Artful Evil Page 5

  “Besides, you brought your death sickle thingies.” I motioned to the weapons she had hidden up the loose sleeves of her long, black coat. They were a sort of dual switch bladed set of Kamas she could draw like derringers at an old west poker game. They popped into her hands faster than a spring-loaded ace, and she rendered a shave and a haircut in a way only Sweeny Todd could appreciate.

  “They are Song Reapers, and if you call them death sickle thingies one more time, I will reap that smile right off your face.”

  I held my hands up by way of surrender. “I’m just saying you are overdressed for the occasion.” I motioned to the ultra-fashionable spy duster she wore. “There’s nothing to worry about down here. You can depend on me.”

  Alex eyed me, and my hand went into my pocket where I had stowed my Knuckle Stunner. Known or not, a little more caution couldn’t hurt.

  We rounded a corner and saw a group of Woebegone huddled over a greasy fire in a fifty-five-gallon drum. None of them spoke, but the misery they shared was written all over their faces. Cold in The Nine was something Alex and I didn’t have to worry about anymore. As Judas Agents, that particular torture had been suppressed. Every other Woebegone in The Nine felt it though. That frigid, miserable chill that originates deep in their bones. That shivering misery was one of the greatest tortures of our forsaken afterlives. Nothing they could do would take that chill away, and nothing would stop them from trying either. I had dealt with it for four decades, so I knew all too well how they felt.

  I recognized a face among the trio and raised a hand in greeting.

  “Marcus, my friend. We’ve been looking everywhere for you. What have you been up to, buddy?”

  Marcus, the Woebegone in the middle, was wrapped in an old, wool blanket and wore a dirty, red beanie and fingerless gloves. He took one glance at us and tore off at a dead sprint.

  “I can depend on you, huh?” Alex shook her head and took off after him, her duster billowing behind her. I followed suit with much less flair. Marcus tripped and jumped his way through a minefield of debris littering the narrow pathway between the tall shantied structures. Everything from old bicycles to beer cans to I-beams blocked our path. The U.S. Marines Corps couldn’t have set up a better obstacle course.

  I leapt over what appeared like the remains of an old railroad bridge while Alex clambered around an old section of chain link fence. Marcus had obviously mapped out the most efficient way through the web work of steel because despite his gangling technique, he was pulling away. If I hadn’t been up on high ground when he slipped in through a side door, he would have made a smooth escape.

  Alex had sprinted ahead, so I whistled to get her attention.

  “Hold on.” I dropped off of a jutting steel grate that led to nowhere and landed in behind her. She eyed me with more than a little irritation until I motioned to the door Marcus had disappeared into. “He went in there.”

  Alex looked at the door then at me. “How bad do you want to talk to this guy?” She put a hand on the door, holding it closed. “We could walk into anything in there. He might be long gone out the back door anyway.”

  I smiled. “I’m sure this is some sort of misunderstanding. I’ve known Marcus for a long time. He probably has a good reason for running. I bet he got spooked and wanted to talk to us in private.”

  Alex raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m sure that was it. Marcus tore down this street like a cat with its fur on fire because he wanted to chat in a more romantic location.”

  “I didn’t say romantic.” My hand went to the door handle, and Alex removed hers. “I said private. I’ll bet he’s right inside.”

  Turned out I was half right. Marcus stood on the far side of the room, but the place was anything but private. The smallish hovel seemed to be some sort of hangout. I would call it a bar except for the lack of booze—or fun.

  Six patrons stood from their makeshift tables the moment we walked into the decrepit establishment, and Marcus grinned. It was not an evil smile, but rather an expression that said you really shouldn’t have followed me through that door.

  “I told you so.” Alex had taken up a semi-defensive stance to my left, and I could tell by her posture that she was ready to draw her Song Reapers and go to work.

  “Take it easy,” I whispered. “I got this.”

