Artful Evil Page 4

  There were sections dedicated to Hellion weapons training, equally as inhospitable, where participants could unleash slightly less lethal facsimiles of the real working weapons upon one another. I watched as a new sparring match got started. There were two guys on the floor, and one of them, a twenty-something with crew cut blond hair and a sleeveless T-shirt, held my favorite weapon, a Whip Crack. It was essentially a bullwhip crossed with a chainsaw, and I had one of my very own. A black-market acquirement that had served me well over the years. It could tear pretty much anything to shreds, especially a bad guy begging for trouble.

  Here in the gym, the Whip Crack didn’t have its teeth, but it was still a steel sheathed bullwhip. Not exactly foam rubber nun-chucks.

  Crew Cut went to work on his sparring partner, slashing his whip out in a wide arc. His partner came in low with some sort of weapon I couldn’t see, but Crew Cut was too fast for him. He brought his Whip Crack around and back down, tearing into his partner’s thighs with a snap. Partner went down, and Crew Cut went in for the kill. Had that been a working version of a Whip Crack, his partner would now be devoid of both his legs. As it was, Crew Cut had one more shot at him. He brought the Whip Crack back and then swept his arm forward again. His partner tried to slip out of the way, but he never stood a chance. Crew Cut’s weapon reached out and slashed his back as he tried to retreat, opening up a gruesome wound.

  Partner let out a shriek and collapsed to the floor. Crew Cut just coiled up his Whip Crack as if he were putting away an old extension cord, hung it on the weapons wall, and walked away.

  Agency attendants appeared from somewhere and collected Partner with less sympathy than I would have thought the guy warranted and hauled him off in the other direction.

  I continued across the gym to where Alex stood in the middle of her practice mat, peering off toward where the fight had been.

  “Remind me never to partner up with that guy,” I said, trying to break the tension now permeating the room. Pretty much everyone had stopped to watch the gruesome spectacle. There weren’t many people in the gym, but half a dozen Agents were getting back to their workouts, looking higher strung than they had a few minutes ago.

  “That guy walks around here with his ego in a wheelbarrow.” Alex looked disgusted. “I’d like to see him challenge me to one of his little sparring matches.”

  “Why does anyone climb in there with him if he has a reputation as being such a douche?”

  “He either suckers a new guy or pisses someone off so bad, they lose all sense and step in anyway. Truth is, he’s got some talent. There aren’t many Agents who could teach him a lesson, not that he would learn anything.”

  “Good thing I have a badass partner who can punch a hole into an engine block.” I lowered my voice for effect and held up a single fist. “With her bare hand.”

  Alex laughed. “You may not count yourself so lucky after we’re done working out.”

  She turned and walked to the center of the mat. I put my hand down and followed her. We faced each other, and Alex raised her hands in a fighter’s stance.

  “Show me what you’ve got.”

  Normally, it would be against my every instinct to hit a woman or even try to hit a woman, but Alex was different. She was a weapon in her own right. If I did manage to land a punch, it would be cause for either celebration or panic. I had yet to find out which.

  I sunk into my own fighter’s stance and threw out a few feeler jabs. She blocked them with ease. I feinted to the left, trying to draw her off with a fake jab, then came around with my right. Alex fell for none of it. She spun, trapping my wrist in her hands, then slammed me down to the mat like a fat sack of doughnuts.

  I rolled over to peer up at her. “I thought I had you that—”

  A foot crashed down next to my head then Alex drove a fist down to within a millimeter of my face.

  “Your enemy is not going to laugh and exchange witty banter when he throws you to the ground. He’s going to come in hard—go for the kill. Your jokes won’t protect you from any of that.”

  Alex stood up and retracted her impending hammer blow. Even though she never made contact, I couldn’t resist rubbing my nose as I got up next to her, trying to ease my bruised ego.

  “You made your point,” I said. “Save the punch-line for later.”

  I smiled, and for a moment, I thought Alex might add her punchline to my face after all, but she stood back instead and glared at me.

