "Hit me back." She hit the end button and jammed the phone back in her pocket. There was no way of knowing why Midnight wasn’t answering. She could be handling a delicate meeting, off celebrating on her own, or just sleeping, for all Kellan knew. Or she could be in trouble. Kellan could do nothing but wait until Midnight contacted her.

  Kellan went into the restroom and splashed some water on her face, taking a second to compose herself. G-Dogg was right about one thing: there was no way of knowing what Akimura wanted without talking to him. There was no point in panicking. She would wait until she heard from Midnight, and tell her what was going on; then they would decide what to do about it. Until then, Kellan was going to enjoy herself. Live for tonight, she told herself in the mirror. That’s what she resolved to do.

  Though she enjoyed Orion and G-Dogg’s company, and even managed to dance like she meant it, G-Dogg’s news nagged at Kellan, and the more time that passed without her hearing anything from Midnight, the more concerned she became, until she finally begged off the rest of the night a couple hours before the Inferno closed, proclaiming herself exhausted and in need of a few hours’ sleep. Orion and G-Dogg offered to escort her home, but settled for getting her to her ride, once Kellan assured them she was more than sober enough to get to her doss on her own. She’d been pacing her drinking—easy, given her mood.

  Orion picked up his katana from the weapons check, and as they left the club, they discovered the rain had stopped. The line of clubbers outside had thinned, but not disappeared entirely. It was more like the party inside had spilled out onto the sidewalk, with knots of people talking, laughing, dancing and drinking out of flasks and cheap plastic bottles. Music blared from cars parked with the windows rolled down or doors open, and even from the miniature speakers built into some people’s jackets and clothes.

  Newt gave them a wave as they headed out, and G-Dogg clapped the big troll on the arm. Kellan headed toward the bike rack, where Orion’s ride would be parked as well. Weaving through the people on the sidewalk, Kellan heard someone yelling, but she didn’t pay any attention until the voice said, "Hey, girly—you with the ork and the elf!"

  She turned to look behind her as she walked into the alley, and the voice yelled, "Hey! Hey, I got a message for you!"

  Kellan could see a dark figure momentarily silhouetted in the lights from the street. Then light flared red- orange in his hand, illuminating a ruddy face painted with upside-down black triangles over his eyes and a jagged black line across his mouth. She had a fleeting thought that he looked like a pumpkin carved for Halloween.

  "Akimura says, ‘See you in hell!’ "

  Then he drew his arm back and hurled a flaming bottle in a fiery arc.

  "Look out!" Orion shouted, slamming into Kellan and pushing them both against the near wall just as the Molotov cocktail crashed to the ground where they had been standing, spreading ghostly blue alcohol flames edged in yellow.

  G-Dogg cursed and slapped at where drops of burning liquid had splashed his arm and vest. That’s when Kellan saw that the bottle-thrower had friends backing him up. Friends with faces made up like jack-o’-lantems, wielding knives and clubs and, in one case, a burning torch. They charged.

  Orion moved to meet them, ducking under a swinging club to punch its wielder in the solar plexus. The man doubled over, dropping his weapon. The elf followed through by bringing his knee up into the man’s chin, snapping his head back and sending him sprawling. As he turned, Orion whipped the long carrying case off his back and into his hand.

  G-Dogg stepped between the gang and Kellan, catching one knife-wielder’s wrist in his massive hand. He twisted hard and the man—little more than a punk kid—yelled in pain before the ork punched him hard in the face, sending him tumbling back into one of his friends.

  By this point, onlookers were rushing to the mouth of the alley and cheering for one side or the other. A woman with her head shaved and painted in red and black snarled and came at Kellan with a bowie knife. There was a loud crack as Orion hit the woman in the back of the head with the end of his sword’s carrying case, sending her stumbling to the side.

  Kellan seized the opening. Hunkering down next to a puddle collected in a depression along the side of the alley, she held out a hand and whispered the words of the binding ritual she had so recently performed, reaching out to and through the water, out into the depths of the astral plane, where her call was heard and answered.

  The puddle suddenly roiled like a boiling pot, and a swirling column of water rose, the rainwater collected in the alley drawn to it like a magnet. Streamers of water split off from its sides, stretching out to form arms, and a mass of white foam capped its head like a crown. The spectacle of the manifesting water elemental brought the brawl to a sudden halt.

  "Mage!" one of the gang called out, and several of them dropped their makeshift weapons as they turned and ran for the end of the alley. The spectators parted to let them through, and even moved back a couple of steps from the looming shape swaying near Kellan. Even in the Sixth World, it wasn’t every day they saw a mage call up an elemental in an alley. G-Dogg grabbed Orion’s arm to keep the elf from going after the fleeing gang members.

  "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.

  Chapter 6

  "Where are we going?" Kellan asked Lothan, as he 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 end 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 Halloweeners. 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 she 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 edg
e 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.