Wrong Ways Down

by Stacia Kane

It all fit. It all made sense. But something in Terrible’s head kept telling him Archie weren’t what he seemed, that maybe there were more to it. “Why you living here, you work in Cross Town?”

  Archie shrugged. “Why not? Cheaper here. Nobody bugs me—usually.”

  He said that last with a pointed narrow-eye look at Terrible. Aye, Terrible were imposing on Archie’s precious time or whatany the fuck. Causen Archie were so busy and important.

  And maybe he were, at least maybe he were as far as what was happening. Maybe Terrible oughta give him he alone time back and go see what else he could find out on Archie, too.

  He gave Archie one last glare to let him know he weren’t done with him, and headed for the Chevelle.

  Next morning he sat outside Chess’s building, waiting for her. Early, causen it were Holy Day so she’d be heading to her Church soon. He wanted to catch her before she left; needed to ask her on something, and ain’t wanted to ask on the phone.

  Ain’t wanted to stop by the night before, neither, cause by the time he woke up Archie’s landlord to get what knowledge he had on Archie, and put out the word that he wanted everything any else could give him on Archie, and finished telling Bump’s brain men to get him what they could on the Peace Factory, it were after three and he ain’t wanted to bother her, even though her lights were on. She had to be up early on Saturdays; he weren’t real clear on why it were so important she be there for they services or whatany it was they did, but it seemed like it were. So he tried not to give her the ring-up or stop by later on Fridays. She ain’t slept enough as it was.

  Meant he’d only got himself about four hours of sleep, but that ain’t mattered. He could go back home to bed iffen he wanted to. She probably couldn’t.

  He leaned against the Chevelle and felt the cold air around him, watched how it made everything look sharp at the edges. He kinda liked mornings, leastaways when he woke up early to see em instead of being up all night. When morning came after being up all night it were like being shooed home when the bar closed. But waking up early, felt like the day could be anything. Fresh. No shit left over from the night before.

  That feeling wouldn’t last more’n an hour or two, but it were still nice when he had it.

  The big front doors of Chess’s building opened and she appeared, glancing around to make certain nobody were there before she stepped all the way out. She saw him. Even at a distance—her building had steps out front, and a patch of dirt between them and the street—he saw her smile, felt himself smiling back. For a second it were like they were the only people in the world. At least it were until a dog started barking in the distance, and somebody yelled at it, and the street sounds that were always there even early in the morning came back. They’d been there the whole time. He just ain’t heard em.

  “Hey,” she said when she got close to him. Still smiling, but confusion touched her eyes. Confusion or concern, maybe. “What’s up? Everything okay?”

  He nodded. “You heading you Church now, aye?”

  “Yeah, it’s Holy Day, and it’s the New Year service, so … ”

  “Aye.” He offered her a smoke, which she took, and lit one for himself too. “Got an ask for you. Ever hear on a place called the Peace Factory?”

  She thought for a second. The sun hit the back of her head and made her hair glow. Fuck, she was so pretty. “They make magic supplies, right?”

  “Aye, guessing so.”

  “Yeah, I think I know who they are. Why?”

  “Heared something on em, wondered iffen you had any knowledge. You buy from they, or any at you Church do?”

  She smiled a little, rolled her eyes. He wanted to kiss her when she did that. Course he always wanted to kiss her, so … “Ha, no. They make stuff for amateurs. Generic shit.”

  “Shit that ain’t work.”

  Her smile widened. “Right. The stuff you see at convenience stores, you know? Ready-made sleep spells, that kind of thing, for people who aren’t witches.”

  “You got any knowledge on em?”

  “The name is really familiar.” She bit her lip. Aye, he’d do the same iffen she’d let him. “It sounds like I should know it, if you know what I mean. You want me to check it out? I can’t get any business records or anything, I’d need an Elder to get that stuff, but I can look at their basic file, if you want.”

  “Be a help, aye, iffen you ain’t minding.”

  “Sure. I’ll call you if I find anything, okay?”

  “Aye, thanks.” He stepped aside so she could unlock her car door. “Oughta get you gone now, aye? Ain’t wanting make you late or aught.”

  “Oh, yeah. Right.”

