Sages of the Underpass

by Aaron Michael Ritchey

  Niko had his backpack, which held a Whitney in case he came across a daemon. A nice cambion would make his night. No, that wasn’t right. Spending more time with Bonnie, finding out what happened to Pete, both would be worth the trip.

  He thought about his two critique groups. It was pretty clear what he had to do. Like Danette had said, he needed to surrender to his Art completely, and that meant giving up on the Premiers. Could he really walk away from that? Giving up on Barton Hennessey and Andrew J. Coffey seemed like a terrible but necessary next step.

  Surrender.

  Near an entrance to 680, he saw the neon lights of the club at the end of an abandoned strip mall, across from a dead car repair place. The club was called Termination, and the parking lot was full of a variety of cars. He locked his bike to a pole on a chain-link fence. Even though it was July, the night was chill, and he wished he’d brought a coat, but at least he wasn’t sweating. The distant bay salted the air.

  He couldn’t leave his backpack. This was Devil’s Edge. It’d be stolen in a second. He’d probably have to check it in the club. Bonnie said her band was playing an early set at eight, and they’d talk after the show.

  What was going on with Pete? It was prank, Niko knew it, though his brother had said he’d never mess around with the drug.

  Outside the graffitied doors stood a huge man in a Dead Kennedys T-shirt and black jeans. No neck, and a partially shaved head. He grimaced at Niko. “Couldn’t you leave your luggage at home?”

  From inside came the thud of a bass and the thrum of drums.

  Niko shrugged. “I never travel light. You check it out here. I’ll check it inside.”

  The bouncer rummaged through it, noticed the Whitney, and nodded. “Your best luck is farther south and east. Near the old high school. Daemons hang out there. My brother is a scrapper. Does pretty good for himself, though when business is bad, it can kill you. In more ways than one.”

  It was sixteen dollars to get into the club, another three to check his backpack, and then a beer was another six dollars. Having Pete as a brother was expensive.

  The place was packed, the plywood painted black, the hardwood floor scraped and stained, the scratches full of gunk. Against the far wall was the bar, more plywood with cinderblock shelves. Nearby sat a few tables and chairs, all mismatched dining room furniture, probably taken from the abandoned houses.

  Niko moved to the back of the dance floor, which was packed.

  On stage, Bonnie wore clothes like those he’d met her in, combat boots, ripped jeans, and a white tank top, bra straps showing. She had a guitar hanging off her shoulder. She was shouting into the microphone, some song, and the only words he could make out were “corporate,” “heart,” “death,” and “kill.” And maybe something about demons. Long e.

  Her stage name was Bonnie Crude. She was backed by an all-girl band, Mind Noise, according to the graphic on the drummer’s bass drum. Niko stood, sipping from his beer, which was pretty tasty, hoppy, bubbly.

  The song ended. Bonnie grabbed her guitar, and they launched into another song. Her face was shiny, sweat dribbled down her scalp, and her skin glowed. It was clear she was loving what she was doing, and there was something about her, something that drew Niko’s eye right to her.

  This song wasn’t another shouting, loud, fast rant. No, this song was slower, and she was singing. And she was sparkling. The light reflected off her skin like crystals, ice crystals. Her maroon Mohawk stood straight up, and it too caught the light in a prism effect.

  The place was hot, almost stifling, but every now and again, a wave of cold would wash over them.

  She was a Woda, using her prana to give everyone a little cold and to add to her stage presence.

  People swayed around him. Niko relaxed and joined them. He didn’t have anything to do, no cycling, no training, no Fix-It Shoppe calls, nothing but to be there, in the moment. He thought about a quote from The Pranad. Truth is in the moment. All else is a lie.

  And Danette had said something about enjoying what you were doing in the present moment. So that’s what Niko did, until Bonnie sang her last song.

  People protested, then applauded, then protested some more because they wanted more. She mentioned their website and future dates at other clubs in Bay City.

  Bonnie, at the mic, finally caught his eye. She nodded at him. He nodded back. “Niko Black, stay there. I’ll come out and find you.” Hearing his name over the speakers made him feel like he was on the Arena tiles.

