Bent Arrow, page 3
I knew they would, but a man's got to keep the peace if possible.
"Hey," I said as I stepped up to the group of five.
"Hey, yourself, little one. What you doin' out? It'll be dark soon, that's when the bad guys come out."
"Haha, we're already here," said another numnuts. They high-fived each other.
"I'm looking for someone."
"We ain't seen them."
"I haven't told you who I'm looking for yet," I told them, keeping my voice low and calm.
"Like I said, we ain't seen them. Just hanging out, enjoying the evening air. Move along."
"What if I want to score?" I asked.
A dude sat higher up on the steps whistled and a young kid came running out the door and hopped down the steps. He stood there waiting.
"What you want?" I was asked by the guy closest to me, probably the one in charge of these fools.
"I want to find a woman who may have come here to score. I want to know if she did."
"You said you wanted to buy. Maybe then we can give you some information."
"Fine," I sighed, still being the good guy. We did a deal for a vial and I paid then waited for the kid to disappear and return. The leader pocketed the vial then rose. We exchanged a dealer/client shake and I had the vial.
"Now, about this woman?"
"Like we said, ain't seen anyone. Just chilling out, you know how it is."
"I know how it is, and I asked you bunch of fucking clowns a simple question. Did you see a woman? Did you sell a woman with long hair, late forties, maybe early fifties, a vial?"
They were on their feet now and angry.
Me too.
The boss squared up to me, got right up in my face and leered. "Why you wearin' them stupid shades? You think you're some kind of gangster, is that it?" He turned to his cronies. "He thinks he's a playa. Haha. Sucker." He grinned wickedly as he turned back to face me and moved to grab my shades.
I stepped back and left him grabbing for air. He frowned and lunged whilst swinging a punch but I sidestepped easily and as he stumbled forward I grabbed his exposed forearm and let my anger bubble. With the enmity came the heat, my own blood surged to the surface and a bizarre thing I have never been able to explain occurred like it had so many times before. My fury turned to intense heat transmitted to the dude's arm and his skin melted instantly, the muscle frayed, capillaries and veins burst until soon I was holding onto little more than wet bone. He screamed and fell to the ground, writhing in agony.
I eyeballed the rest who'd got to their feet and pulled various weapons from knives to guns. They were hesitant and I took advantage of their uncertainty.
"I'm Freaky Spencer in case you don't already know, and I'm damn sure you've heard about me. Stash the weapons or the lot of you will find your heads exploding in three seconds. Three. Two." I didn't need to go any further. They complied. "Good. Now, I'll ask you one more time, and this time I want an answer. Do not make me remove these glasses. If I do, you're all dead. Understand? I said, do you understand?" They mumbled their acknowledgment then I sighed and said, "Well?" as I kicked the guy on the floor in the ribs, not that I wanted to, but with jokers like this you had to be the hard man, show no compassion, or they'd see right through the facade and deal with you in a most unfriendly manner.
"A woman came half an hour ago. Maybe an hour. Right mouthy bitch too. Bought a vial, was asking after Grunge. We told her to get lost. After we sold her the vial, of course."
"Where'd she go? What else did she say?"
"Nothing much, just gave us a mouthful, did these weird jumps up and down in her crazy-ass trousers, then went about her business. What's she to you? She your mom or something?"
"I wouldn't let her hear you call her that," I told them. "Okay, we're done here." Without another word, or even a look at the dude on the floor, I kicked him once more, stepped over him, then whistled as I sauntered down the street and turned the corner out of sight.
I put my back against the wall and breathed deeply to slow my heart rate and willed my body to stop shaking. I hated confrontations like that, but always knew I could face down hard men and jokers alike if I had to. The worst part of it was, I was never quite sure if I enjoyed the ultra-violence or despised it. There was certainly a thrill, a feeling of being invincible, knowing others feared you, but that wasn't a good thing. I trod a dangerous line, and crossed it more times than was right.
Still, we couldn't all be perfect. I knew I wasn't.
Once calm, I got into the Freakmobile, soothed by the clunk of the perfectly engineered door closing, and sat there for a moment before I decided what to do.
What was Aunty playing at? Did she buy a vial to try to get information, or did she buy it to get off her tits? Guess I'd find out soon enough.
Where do Junkies Go?
This wasn't the way I'd envisioned my evening panning out. Rather than driving through the depressing streets of my hometown on a damp, frigid Sunday night, I'd imagined I would be at home putting my feet up and counting cash after successfully delivering Grunge — yes, he gave himself that name, probably called Francis or Stewart or something, not that there's anything wrong with those names — to the outfit that had commissioned his capture.
Instead, I was enduring the sights of a typical seaside town on a dreary evening. Groups of twenty-somethings laughed and joked as they splashed through puddles, weaving from one pub to the next, wearing nowhere near enough clothes for the time of year. The homeless cowered in doorways, fearful and drunk to numb themselves from the cold. People walked fed-up looking dogs, some brave souls were even just out for a stroll—a little bit of weather wasn't going to stop them. Me, I was warm and dry but probably more unhappy than the lot of them.
