by Martha Carr
Unlike hanging with Terry and Lisa, Shay actually gave a shit about keeping Bella as a friend. She liked the woman and saw her in one of her favorite haunts. The boxing gym. If the night ended up a disaster, it would complicate things and damage one of the few friendships she had made on the west coast.
“You can keep your shit together for one night.” She turned the radio up louder, singing along.
The light in front of her car turned red, and she rolled to a stop, drumming her fingers along the wheel.
Happiness was something Shay couldn’t say she’d ever experienced for any lengthy amount of time. Satisfaction at a job well executed, sure, but not much that looked like middle-class happiness. Go to a job where gossip or a layoff was the biggest danger. Go home, make dinner, watch Netflix.
Normal was as foreign a lifestyle as Oriceran magic to her.
Shay had escaped her old life on the East coast and embarked on a new career, one that was actually gaining traction. Maybe this will be my version of happy. She sang the chorus louder, ignoring the packed minivan next to her with kids in the back, their noses pressed against the window, smiling and pointing at her.
Shay gunned the engine as the light turned green, pressing her foot down on the accelerator as the kids cheered. She laughed as she looked in the rear-view mirror.
We all have our skeletons in our closets. I have an entire vault filled with them. Maybe a few zombies and vampires in there, too. Yeah, my version of happy may not look like anyone else’s.
The club appeared, its bright neon façade almost blinding. Shay turned off the street and pulled into the parking lot and carefully maneuvered down the rows to an open spot.
She killed the engine and hopped out of her Spider and headed toward the club. She spotted Bella and two other women standing near the edge of the parking lot, a pale brunette and a woman with warm, dark skin and short hair styled into a curl along each high cheekbone. Both were stunners, model beautiful really, just like Bella, or for that matter, Shay.
She hurried toward the trio, waving. “Sorry if I’m late.”
Bella smiled. “You’re fine.” She motioned to her friends. “Shay, this is Kara and Janelle.”
Shay stuck her hand out to shake Kara’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“You’re a hot one, aren’t you?” Kara said, laughing. “Stay away from any boyfriends I snag until I’ve had my fun.”
Shay held her clutch in front of her. She could feel the small outline of a switchblade. She never went anywhere completely unprepared. “We can divvy them up. Divide and conquer.”
Janelle put out her hand to shake. “I can be the wingman tonight. My Darius is too fine to even be flirting with some other dude.”
Kara and Bella laughed as Shay felt a wave of relief come over her. So far, so good.
Janelle looked Shay up and down. “Love your shoes! Bella tells me you’re an archaeologist. That’s cool. I’ve never met someone who can dress like that and go dig in the dirt.”
“Yeah, all it takes is the right equipment.” Shay put her hands on her hips as Janelle gave her a thumbs up.
“I like your attitude,” said Kara.
“It’s just a j-o-b.”
“Girl, you’re finding out the truth of our past.” Janelle batted the air in front of her. “All the magic nonsense out there, I bet you’re learning all sorts of things that would keep me staring at the ceiling at night. Finding all sorts of things, too.”
“I can… work on the edge of things at times.”
Janelle nodded and clucked a noise of approval. “You just keep doing what you’re doing, and we’ll help you find a good man to chat up tonight.” Janelle put her hands over her head and swayed her hips to music only she could hear.
Shay grinned. She already liked them. She had her cover story ready. All of the details already worked out. One background for her life in the warehouses, another out in the world. This could work.
Bella nodded toward the club. “Let’s head inside and have some fun.”
The four turned as a unit and strolled to the club, ready to dance their asses off.
The heavy bass was sending a steady hum through Shay’s cheeks. The roar of the techno music rendered any attempts at conversation futile. Lights changed directions overhead, their colors shifting in kaleidoscopic madness. Everything about the place defined too busy, too loud, and too crowded.
Shay loved every fucking second of it.
Their tight little pack of women were jumping up and down to the beat of the music, their hands in the air. Men danced closer to them, gyrating with the beat of the music and moving away just as quickly.
Bella, Kara, and Janelle bounced and moved in time with the beat. Shay hadn’t lied to Bella. She’d been dancing before, but it’d been a long time since it was just for fun and not part of a scheme to get closer to a mark. Dancing with abandon, without worrying about the night ending in her strangling someone, or shooting them, or drowning a target in a toilet was giving her the feeling of a glorious release.
Fuck. How many guys have I drowned in toilets? She put her hands on the shoulders of a man who came right to her eye-level, putting her head back and closing her eyes as she danced with abandon. She let go and opened her eyes, grabbing Bella’s hand and twirling in a circle under the flashing lights.
Friends. These women could be her friends for this part of her life. They could never know the truth of the other half of her life. No matter.
Most people’s idea of relaxation involved not talking about work. Shay could have a normal little crew to chat about normal little things like Tamara Mellon shoes or where to find the best pizza, and not cartels or cursed gold.
Of course, if they ever did need to know the best kind of sniper rifle to use in a windy environment or the best angle to hold a head in the toilet with minimal splashing, Shay had it covered.
Shay burst out laughing, the sound swallowed in the wall of music.