  He nodded. Bonnie and her bandmates started to pack up their gear while another band came out to set up their instruments.

  He still had half his beer left. He stood there, watching people, feeling the energy in the room. He closed his eyes, reaching out with his senses. He felt the power in the room, all those people, all that prana. He could see how he could practice this, to hone it and get Awareness, a Quintessence Fourth Study.

  But there were other things he felt. The bodies around him, the perfume, the cologne, the sweat, the leather, and the skin. He could sense the subtle interplay between prana and sharira. Couples who were close and holding each other felt different, running hotter, with more chaos to them. Other people were looking for love, and it wasn’t just the pheromones he could detect. Their prana was lit up and sparkling.

  Niko opened his eyes. He’d never been so aware of other people’s power.

  Lunas could work with prana as well as sharira. Radiances could as well. He still wasn’t sure what he thought about what Evelyn had seen, how there seemed to be Radiance energy in his core. That couldn’t be. If anything, that energy would be Luna, since he was a cusp with that sign.

  And yet, Evelyn had no reason to lie.

  Bonnie worked her way through the crowd, signing autographs, shaking hands, giving people hugs. She carried her painted leather jacket.

  When she got to Niko, she gave him a sudden, soggy hug. Her clothes were damp, and her skin was wet with a mixture of sweat and melting ice. “Let’s go outside. This next band, Fusion Puke, is terrible. If I have to listen to them, I will have to commit genocide. Any band name that references bodily fluids is trying too damn hard.”

  He had to retrieve his backpack. Out in the parking lot, Bonnie reached for a vape pen, and she breathed out clouds. “We can take my car. Thanks for coming over.” She saw the backpack. “You biked, didn’t you?”

  “You know about the Pig?” he asked.

  “I do.”

  “I rest my case. Teddy is covering the shop. What’s going on with Pete?”

  She walked over to a car parked in one of the spots near the back. It was a small Ford Hermes, hatchback, and he didn’t know what color it was, since it was covered in bumper stickers and toys. Twelve Legend action figures were superglued on the top along with Everything Online! figurines. Baby doll heads had been glued to the trunk, creating an eerie border around the back of the car.

  The tires were bald. The front windshield was chipped. Bonnie watched him. “You have the Pig? I have my Toy. The drode has a hundred thousand miles on her. Yes, impossible, but she loves me. I love her right back.”

  Niko stopped. “I need to know about Pete. We’re worried.” He didn’t mention Tato’s big heartbroken sigh or Mamo’s frown and the cold look in her eye. She was about done with her youngest son’s shenanigans. His little brother was close to being ejected, from their apartment as well as their lives.

  Bonnie stood up straight. She was a little taller than he was. “My instructions were clear. Call you, meet you here, and drive you over. He’ll explain the rest.”

  He wasn’t going to argue.

  He got in the car and threw his pack into the backseat next to her guitar and some cords. She tossed her leather jacket in, slipped into the driver’s seat, and pulled her door closed with a bang. It smelled like incense in the car, and it was completely clean, no dust, the floor mats washed and wiped down. He also smelled her, a spicy perfume, overlaying her own sweaty self. He remembered h
ow he’d felt in the crowd, reaching out with his core, feeling the prana and sharira of the couples around him. His heart thrummed. A nervous, tight feeling filled his belly, only it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt good. Expectant. Erotic. He’d not felt that since Taylor, and their first dates together back in high school.

  She maneuvered the little car out of the parking lot. The drode powering the engine screamed when they got on 680, going south. Like always, Niko felt anxious being on the highway. He shook away the bad memories and let go of his fear.

  Bonnie touched her phone and music leaked out of the speakers, some Irish folk band with a punk sound. It was actual cool, old school music—mandolins and violins, mixing with driving drums and thrashing guitars.

  She glanced at him. “I hear the fighting is going well. You won that big match. Pete and his worthless friends went. Sorry, I couldn’t make it. Mind Noise had a gig.”

  “It’s okay.” Niko wasn’t going to beat around the bush. “So, are you and Pete together? And why do you think his friends are worthless?”