It wasn't the drug, that had worn off now and I felt almost my usual self again, I was worried about Aunty. More than worried, I was seriously concerned for her well-being. Aunty was a fragile soul, had a troublesome past from what little I'd gathered, and that wasn't much. Her body told the story; scars criss-crossing her back, red welts as fresh as the day she'd endured them, which must have been decades ago. Almost as red as her hair.
Aunty needed to be needed, craved love and affection like most people, but for her it was different. She had a past is what I'm saying, and she'd finally found her home with us Freaks. Yet now and then I saw the desperation, the fear that it could all vanish and she'd be alone again. She belonged now, but with that security came the stress of one day maybe losing it. She wouldn't, and I'd told her so. We were in this together for life, but maybe that wasn't enough.
Nah, I told myself, shaking my head to clear the doubt. This was Aunty, no way would she do anything stupid. She was too sensible, in her own mad-as-a-fridge kind of a way.
And yet I couldn't help have my doubts.
I parked up and called her again. No answer.
Okay, so where could she be? Where did desperate junkies go to have their fix in peace? Did they care about such things? If she was taking Vamp2 then where would she go to do it? I thought on it for some time, then had an idea. It wouldn't surprise me. She was that kind of lady. Dwelling on what might have been when she felt down, rather than looking ahead. Focusing on the negative rather than the positive. In other words, human nature, the same as the rest of us.
I drove to my destination and pulled up, then turned off the engine. I listened to the ticking as it cooled before stepping out and leaving the door ajar. Somehow it seemed wrong to make a noise.
The place was exactly as I remembered it. Cracked concrete covered in weeds, old fairground rides slowly rotting away or vandalized. The helter-skelter still stuck up a middle finger to the world, a memory of fun times and kids screaming with joy, pestering their parents for another three goes. The merry-go-round had clearly seen some recent action. The unicorn was down to one leg and had now lost its tail and half its face, along with the horn. The other rides were in much the same state.
And as for the mad wizard who had made his home here? I'd heard he was long gone, had departed rather hastily after the "mishap" with the faery golem. Aunty had liked him though, and at another time they might have been an item. He was certainly a charmer. Aunty had enjoyed the compliments and the innuendo from the old perv, and I guess she deserved someone to pay her that kind of attention.
He was gone now though, and good riddance. He wasn't a nice man; she was better off without him.
I trundled over to the old house of fun where he'd set up home, feeling heavy of spirit, like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders. Argh. Sometimes you just want to scream, you know? Not for any particular reason, just to let the world know you're still alive. That occasionally you hurt, and feel helpless when the ones you love are hurting. That life was a bitch sometimes, but you were still part of it, still here, and just wanted to be heard.
But I didn't, because I was British, so I bit my lip, squared my shoulders, and eased open the broken door with my boot.
Dust, dirt, and leaves swirled as the wind gusted in from behind me, catching on the debris strewn on the floor. Broken bottles, ripped books, cables and a lot of stuffing from inside furniture. Rats and mice, foxes and who knew what else had come to find shelter and maybe nab something soft to take back to their nests. Kids had been here too, drinking and smoking and hanging out as they do. The smell was sour, stale, a real sense of being abandoned. Hopes lost, dreams smashed, a life ruined.
"Aunty, are you in here?" I called into the darkness. No reply.
I patted my jacket pocket for my phone so I could use it as a torch, but it was back in the car. Then I recalled I was now an ace magic user, so I let my mind focus and reached out with my hand. Gritting my teeth, I pictured what I wanted to happen and a small ball of white light sat there in my palm, illuminating the space.
"Damn," I whistled. It was worse with the light illuminating every corner. By the looks of it, the old wizard had a bit of a meltdown. No way could this all be done by kids. Bits of tech were everywhere. Broken boards and smashed screens trailing wires like the innards of a dismembered cyborg. Even the walls had been ripped back to the studs. Kids had covered what remained in graffiti, and there were the remains of several small fires.
And there, huddled in the corner, head bowed, was Aunty.
I walked over slowly, then crouched down and said, "Hey," as I lifted her chin gently with my hand. Her eyes were red raw from crying, her mascara streaked down her face. She clutched the vial tightly in her right hand like her life depended on it.
"I'm gonna kill them all," hissed Aunty quietly. It's not often I get scared, but this was one of those times.
"Who? Who you gonna kill?"
"The ones that take the life force from these poor people." Aunty held up the vial as though I didn't already understand.
I nodded. "So you didn't take it?" I asked with relief.
"What? No, of course not. I'm not an idiot, Spencer. Of course I didn't take this foul poison. It's people's lives in here, in this little vial. I wanted to know for sure, to see for sure. So I bought some and came here, don't know why, to study it. Sorry, were you worried?"
"Of course I was worried, you idiot. I didn't know where you were, what you were doing."
"And you thought I'd taken it?"
"No, course not. Okay, maybe a little, but I knew you wouldn't, not really. You okay?"
"No. I let myself go deep, Spencer, to the core of what this is really made of. It's the worst, it truly is. It has to be stopped. I'm going to stop it."
"Not you, us," came a voice from behind.
The Gang's All Here
I smiled at Aunty and nodded before turning. I scooted beside her and put my arm around my favorite old hag and grinned at the newcomers.