The other women grabbed the hand closest to them, making sure to include Shay, forming their own circle, still moving in time with the music.
I could almost forget there is another life… Almost. Fuck… I love it all. So, shoot me.
16
The next morning Shay stepped out of her car inside Warehouse Two, leaning over to get a better look in her side mirror. Dancing and cutting loose had put her in the mood for a change. She had stopped by an all-night CVS and picked up a box of L’Oreal 4G Dark Golden Brown. The second she hit the door of her condo, she was heading up the stairs to take a long hot shower, washing sweat from the dance floor and brown hair dye down the drain.
“Bye bye, Blondie.” The light from the windows above was playing nicely on the new color on her head. “I think I might like being different people all at once.”
Shay took in a deep, contented breath and suddenly stood up straight, her hair forgotten. A familiar but unexpected smell struck her nose. The heavy scent of bacon. A delicious coffee aroma hung in the air as well. That wasn’t all that unusual, but it didn’t smell like the coffee she purchased for Warehouse Two.
Shay took a few steps away from her Spider before she realized different coffee and bacon aromas weren’t the only differences. A small electric stove rested near the office, which was separated with the help of a few low cubicle walls. Several of the crates were also moved away from the office area into the corner.
A maze of the interconnecting walls were erected on either side. It looked like the office had sprung to life and was spreading out tentacles like an invasive species.
“Someone’s been busy.”
Paintings hung on the walls in the cubicle area, mostly graphic art from local artists. A drawing of a Betty Boop character with an arrow through her heart and safety pins in her lip got a smile out of Shay. Art with a sense of humor. Another was a pen and ink with a large arm rising out of the ground, resting on the roof of a rundown wooden church. Next to it was a fiery painting with men wielding swords. Shay recognized
it as Oriceran’s version of their own history.
Peyton emerged from the office, a cup of coffee in hand and piece of bacon hanging out of his mouth. He was wearing lime green pants and a white soft collar shirt with matching green piping along the edges with white sneakers. “Hey, Shay,” he mumbled around the bacon. “Nice morning, isn’t it?”
“You’ve been… busy this last couple of days. None of this was here yesterday.”
He chewed the last of the bacon, working it into his mouth, and swallowed. “It was here, still stuffed in boxes. Figure if I’m going to have to live here for a while, I might as well make it more comfortable. Gave it a little West Coast flavor.”
Shay surveyed the rest of the room, looking for more changes, but most of it was confined to the area near the office. “And you had all this stuff delivered nearby?”
“Well, some. I went to get some of it.” He tapped his foot, giving away his nerves at spilling the story. “Probably should invest in my own car. I rented a van to haul the cubicle walls.”
“And did you stop by a dealer to buy some marijuana and Oriceran dust before that?”
“Very funny. I don’t do drugs, Earth plants or Oriceran.” A defiant look passed over his face.
Shay stared at him, silently glad he was showing some backbone. “Well, if you’re not high, then are you fucking insane?”
Peyton snorted. “I’m not your hamster, Shay. I go out.”
“This is more than going out. You’re supposed to be keeping a low profile. Going on a shopping spree dressed like a traffic signal isn’t keeping a low profile.”
“Oh, yeah, because so many hitmen hang out at office supply stores and local art studios.” Peyton rolled his eyes and took a sip of his coffee.
Shay narrowed her eyes, studying him. “You never know.”
“You took me out for pizza just the other day. So, what, I can go out if it’s for pizza, but not for cubicle walls?”
“I was with you. If you’re with me, I guarantee that I’m taking precautions even if I’m not telling you. I made sure not to drive directly to or from the pizza place to throw off anyone. Did you take similar tactics?”
Peyton blinked. “Is that why you did that? I kind of just thought you were lost, but I didn’t want to piss you off by asking.” He held up a hand. “I’m not a total dumbass. It’s not like I called a Lyft over here to the warehouse. I hiked at least a mile away from this place in a zigzag pattern, and went old school, flagging down a cab to take me to a rental place. Paid with your new alias’ credit card.”
“That card has to be warm to the touch.”
Peyton rolled his eyes and wandered back to his desk and the plate of bacon resting there. He picked up a piece, chewing and talking all at once. “I’ve made tons of fake identities for both of us, so nothing to link back here, and I’m using cryptocurrencies to fund prepaid cards, and using those to make payments. There’s no way to trace things. It’s like a ghost went on a shopping spree.”
“Did you drive the same way back that you came?”
“No.” His face flushed red.
“What are you not telling me?”
“I didn’t drive the same way back that I started out because I kept getting lost.”
“You were holding a phone.”
Peyton shrugged. “Too caught up in the adventure.”
“Your inconsistent attention to detail is a little disturbing.” She blew out a breath and crossed her arms.
“Is this the part where you threaten to kill me or something?” Peyton asked.
“Not yet.” Shay pointed at him, picking up a new separate hard drive and looking at the new curved key board. “Keep your outside trips to a minimum. If you need a bunch of shit, just tell me, and I can get it. All it takes is one mistake, and you’re dead, but this time no take backs.” She shook her head. “Seriously, if you like breathing, you need to keep your playtime to when I’m with you. I know how to case places ahead of time. Choose the ones where there won’t be trouble.”
