The Other Side: A Novel in the Alastair Stone Chronicles

by R. L. King

  “Sure, sure, whatever,” she said vaguely, then shuffled off down the street.

  Verity waved Jason over and he joined her, looking puzzled. Verity shrugged and set off after the woman. One thing she’d learned from her association with the Forgotten—you could never take anything about them for granted. Each one was an individual, with his or her own unique quirks that could pop up unexpectedly at any moment. The best you could do was roll with it and be patient with them.

  The old woman kept walking for two blocks, moving at a slow, deliberate pace. Oddly, no one seemed to notice her. Verity watched the passing crowds as she and Jason walked behind her, and any time anyone’s gaze got near her, it seemed to skate over and land somewhere else. Whether it was a Forgotten ability, or just the general public’s tendency to ignore the homeless, it was definitely a useful skill in Las Vegas.

  At the middle of the second block, she turned left and disappeared into an alley. Again, no one appeared to notice her. Jason and Verity picked up their pace and hurried after her, afraid they might lose her if she got too far ahead, but apparently her ability was selective: her Navajo-print blanket was still clearly visible as they rounded the corner.

  The alley was lit only by the spillover from the casinos’ lights on their end, and a single streetlight at the other, leaving the middle part wreathed in dark shadows. A series of dumpsters, all overflowing with trash, lined both sides,. The woman continued along, never slowing, speeding up, or looking back, until she reached a spot where two dimly-visible dumpsters were separated by a space perhaps six feet wide.

  At this point, she faded out and disappeared.

  Verity gripped Jason’s arm. “Did you see—”

  “Yeah.” Jason hurried forward to the spot, glancing around in all directions. “She’s gone.” His hand went to his gun and he tensed, suddenly alert.

  “Wait!” Verity had shifted to magical sight. She hadn’t checked the old woman’s aura, but a sudden dim flash of orange caught her attention off to her right side, in the space between the two dumpsters. She crouched down and peered into the space, and was rewarded by the sight of a seated figure far back in the shadows, visible only by the glow of the aura. “Ned?” she asked gently.

  The figure rustled and sat up. “Get in here,” he whispered. “Anybody see ya?” He’d built a little fort-like shelter inside a refrigerator box, with a shopping cart full of plastic bags shielding it from view.

  Verity scrambled inside, and after a moment’s hesitation, Jason followed her. It was a tight fit with all three of them, but with a little shifting around they both found relatively comfortable spots. Jason didn’t sit, but instead knelt facing the shelter’s opening so he could get up fast if anyone approached them.

  It was still hard to see Ned clearly—he probably wanted it that way, Verity concluded. From his aura, she could tell he was thin and hunched—probably an older man. His eyes glittered in the faint light, and his aura radiated fear. “Talk fast,” he said. “I ain’t stayin’ long. And you better have cash. I ain’t riskin’ my neck for freebies.”

  Verity remembered that the Forgotten man they’d talked to previously had said Ned wasn’t Forgotten, but that they sometimes helped each other out. “You found the body in the dumpster behind the Pussycat Club a few days ago, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah. Wish I hadn’t.”

  “Why is that?” Jason asked.

  “Been hidin’ ever since. Only reason I’m talkin’ to you is ’cuz my friends said they trusted you.”

  “Are you afraid somebody will come after you?” Verity asked. “Why did you tell the police about it, if you were afraid?”

  “Didn’t have no choice. They caught me right after I found it. Figured I better own up in case they thought I put the stiff there, y’know?” Ned’s accent was decidedly Eastern—New York, maybe, or New Jersey. He sounded like one of the old-style hustlers who used to dominate Vegas before the Evil showed up.

  Verity couldn’t imagine an old, stooped guy like Ned being able to heft Gary’s chubby body into a dumpster, but if he was unlucky enough to get stopped by somebody from the Evil contingent of the LVPD, she was sure they’d have no trouble manufacturing a good explanation so they could pin the murder on him and call it a day. “What did you tell them?”

  Ned shrugged. “Just that I found the guy, y’know? Stiff in a dumpster. Happens sometimes, ’specially these days.”

