It was strange because back home I almost never saw graffiti, and when I did, it didn’t cover every square inch of real estate in the center of freaking town. I shrugged it off because I wasn’t about to repaint the town myself and pushed the door open. I was immediately greeted by a blast of cool air and music so loud, it made the octopus’s jams seem low key. It was a little weird because I didn’t even know there were Greek rap artists.
I glanced around, but oddly, the only people I really saw were old men clad in jeans and stained tank tops drinking a viscous white liquid with ice cubes. It was a little weird because they didn’t seem like the type to be listening to hip hop. They didn’t even so much as look up at me as I weaved through the tables toward the bar. As I moved closer, the cell phone vibrated in my hands, presumably indicating I was close to Morris.
There was no one at the bar, but the bartender. He had his back to me so the only thing I could see of him was slicked back black hair. He was wearing a bright green Hawaiian shirt, which was sort of funny because I remembered someone once telling me the surest way to be spotted as a tourist was to wear a Hawaiian shirt. Still, this guy clearly worked here, so maybe the locals wore them when they washed their ratty tank tops?
He reached up, grabbing a bottle of clear liquid off the shelf in front of himself before glancing over his shoulder at me. His face scrunched up in thought for a split second before vanishing behind a genial smile.
“What can I get for you? Ouzo?” he asked. His voice carried very little accent as he spoke in perfect English. It was very weird because I’d sort of expected him to speak in Greek.
“Um… what’s it taste like?” I asked, pulling myself onto the stool and sitting down in front of the polished mahogany bar. It was then that I realized pretty much no one else was back here. Instead, everyone else was occupying tables toward the front of the establishment, staring out through the glass windows and onto the empty street. Evidently, they were only dark on the outside.
“Sort of like licorice,” he replied, sapphire eyes gleaming as he poured a small amount of the clear liquid into an ice-filled glass that reminded me of a large shot glass. It changed into a milky white substance before my eyes as he slid it toward me. “That one’s on the house since I’m pretty sure you came in here by mistake.” He gestured at the old men at the front. They were smoking and drinking but not talking. Is this what old Greek men did at midnight?
“Uh… thanks, I think,” I replied, lifting the cool glass upward and sniffing the ouzo. It smelled a little strange, like the weird licorice old ladies used to occasionally give me as a tip during my former life as a restaurant servant. It would be too much to say I was a waitress and too little to say I had been the girl who asked, “Would you like fries with that?”
“Go on. It’s not poisoned,” he added, pouring another portion from the bottle into a glass and holding it out. “I’ll even drink it with you, Abby.”
If I’d been drinking the liquor, I’d have spit it out across the bar. Instead, I narrowed my eyes at him and placed the glass on the bar between us. The bartender shrugged and threw back his own drink even though I wasn’t sure if you were supposed to take it like a shot. If what the old guys were drinking was the same stuff, it seemed more like a sipping drink.
“So you know who I am?” I asked, hoping my voice sounded flat and angry. I’d been practicing it for a while, but Chuck always said I sounded more like an angry chipmunk than a badass superspy assassin ninja witch.
“You know you sound like a squeaky Saturday morning cartoon animal right? Like a mouse or a raccoon or something,” he replied, snatching my ouzo and tossing it back as well before exhaling a breath that smelled like musty licorice and week old bacon. It nearly made me gag.
“Making fun of me doesn’t answer the question,” I replied as I slipped my hand into the pocket of my sweatshirt and casually pointed my index finger at him through the fabric, only he didn’t know it was just my finger pointing at him.
“Hang on there, little lady,” he said, smirking as he moved around the bar and took a seat next to me. “You’re only the most famous agency target in the last decade. They’ve shown your face to everyone, but I heard you joined up with us.”
“Is that so?”
“Yup, I heard you went totally dark side. Drank the emperor’s cool aid and everything… speaking of which, how is the blind old bat, anyway?” he asked, holding his hand out toward me. “I’m special agent Morris, but you can call me Morris. Or Agent, but then it might get confusing if we run into someone else.” He grinned, and I had the sudden urge to smack him across the face and knock his smugness into next week.