Peyton tipped his cup and drained the last of the coffee. He shrugged, not looking at Shay, as he poured more into his cup, pouring a cup for Shay, too. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed.
“So, teach me,” he said, handing her the cup. “This is looking more and more like a long-term relationship. Not my norm, by the way. Teach me what I need to know to stay above ground.”
“That can be arranged but it’ll take time.” Shay gestured around the large open area behind the office. “Besides, you shouldn’t mess with perfection.”
“A bunch of crates and shelves is perfection?” He narrowed his eyes and took a step closer to Shay. “Wait. Weren’t you blonde? So much for not messing with perfection.”
“Thank you, and I’ve been a lot of things.” Shay reached up and ran a hand through her chestnut brown hair. She dyed it as a way to celebrate starting a new chapter of life with her friends. Closer to her natural color, anyway.
Shay spotted a couple of folding chairs in a cubicle room around a small table and an eighteen-inch TV on top of a mini-fridge. “What’s this, your make-shift break room?”
“It’s my living room.” Peyton grinned, sweeping his arm to the side in a fair imitation of Vanna White.
She slipped into one of the chairs. “These chairs suck ass. Pick out some nicer ones, and I’ll get them here.”
Peyton’s face brightened. “Thank you,” he said, hugging her tight, even as Shay peeled him off of her. “When you sit as much as I do, a quality chair is a must.”
Shay raised an eyebrow, aware her schedule was slipping away. “I can imagine. Tell me about the new job.”
Peyton’s face fell. “The client suddenly wrote and said he was no longer interested. No explanation.”
“Huh… Don’t get too worked up. That shit used to happen to me all the time when I was a hired killer.”
“People got cold feet about paying to have someone murdered? Big surprise.”
Shay shrugged, sipping the coffee. “Damn, that’s good. Greg Abbot may hook me up with some power players, so things will work out. They always do.”
Peyton cleared his throat and looked away from Shay. “About your business… I have something else that might be handy.”
“Go ahead and tell me. If it’s useful, I’ll give it a spin.”
Peyton forced himself to look at Shay, staring at her forehead, avoiding eye contact. “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”
Shay snickered. “Then you’re not a total fucking idiot. But go on.”
“I’ve just been thinking that if you’re going to start getting more into magical artifacts, that I could maybe help with that. And, you know, that seems to kind of be the business model you’ve been bragging about.”
“Don’t drag it out. I’ve shot people just to get them to cut that out. How can you help me?” Shay narrowed her eyes. “You can do magic?”
Peyton shook his head. “I wish, but no, not without an artifact at least, but I’ve studied a lot of magic. Folklore and legends, along with more modern extra-dimensional engineering stuff.” He went and sat down behind his desk, typing away on the new keyboard, pulling up different images on the screens. “It’s like you and history. I find it fascinating.” He pointed at the screen. “Magic is like any other system. Instead of hacking a computer, people are hacking reality.”
Shay stared at him for a moment, taking in the rapid-fire images he was showing her of different experiments people were posting online. Useful. That’s what he wants to be. His face screamed it.
“That’s all interesting. Why do I care? You know me, Peyton. I’m all about the practical. If you can do something for me, I’m happy to hear it.”
Peyton rubbed the back of his neck. “You have to understand that when I was growing up, I was drowning in all that privilege. It’s not like I wasn’t aware I was suffering. It’s why I tried to carve out my own path.”
“Not a bad thing.”
“Yeah, if you c
ome from a family willing to smother you in your sleep, better figure out how to go it alone.”
“You do believe the hit came from your family…”
“Not important,” he said, waving it away, his voice barely above a whisper. He lifted his old money, square chin and shook it off. “That’s where I think I can help you and myself.”
Shay furrowed her brow but didn’t say anything. Let him finish, it’s his moment.
“I’m not a specialist on general history, but I am a specialist on magical history. I can help you find the good artifacts. Sort through the cooked history books and not just by doing some data filtering. I can help you see how magic makes the pieces all fit together. How you can even use magic on your assignments.”
“The research help I can use. As for the magic… we’ll see. I’ve gotten this far without any magic broomsticks, despite the rumors back East that I used one.” Shay sat on the edge of the desk. “I can get you more involved. Lend you a few select books from my library warehouse.”
“You have a library warehouse?”
“Warehouse Four. Pretty damned secure and the address will remain that way.”
“You didn’t take me there because you wanted a fallback?”
“Fallbacks. There’s more warehouses. And those books are pretty valuable.”
“More valuable than my life? Ouch.”
Shay winked. “Really valuable.”
“I think this could be the start of building my own legacy. Even if dear old dad comes out of his coma and can do more than drool, I need something that’s my own. Something untouchable by my family, so I can be set loose on the world again and not have to spend the rest of my life hiding.”
“Who do you think is more likely to have paid for the hit? Your brother or your sister?”
“My vote’s gonna go for Randy and not my sister, even if they both don’t like me.” His face twitched.
“And why do you say that?” Shay leaned forward, staring at Peyton.
He rubbed his hands together, pursing his lips. He’s hiding something. Shit.