"Hey," I said.
"Hey," said Mimi. Boris smiled, Hanna grunted.
"What you doing here? How'd you find us?"
"A wild hunch," said Mimi. "After you left, I got worried about Aunty, hi, Aunty, and had a little think about where you might be. Looks like I was right."
"I'm pretty predictable, aren't I? Silly old lady coming somewhere just because a man, a wicked man, paid her some attention. It's pathetic."
"No, it isn't," I told her. "It's human, and that's a good thing."
"Sure it is," said Mimi, smiling in sympathy. "You doing okay?" she asked Aunty.
"Not really. It's this stuff." She held up the vial. "So many lives damaged. We have to do something."
"Maybe we will then," said Mimi. "Right, guys?"
"Boris help Aunty."
"Better than being at home and bored," said Hanna.
"That's the spirit," I told them. "See, Aunty, Freaky Finders stick together. Now, shall we?" I stood and held out my hand for Aunty. She gripped tight and I hauled her to her feet. Her palms were slick and cool. She didn't look too well but she was made of stern stuff and would pull through.
"Mimi had a date," I whispered, giggling like an idiot.
"Really? Oooh. Mimi," Aunty shouted, her spirit already returning, "who was it? Is she nice? What's her name. Has she got big tits?"
"Aunty!" I said, shocked.
"What?"
"You can't say that, it's… well, it's sexist."
"How can it be sexist? She's a woman, I'm a woman."
"But still, I thought we all weren't supposed to judge people by their looks. If I asked if a woman had big, you-know-whats, then you'd tell me off."
"That's different. That wouldn't be nice at all," she said.
"Massive bazookas," said Mimi as she turned to us and held her hands in a cupped position beneath her small breasts.
"You guys," I said, dumbfounded.
"So why aren't you on your date? Because of me? Oh no, you should go. We can deal with this tomorrow."
"I don't think I should leave you," said Mimi.
"How big were they again?" asked Aunty with a sparkle.
Mimi got a faraway look in her eyes. "Massive," she said breathlessly. "Yeah, okay, I am outta here." Mimi walked forward with a sashay and a Gap opened up before her. She was gone in a flash and the hole vanished, leaving us with the after-effects of such a ferocious break in what some folks call reality.
"Lucky bugger," I groaned.
"Damn straight," said Aunty with conviction.
"Come on, let's all go get a fish supper. My treat."
"Boris like fish."
"I know you do, buddy. I know." I slapped the big guy on the back and we all filed out of a place that held nothing but memories, none of them good for any of us.
Waiting Out the Night
We had our fish supper, Boris had three, plus any leftovers, then headed home in various ways. The others went to bed and Aunty and I remained in the kitchen chatting and staring at the walls and basically just not going to bed. I knew she wasn't in the mood for sleep and wanted company, so I provided exactly that. Mimi rocked up about three in the morning, but we kept quiet and let her wander off to bed to dream of the massive breasts she had no doubt been fondling, lucky gal.
By six, Aunty and I had both showered and eaten breakfast and were once again sitting around waiting. We had to do this as a team, it wouldn't be fair otherwise, but we were antsy and I knew just what to do to break Aunty out of her funk.
"Fancy going and catching Grunge? It'll make you feel better. You can hit him if you want. Plus, we'll get paid. Money's always good, right?"
"Sounds like an idea," she said with a weak smile. "Not a good one, just an idea. But it beats waiting around for hours for the others to get their act together."
"That's the spirit!" I told her with a salute and a lovely grin to cheer her up no end.
Aunty sighed and heaved herself to her feet like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. I did the only thing that would lift her spirits under such circumstances and patted her on the head and told her everything would be all right.
She just stared as though there was something wrong with me. Sometimes you just can't win. People, eh?
After an extended argument about my new bow and arrows, which she won so I left them behind, and an even longer argument about why I was sure spending the bounty on a new collection of sunglasses for me was a very good idea, again, she won and I couldn't, and apparently it wasn't, but after that we were straight out the door and looking for action of the nasty kind. No, not that kind of nasty, but the ultra-violent and bloody kind. Right up our street that is. And Aunty was not in the best of moods, so Grunge had better look out.
We just had to find him.
Again.
Stupid Vampires
"He wouldn't be this stupid would he?" asked a doubtful Aunty as I clambered up a six-foot wall at the back of a lane full of split bin bags and several car tires.
"Stupid is as stupid does," I panted as I straddled the crumbling red brick.
"What does that even mean?" she asked as she reached out her hands for me to haul her up.
"It means… Um, ah, forget it. And you have the Awesome Trousers, remember? Just hop over."
Aunty looked down dubiously at the purple bell-bottoms. She wasn't a fan, but had been unable to ditch them since we did a deal, and now she was forced to exercise every morning and the rest of her wardrobe was already moth-eaten from zero use. "Don't wanna."
"Why not? It's what they're for. Getting you out of scrapes, saving your energy, doing cool stuff like jumping over walls in crappy alleys so you can go nab a dirty vampire that isn't too smart."
"They make me do things," she whispered, then glanced down nervously.