  Alex glanced up at me then straightened. “Fine. You go handle your buddies over there, and I’ll wait. Show me what you’ve got, tiger.” She crossed her arms and made a show of leaning back against the wall. Suddenly, the room seemed a lot more crowded.

  I turned my attention from Alex to Marcus again.

  “Hey, man, why did you take off like that? I just wanted to ask you about ...”

  I took a few steps in his direction, but the wall of Woebegone closed in around me until I could no longer see Marcus.

  A big guy with a scraggly beard and an arm full of tattoos poked me in the chest. “Why don’t you take your girlfriend and go back to your shop?”

  Tattoos poked me again and moved forward, forcing me back a step. The wall of Woebegone moved with him.

  “What’s with the hostility? We just want to talk to Marcus. I know him.” I hopped on my toes trying to see over the barricade of grimy fat and muscle. “Tell them, Marcus. We go way back.”

  Tattoos poked me again, furthering his advance. “One last chance, then we’re going to help you out that door in pieces.”

  I glanced over at Alex. She looked bored, leaning on the wall examining her nails.

  “I could use a little assistance here.”

  Alex peered up at me then over at Tattoos and his crew. She seemed to size them up for a moment then walked toward the door. For one stomach-dropping second, I thought she might leave me alone with all this bad breath and sweat, but then she stopped and threw the bolt on the door, locking it in place. Tattoos and his crew stared at her, and frankly, so did I.

  She, in turn, went back to leaning against the wall again and shot me a rueful grin.

  “Like you said. You got this.”

  Chapter Eleven

  We all stared at Alex for a beat. They probably wondered if she was serious. I did too. It only took half a breath to realize she was not only serious, she had no intention of helping me. This would be sparring practice on steroids, and if I didn’t jump first, it would be over before the fat man screamed.

  I spun on my heel, whipping the Knuckle Stunner out of my pocket. In my haste, I hadn’t laced my fingers into the loops. The resulting catastrophe was my only weapon flying across the room only to land at Alex’s feet. She put a toe on it, holding the electrified knuckles in place as she continued to examine her nails. She made no move to return them.

  Her stocking would definitely be full of coal this year.

  Tattoos saw the exchange and grinned. “What’s the matter, girlfriend got your toy?”

  I spun and charged him without saying another word. Alex had punished me with a face to face Muay Thai headlock for weeks until I had learned it for myself. It served me well now. Tattoos weighed way more than me, but if I had his head, he would go anywhere I pointed him.

  Tattoos breathed heavy into my face and tried to break my grip on his neck. I knew if he did, it would all be over. His henchmen did their best to skirt his now flailing feet to get at me, but I kept jerking Tattoos left and right, keeping his blubber between them and me, adding in a knee to Tattoos’ nose whenever I got a chance. It didn’t take long for Tattoos to go down, leaving me with five.

  Without their fat-full leader blocking their path, all five bum-rushed me at once, making it easy to toss a chair at their feet and tangle them up. They all went down in a mess of legs and elbows, and I went in for a cheap shot on the front two. A roundhouse kick and downward fist were all it took to put them out of commission as well.

  Right when I began to feel good about the lessons Alex had been giving me, one of the three stood up and held the last two back. He took on a fighting stance that said he was not a blubbe
r-filled punching bag like his predecessors. He was short and stocky, and his open shirt revealed an ocean of ripped abs above his waistline.

  Show off.

  As if that weren’t enough, Abs lashed out with about a thousand jabs and followed them up with a flying roundhouse kick sharp enough to slice a newspaper. If I had been anywhere near him, my torso would have been a boneless side of beef. Even Alex took the time to stand up and take notice.

  I raised my fists and waited. Abs somehow managed to flex every muscle in his body Bruce Lee style, then he let out a scream and charged. I had about a blink to decide how to react. I decided cheating was my best course of action. Instead of meeting him head on, I dove low and to the side, grabbing for the chair I had used to trip him and his compatriots up earlier. Chair in hand, I rolled to my feet and broadsided his head WWE style before he recovered from his charge. It was a horribly cheap shot, but it worked. Abs stumbled then he went over like a tree in the forest, skin slapping the floor so hard he sounded like a wet towel.