  “Without worth,” Bonnie said. “Economically. Spiritually. No worth. No motivation. I would call them leeches, but even leeches are part of the food chain. Those guys are a part of no chain. And Pete and I are just friends.” She took her eyes off the road to glance at him. “Why? Are you feeling it too?”

  Niko could easily deny what he was feeling. Actually, it was expected. Or he could play dumb. That was also socially appropriate. He didn’t do either.

  “Yeah, I’m attracted to you. You’re beautiful.”

  She grinned. “Just beautiful? I wanted you to be drawn to me by my artistic talent. Oh well.”

  Niko wasn’t about to let the conversation turn. “So you’re feeling it too.”

  “I am. No girlfriend for you? No wife in training? You’re not spoken for?”

  The way she talked, the words she used, fascinated him. This was all so unexpected.

  Niko kept his eyes on her face while she drove. “I work. I train. I’m not into clubs and all that. So yes, I’m single. And you are too?”

  “Singleish.” She laughed. “The state of being almost single. I’m in the clubs every chance I get. But nothing serious. Nothing that would tempt me into monogamy. Tell me about yourself.”

  “I work. I train. Sometimes I play Twelve Legends. But not very often. I meditate. I have worth, at least spiritually, I think.” Niko wasn’t sure if when she talked about spirituality, she meant prana. Most people did, but some of the more religiously minded insisted the two were separate.

  “Your prana is interesting,” she said. “It’s cracked. I like broken people, which is why I like your brother. The trick is to fill in the cracks with worthwhile mortar. I use music and motivation. What do you use?”

  Music and motivation? What did that mean exactly? And how could she feel his prana? She was Woda, definitely, but could she access Studies from other signs? After training with the Sages, Niko couldn’t discount the possibility.

  “So, no small talk?” He was staring at her. He couldn’t help it. Her eye makeup was slightly smeared. She’d had lipstick on at some point, but it was mostly gone.

  She caught him looking. He didn’t glance away. He felt caught in her spell, and he was going to give himself over to it.

  Unexpectedly, she pulled to the side of the highway. They sat in the light of the traffic. The houses below them were dead. A strip mall attached to a car station was still alive, lights glowing.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “You’re looking at me. I wanted to look at you. I can’t very well drive and return your longing gaze.” Her eyes were so green, so full of life, sparkling, the way the ice on her skin had sparkled during her show.

  “Longing gaze?” He couldn’t help but smirk. “Okay, maybe. Like I said, I think you’re beautiful.”

  Her gaze darted around his face and then fixed on his eyes for a minute, and then she glanced away. “Okay, this is intense. And fun. No, Niko, I don’t do small talk very well. My mom insists it’s a priceless skill to possess, but I’m not so certain. If you can talk about nothing, a lot of times, you’ll get stuck there. One thing about me, I refuse to get stuck, anywhere.”

  “So tell me about yourself,” he said. He was slightly worried about Pete, but to be truthful, he could’ve easily sat in the car, on the shoulder of the 680, with Bonnie Crude all night long.

  The Mystery

  BONNIE’S SMILE FELT like a caress. “I was born Roberta Smith, but if you call me Bobbi, I will kill you with my guitar. I named myself Bonnie when I was three. Why? Ask my three-year-old self. I was Bonnie Taylor for a while, I was almost famous, which is the best kind of famous. I’ll bet you ten dollars you’ve heard of me.”

  “I—”

  She cut him off. “Is it a bet? Ten dollars. If you’ve heard of Bonnie Taylor, or seen that name on Spotify, you’ll owe me ten dollars. Otherwise, you’ll get a sawbuck from me.”

  “Sawbuck?” Niko shrugged. “I don’t know that means, but I’ll guess it’s five dollars. The problem is, I know if I know you. It’s unfair.”

  “Totally unfair. But you did pay sixteen dollars to see my show, which was awesome, but unfair to you. The woman who runs Termination is going to do a headcount, and I wanted to make sure I had the place packed. Totally unrelated to the Peter Kowalczyk mystery.” She waited on him.

  “It’s a bet.”

