She went over to the door, rubbing the bruises on her wrists from where the cuffs had dug into them as she tried to pull away from the beast.
Inhuman. A thing . Like Dortez. Running the DPS. A surge of rage almost made her stalk after him and tell all the idiots he was working with what he really was.
Then she remembered how something within her shifted with his breath, felt how easy it could have been for him to eat it. Was that my soul? she thought, horrified.
Sunny decided she didn’t want to find out. Fuck the devaputra. She’d kill Dortez on her own.
Chapter 14: Family Ties
As promised, the path through the old government building was clear when Sunny exited, save for the slender, vaguely Asian man occupying the front desk in a nice blue suit. “Hey!” the man shouted, jumping to his feet. “Top, she’s escaping!”
Sunny walked out the door, and the panicked yelling behind her stopped almost immediately. Sunny paused on the sidewalk outside to look back at the building where she had been detained.
Surprisingly, it was a dilapidated pre-Quake structure with a large crack running through the center of the building. The roof on the left side had caved in a long time ago, and a monorail had been built overtop it. Even as she stood there, she heard the rumbling whoosh of a rail approaching, and a moment later, the cars were jouncing and thundering overhead. The building actually had a CONDEMNED sign hanging on it.
There was no sign for Division of Paranormal Security, just graffiti in the shape of an Anarchy symbol and some scribbled names and precisely detailed genitalia.
But the place had obviously been in use for some time, taking care of stuff like Dortez. And, if her memory served her, Darren’s picture had been above the MAN KILLS BEAR WITH CHAINSAW article in the paper.
It wasn’t exactly what she would have imagined for a top-secret team investigating the kinds of things the government didn’t want people knowing about.
Her look of confusion must have shown on her face.
“They call it the Crack,” an Irish accent said from up the street.
Sunny glanced behind her. It was a cab driver. In line with his accent, the smallish man looked Irish to the core, right down to his pale skin, jet black hair, and freckles. There were a couple girls in sharp gray suits stepping out of his vehicle, giving Sunny a disdainful look as they grabbed their jackets and briefcases.
“Huh?” Sunny asked.
“Crack…for Asscrack.”
Sunny glanced back at the building. “Where are the signs?”
“They don’t want people knowing what they’re doing in there,” he said. “Wanna stay anonymous.”
“You’re under contract not to talk about BPI business,” the blonde warned the cabbie. She looked Sunny over disdainfully, stopping on her cuff-marked wrists. A sneer twisted her face. “And you’re loitering.”
Then the blonde threw her hair over her shoulder and slammed her cab door. She and her brunette friend walked up the steps and disappeared inside the dilapidated DPS office, leaving Sunny at the curb, forgotten.
“Don’t worry about them,” the cabbie said, once they were out of sight. “Interns. DPS gets a couple every day, sent over by BPI headquarters. They’re usually pretty rude. I ferry them back and forth, and getting them to talk is like trying to pry open a live clam with a noodle. Most won’t even tell me their names.”
Sunny turned to the cabbie, fighting a wave of dread as she remembered the thing inside that had threatened to eat her. “You deliver women here every day ?” she asked.
“Not always women.” He tugged a drink out of its holder and took a sip. Making a face, he dumped what she had to guess was cold coffee out on the curb. “Actually more men than women interning with the BPI nowadays, from what I can tell.”
“Do they ever come back out?” Sunny asked.
“Oh sure,” the cabbie said, checking his watch. “Usually in about twenty minutes.”
“Same ones each day?” Sunny demanded.
The cabbie shrugged and threw the empty cup into the passenger seat. “Sometimes. Sometimes they’re different.” He was giving the door a wistful look. “Never give much of a tip, though. Stingy bastards.”
Sunny was still feeling that wave of dread, remembering the way her entire being had shifted with that monster’s every breath… “How do they look when they come out? Tired?”
The cabbie squinted at her. “How did you know?”
Sunny felt her heart give an uneasy hammer at his confirmation. “They ever say what’s going on in there?”