  Something fluctuated in his aura; the orange was normally dim, with dark patches indicating ill health, but now it sort of…shifted.

  “Ned…that’s not all there is to tell, is there?” she asked, keeping her tone even and calm. Next to her, she felt Jason tense.

  “I…that’s all I got,” he said quickly.

  “Look,” she said. “We’re investigating the guy’s death, for his wife. He’s got two little girls. His family really wants to find out what happened to him. Can you help us?” She poked her hand at Jason, and he put a bill into it.

  She offered it—a twenty—to Ned. “We’re not asking for a freebie. But you’re holding something back—I’m sure of it. I’m really good at spotting that kind of thing. We promise—we won’t get you involved. But we need to know what you saw.”

  Ned’s aura shifted again, but he didn’t take the money yet. “You should take up poker, sister. Seriously. Chick looks like you, and that good at readin’ people, you’d be a natural.”

  “Ned…”

  He glanced at the twenty. “I’m gonna tell ya, though—that ain’t enough. Yeah, I know somethin’ else. But I ain’t talkin’ for less than a C-note. Take it or leave it.”

  Again, Verity felt Jason tense next to her. She was sure he was contemplating getting the information out of Ned in a more “old-fashioned” way, but she was also sure it would never go past the contemplation stage. Not with this old guy, anyway. “You promise you’ll tell us if we give you a hundred? We need to know, and my brother might get a little grumpy if you try to back out on us.”

  “Naw, sister. You give me a hundred and a ride to the bus station, and I’ll tell ya. You have my word.” He glanced toward the shelter entrance again. “I gotta have enough to get my ass far outta Vegas before I say anything, or I’ll be the next one turnin’ up in one o’ them dumpsters before long.”

  She exchanged glances with Jason. They’d gotten more money before they headed down here, but they didn’t have much more than a hundred. In all likelihood, Fran wouldn’t reimburse that kind of cash. But from Ned’s tone and the look of his aura, the demand wasn’t negotiable. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to get out—if the opposition they were facing was as bad as they sounded, she didn’t doubt his fears in the slightest.

  “It’s okay,” she said under her breath to Jason. “If you need to, you can have back some of the money you gave me for my birthday. We gotta see this through.”

  He pulled more bills from his inner jacket pocket. “No way,” he said. “You keep your money. We’ll figure something out.”

  Verity took the bills and turned back to Ned. “Okay, a hundred,” she said, and offered him four more twenties. “But you better have something good to tell us.”

  “That’s only eighty,” he protested, extending a bony hand to snatch it from her grip.

  “We already offered you twenty. Eighty plus twenty makes a hundred. Come on, Ned—spill it.”

  “And the ride to the station?”

  “Yeah,” Jason said. “We’ll take you to the bus station.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Tonight. Now talk.”

  In the dimness, Ned sighed. “Yeah, okay. Here’s the thing. I did see the body in the dumpster. That part I already told ya. Naked as a jaybird, with a big ol’ smile cut into his throat. Looked like he’d been worked over good, and his junk was a mess. Sorry, honey,” he added qui
ckly.

  Verity decided to overlook being called “honey” for now. “Okay, that’s what you told us. Tell us the rest.”

  “I didn’t just see the body. I saw it get put there. And I know who did it.”

  Verity stiffened, and in the close quarters behind her she felt Jason lean forward. “You did? Tell us. Who did it?”

  “Guy named Mickey Toro. Dunno if that’s his real name, but that’s what he goes by. I recognized him even though he was all dressed in black an’ shit, ’cuz he got a bum leg and a real distinctive limp, y’know?”

  “Who is this Mickey Toro?” Jason asked. “You know who he works for? Your friend said something about some group that runs places you can do whatever you want if you got enough money. He work for those guys?”

  Ned shook his head. Verity’s eyes were getting accustomed to the dimness now, so she could make out his shadowed features even without magical sight. “Nah. Mickey’s old school. He’s one o’ the main enforcers for the Zocchis.”