  “Your cousins almost killed you a few months ago, and they weren’t the only Woebegone in The Nine who know how to fight. No partner of mine is going to be a wallflower who gets his ass handed to him every time things get a little rough.”

  Alex took up a fighter’s stance again. “You can either take this seriously and try to learn something, or I will make it necessary for you to learn out of sheer survival. Your choice.”

  I held my hands up in surrender and took a step back. “All right, I’m sorry. I was just trying to untangle your bunched up ...” I decided not to finish that statement. “Maybe you could show me that throwing move you hit me with.”

  Alex huffed and straightened. “Fine, but if you don’t stop punching like a preschooler, all the throws in the world aren’t going to help you.”

  “Ouch. I think I liked it better when you were hitting me in the face.”

  “We can switch back. It’s way more fun for me too.” Alex tried to keep a straight face, but I saw the grin hiding beneath the surface.

  “No, that’s all right. Let’s give your fists a break.”

  Alex walked me through the throw technique several times at slow speed, adjusting my feet, hips, and hands each time. After about a half an hour, I became fairly competent at it.

  I tossed Alex to the mat, and she rolled to her feet for the hundredth time.

  “Not bad,” she surmised. “Keep practicing that footwork, and you’ll be able to pull that off in your sleep.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “A compliment? Are you feeling okay?”

  Alex backhanded me in the stomach. “I read it in a book somewhere. Compliment children and they’re more successful.”

  I covered up my stomach and let my mouth fall open in astonishment. “You read a book?”

  I dodged her next swing, grinning as wide as she was. “Not to change the subject, but what are you doing this afternoon?”

  “Why, you going to take me out for a hot date?”

  Something inside me pinged with panic. Alex must have seen it in my face because she laughed and shook her head. “Calm down, cowboy. I’m only kidding. What do you have in mind?”

  My nerves had shifted into a spin cycle, and I had no idea why. If I were alone, I would slap myself in the face. Alex was my partner. Why was I getting so worked up?

  I did my best to tamp down my nerves and flatten my voice. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Dan, but I may know a guy we can talk to about that stolen painting.”

  Now it was Alex who looked like she had been caught off guard. “How could you know that? I planned to do a little digging on my computer this afternoon, but I haven’t had a chance.”

  I smirked. “No offense to your computers, but I’ve been networking relationships down here for almost forty years. I’ve learned who to talk to and who the major players are. We just need to find them.”

  Alex looked me up and down as if she were sizing up a prize piece of beef. This did nothing to help my post-pubescent nerves.

  “All right, Columbo.” She turned around to pick up her gym bag and towel. “Let’s go talk to your snitch.”

  Chapter Nine

  Our first stop was my black-market shop. It had been my home for almost forty years, and while it was fairly new to Alex, she had still been here enough to think of the place as a sort of unruly relative. Rough, ugly, and occasionally host to some unpleasant characters, but loved, nonetheless.

  Zoe leaned out of the front window and met us with a wave and an over-eager smile as we approac
hed. A sure sign that she was more than happy to see us. She wanted something.

  “What a nice surprise. You never stop by the shop anymore. I was beginning to wonder if you remembered how to find the place.”

  I cringed at the accusation. Zoe had all but taken over my black-market operation. We traded high value items for secrets. Both were priceless in The Nine. I had built the place with my own two hands. Had developed relationships with the Woebegone and Hellions who learned to trust me. It hurt that anyone, even a friend like Zoe, might be settling into my position because I couldn’t be there.

  “I planned on stopping by as soon as—”

  Zoe cut me off. “I’m just giving you a hard time. I realize you’re busy. Besides, I like having the shop to myself. It’s sort of turning into a place I can call my own. I’m thinking off adding some curtains and maybe an accent wall for color.”

  “Ouch.” Alex shot me a wry grin. “Sounds like the homestead is getting along fine without you. You’re going to have to take up knitting or do some cross stitch to stay busy if this keeps up.”