“Abby,” I replied, using my free hand to shake with him. “And the director has been kidnapped. It’s why I’m here. I have to get him back. Chuck said you’d help me.”
Morris stared at me for a long time, so long, I was starting to wonder if he’d even heard me when he reached up and rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “And how could I possibly help you or Chuck? I’m not exactly special.” He gestured toward the surrounding bar. “I’m more of a stay here in case we run across an asset so the flit can take over my brain and turn me into an unstoppable killing machine type. Though, I guess you axed that bit of my job. I guess I should thank you for that.”
I extricated my hand from his as I tried to decide whether or not this guy was for real. Part of me wondered if he was making a joke at my expense, somehow dropping the bit about the flit to take me off guard. Before I’d decided to let Chuck train me, I’d been stalked by a demon known as the flit. It had the ability to tunnel into a person’s brain and use the body to hunt me down. In the end, the flit had barricaded itself in Hell when it found humanity wanting. It was sort of sad in more ways than one.
“I’m after a couple assets named Flash and Bang. I’m told you can help me track them down,” I said, deciding to ignore his jab. Two could play this game after all. “I have strict orders to kill you if you can’t comply.”
“I doubt that very much. The killing me part,” he said, standing up and moving toward the exit without even so much as a backward glance. “But I’ll take you to Flash and Bang. Only we need to stop somewhere first.”
“Why is that?” I asked, scrambling off my stool and catching him just as he stepped through the door and into the night. I guess abandoning his post as a bartender wasn’t a big deal.
“Well, my bookie won’t take bets over the phone. If you’re going after Flash, the demon of Manchester, and Bang, who is a ‘I blow up small cities for fun’ kind of guy, I definitely want to put in a bet.” He turned, grinning at me. “I bet I’ll get five to one odds.”
“For or against?” I asked, trying to decide if he was being serious. Something told me he was.
“Against. You.”
8
Morris stopped suddenly, and his lanky body blocked my view of the outside world. His hand tightened on the door handle as he swallowed audibly.
“Abby,” he whispered, not bothering to look back in my direction though I could tell he wanted to do so.
“Yeah?” I asked, suddenly worried. I tried to see past him, but between him and the darkness outside, I couldn’t make much out.
“Get your gun,” he said, dropping to the ground to reveal the barrel of a shotgun about three inches from where his chest had been. It was a little odd because shouldn’t he have blasted Morris the second he’d tried to warn me, not let him drop?
The big bruiser looking guy with scars running across his cheeks and an assortment of piercings in his ears smirked, casting a quick glance at Morris before moving to position his shotgun so it aimed at my head.
My hand snapped out before I could even think about it, knocking the shotgun away as the blast ripped through the glass above us. Shards of razor-sharp doom fell from the archway above us as I stepped through the rain of shattered door and slammed my palm into the guy’s chest. He stumbled backward as gunfire exploded all around me.
Bullets pinged off my super suit as I reached out, tearing the shotgun from the thug’s grip while simultaneously driving one booted foot into his groin.
The gun roared in my hands as I stepped outside, quickly surveying the surroundings and spinning to pump the rounds remaining in the gun into a squad of goons standing near a black tour bus. I dropped the now empty shotgun as silence filled the night sky for a split second before screams from behind me tore my eardrums asunder.
I moved passed Morris who was laying crouched just to the left of me not doing anything particularly helpful.
“You’re kind of a wuss,” I said, happy my suit did, in fact, know how to stop bullets because if it hadn’t, not only would Morris have been zero help in this fight, but I’d definitely be sporting a few more holes. When he didn’t respond, I glanced around. The street had snapped into focus at once, displaying heat signatures all around me. So there were more attackers still hidden here. Not good.
