“Don’t even joke about a thing like that.”
“Who said it was a joke?”
“If your father was here-”
“But he’s not is he? He’s dead and buried because of that fucking thing in the basement.”
“Jesus, Evan, what’s gotten into-”
“Reality, mom. The truth.”
“-you - you’re tired, you don’t know what you’re saying.”
“We could leave,” he said, reaching over and grabbing his mother’s wrist. “Don’t you ever – we could go somewhere else. Santa Monica maybe.”
“Are you nuts? They’re probably still looking for us there.”
“So there are a million other places we could-”
“And do what exactly?”
“Live for once!”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”
“We’re slaves, mom! Jesus we probably killed a guy back there and who’s to say the girl that Gideon attacked before isn’t-”
“They’re just injured.”
“That’s a lie and you know it.”
Lucy pulled her hand away from Evan’s.
“We had a job to do and we did it.”
“We’re criminals, mom. And after tonight I’m beginning to think we’re pretty shitty ones. Petty little, half-assed bullet-catchers in the service of a family of killers.”
Lucy’s face flushed.
“When your father passed they were very good to me, Evan. You were young so you probably don’t remember-”
“I remember those men coming for Gideon because of what he did and then Dad screamed and they busted in and – and the blood – there was so much-”
“Your father was a hero.”
“Heroes don’t die for nothing!”
She turned from Evan.
“They paid for the funeral and bought an annuity that you get when you turn thirty and set up an impressive retirement account for me.”
“They can keep their blood money.”
“It’s not like it used to be in the olden days, okay? It’s not like it was with Mister Renfield and the Bolthouses and the Stonestreets and all the others that came over from-”
“What’s the life expectancy of a Familiar?”
Lucy wrung her hands until they were white.
“I’m done talking about this.”
“I’m not.”
“Okay, fine, you wanna continue, let’s continue. How ‘bout we start with you, huh? You think you’re the only one with dreams, don’t you? You think I never wanted to do something else? You don’t think there were times, lots of goddamn times, when I wanted to run out at night, just run the fuck out, and start a new life?!”
Evan was silent. It had been years since his mom had dropped an eff-bomb.
“But I didn’t because I’d made a commitment to your father, to you, and, for better or worse, to them.”
She smacked her hands together after Evan didn’t respond.
“Goddammit this is my job! It’s not always pretty, but it’s the business we’ve chosen so quit the weepy scenes and suck it up!”
“I won’t, mom,” he said, kicking open his door. “I won’t suck it up and I won’t shut up and I’m not gonna do what we did tonight ever again.”
Evan slammed the door and ran up into the rowhouse. He didn’t take a breath until he’d banged shut the door to his room and locked it and belly-flopped onto his mattress.
He stared at the ceiling and thought about the injured guard with the white whiskers. For an instant he wanted to check the news, the internet, to make sure the guy was okay. He wondered if the man had a family and what they might be going through. It was the same sensation he’d felt on other jobs in the past.
In the dusky fringes of his mind, an image of the feedlot they’d hit on the outskirts of Chicago a year ago suddenly appeared. It was the one that collected and stored copious amount of blood from all of the animals slaughtered at nearby farms.
It had been an August night, hot and tacky. There’d been a guard there too. Some old chain-smoking farmhand in overalls with a face that was weathered and gnarled like the root on an ancient tree.
Lucy had coshed the guy over the head with a piece of rebar. Evan remembered watching him crumple to the ground, his body twitching a few times before he lay without moving. Evan had cried and Lucy had given him hell. Told him she was worried he didn’t have what it took to do her job. When he conceded that he didn’t possess what it took to do the job that seemed to piss her off even more.
The images faded and Evan’s jaw locked. He rose from the mattress and moved over to the closet and threw open a suitcase. He checked to make sure his door was locked again and then he reached into the bottom of the suitcase where a small wooden box lay.
He opened the box to reveal a cluster of baseball cards, pieces of jewelry, civil war bullets, and arrowheads. Pressing down on the wood, the bottom of the box popped up to reveal a hidden compartment that housed a sixteen inch piece of ash. A length of wood that had been polished, its end whittled down to a fine, glimmering point.
A stake.
Evan held the wood up until it was illuminated by a splash of moonlight from a nearby window. The stake was a thing of beauty. Evan daggered it above his head and imagined plunging it down into Gideon’s chest. Something slammed downstairs and Evan flinched and then placed the stake back in the box, hiding it near his mattress under an old blanket.
Within reach.
Just in case he needed it.
Chapter Twelve
In the days that followed, Evan went about his daily routine and interacted very little with Lucy. He was still angry with her though they never spoke again about the debacle at the blood bank. He’d checked and there was an article online from a local newspaper about the break-in. The guard was injured, but would live. Not that she’d know. She’d never bothered to discuss it or apologize or ask Evan how he felt after what happened, which seeded Evan’s anger.