  I turned a narrow-eyed glare to Alex, trying to act as if her words didn’t hurt. Zoe must have seen through to my frustration because she reached out and laid a hand on my arm, offering a genuine smile. “I’m kidding. Don’t worry. The place will always be here for you when you’re ready to come back. I’m not jumping into your shoes. Just adding another pair, that’s all.”

  I offered her a crooked grin in return and nodded. “Thanks for taking care of the place. I’m sorry I haven’t been there more often. With The Agency and helping Dan at Hula Harry’s, I’ve been swamped.”

  Zoe held up a finger. “Speaking of Hula Harry’s, did you get a chance to introduce my friend, Ruth?”

  Her over-eager smile returned with such force it drew a laugh out of Alex standing next to me.

  “She just needs a place to stay until she gets her memories back.” She started before I could say anything else. “I found her outside the Skin Quarries. I couldn’t leave her there. They would have locked her up with the other Disposables.”

  “You found her outside the Skin Quarries?” My eyebrows went up in question, and Zoe looked away.

  “I may have found her just inside the warehouse ... inside a cage. But it was unlocked, so she was practically free.”

  The Skin Quarries were the largest dealers of Disposables in the area. They also ran a nightclub known as the Wax Worx where they used their Disposables for heinous entertainment for The Nine’s elite. It was by far the worst place I had ever seen or even knew existed, a true model of Hell.

  “You have to stop pulling Woebegone out of the Skin Quarries. I know you want to make a difference but ...”

  “But what? Management is a joke now that your cousins are gone. I could waltz in there and free every one of them if I wanted to.”

  My cousins had run both the Skin Quarries and the Wax Worx up to a few months ago. At least until Alex and I had paid them a visit and aggressively reallocated their management.

  “So, what if you did? Even the clowns who run it now would replace every Freshborn slave within a week. And what would you do with the ones you freed? Hundreds of Freshborn Woebegone wandering the streets of Scrapyard City? It would be a free-for-all. They would be no better off than they were in the Wax Worx.”

  Zoe hung her head. I waited for the usual arguments in response. She would never let it go. She had been one of them, at least until I saved her. Now she saw it as her personal mission to save every other Disposable who walked The Nine.

  “You’re right.”

  I turned to peer at her, but she did not raise her head to meet my eyes. “Come again?”

  She waited a beat, then repeated herself. “I said you’re right.” This time she looked up to meet my surprised expression. Even Alex had her mouth halfcocked in disbelief.

  “This is never going to work.” Zoe’s eyes were bloodshot, but the tears that threatened to fall had not touched her cheeks. “I can save one Disposable after another. I can save them all, but it won’t stop. There will always be more. More Disposables, more handlers, more lowlife scum looking to use them.”

  I hated to see her like this, but she needed this reality check to make her realize the truth. We were in Hell. Bad things were a part of our existence. A big part. All we could do was try to make small adjustments. Help one at a time and make a Woebegone happy for a little while. We were never going to fix the system.

  Two women ambled out of the hidden storage space at the back of the shop where we stockpiled our trade goods. It was also an excellent spot for eavesdropping.

  Jazzy and Meg were the first Freshborns Zoe had saved, and the three of them had been inseparable ever since. Jazzy, a Latino jackhammer who could handle pretty much any situation, and Meg, a fire engine red head with attitude to match, never left Zoe’s side. They came out to stand by her now. They acted casual and didn’t say a word, but I knew they were ready to jump into Zoe’s side of any argument.

  Alex stepped forward and put a hand on her arm, softening her gaze into understanding. “Look, it might feel like you’re giving up but—”

  Zoe shook her head and pulled away. “I said you were right. I didn’t mean I would stop fighting. I just need to think bigger.”

  “Wait, what?” Alex turned and raised her eyebrows at me.

  “Saving one or two Woebegone will never make a difference. I need to think bigger. Hit them where it hurts.” Her grin turned manic, and she hurried around to the shop door and came out to face us.