  The last two stooges stood back with their hands held high. I guess they figured the odds were no longer in their favor. They wanted out while they had the chance.

  When I didn’t charge them, they both shuffled toward the door, trying to keep an eye on me and Alex at the same time. They worked the bolt free, and as soon as they had the door open, they piled out the door like a couple of loose chickens.

  The moment they were gone, my eyes went to Marcus. He now held his red beanie clutched to his chest like a teddy bear. The panic written in his wide eyes telegraphed his next move so clearly a child could see it.

  Alex took her toe off my Knuckle Stunner and slid it to me on the floor before he jumped. I spun and grabbed it, bringing the weapon up under his chin as soon as he made a break for the door.

  “You’re just going to leave after I went to all this trouble to talk to you, Marcus? That seems kind of rude.”

  I shoved him back into a chair and held him at bay with the Knuckle Stunner while Alex closed and bolted the door again, effectively cutting off his only escape.

  With the door shut, I stepped back and let out an exasperated sigh. “What is your deal? We’ve known each other for a long time. What’s with the tattooed welcoming committee and mister jujitsu? I just wanted to talk to you.”

  Alex walked over and stood next to me, staring down at Marcus with impassive eyes.

  “And thanks for all your help, by the way.” I switched my gaze to Alex. “That guy could’ve killed me.”

  “But he didn’t.” Alex shrugged. “I would have jumped in if you were dead, I promise.”

  I blinked at her. She did not look back at me. For the life of me, I could not tell if she was serious or not.

  I shook my head and turned my attention back to Marcus.

  “So, what’s the problem? Why all the fighting and theatrics?”

  Marcus glanced from me to Alex and back again. He glanced toward the door, sizing up his chances, then sunk in his chair when he realized they were zero.

  “I figured you heard about the deal I made with your girl, Zoe.”

  My nerves rose to attention at the mere mention of her name. “What did you do? If she’s in some kind of trouble because of you ...”

  I started to step forward, but Alex put a hand on my chest. I paused, but if Marcus didn’t start talking right now, Alex would need to do a lot more than put an arm out to stop me.

  He must have recognized this because he sank back in his chair and pulled his beanie back up in front of his chest again, kneading it in his fingers with panicked little motions.

  “Nothing like that, man. She wanted some information, that’s all.”

  Alex kept her arm out even though I no longer pressed to get at Marcus. “What kind of information?”

  Marcus looked from her to me, hesitating for a moment. So I leaned into him again, and he cracked.

  “Blueprints. She wanted plans for the Wax Worx and the Skin Quarries. She said she would pay a lot for them so I ...”

  Marcus hesitated again.

  “Stop screwing around, or I am going to let Gabe chat about it his way.”

  “Fine.” Marcus screeched. My anger was more show than go now, but he didn’t know that. Alex did, and she knew how to play good cop, bad cop in a way I had never seen before.

  “I trumped up a bunch of plans and traded them to her for three root beers and a box of Ho Ho’s.”

  Alex whistled. “Wow. You definitely put one over on her. That’s a small fortune.”

  “Yeah, well, now you know why I ran. I don’t even have the stuff anymore. Those guys you beat up took it all from me.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him.

  “All right, almost all of it. I kept a couple of the Ho Ho’s, but that’s all I can give you.”

  I made a show of straightening my Knuckle Stunner on my fingers then peered down at him again.

  “I have a better idea. I think you’re going to earn that payment with some legitimate information.”

  Marcus narrowed his eyes at both of us. “Information about what? I already told you, I made those plans up. I doubt real ones even exist.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t care about that.” Although I was curious what Zoe was up to. “I want to hear about a painting.”

  Marcus appeared genuinely perplexed for a second, then I saw realization dawn in his eyes. “I don’t know nothin’ about a painting. I don’t even know how to paint.”