  He grabbed the door as she opened it, letting her know he’d close it for her. Got him another smile. Pretty cool way to start his day; maybe that were why he was thinking this were a good morning. Causen he were seeing her first thing, and he ain’t usually done that.

  “Okay, well, I’ll give you a call,” she said. “I know you have plans tonight, though, so … Happy New Year, in case I don’t see you.”

  “Aye. You, too.” He closed the door then, fast so he wouldn’t try to lean in and touch her or anything. Fast so he wouldn’t say it ain’t mattered what plans he had, iffen she wanted to see him she’d see him. Then he stood on the curb and watched her drive away.

  CHAPTER NINE

  AYE, WERE FUCKING dumb of him to think a new day could mean anything good. He stood inside a squat on Foster and looked at the bags in his hand, trying to calm down enough to listen to what Bumberjack were telling him.

  “Told me them could handle what ghosts be out there, them did,” Bumberjack said. His voice were more slurred than usual; Terrible guessed them bags had been fuller when he bought em. When he bought em off Slobag’s men. “Told me I start buyin offen them, you get me, buyin them product, they help me out an be keeping me safe from that spook out there.”

  “Ain’t a fuckin ghost.” It came out harder then he meant it to; Bumberjack shrank away. Shit. Terrible took a deep breath. “Ain’t a ghost, dig? Slobag lyin, tryin get people moving over to he.”

  “But be a spook killed Slick, I’m hearing—”

  “Weren’t a ghost killed Slick. True thing, aye? Were seen. Were a living one, not dead.”

  Bumberjack ain’t looked convinced. “Why Bump ain’t got the Churchwitch in? Slobag men sayin can keep me safe from the spooks.”

  Bumberjack weren’t usually so dumb. That bag Slobag’s men gave him musta been stronger than usual. Well, aye, them was tryna steal customers, wasn’t they? Coursen what they offered now were better than normal. Then after people made the switch Slobag’d start cutting their shit deep again.

  “Bump ain’t got the Churchwitch in,” he said, real slow, “causen we ain’t needing her in. No ghost, dig? No ghost, no need for the Churchwitch. Iffen a ghost were around, she’d be in it. Aye?”

  “But—”

  “Naw, no but.” Terrible glared at him. “An no ghost. Ain’t wanna even be hearing that shit again, dig? I hear you saying that shit, I come back. You keep you fuckin mouth shut.”

  “Aye, aye, okay, I ain’t saying on it. Swearing I ain’t.”

  “He say any else to you? What you saying to he?”

  “Ain’t said much.”

  “Who else he chattering with?”

  Bumberjack shrugged. “Ain’t seen. Ain’t were watchin, aye?”

  Terrible pulled out his phone without responding and sent a text to the street-man number; a minute or two later a shadow covered the doorway of the squat, a shadow which became Soft Mike. “Aye?”

  “Change these out.” Terrible held up the two bags he took offen Bumberjack. “Give he fresh. I taking these, aye? Ain’t worry on the paying.”

  The day ain’t had gotten any warmer out, neither. Last day of the year. And the good mood he’d had that morning were totally gone, replaced by a feeling of … foreboding, he guessed. Foreboding. Had the feeling something weren’t right, like before the day ende
d he were gonna wish it had never started.

  Ain’t helped that when he got outside with Mike, Mike said, “Why come Bump ain’t doin anything on this ghost we got out there?”

  Terrible yanked a cigarette out of his pocket to give him something to do with his hands. Something besides punching Mike. “No fucking ghost. Ain’t knowing where you getting that shit. No ghost.”

  “Heared be the Cryin Man, I heared.”

  “Aw, fuck. Ain’t a ghost, for certain ain’t the fuckin Cryin Man. Cut that shit out, aye? No more.”

  Mike shrugged. “Only sayin what I hearing.”

  “You hearing it, you tell em be bullshit.”

  But he could see in Mike’s eyes that Mike weren’t convinced.

  Why the fuck did Slobag think people would believe he could do anything about ghosts? He ain’t had a Churchwitch on he side of town working for him or aught like that. Were possible he’d hired heself some other witch—were some around—but still. As far as Terrible knew Slobag ain’t had any to do with any witches; he ain’t had heard even the slightest rumor that there were anybody magic working for him. And he heard all kindsa rumors, all the time.