  “Who’s that?” Jason shifted around, clearly trying to find a comfortable position in the confined space.

  “Small-time Mob family, one of the last of ’em left in Vegas. They run the territory south of Fremont: casinos, prostitution, loansharking, that kinda stuff. Like I said—old school.”

  “Do they run the Pussycat Club?” Verity asked.

  “No way. That’s not part of their turf.”

  “What about the Hard Eights? Do they work with them?”

  Ned shuddered. “No. Those guys are fuckin’ crazy. They don’t play by the rules, y’know? Zocchis do their legbreakin’ the old-fashioned way.”

  Jason shifted position again. “So you’re sayin’ this Mickey Toro dropped the body in the dumpster behind the Pussycat Club? Why would he do that?”

  “Who knows? My guess? Maybe they’re tryin’ to send a message to whoever runs that part of town. Or else tryin’ to get the murder pinned on ’em.”

  “Do you know who those people are?” Verity asked. “The ones who control the territory where the Pussycat is?”

  “Nobody knows ’em,” Ned said. “They stay quiet. Under the radar. And they got a rep says you don’t fuck with ’em. Nobody talks to ’em unless they say so.” He looked around nervously. “Look, that’s all I got. Can we get outta here? I wanna be on a bus for L.A. like yesterday, okay?”

  “Yeah.” Verity prepared to get up. “Let’s go, Jason.”

  “One more thing,” Jason said. “You know where we can find this Mickey Toro?”

  “Check the casinos around their turf. There ain’t many—the Palomar, the Spire, and the Sultan are the ones the Zocchis control. He’ll prob’ly be at one o’ those.”

  Verity stood. “Thanks, Ned.”

  “So whaddya gonna do with that info?” The old man struggled to rise. Jason gave him a hand up, and he bent to gather his gear. “You ain’t goin’ after Mickey, are ya?”

  “Dunno yet,” Verity said. “We’ll see what we find out.”

  “Cops won’t do anything about it, y’know.” Ned slung a pack over his shoulder and began scrabbling in his cart, pulling items out of the bags and stuffing them in a cloth duffel.

  “Yeah, we get that. Hurry up,” Jason said. “We got things to do tonight, so we want to drop you off at the station right away.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Can’t ask a guy to leave all his worldly goods, y’know?” But Ned did pick up his pace.

  Verity glanced up and down the alley; both ends still looked clear, with a few tourists drifting by on the downtown side. She almost turned back to watch Ned and Jason when a hunch told her to check magical sight. She’d barely registered a flash of red around the side of a dumpster across the alley when she acted, diving back toward Jason and Ned. “Look out!”

  Ahead of her, Ned yelped and went down.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Stone found a few of the Other Side crew lounging in the restaurant, where the buffet had already been set up. “Where’s Duncan?” he demanded from the doorway.

  One of the young assistants shrugged. “Haven’t seen him in a while. He’s probably either at the trailer or up at the house.”

  Damn. “If you see him, tell him I’m looking for him. It’s quite urgent.”

  “What’s urgent?” came a voice from behind him.

  He spun to see Larry Duncan coming in along with Cody Huff. They both looked like they’d just faced the same windy deluge Stone had on his way back to the winery, and both of them regarded him with curiosity.

  “I need to talk to you,” Stone said, trying to strike the proper balance between urgency and calm. He took Duncan by the arm and steered him back out into the lobby, near the fireplace. Huff followed.

  “Stone, baby, I don’t have a lotta time, okay? Already way behind schedule. I already told you, we can’t—”

  “Listen to me,” Stone insisted. “We need to get out of here. All of us.”

  Duncan and Huff stared at him as if he’d gone mad. “Out of here? What do you mean? Out of where?”

  “Out of Brunderville. As soon as possible.”

  Any vestige of courtesy in Duncan’s stare vanished, and Huff simply gaped at him as if he’d just proposed leaping feet-first into the roaring fire. “What the hell are you talking about?” Duncan snorted and waved him off. “We’re not going anywhere. We got a shoot scheduled in less than two hours, and we still gotta reshoot that clusterfuck from this afternoon.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Stone realized how unhinged he sounded, and sympathized a bit more with the nutters who stood on street corners announcing that the end was near. He was getting about the same level of attention. “Look—something’s going on here, and it’s dangerous. What happened this afternoon wasn’t a coincidence, and it wasn’t just your crew sniping at each other.”