My suit spit my gun into my hands as a motorcycle came barreling toward me. Machinegun fire ripped through the space between us as I calmly dropped into a shooting stance and fired three quick shots, my pistol barking in my hands. His bullets pinged harmlessly off my body armor. His leather jacket was less effective.
The gunner cried out and fell backward off the bike as it came skidding toward me. I smirked, sprinting over to the vehicle and leaping atop it as a jeep filled with an assortment of men with guns and who knows whatever else came bounding over the hill. My suit made a grenade fill my hand, and I popped the top before flinging it over my shoulder while kicking the still intact motorcycle into action.
An explosion filled the air behind me, the force of it strong enough to nearly knock my breath away. Morris looked up at me with shocked eyes as I pulled up toward him in a screech of burning rubber and held out my hand to him.
“Come with me if you want to live,” I said as sirens split the night sky with their clarion call.
Morris looked at me for a second before taking my hand and pulling himself up behind me. He wrapped his hands around my stomach as I punched it, sending us flying down the street.
“I’d heard you were good, but wow,” Morris said, burying his head into my shoulder and speaking directly into my ear. His words were warm on my neck as he spoke which was a little weird because I was still covered by my suit.
“So who were those guys?” I asked, ignoring his comment. I mean I liked being told how awesome I was, but now wasn’t exactly the place.
“Those were members of Achilles. They’re one of the biggest drug gangs in Greece,” Morris said. “I’m not sure what you did to attract their attention, but they aren’t exactly boy scouts if you catch my drift.”
“I didn’t even know they had drug gangs in Greece. And Achilles, really?” I added as an afterthought. “Seems a little, I don’t know, mythological.”
Morris laughed against my neck, and it made a shiver run down my skin, which was a little weird. I tossed a glance back over my shoulder, using the opportunity to shake him off of me. While I couldn’t see the remains of the jeep, smoke billowed into the air. So much for staying low profile.
“So how do I get to Flash and Bang?” I asked, hoping I could just ignore the pissed off drug dealers.
“If you deal with Achilles, they will come out of the woodwork,” Morris replied, his arms tightening around me as he scrunched himself toward me on the seat of the bike. It was a little disconcerting, to say the least.
“I don’t have time to deal with some random drug dealers,” I squawked suddenly annoyed. “And how do I know they weren’t after you?”
“Me?” Morris said with mock disdain. “Why would they be after me?”
“Well, unless someone told them to kill me, I can’t see why I’d have drawn their ire. I’ve been in Athens for all of an hour.” It was definitely something I’d need to think about later. I swung the bike to the left just as a truck came barreling out of the alleyway next to us and clipped our back wheel, launching me into the air.
I hit the ground hard, the impact jarring my bones and snapping my teeth together as I lay there unable to move for a couple seconds. The truck skidded to a stop atop the motorcycle, reducing it to scrap metal. I shook the cobwebs from my brain as the vehicle’s doors opened and the heavy sound of boots on pavement filled my ears.
Someone grabbed me under the arms and hauled me upward while another person jammed a gun into my ribs. “Don’t move, girly—”
I smashed my head backward into what I hoped was my attacker’s nose. His grip loosened as the gun in my ribs fired. The impact knocked the breath out of me, and I knew I’d have a bruise in the morning. Still, it was better than being dead. I whirled around, grabbing the wrist attached to the gun as it continued to fire, the blasts rattling my insides.
As I twisted my body, snapping the wrist holding the gun, I drove my heel into the gunner’s knee. Gunfire erupted from the direction of the truck as I spun back around, using the first attacker as cover. Bullets pummeled his body as my machinegun filled my hand.
I let off a quick two-second burst, filling the truck with lead and making the last couple attackers dive for cover. I released the body of the guy I’d been using for cover and stalked forward, letting off a few rounds here and there for good measure. When I reached the truck, I found Morris lying in the bed, somehow already bound and gagged. A bleeding thug was sprawled next to him.