  But then, nobody ever said Slobag made sense with what he did. And it ain’t mattered much anyroad. He were either killing and attacking so’s he could make Bump look weak, or he were taking advantage of killings and attacks so’s he could make Bump look weak. What mattered was that he stopped tryna make Bump look weak, and to get him to stop Terrible had to make the attacks stop.

  “Hearing Slobag tryin hire some dudes away,” Pete said. “Hearing one a his men pull up on Roley on the yesterday, lean out he car onna street and start giving him chatter on how iffen any wanted to come working for he, he make em all be safe.”

  What the fuck? Roley hadn’t said a word to him or Bump on that, least not yet. “Any others?”

  “Ain’t knowing. Ain’t heared other names but ain’t can think Roley be the only one. Why Roley, dig?”

  Aye, Terrible wondered that, too. Roley’d been working a warehouse up Seventy-first, far from the borders. Seemed awful funny, Slobag sending men all that way but not having em closer. Seemed awful funny them head straight for Roley.

  But again, who knew why the fuck Slobag did what he did? Maybe he were tryna take the far streets and close in around Bump, like flanking, instead of moving straight up. Either way he had to be stopped.

  Terrible nodded at Pete, who seemed to be waiting for a reply, and headed back to the car. Maybe stopping in Roley’s place would be worth doing.

  What a shithole.

  Smelled like old socks and mold; probably causen there were old socks everywhere, and dirty plates covered with mold littered the kitchen. Even on the grimy tile floor. No wonder Roley couldn’t get laid, iffen he were tryna bring dames back to this place.

  “Were sleepin.” Roley sounded peevish and annoyed. Katie got that tone sometimes when Felice made her clean her room before she could go out to get some eats with him. But Katie were eight years old. And she was a fuck of a lot cuter than Roley, and she weren’t a smug prick neither.

  So Terrible didn’t reply, just watched Roley move stacks of stroke mags and papers and empty potato chip bags off his couch to clear a space. He ain’t really wanted to sit there, but he were trying not to let Roley know how much he hated him, so he sat. “Hearing Slobag sent some men have a chatter with you on the yesterday.”

  Roley nodded. “Gave me all this shit on how workin for them be safer than stayin here, dig? Causen of the ghosts an all.”

  Terrible lit a smoke, as much to try and hide the smell of the place as because he wanted one. He ain’t bothered offering one to Roley. “Why come you ain’t say to me?”

  “Said to Bump, on the morn.” Roley smirked. “Went by he place, gave him what happen. He ain’t happy on it, he weren’t at all, noways. Wonderin why he ain’t given you it? Seemin kinda funny, ain’t it, that he keeping that from you.”

  Terrible could stub out he smoke in Roley’s arm before Roley’d even know what he were doing. Change that smug fucking expression on he face real fucking fast. The fuck did he think he were gonna gain with that shit?

  “Tell me again,” he said, letting Roley’s attempt at a dig, or whatany it were supposed to be, lie there on the floor among the filth. Where it belonged. “What happened. What them said.”

  Roley yawned. “Awful tired, I am, an I gotta work again tonight, seein as how you ain’t letting me off. Maybe we chatter on this later, aye?”

  The wall opposite the couch were covered by one of the biggest TVs Terrible ever seen. One a them brand new huge ones with the thin screen. He headed for it, tugging his knife from his pocket as he went and flicking out the blade. Fuck this. He’d pay for a new one outen he own pocket. Be worth it.

  He’d just pulled back his arm to thrust the blade into that screen when Roley’s yelp stopped him. “Okay! Fuck, okay, shit, what the fuck problem you got? Work together, we do, ain’t see why you gotta fuckin be that way. Why you treat me so shitty alla time like I’m some loser.”

  “Why’nt you just fuckin say me what they tell you, an you can get back to you fuckin beauty sleep.”

  “You pissed causen what I say on the Churchwitch?”

  “What?” Was he gonna have to hit Roley to get a damn answer?

  “Askin you, you pissed up at me causen that. Only sayin, you around she a lot. She ain’t my type, but guessing she cute enough.”

  Terrible opened his mouth, then stopped himself. Roley seemed awful interested in getting knowledge on Chess. On how Terrible felt about Chess. Why?