  “Sure it was,” Duncan said dismissively. “We do that a lot. Tempers get short, egos clash—come on, man. I know you’re new to show biz, but trust me, it’s—”

  “It’s not,” Stone insisted. “Damn you, you’ve got to listen to me, or a lot of people will end up getting hurt. Something is happening in this town, and it’s not safe for anyone to stay here.”

  Duncan’s eyes widened. “Wait a sec, wait a sec. This isn’t about that curse bullshit, is it?”

  “It’s not bullshit.” Stone fixed him with a hard stare. “Mr. Duncan, I know this sounds odd coming from me, given my skepticism. But I’m convinced now. It’s happening, and it’s only going to get worse. We’ve got to leave.”

  “Excuse me—” said another voice.

  They all turned. Denise stood there, and this time she wasn’t giving Stone the eye. Instead, looked serious and uncomfortable. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I couldn’t help overhearing Dr. Stone saying you had to leave. But you can’t. That’s what I was just coming to tell you.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Duncan demanded.

  “I just got a call,” she said, gesturing toward the front desk. “Nobody’s going anywhere. They just told me that the rain caused a rockslide, and a big section of the road about a mile out of town is washed out.”

  Bloody hell. “Can’t they clear it?” Stone asked. Part of him, absurdly, wondered if this too was somehow the curse’s doing. What better way to intensify the conflict than to isolate the participants from escape or outside assistance?

  She spread her hands. “It happens a lot during the rainy season, though it sounds like this one might be worse than usual. They can clear it, but they won’t even start until the rain stops. We’ve got supplies up here—everybody in town knows they might have to get by on their own for a few days.”

  “And there’s no way out on the other side?” Stone asked, even though he knew there wasn’t. He’d seen the maps of the area.

 
“No. I’m sorry…” She spread her hands. “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do. But I assure you, we’ve got plenty of food and water here, and generators if the power goes out.”

  “If the power goes out?” Duncan clenched his fists and his face got even redder. “Fuck, could anything else go wrong?”

  You don’t know the half of it. Stone thought fast, trying to come up with a workable solution that wouldn’t result in a town full of dead people. He had no idea how fast the curse was progressing—perhaps there weren’t enough people in town yet to elevate it past the stage of yelling, and possibly a few fistfights. But he couldn’t take that chance, not if he had other alternatives. “Right, then,” he said quickly. “Thank you, Denise.”

  She gave him a faint smile, and there was that gleam in her eyes again. “It’ll be fine,” she said. “This might be a good night to just curl up in a warm bed and wait for things to…blow over.” She put a subtle emphasis on the word blow.

  Stone didn’t have time for this. He grabbed Duncan again and led him away from her. “All right. We’re not going anywhere. That makes things worse, but not insurmountable. What you need to do is exactly what Denise said—tell everyone to go to their rooms and wait this out. Large groups of people shouldn’t be together.”

  “What is wrong with you, man?” Cody Huff demanded. “You sound like you’ve gone off the deep end! You actually believe this curse bullshit?”

  Duncan shook his head. “Stone, baby, get some rest. Have a drink. Take a nap. Do what it takes to get yourself calmed down. I need you in makeup in an hour.” He dropped his voice to a near-whisper. “Go fuck the front-desk chick—she obviously wants you.” Then, louder: “Come on, Cody—things to do. Where the hell is Rita, anyway?” He patted Stone’s arm and the two of them hurried off toward the exit.

  Stone clenched his fists. Damn mundanes! He knew, looking at things objectively, that he wasn’t doing his cause any good by sounding like a raving lunatic. He wished he could just line up the entire Other Side crew and give them mental protections—or hit them all with stun spells to put them under until he could sort this out—but that wouldn’t be feasible even if he could manage it.