“I dunno, some sort of arrangement with the guy who runs the Crack.” The cabbie gestured at the dash-mounted video camera. “Probably makes them a little gun-shy to be on camera. Gotta have it, though. Too many muggings lately. Seems like the kind of people who go for human drivers nowadays are the ones you don’t want in your cab.”
“And they never say what’s going on in there?” she insisted. “No hints at all?”
“I dunno, some kind of meeting with a guy called Khaz. They generally aren’t in a good mood afterwards.” He cocked his head. “Well, yeah, now that I’m thinking of it, there was something weird. Whatever they’re doing in there, I think a couple actually peed themselves. They were hiding it with their briefcases, but I could smell urine when they got back in the cab.”
He’s eating them. Sunny distinctly remembered the terror building in her bladder, her carnal fear almost relaxing those muscles in instinct, like a frightened animal. And the BPI’s letting him do it.
At her silence, the cabbie glanced again at the door. “I hope they don’t turn me in for gabbing—I need this job.”
“Believe me, they’ll forget all about it,” Sunny said.
“I hope so,” the cabbie said. “Not a lot of cab jobs left in the Domes. It’s all that automated shite nowadays.”
Sunny considered him. “You got a cell phone on you?” She needed to check in with Daphne and her dad.
The cabbie looked her over, then apparently liked what he saw, because he handed her his phone. As Sunny reached for it, however, he withdrew it again quickly and stuck out a hand, instead. “Ten bucks.”
Sunny blinked. “It’s a phone call .”
He raised a thin black eyebrow. “Yeah, and how am I gonna know you’re not gonna call your mother in Malaysia?”
“My mother’s in Canada,” Sunny growled.
“Same diff.” He wiggled his fingers. “Ten bucks.”
“I don’t have ten bucks,” Sunny said.
He started to withdraw his hand and tuck his cell phone back in its holster.
Frustrated, Sunny pulled the only thing she carried of value from her belt. “I’ve got this.” She held out her dad’s knife. “Easily a couple hundred new.”
The cabbie squinted at the blade. “What am I gonna do with a knife?”
“I dunno…use it for protection?”
“That’s what the camera’s for,” he said, patting his dash again. “I carry a knife, customers would think I’d be trying to rob them.”
Sunny could not believe he was arguing with her. “Look. It’s a two hundred dollar knife. I want one phone call. Just gimme the damn phone.”
He gave the knife a long look and eventually relented, though he made a face doing so. Sunny grabbed the phone and ducked out of sight under his door, mentally whispering an apology to the guy and adding yet one more black mark on her Karmic record that she’d have to repay by buying food for orphan puppies with her reward money.
Or something. Maybe not puppies. Thinking of a puppy going all Cujo on her made Sunny have to fight a little twist of self-revulsion. Imagining those big eyes, that wagging tongue, that cute waddle…then the frothing rage that would follow the moment she came within sight… No, she’d definitely avoid puppies.
The cabbie leaned out over the cab to peer at her. “What are you doing?”
Sunny froze, still hunkered under his window. Did he… ?
Then she realize
d—the mirror. Even then, she could see herself crouched like an idiot, wedged against the pavement and the side of his car. Blushing, she stood up again. “I wanted some, uh, privacy.”
“Coulda said so.” He rolled up his window.
About the same time, Daphne picked up. “Yeah?”
“Daphne, I lost my phone,” Sunny said. “Dropped it in Thunderbird Falls fighting Dortez.”
“Look, I can’t talk right now.”
Daphne’s reply seemed curt, especially considering what Sunny had been going through lately, and Sunny realized her sister must have seen the news. She grimaced, knowing Daphne wouldn’t be happy about having her face plastered all over every TV between here and Fairbanks.
“I didn’t do it, Daphne,” Sunny said.
“Well, obviously .” There was a male voice somewhere on the other end and Daphne hesitated. “Just stop calling, Megan, okay? I’m busy.” She hung up.
…Megan? Sunny stared at the phone for some time, that odd sensation of dread giving her full-body goosebumps. After a moment, she called back.
“What is it, Megan?” Daphne asked.
