*** *** ***
Fin considered reading ‘fish parts’ to himself, but Rook took up her narration again, her imagined voice filled with false cheerfulness. She didn’t like what she was about to tell Fin.
What do I know about this Fin guy?
He plays bass in some second-rate bar band. He’s a good kisser. He’s bold, reckless. Or stupid. He smokes. He’s intimidated by Marcus.
Being wary of Marcus is generally a sign of intelligence, but I can’t decide if he’s dumb, a druggy, or reasonably intelligent but with no concept of reality.
I’m gonna have to find out more before I meet up with him. Well hell, I am a journalist, after all. I shall investigate!
Next came ‘more fish’ and Fin wasn’t sure he wanted to hear any more. His hand had its own agenda and clicked open the file. Once it opened he had no choice.
Everybody knows Fin Tanner. He’s fond of pulling crazy shit at parties. According to some otherwise reliable sources, at a party at his house the other day he gave himself a tattoo while on a massive drug binge. Without benefit of training or proper equipment, just stuff from around the house. He ended the party with a huge feedback solo that shook everyone’s fillings loose.
I hope he’s not a performance artist.
The important part is nobody thinks he has a girlfriend (or a boyfriend). He seems to have had some in the past (girlfriends), but he’s pathologically uninvolved and it drives them nuts. He doesn’t care what anyone thinks, as long as they don’t give him shit. If they try to change him, he either blows up and spews a torrent of ‘pseudointellectual clap-trap’ or just laughs and sends them on their way.
Why am I doing this? Who really cares what Fin is like? He’s cute. He’s a good kisser. It’s always nice to get a break from Marcus’s penis studs. If Marcus finds out, he’ll complain. But that’s what he gets for screwing my sister. And if I have to hear one more time how she and the other chicks are deer women, I’ll scream. Why should I believe anything a self-proclaimed trickster tells me anyway?
I can’t believe I’m playing by his rules! He’s just a man. Just a great big raving loony who thinks he can stake a claim to me because I fit into his personal fantasy world pantheon.
I NEED OUT!
Fin closed his eyes, but Rook’s voice echoed inside his head. She wouldn’t let him rest. She told him since he’d gone this far, he ought to read the last entry and be done with it.
Reluctantly he did, and found Rook less hesitant to read to him. It was called ‘twain’ and dated yesterday.
I’m supposed to meet Fin in half an hour and am horribly nervous. I don’t know how much is because of what Lara told me and how much is about Fin.
Things are over with Marcus. I need a way out. Maybe I can move in with Fin. If that’s not jumping the gun, what is? I’ve only kissed him once. I get butterflies when I think about that.
A week ago I thought Marcus and I were going through a rough patch, but we’d go back to the status quo. Now even the sex seems stale. And what do we have besides sex? When Fin asked me out I wanted to say yes, but couldn’t because Marcus would have killed someone. I’m sick of that reaction.
From what I hear about Fin Tanner, that shouldn’t be a problem.
Fin turned off the computer.
Normally, having a beautiful girl want him for sex would be a good thing, but Rook should have been different. It wounded Fin to know she was just using him to get away from Marcus, the way she’d used Marcus to get away from Dagan. Thinking back over their time together, he dared to hope she felt something more. He did, and it scared him. But sitting in the hospital, broken and nearly killed because of her, he didn’t regret it. Would do it all again. No matter how she felt about him, his love for her was real. Overwhelming. He hadn’t loved anyone since his mom went away.
Fin broke down in sobs, but soon recovered and requested more painkillers. The nurse offered something non-prescription. Fin decided he had better stuff at home and would go get some.
Bishop had gone back to work, but left cab fare and word that he wanted to see Fin after he’d cleaned up.
Once he had more drugs, Fin didn’t think he’d bother.
Chapter Eight
AMBUSH
Divided Seed shall a Divided Child Beget
who shall grow into a Divided Man
from New Revelations by Reverend Brian Shaw, unpublished
Marcus felt he was losing his edge, like he’d been tricked again and Fin was already far away, howling gleefully at Mother Moon.