Evan was done with it, finished with the life of a Familiar. He was counting down the days until he was eighteen and old enough to ship out on his own. He planned to give Lucy a formal two weeks notice before he did.
The countdown was the only thing that kept him going. That and the possibility of seeing Harmony again because tonight was the night that the band she liked would be playing.
He was busy in the backyard a few days later, checking the motion sensor cameras when Lucy sidled up.
“Can we call a truce?”
Evan didn’t answer.
“No talking for days? I can’t live like this, Evan.”
“Which is why I’m gone soon, Lucy. A few more days and I hit the big one eight.”
“I hate when you say things like that.”
“So I won’t say them anymore.”
She grabbed his arm.
“How many different ways can I apologize?”
“Actually you never formally apologized.”
“Well, I’m sorry, okay? I really am. And he’s sorry too.”
“Who? The corpse in the basement?”
“Evan…”
“I’ve got nothing to say to him.”
“I need your help.”
“Not tonight. I’m going out.”
“To do what?”
“I met a friend.”
“You did… what?”
“Remember what a friend is?”
She paused.
“I’m your friend, Evan.”
“No, you’re my mom. There’s a big friggin’ difference,” he said, heading back to the rowhouse.
Evan fumed as he slammed the rear door, making sure to slide by the unarmed booby-trap. He swiped a few sheets of foil from the windows, hoping to piss Gideon off. He’d seen him walk into a ray of sun before, seen how he yelped as the steam rose from his singed flesh. Evan smiled at the thought.
He descended the front steps. The street was deserted as he trotted past the Cressida to Dez’s rowhouse.
/> Evan mounted the steps to the rowhouse and looked around for Dez. No sign of him anywhere. He peered in the windows and seeing nothing, was readying to leave when he heard a crashing sound from inside.
Even turned the knob and nudged the front door, but it wouldn’t give. Evan put a shoulder against it, pushing it open. He stepped over a towel that had been wedged under the door. He immediately saw Dez splayed on the carpet. His wheelchair had overturned and the big man was sweat-slicked and flopping on the ground like an overturned turtle.
Evan reached for Dez who gestured for him to back off.
“Get the hell back!”
Evan withdrew.
“I’m just trying to - you need any help?”
“I don’t need shit, man,” Dez hissed.
Evan watched as Dez righted his wheelchair. Then, with the precision of a contortionist, Dez planted one arm, then another, and finally torqued his body up until he was in the chair. His powerful arms maneuvered the machine around until he was facing Evan.
“The hell you doing anyway? Don’t you know it’s a crime to bust into a man’s place like that?”
“Pretty sure there’s an exception for helping people. Thought you might be in trouble.”
“I can handle myself.”
Evan looked around. He smelled the faint odor of smoke and saw a charcoal grill propped up on a table near a stack of newspapers, lighter-fluid, and a box of matches. Recognition washed over Evan as he realized why the towel had been under the door.
“It ain’t what you think,” Dez said.
Dez snatched the towel from Evan’s hands.
“You want to talk about it?”
“What the hell you know about what I’m going through?” Dez said, his fists balled up. “What the fuck you know about loss?”
“I know a lot about it.”
“Bullshit.”
“I know about my dad.”
Dez’s eyes narrowed to slits.
“The hell you mean, man?”
“I lied when I said he was out of town.”
“Yeah? So where is he?”
“Gone away.”
“Gone?”
Evan nodded.
“How far?”
“So far he’s never gonna come back.”
Dez’s fists relaxed. His gaze smoked into Evan’s.
“This got something to do with what you and your moms is up to?”
Evan nodded again.
“Does it concern that fella that’s allegedly in your basement?”
“There’s nothing alleged about it.”
Dez opened his mouth, but no words came out. After a long pause Evan said:
“Some men came for my dad one night. I was just a little kid but I remember it like it was yesterday. He’d just kissed me goodnight and then the screaming started and he was just… gone. You know what the worst thing is? I’ll never see him again.”
“That ain’t necessarily true.”
“No, it is. I didn’t want to admit that for the longest time, but I know it now. I guess that’s the one thing I don’t think I’ll ever get over. The finality of it.”
“Is that your way of saying you know what I’m goin’ through?”
“No, it’s my way of saying that folks who check out early leave a ton of pain behind.”
“Nobody gives a shit about me,” Dez said, slapping his hands together. “I got nobody and can’t do a goddamn thing. Shit, I ain’t even gone more than three blocks in two years.”
“I give a shit about you. I’ve only known you for a few days, but it feels like I’ve known you my whole life. You’re probably one of the better people I’ve ever met. What does that tell you?”
“You need to get out more.”
Evan smirked.
“I appreciate the words, but I ain’t exactly in a good place right now, Evan. You feel me? I am righteously fucked up.”
“So am I.”
Dez bit his lip.
“I want – I just need to be alone now, okay? I gotta work it all through.”
“You gonna be okay?”
Dez waved Evan off.
“Leave it alone, Evan. I ain’t gonna do no harm to myself right now.”