Sunny felt her heart starting to pound wildly. “Is he there with you?”
There was a very long, awkward pause. Then, “I don’t know if we can make it that early…Gary really likes his sleep. Sometimes it’s really hard to get him up, even when it’s important.”
Sunny felt her world fall out from underneath her. “You mean that fat fuck wouldn’t get out of bed fast enough and Dortez showed up?! ” She’d kill him. She’d eviscerate him. She’d rip his guts out and feed him his own entrails.
“This is kind of urgent, Megan, can it wait?” Daphne said.
“Put Dortez on the phone! ” Sunny shouted. “If that fucker touches you—”
“Okay, bye.” Daphne hung up again.
Sunny found herself standing there on the sidewalk, sweating, cold chills wracking her body. Dortez was with Daphne. That was the only explanation. And if Dortez was with Daphne, he planned to kill her horribly.
“Bad date?” the cabbie offered.
Sunny glanced at him startledly, having forgotten he was there. He had rolled his window down while she was distracted and was leaning out of it, seemingly enthralled by the conversation.
Sunny handed him his phone back. “Can I hire you to get to my truck?”
The cabbie glanced at his watch. “Another two minutes, those interns are coming back and I gotta drive them back to BPI headquarters.”
“I’ll pay you three hundred dollars,” Sunny said. It was the maximum that her bank’s ATM would allow her to withdraw in a day.
The Irish guy sniffed, wiping his freckled nose as he considered. His eyes flickered to the door, then back up to her. Then he stuck out his hand. “I’m Sam Connor.”
“And my sister’s getting attacked by a serial killer at her apartment,” Sunny said, climbing into the back seat. “Drive. My truck. 8th Avenue.”
He watched her get in through the rearview. “Why your truck? Why not go straight to where your sister is?”
“I’ve got guns in my truck,” Sunny said.
Sam raised both brows. “Oh.”
“Go !” she shouted, slamming her palm against the dividing window.
The cabbie gave a startled jolt and the cab lunged forward. As they were driving away, the two interns came trudging from the DPS office behind them, looking drained and bedraggled. One of them noticed the cab driving away and straightened. “Hey!” she shouted, her voice muffled by glass. “Hey! Stop! We’re right here!”
Sam watched them jog after the cab through his rearview, wincing. “Man, I really hope I don’t lose my job over this.”
“Three hundred dollars,” Sunny said.
“Yeah, but…” He grimaced, allowing his foot to release the gas. “They’re gonna tell my boss…”
“Five hundred,” Sunny said.
“You got it.” He took off at speed, heading for 8th, and Sunny suddenly realized that was what the conniving shit had been aiming for from the beginning.
The cabbie put all of his attention into getting the cab to 8th Avenue and his five hundred dollars. A few minutes later, the car started to slow, and he gave Sunny a dazed look. “Hey, uh, this is a little embarrassing,” he said, “but I completely forgot where I was driving you.”
“That’s because I have an Aura of Forgettability around me,” Sunny said.
He chuckled. “Sure ya do.”
Sunny shrugged. “Get me to 8th Avenue.”
He glanced at his dash. “Oh, hey, I didn’t start the meter, either. Man, I must be really out of it. Had a really crazy dream last night. That’s gonna be twenty-five bucks.”
“Okay,” Sunny said.
He drove a few more miles until he slowed again.
Before he spoke, Sunny said, “Let me guess. You’ve forgotten again where you’re taking me again because I’ve got an Aura of Forgettability and it’s addling your brain.
He squinted at her, then glanced at his meter.
“You quoted me twenty-five bucks to get me to 8th and D,” Sunny said.
The cabbie grunted. “The Aurora?” He looked her over. “Sorry for sayin’ so, but you don’t look like the kind of person to live in the—”
“The parking garage across the street,” Sunny growled. “And write yourself a note. I’m serious about that Aura of Forgettability.”
“I’ll remember,” he said stubbornly. “I do this for a living , sweetie.”
Sunny rolled her eyes. “Believe me. You’ll forget.”
The cabbie grinned at her. “With a beauty like you in my back seat?” He winked. “Not on your life.”