I’ll admit it, I contemplated putting a bullet in the thug’s brain as he went for his knife. Instead, I grabbed him by the collar and flung him to the pavement. I took a step past his fallen body and jerked the driver’s door open. A bloody woman lay slumped over the steering wheel, her gun still slung over her shoulders as thick crimson ooze gushed from several holes in her body.
I shoved the feeling down even though it worried me because it was strangely easy to do. The first person I’d killed had literally haunted me for weeks and now? Now, I was killing people and feeling nearly nothing. That was most definitely not good.
A bullet whizzed by my ear, snapping me from my contemplation, and without thinking, I fired back over my shoulder in the direction of the attacker. I wasn’t sure if I’d hit anything, but it didn’t matter really. I grabbed hold of the woman’s body and pulled her free of the truck’s cab. As her body hit the pavement, I pulled myself into her seat, still slick with blood and gore.
A shudder wracked me as I threw the vehicle into gear even though I’d never driven a stick shift before and turned the key. The engine sputtered a bit before catching and roaring to life. I pressed on the gas pedal as I worked the clutch with my other foot, gearing up in a matter of moments as the insides of the vehicle ground and squealed.
Bullets peppered the thin metal, and for a moment, I was worried one of them had hit Morris. I glanced back over my shoulder to see him crawling toward me. He knocked out the back window with his arm, scraping his flesh in the process and slipping inside.
“You know, knocking away broken glass works better when you wear long sleeves,” I said as he buckled himself in, face looking drawn and haggard as I turned down street after street.
“Good to know,” he said. “Now make a left up there.”
“Why?” I asked, glancing at him as I made the left.
“Because we need to get out of the limelight for a bit, let things cool down. Unless you feel like taking on the entire Greek police force.” He shrugged. “Maybe you’re up for that.” He pointed out the window, and I glanced outward to see a helicopter coming toward us. “Stop up ahead.”
Morris had a point even though I didn’t like it. I did not want to get into a slugfest with the police. Drug dealers were one thing. Innocent law enforcement officers were another thing entirely.
“Fine, I’ll play it your way,” I replied, smashing down on the brake hard enough to make him jerk forward in the seat.” I unbuckled my seatbelt even though I didn’t remember putting it on and got out.
Morris followed suit and bega
n walking away. I ran after him, and as I did so, my suit morphed into a pair of jeans and a long sleeved shirt, which was good because I was pretty sure walking around in whatever body armor the suit looked like before was a poor idea.
“We’ll circle the block and go to my friend’s house. He’s not home, house sitting in Paris. The lucky bastard. You can get cleaned up there while we figure out how to stop Achilles,” Morris said, turning down a corridor that took us between two extraordinarily tall buildings littered with graffiti.
“I’m not worried about those guys. I need to find Flash and Bang.” I said, catching up to him and fixing him with my best ‘I just took out like six dudes with guns’ look. “Not mess with Achilles.”
“Bang helps run Achilles, you idiot,” he whispered, his voice so low I could barely hear him over the roar of the chopper. “Now get in here before we’re spotted.” He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me into a corridor as the police helicopter flew by overhead, its searchlight lighting up the alley.
“So Bang is a drug dealer?” I asked as the light disappeared, leaving me blinking in the sudden darkness. “Seems a bit… experienced for a drug dealer.”
“No. He is more of an absentee owner. His brother runs the show. Bang just shows up from time to time, mostly when he needs to launder money. But make no mistake. If he told Achilles to hunt you down, well, they’re going to do it.”
I sighed. This day had just gone from worse to worse than that. “So how do I take down Achilles?”
“That’s a girl,” Morris exclaimed, beaming at me. “It’ll be easy. Just infiltrate their subterranean lair and kill them all. Easy peasy.” Yet, even as the words left his mouth, I was pretty sure he was lying. I just wasn’t sure about what. Then again, he had just suggested taking out a bunch of hardened gang members on their own turf would be easy, so there was that.
Magic for Hire: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Found Magic Book 3) Page 5