“How about later?”
“Depends on how the rest of the day goes.”
Evan turned to leave when Dez whistled and Evan looked back over his shoulder.
“Don’t feel sorry for me, Evan.”
“I don’t.”
“Cause I don’t get off on pity.”
“Good, because I’ve got none for you.”
Dez dredged up a half smile and then Evan walked over and grabbed the towel that had been under the door from him. Then he spun and ambled outside into the light.
Chapter Thirteen
Evan was shocked when later that afternoon, Lucy didn’t object to him taking the Cressida out for a few hours. He assumed it was her way of trying to smooth things over.
He headed out around eight and found the club Harmony had mentioned twenty minutes later. A steroidal bouncer was herding a line of young people out front under a sagging neon sign with a caricature of a young boy with spiked fire-hydrant red hair that blinked “The Red Headed Stepchild.” Evan circled the block and parked in a side lot.
The sidewalk was still heavy with men and women waiting to get into the club and the bars next door. While ordinarily a kid his age would be concerned about how to gain access to such a place, Evan, as a result of his work with Lucy, had a number of professionally made fake ID’s.
He fished in a pocket and pulled out a driver’s license from Arizona with his photo and the name “Ellis Devine.” The name was by design since Lucy had always said to use his real last name in case somebody called for him in public.
He flashed the ID to the bouncer whose eyes were glazed from either booze or drugs. The bouncer squinted once and then stared at the ten spot Evan had in his hand as cover. The bouncer snagged the ten in his mitt and waved Evan in.
Evan drifted through the door and between herds of people swaying metronomically to a righteous beat pounded out by the onstage band.
He waded into the din of music and bodies and sidled up to the bar. He didn’t order anything, choosing instead to rise up on the lip of the bar to gain a better view of his surroundings.
Something lodged in the middle of his back and a voice barked:
“Where’s your ID, mister?”
Evan froze, hands up in the air, expected to be busted for his fake ID. He turned slowly to see Harmony grinning ear-to-ear.
“You showed, Evan!” she shouted.
His heart leapt. She’d remembered his name!
“Actually, the name’s Ellis,” he said, flashing her his phony ID.
She grinned and air-kissed him on the cheek, just like Evan imagined cool people in Europe did. Then she waved her own ID.
“Sara St. James,” he said, reading the ID before she pocketed it.
“Totally sounds like a porn name, but it was the best they had.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Twenty, thirty minutes,” she replied. “You come with anyone else?”
“Just me. You?”
“I’ve got friends of friends somewhere out in the madness,” she said sweeping her hand toward the crowd.
He nodded, leaning in close because he could barely hear anything over the echo of the band.
“You have trouble finding it?”
He shook his head.
“It’s pretty close to where I’m crashing.”
“You a lifer?”
“No, I just moved to the city with my mom a few days ago.”
“From where?”
“California.”
“Why would anyone voluntarily leave California for Baltimore?”
He suppressed a smirk.
“Didn’t have a choice.”
“Still under her thumb?”
“Yeah, but only for a few more days.”
“Who
a. Then you hit the big one, huh? Eighteen?”
He nodded.
“Soon as I’m a day over seventeen I’m outta here.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Where will you go?”
“To the land that lies between somewhere and nowhere.”
“I’ve heard of that.”
“They say the view’s beautiful.”
“I’d like to see it some time.”
“Company is always appreciated.”
“Why you barely even know me, Evan,” she said with a half twirl. “I could be a total psycho.”
Evan laughed and then saw a young man staring at him from the other side of the dance floor. He looked familiar. Had he seen him back at the Inner Harbor? Somewhere else? A figure slipped past Evan and the man vanished and Harmony continued:
“I could be an axe-murderer for all you know.”
“I doubt it.”
“Yeah? How come?”
“I can tell by your eyes.”
She fluttered her eyelashes and smiled again. They both looked back at the stage.
“The guys I told you about before, ‘Shelter in Place,’ they’re up next.”
Evan nodded, enjoying the moment. Harmony had a hint of a southern accent that he hadn’t noticed before. It was sexy and somehow mysterious and soon he was swaying to the beat, forgetting about Lucy and his life and the secret hidden in the basement of his house. For that night at least, he was just an ordinary kid having a good time.
They parted ways a little after midnight, Harmony scribbling a time and location on a scrap of paper so they could meet up again in a few days. She handed the paper to Evan and squeezed his hand and he headed back toward the Cressida.
Evan felt a terrific sense of life for the first time in a very long time. His head buzzed with so many disordered thoughts it was impossible to concentrate. He realized that he’d just met her and it was a silly thing to do, but his mind conjured up an image of him explaining why he wanted to leave the life of a Familiar behind and then asking her to leave Baltimore behind for California or somewhere else and her nodding and kissing him. She beamed, whispering that it was a lovely idea, the kind of thing that was perfect to do when you were young and unburdened. He broke into an exultant run and raced down the street toward the Cressida.
Familiars Page 7