He shook his head. Way too much fucking thinking. Fin would show. Things would soon be right again. Marcus ran his thumb over the .357’s knurled pommel. Gonna put everything in its proper place.
Finally, a shuffling approach in the hall. Someone limping. Marcus stood and moved to a position of ambush near the door. He raised the pistol like a club as the lock shunked and the door creaked.
“What? Where?” Fin exclaimed, turning his head and almost finding Marcus as the blow landed.
Marcus paced a few times back and forth in the cramped, dark room trying to burn some adrenaline before hoisting his wilted victim into the armchair. The anticlimactic attack left him with copious unspent anger, and he struggled against the urge to demolish Fin. He picked up the laptop from where Fin dropped it and noted with grim satisfaction that it was Rook’s.
Fin’s eyes opened unsteadily. They weren’t focused, but the left one did track the muzzle of the gun pointed at his face. He showed no indication of his feelings about the situation.
Marcus loomed over him and growled through clenched teeth, “Where is Rook?” Fin remained impassive. Marcus rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Dipshit. What I’ll do to you if you don’t spill is supremely unkind. I’m looking forward to it.”
“My head fucking hurts,” grumbled Fin, patting his pockets for a smoke.
Marcus cocked the pistol’s hammer and glared.
“I heard you,” Fin muttered. He’d located a pack and a lighter. After drawing the cigarette to a bright glow and exhaling a fog of slow death, he proffered the pack and Zippo to his assailant. Marcus did not acknowledge.
“Where is she?” Marcus gave the chair a rough shove with his boot for emphasis.
“Well, I’ve been better, thanks for asking. And you? Anything broken?”
“I hope you keep holding out on me. I have major issues with you.”
Fin lolled his head back. “I thought I knew where she was.” He saw the effect this revelation had on Marcus and smiled coldly. “That reminds me, I forgot your gun. Your other gun, I mean. The big one. I was in a hurry because of the fire. Maybe you heard the explosion.”
Marcus’s only outward response to this additional tidbit was a tic near his right eye.
Fin gave his lava lamp an incredulous look. Marcus applied the gun barrel to Fin’s bandaged nose none too gently to swivel his head back. “Fucking lying freak! I found her clothes, asshole!”
“Congratulations. Why are you in my face?”
Marcus whirled, grabbed the garbage can, and dumped its contents in Fin’s lap. “That’s why!” Marcus shouted, thrusting the gun into Fin’s cheek. “It’s eating me, not blasting you! This is what’s keeping you alive,” he said pointing to the green panties, “so get one last good sniff! Where! Is! Rook!”
Fin was dumbstruck. His bafflement seemed genuine and he looked quizzically back to the lamp.
“Kyle?” Fin barked. The heat in his eyes made Marcus drop back a step. Who the fuck was Kyle? The lamp? “Kyle!” Fin bellowed, holding Rook’s stockings and bra in quaking fists.
He stopped. Plucking at the foil in the bra, he started to laugh.
Marcus paced. This was not going the way he’d planned. His head was buzzing and Fin seemed to be hypnotized by the lava lamp. The thought of this whelp defiling his Raven made Marcus try again. He slapped Fin and shoved the gun back in his face.
Little bubbles of laughter kept welling up from Fin. He shook his head
in disbelief then grabbed Marcus’s gun hand and locked eyes with him. “Hey!” Fin said. “Would you like to know who you should point this thing at?”
***
Marcus took a position at the edge of Kyle’s door, by the latch. He cocked the hammer on the gun as Fin leaned against the door, listening. Fin shook his head and said, “No, dickhead, stow the cannon for a minute.” He opened the door and stepped inside, gesturing to Marcus to follow. Marcus wasn't ready to forgo the reassuring solidity of the weapon in his hand, and so held it bootlegger style behind his thigh as he crept into the room. Fin shut the door.
Light filtering up from the street was enough to locate furniture in Kyle’s uncluttered room. Fin turned to the liquor cabinet while Marcus scouted the shadowy areas. Fin slumped onto the futon with a bottle of imported Scotch and two tumblers. Marcus stalked over, sat at the other end, and accepted a drink.
“He’s a total shit, but he buys good hooch.”