  “I gotta run.” She hopped up to kiss me on the cheek then pulled Alex in for a quick hug. It all happened so fast neither of us thought to stop her, and Zoe began to jog away as if she were late for an all-expense paid shopping spree.

  She turned as she went, twisting to glance back at me one last time. “You really should stop by and say hello to some of the locals. They miss talking to you. I’ll see you both soon.”

  Zoe hurried off down the street, and Jazzy and Meg wandered out the door to watch her go as well.

  “Hold on. That’s not what I meant.” I shouted the sentiment way too late. Zoe was not only out of earshot, she was almost out of sight.

  “Well, that was some smooth talking.”

  Alex crossed her arms and stared at me. After a moment, Meg and Jazzy did the same.

  “What did I do? I just wanted to keep her out of trouble.”

  “That’s sort of the problem.” Meg spoke up. “The more you try to big brother her, the more she tries to prove she doesn’t need it. Let her go. She’ll figure things out, and she has us to watch her back. Nothing’s going to happen to her.”

  Now it was my turn to level a cynical stare in their direction. “Like the way you kept her from being held captive at the Wax Worx?”

  The three of them had bitten off way more than they could chew a few months back, requiring Alex and I to come to the rescue. All five of us had come close to punching a ticket to the Gnashing Fields that day. Not one of us came out of it unscathed.

  “That wasn’t our fault,” Jazzy said. “There was a lot more to that mess than we expected, and you know it.”

  She was right. My cousins for one. They had wanted revenge on me for killing them in the real world, among other things. Taking Zoe as bait had been an easy way to make sure I showed up for the party.

  “I would love to stand here and debate family politics with all of you, but we did come here for a reason, right?” Alex raised her eyebrows in that way that said if I didn’t pull my head out she was going to pull it out for me—in a very undignified fashion.

  I nodded and let out a breath. “Great. I got so off point I forgot to ask Zoe about our contact.”

  Meg and Jazzy both relaxed and dropped their arms.

  “What contact?” Meg asked. “We’re here almost all of the time. Maybe we can help.”

  I glanced at Alex, and she shrugged as if to say, “It couldn’t hurt.”

  “We�
��re looking for a guy named Marcus. He’s in and out of here every once in a while and has contacts in some of the darker merchandise channels down here. He usually wears a nice kicks and beanie.”

  “Yeah, I know that guy.” Jazzy stepped forward and leaned up against the front of the shop. “Zoe met him the other day. Said he’s hanging around the fetid district. Not a nice place.”

  “What place is?” Alex huffed. “Do you know if he’s still there?”

  “Maybe. They made a hefty deal, I know that. She took a lot of our stores and wouldn’t let us go with her. It all sounded pretty under the table.”

  I shook my head, resisting the urge to go off on an overprotective tirade.

  “Thanks. If Zoe comes back, try to keep her out of trouble, will ya?”

  Meg laughed. “Sure. Bring me a set of angel wings and a halo, and I’ll jump right on that.”

  Alex and Jazzy laughed. I tried to join in, but the sound came out more like a grumble. I couldn’t help it. Zoe was like family to me, and the thought of her in trouble was never funny. I just had to hope she had enough brains to steer clear of anything that could get her hurt. If history were any indication, hope and brains wouldn’t even keep her from knocking at trouble’s door.

  Chapter Ten

  Alex and I strode our way through a jumble of rusty angle iron, old sheet metal, and dark windows. The alley represented everything your mother said about shortcuts and strangers, only this one was in Hell, and the strangers were more than just strange.

  “You sure know how to show a girl a good time.” Alex kicked a roll of mangled chicken wire out of her way. “Next time maybe we could tour some of Jack the Ripper’s favorite hangouts.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, keeping my head on a swivel. “People know me from the shop down here. No one’s going to mess with us.” My eyes went to every doorway and window anyway. There was little light to see inside any of the makeshift hovels, but I didn’t want some Woebegone thug catching us by surprise any more than Alex did.