Sunny was a little flabbergasted at the whole ‘beauty’ thing, and probably would have fallen for it if her sister wasn’t holed up with a psycho serial killing monster. As it was, it was all she could do not to climb through the window and throttle him for flirting and wasting time. “Just get me to the 8th Avenue parking garage.”
He sighed wistfully. “You got it.”
Sunny had to repeat the process eight more times before they finally pulled up against the curb, and she was so frustrated she just climbed out of the car when they came to a stop.
“Hey!” the Irishman cried, rolling down his window. “You didn’t pay me!”
“He’s gonna pay you,” Sunny said, pointing.
Sam turned to look. He immediately got that dazed expression, shook himself, and drove off.
Sunny had intended to pay him three hundred dollars for risking his job like that, but if he didn’t even remember, was it really a Karmic black mark on her record? Besides, he’d gotten her knife, and that was more than worth a car ride. That, and Daphne was in danger, and if she had to set his goddamn cab on fire to get there before Dortez hurt her, she would have considered it a fair trade.
Sunny found Tommy’s Chevy where she’d left it, with the addition of another emissions ticket. Too bad for Tommy. She yanked it off, wadded it up, and threw it aside. Then she climbed into the cab, cranked the engine, and peeled out of the parking garage.
Because Gary worked at Dome Police headquarters in the South Dome, Daphne had been forced to purchase a condo about as far away from Willow as one could get without leaving the Domes. Sunny was stewing over this for the next half an hour as she drove the floater-clogged roads, ignoring the stares from curious onlookers as Tommy’s gas-guzzling Chevy bullied the smaller vehicles out of its way.
While it wasn’t illegal to drive a diesel pickup in the Domes, the government had certainly done everything it could to prevent it, and Sunny actually saw people pull out their cameras to get pictures of the awkward four-wheeled beast hogging the road on the way south, where the rich people of Anchorage lived.
Consequently, she didn’t see another petroleum-powered vehicle on the entire trip. The South Dome didn’t even have outdomer parking—there were no Dome Commission projects nearby and the Seward Highway didn’t have enough traffic f
rom Undesirables, blockkers, or unincorporated homesteads to merit the use of space.
Thus, the parking spot outside Daphne’s condo was too small—it was made for floaters, not trucks—to fit the Chevy. Sunny didn’t slow down. She drove through the dinky floaters, shoving the perpetually-hovering vehicles out of the way with her grille, displacing them like cockroaches and plunking the vehicle down right on the front lawn.
Upstairs, there was no indication that anything was amiss.
Aside from, that was, the gathered group of onlookers standing with their hands over their brows, looking up, backs facing Sunny. Sunny put the truck into park, ignoring the funny looks the onlookers were giving her for her parking job.
“Are you the police?” a young Asian kid asked her.
From above, Sunny heard a scream.
Sunny jumped out of the cab. From the bed of the pickup, she recovered her gasoline-filled Super Soaker, a machete, and the shotgun, then threw the medical pack over her shoulder. She pulled a set of matches from a Ziploc of survival gear and headed for the stairs to her sister’s apartment.
Before she got past the onlookers and across the lawn, a big man with a military haircut grabbed her by the arm. “Sorry, ma’am,” he said, barring her path with an arm like steel. “You can’t go in there. There’s a hostage situation.”
Sunny leveled the shotgun at his face. “Get out of my way.”
There was an odd, tense moment where it looked like he would hold on, then, after glancing to at the curious onlookers, the man reluctantly released her. Sunny held the shotgun on him until she was several paces away and was sure he wouldn’t try to tackle her, then she jogged the rest of the way to the building.
She hit the stairs running. She was halfway to the coveted tenth floor and its rooftop gardens when she found Rusty, her sister’s eight-year-old, huddling in a corner, crying.
At least, it looked like Rusty. Sunny wasn’t a fool, though, and she was loath to fall for the same trick twice. She readied her gasoline.
Sunny with a Chance of Monsters: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (Sunny Day, Paranormal Badass) Page 24