Marcus tossed his off. “Whatever. Do you know where he is?” They were keeping their voices low.
“Normally, I’d say some poser night spot.” Fin refilled their glasses. “Tonight, you don’t want to hear my guesses.”
“Maybe I should anyway.”
“Well, you aren’t gonna. Not now.” Fin took a gulp of the whiskey.
A minute of silent tension passed.
“So,” Marcus ventured in a low tone that was not quite a whisper, “how much do you know about this Kyle?”
Fin chuckled. “He’s my half-twin.”
Marcus was about to ask a rude question about Fin’s mother when Fin spoke again.
“We have the same father, same birth date, different mothers.”
“Okay,” Marcus groped for relevancy, “what about it? I mean, what’s he like?”
“An asshole. He’s the evil twin. As Booth likes to say, we’re a transporter accident made flesh.”
Fin looked wistful. “He has a pathologically screwed-up value system. Well, look at his stuff,” Fin gestured broadly. “He is just what this room implies. Would rather seem than be, ’cause being is a lot of work for him.
“Of course,” Fin’s voice took a somber inflection, “maybe I’ve underestimated him. We don’t get along, but I can’t fit a kidnapping in with all the other shit. He’d do something to fuck up anything that made me happy, sure, but this feels weird.”
The door opened, so Marcus didn’t reply.
The first thing Kyle saw when he turned on the lights was the gun pointed at his face. With a weary sigh he shut the door and swung his gaze to Fin.
“Like I told you before, paying off your suppliers is your responsibility. Maybe if your pathetic excuse for a band had a manager you wouldn’t have these problems.”
“Shut up!” Marcus bellowed. He was sick of people not taking him and his gun seriously.
Fin stood up, smirking, and Marcus steered Kyle over to the futon. When Kyle was sitting, Fin said, “I don’t want your money, Kyle. I know how hard Daddy works for it.”
Kyle ignored the jibe. His attention wandered over to the gun again. With his eyes on it, not Marcus, he said, “I guess I better let you tell me what it is you do want.”
“You know,” Fin said.
Kyle made a sour face. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, you arrogant prick, you fucked up somewhere. It means you have two pissed off individuals controlling whether you’ll stand up to pee tomorrow. We know you’re the one. You know what we want. The rest is easy math.” Through clenched teeth, he said, “As you can see, my composure is fucked. Score one for Kyle. Now end it.”
“Oh,” Kyle said, “I remember. Geez, you don’t need a gun to get an apology from me.”
Fin made a pained face.
“I’m sorry I went into your room, even if you were being a shithead.”
Fin buried his head in his hands, digging his fingers into his hair. Either sobs or laughter escaped him in strained clumps.
Marcus kicked Kyle in the gut.
*** *** ***
Kyle couldn’t even gasp yet, face-down in a tight ball on the floor in front of the futon. Fin fell silent and watched with interest.
“My turn now,” Marcus said. “Today has been altogether too full of you two and your bullshit. You tell me right now where Rook is and I never see either of you again. No games, no sibling rivalry, no stalling.”
Fin checked his critique of Marcus’s interrogative approach and concentrated on watching Kyle now that the cat was out of the bag. Kyle warily pushed himself into a sitting position and placed his hands fitfully in his lap
“Where what is?” he managed to wheeze. Nice touch, thought Fin.
Marcus was about to boot him again, but the way Kyle flinched was good enough. “Where is she!” he demanded.
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Kyle muttered. His eyes locked on Fin. “Still using me as your excuse, I see.”
“Why, Kyle?” Fin shook his head. “Actually, answer his question first, but I really do want to know why.”
Kyle’s gaze once again shed all semblance of guile. He looked scared, a look Fin had seen him summon up in front of parents, teachers, and police. The puppy-dog eyes that always deflected full blame onto Fin. “I can only say ‘I don’t know’ so many times.” He licked his lips, his eyes darting between the two men standing over him. “I’d like to know why, too. Why are you dragging me into this? It looks like you’re in some kind of trouble, but why involve me?”
“There’s lots of trouble left where that batch came from,” Marcus interjected.