  Not that he cared. Only made him more certain, though, he ain’t could beat on Roley for it, prove he right. “Just give me what Slobag’s man said.”

  Roley sighed, but the smile ain’t quite left he face. Sick little shit. “Pulled up onna street, leaned out them car, ask me how I feel working for a dude lets ghosts kill he men an ain’t done shit on it. Telling me how iffen I come working for them, start handing my money over to them, dig, they keep me safe.”

  Terrible took a last drag off his cigarette and stubbed it out against the wall. Fuck Roley. “What’d you say?”

  Roley watched the cigarette hit his floor. “Told em to fuck off.”

  “You alone then?”

  “With Nick, only he weren’t there. Went to get he a Coke, he done, were in the Stop Shop.”

  If only that were suspicious. Well, it were suspicious, but not as much as he wanted it to be. Iffen he were the one wandering around Slobag’s territory tryna poach men, he’d talk to em on their alones, too. Better odds, and less danger. One dude weren’t gonna attack a couple guys in a car. Two dudes together just might.

  “Any else?

  “Nay. Were it. I say fuck off, them drive away.” Roley showed he teeth. “Woulda said right away, but were workin. Ain’t wanted to be abandoning my work, aye?”

  If Roley thought that were some kinda clever sarcasm or whatany, he were dumber’n Terrible thought he was. Not that Terrible was gonna tell him that. “Good. Make certain you don’t.”

  He almost wished Roley would, though. That’d be something he could beat on Roley for, and Lacey’d just have to fucking deal with it. As it were … he were the one fucking dealing with it, and that sucked.

  He’d almost given up on hearing from Chess when she called him around six-thirty. Late for her to be finishing up there, specially on Holy Day when she usually got home around four, so maybe she’d spent some extra time there at Church; maybe meant she had something for him on the Peace Factory. He hoped so, anyway.

  He answered. “Hey, Chess. You right?”

  “Yeah,” she said, and she did sound cheerful. Not the artificial kind of cheerful, neither; he were getting good at telling the difference, at knowing when she was really feeling good and when she was feeling good just causen of what pills she swallowed. Her voice were more … solid, when it was real. “Right up. You?”

  “Aye.” He paus
ed. He were supposed to pick Amy up around eight. That ain’t left much time.

  But he could be a little late, couldn’t he? Seeing as it was work. It weren’t him deciding to be late just so he could hang out with Chess. It was time he needed to spend. It was keeping the whores safe, doing his job. Amy’d understand.

  He hoped she would. And he hoped he’d be able to think of a way to explain it to her so she knew it was work, and not just wanting to spend time with Chess.

  So he asked, “You busy?”

  “Nope. I just got home.”

  Why they seemed like they always danced around this he didn’t know, but they did. Like neither wanted to commit to it; like neither wanted to stick out their necks in case somebody brought down a blade on it.

  But he figured her company was worth more to him than the other way around, and he figured it was his place to do the asking anyway, so it ain’t bothered him. “Buy you some eats?”

  “Yeah, sure. Come over.”

  He wouldn’t ask if she had anything for him on the phone. She wouldn’t expect him to. Instead he turned the wheel—he’d been driving aimlessly, keeping an eye on the busier-by-the-minute streets—and headed for her place.

  She came outside as he turned off the car to go get her, and hopped into the passenger seat in a swirl of cold air and the scent of herbs and flowers, whatever that was that she always smelled like. Real light, like an afterthought, so he knew it weren’t some perfume or whatany that she put on. It were just her skin, her hair. Just her.

  And she did look happy. Relaxed. He’d been right on that one. He wouldn’t ask why—she’d tell him iffen she wanted him to know—but it was good to know he’d been right. Seemed like he got smarter and smarter on her every day, knew more and more.

  Maybe he weren’t the only one getting more knowledge. Chess looked at him close, with narrowed eyes pale behind black make-up. “You okay?”

  He shrugged. “Ain’t slept much on the last night.”

  That weren’t all bothering him, or, it were a side effect of what bothered him. Hearing all them ghost rumors bothered him. Hearing on Slobag’s men wandering around in Bump’s territory bothered him. The frustration—the sick feeling of being too stupid to figure out what was happening, of knowing if he were just a little smarter he’d be able to get it—ate at him like street-dogs on garbage. He bet he weren’t looking too good.