  She reached out a hand, fingers full of silver rings. He took the hand and shook it. Her palm was warm, her fingers strong, and the touch sent a fresh dose of adrenaline through his system. That tight feeling in his stomach deepened.

  “You’ve never heard of Bonnie Taylor, right?” she asked.

  Their eyes met. “Yeah, I’ve seen your name on Spotify.” It was a lie, but he wasn’t going to take her money.

  She laughed. “Now that right there is brash pile of smelly trash. Lying to me on our first date? You have some nerve, Niko Black.”

  “Not sure I like the name.”

  “Yeah, me either. I owe you ten dollars.”

  “So tell me about Bonnie Taylor,” Niko said.

  She took in a deep breath. Her chest rose. He had to fight himself not to look down.

  Her smile turned wistful. “Bonnie Taylor wanted fame and fortune. She found a manager, lived in Angel City, got some sweet record deals, and then left. I like to eat. Bonnie Taylor was forbidden to eat. Pop stars need to look a certain way. Bonnie Taylor was happy singing other people’s songs about clubs, love, and love in the clubs. I like to sing my own songs.”

  “How big was she? This Bonnie Taylor person.”

  “She could’ve been huge. About fifty percent of the time, people know her. It makes me blush when they do.” She sat for a minute. “But enough about her. Bonnie Crude plays her music, with her amazing band of miscreant bitches. Ms. Crude lives in the Devil’s Edge, because it’s cheap, and she is a bus driver. Not full-time. Full-timeish. Bonnie Crude fills open shifts, and sometimes the shifts are open, which makes her life hard, and sometimes the shifts are mostly closed, which makes her happy but poor. And that is enough for a first date. Don’t you think?”

  “What about the Twelve Legends action figures?” he asked.

  “I’ve been known to throw the pixel around every now and again. Bonnie Shotgun will not bow to any Battle Artist.” She took one last long look at him, let their eyes lock again, and then drove off, joining the rush of traffic.

  “Bonnie Shotgun. I’ll look her up. So, lots of names.” He felt so relaxed with her. Then he got realistic. He couldn’t fit a girlfriend in his life. Already, he was pushing himself to his limits. And he couldn’t drop Teddy. He’d made that mistake once—there wouldn’t be an encore. Then again, a first date didn’t mean a relationship. And she’d said she wasn’t exactly single.

  “Lots of names,” she agreed. “We get to be a lot of people. So if you weren’t Niko Black, who would you be? And where did the Black come from in the fir
st place?”

  “High school. Kowalczyk is Polish for blacksmith. I needed a name, and you know, I was young, and I thought it sounded cool. It doesn’t fit me. Not anymore. Where did the Taylor come from?” Taylor, that name, it felt like destiny, but it was probably only coincidence.

  “It tested well. Bonnie Taylor, a simple name people could remember, or forget, as the case may be. As the years pass, it’s more forgetting than anything. Which is a mercy. What about Niko Taylor?”

  “No.” Niko thought about mentioning Taylor Sebastian, but talking about exes on a first date was never a good idea.

  Bonnie took an exit. “Well, Niko, you’ll figure it out. Niko Black isn’t terrible. It’s just not you anymore, or that’s what you said.”

  “It’s what I said.”

  “Funny. My real last name is Smith. The blacksmith and the smith, alone in a car, is it destiny?”

  They were at the very southern border of Devil’s Edge. She worked her way through rough streets, closing in on the high school. He remembered what the bouncer said, that daemons were more prominent to the southeast.

  They parked in front of one of the big houses, weeds and cast-off furniture in the yard. This house had lights in the windows, where there weren’t sheets of plywood, marked with more graffiti.

  “Okay, let’s go solve a mystery,” Bonnie said. “Don’t worry, I got your back. I did a little Battle Artistry before the music took me over.”

  They walked through tall weeds to the door. Bonnie rang the doorbell, but then pushed her way into the house. There were sofas everywhere, full of people, dirty and thin. They appeared to be sleeping, but they weren’t. Most clutched vape pens in nerveless fingers. A chemical stench filled the air, but underneath was a rank stink—bathroom smells. It was a prank house, and Niko felt his anger. It was covering up his worry. He let both go.