Fin showed no emotion. “You didn’t realize there was a witness. Your surprise is perfectly understandable.”
He noted with satisfaction the definite indications of startled terror in Kyle’s face, the way the pupils dilated and the jaw clenched. Fin kept his own face impassive. “So take your time. Consider your response, all your options.”
Marcus pressed the muzzle of the gun against Kyle’s left temple.
Fin sat on the coffee table and rested his boots on the pale sage futon cover. “Now, we have a clear, logical path before us. We won’t get discouraged, because we know you have what we want. You get to decide how hard we work in getting it from you. The harder you make us work, the worse off you’ll be.”
Now Kyle was truly afraid. Fin could see the difference from the affectation of fear earlier, the sweat. Kyle looked at Marcus, whose burning eyes didn’t appear very compassionate. He glanced at his watch.
Marcus gave the gun a shove to indicate he preferred Kyle’s eyes up.
Fin said, “At the tone, it will be time to tell us where she is — BEEP!”
“Whoever told you they saw me, whatever they said, they’re lying. I don’t know what’s going on!”
“That’s getting old. Maybe a few broken ribs will help you understand...” Fin signaled Marcus with his eyes.
“No matter what you do, I don’t fucking know!”
Marcus grabbed Kyle’s wrist and twisted the arm up and forward, exposing his flank to a cruel impact from the pistol’s grip. Kyle yelled, and Marcus knelt across his back. Barely able to breathe, Kyle whimpered.
Fin was conflicted. He both enjoyed watching the torment and longed to stop it. This was serious shit. He sat storm-tossed while Marcus told Kyle he should save his breath for answering questions, and shifted his weight so Kyle could inhale with a sharp wince.
Marcus chuckled. Fin felt a bit sick.
“Sit up,” said Marcus, gesturing with the gun.
Kyle complied meekly, looking from Marcus to Fin and back again.
“Fin, come on,” he wheedled. “Are you gonna let him do this to me? We’re brothers. I don’t like you, you know that, but I wouldn’t sit back and let someone kill you.”
“No, you’d help,” said Fin, quickly getting over his squeamishness. Kyle, the consummate manipulator. He deserved this and worse. Rook was in real danger, or had been. This stun
t was ill-timed.
Kyle dropped the wounded brother angle and smirked. “Yeah.” He shrugged. “It was worth a shot.”
Fin stood and glared down at Kyle. The asshole still wasn’t taking this seriously. What the hell did they need to do to get his attention?
Kyle began to rise. “If we’re done, then…”
Fin and Marcus lunged at Kyle at the same time and ran into each other. Kyle sat down gracelessly, but grinning.
“You know, Fin, you ought to hire better muscle. You two seem at cross-purposes. You need to be able to rely on your team.”
“Enough fucking football metaphors,” Fin spat. “Tell us where she is and let us work the rest of it out.”
Kyle’s eyes took on a malicious glint. “You aren’t friends. That’s clear. He’s not professional muscle,” indicating Marcus. “So what’s left?”
Marcus glared at Kyle, then Fin. His nostrils flared.
“Shut up,” said Fin. He didn’t like what Kyle was up to, trying to turn them against each other. Like they needed any help.
“She didn’t mention there were two of you.” Kyle smirked.
“If you’ve touched her, this is going to get so much worse.” Marcus sounded like he hoped to make it worse.
“Well, I had to find out what all the fuss was about.”
Marcus and Fin both cocked their heads. Kyle continued, “The noise from upstairs last night was unbearable.”
“You weren’t even here!” Fin protested.
Marcus was stonefaced.
“I know,” Kyle said wickedly, “but I also know you stole my condoms.”
Fin gave Kyle the finger and looked at Marcus with a sneer. “Get some backbone, partner. We’re kinda busy right now to be moping about a breakup.”
Marcus’s face had a reptilian calm, like a hungry croc. He pointed the gun at Fin. “There’s no breakup.”
Kyle continued, “She kept making this one sound. Sort of a whimpering moan.”
Miss Brandymoon's Device: a novel of sex, nanotech, and a sentient lava lamp (Divided Man Book 1) Page 10