  “I think you’re lying, Marcus. You are about to pee in your chair you know so much. Let’s hear it. What do you know? Who has it? Who stole it, and how can we get it back?”

  Marcus pulled his knees up to his chest and shook his head. “I can’t tell you any of that. They’ll have me swimming laps in the Sulfur Pools or worse. Either way, I promise it’s a lot more than you could do with that little toy of yours. You’ll just have to stun me. Then what? I won’t be able to talk. Then what’ll you do?”

  Alex took half a step back and a musical little jingle came from somewhere in her coat. Before either of us realized it, Alex held one of her Song Reapers in her hand. The handle was a supple red, topped by dual black, serrated blades that arched out like miniature sickles. The weapon looked so deadly in her hand I fought an urge to step back myself.

  The musical sound came from a dainty looking chain that attached the handle to her wrist, allowing her to cartwheel the blades in any number of lethal feats. I had seen her do it once. It was a sight to inspire dread and awe. Far more than Marcus was equipped to fend off with his beanie.

  Alex held the blades under Marcus’s chin and forced him to lift his head to look her in the eye.

  “I can promise you Gabe’s Knuckle Stunner is the last thing you need to worry about if we decide to cause you pain.”

  Marcus looked to me as if he had mistaken Alex for the good cop, but actually I was the bad cop, and she was the homicidal maniac cop.

  Marcus raised a finger in the air ever so slowly. “On second thought, I might be able to help you after all.”

  Chapter Twelve

  I rattled the door to my shop, wondering why it was closed in the middle of the day, and then fumbled for the old key I kept in my pocket. “We haven’t been gone two hours. Zoe has freed half the Freshborns in the Scrapyard City. You would think she could spare one to keep the shop open while she’s gone.”

  “You want a Freshborn who can’t even remember their name in charge of your shop?” Alex laughed. “I bet she’s getting some air. Who would want to be stuck in this box all day?”

  I glared at her, then jiggled the lock and kicked the lower half of the door, dislodging the sticky part to shove it open. “I’ll bet she’s nosing around the Skin Quarries. I don’t know what she meant by thinking big, but I don’t like it. I want to know why she tried to bargain those blueprints from Marcus. One of these days, she’s going to get in too deep, and I won’t be able to pull her out.”

  “I don’t blame you for worryin
g, but Zoe’s a grown woman. She needs to do her own thing. It’s her neck to risk. If she wants to put it on the chopping block, then that’s her business.”

  “Until it’s not. How many times have we gone in to rescue her? Then all our heads are on the block.”

  I walked into the small shop front and unlatched one of the heavy shutters that secured the windows, pushing it open to let in some light.

  “That’s our choice.” Alex worked the latch for the other window and opened it as well. “She’s never begged us to come help her. I knew the risk when I went, and I was willing to take it. One day, I might not be. You might not either.”

  The thought of leaving Zoe to rot at the Skin Quarries, or worse, the Wax Worx, was more than I wanted to consider.

  “I just wish she would be more careful. I can understand taking a risk, but do it for a purpose, not rescuing Freshborns when those scumbags have an endless supply waiting for them at the Pools.”

  “A purpose like keeping your buddy’s bar open? Now, there’s a cause worth dying for.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “That’s different,” I snapped as I hit the latch releasing the secret door to the storage area behind the shop. It was an old school bus that had been long buried beneath mounds of steel and rubble, and the door happened to open up to the back wall.

  “Really? Enlighten me.”

  I climbed the three tall stairs, and Alex followed me in.

  “Dan didn’t ask for our help, and he can’t do it on his own.”

  “Sort of like the Disposables Zoe frees from the Skin Quarries.”

  I grunted, knowing I was not going to win this argument.

  “You’re just mad because you have a big brother complex, and you can’t let it go. I get it. But you need to quit treating Zoe like a child, or you are going to lose her as a friend.”

  I took quick stock of the merchandise in the bus, not wanting to look up at Alex. She was right, but admitting it was not on my to-do list for the afternoon.