Artful Evil

by C. G Harris

  The seats were cracked and worn but still intact. Each one held its own little treasure. A six pack of Coke, three Dr. Peppers, half a box of Ho Ho’s, and the crown jewel of them all, four pristine, in the package, Twinkie snack cakes. Not bad for a hole-in-the-wall black market shop. Inventory was down a bit, but this would buy plenty of secrets. And secrets were the commodity in which this place thrived. Woebegone brought us juicy morsels to pass on to lower level hellions, and in return, we passed the good stuff to the Woebegone. Everybody won. Especially the Woebegone.

  My hand went up to a locket that hung under my shirt. An Origin Artifact of great power placed in my care. Up to a few weeks ago, I had secured it in here as well, but I had taken to keeping it close. Someplace where others couldn’t lay their grubby hands on it.

  “I’ll try to do better. It’s just hard to turn a blind eye when she falls for stunts like the one Marcus pulled on her.”

  Alex laughed. “You mean the blueprints? Actually, I’d say that was a pretty good scam. A lot better than that shady tip he gave us about the painting. If that’s not a setup, I don’t know what is.”

  Alex sat down and lined up the Coke cans in a neat little line along the seat.

  “He has no idea who stole it or where it is, but he knew where it would be two days from now?” How many thugs do you think he’ll have waiting for us if we’re dumb enough to show up for that one?”

  Alex laughed and finished straightening her line of cans then glanced up at me to see that I was not laughing.

  “Oh, you have got to be kidding.”

  “Between you, me, my Whip Crack, and your Rockin’ Reapers, we wouldn’t even break a sweat.”

  “Song Reapers. And you’re making me sweat right now.” Alex shook her head. “And you think Zoe makes stupid decisions.”

  “Come on. If we’re careful, we can show up and see if it’s legit. If it’s not, we take off. We won’t even have to fight. If the tip’s good, it might be our only chance to nab the painting.”

  I sat down in the seat across from Alex and hit her with my doe eyes.

  After a second, she groaned and stood up. “Fine, we will purposely go to the set-up designed to screw us over. Happy? At least it will give you a chance to practice the moves we’ve been working on at the gym.”

  “Maybe you could help this time instead of standing there looking at your nails?”

  “I doubt it.” She shrugged. “You seemed so capable the first time, I’d hate to cramp your style.”

  I stood up behind her and followed her out of the storeroom. “The only fighting style I know is Tae-kwon-don’t-get-punched-in-the-face. Team efforts are encouraged. And thanks for checking out the lead with me. I promise you won’t regret it.”

  “Too late.” She hopped down the stairs and sauntered over to one of the open windows and leaned on the counter. “What are you going to do about the shop? Zoe’s still not here to keep the place open.”

  Frustrated, I leaned out of the other window. “I don’t know. I hate to close it up again. What if someone wants to come by?”

  Ales scoffed. “What difference does it make? You spend almost all your time at The Agency, and when you’re not there, you’re at Hula Harry’s. You’re not mad because Zoe’s gone. You’re mad because you can’t be here.”

  The truth of that statement stung more than a little.

  “I started this place, and I don’t want to see it run into the ground. Woebegone come here to feel like they can do something about the horrible situation they’re in. It’s a tiny slice of hope in this landfill universe. I would like to see it stay open. It’s the same reason Dan’s place is so important. It’s all about balance, remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember. Speaking of balance, I need to get back to The Agency and do some more research on our little side project. That train is not going to derail itself. All this Robin Hood Stuff is starting to make me itch.”

  I laughed. “Not what I meant about balance, but ...”

  “Hey, balance means there is good and bad. Our paycheck says we do the bad so ...”

  I sighed and pulled the brace out of the window. “Balance.”

  Truth was, I needed to get back to The Agency as well. It had been a while since I had reported to the big guy. A visit to Judas Iscariot was never high on my favorite list, but I had experienced first-hand what neglecting that particular responsibility could harvest. I did not want to be a guest at that fun-filled party ever again. Besides, it would give me a chance to ask him about this whole freelancing nonsense. It still seemed ridiculous to me.

  Alex pulled the brace for the other window and let it slam home before engaging the bolt. “Plus, you have a great night ahead of you.”

  I glanced up at her, my brow furrowed.

  She let me wallow in my confusion for a second then said, “Your apartment. It will be your first night staying there.” Her smile was so big it looked plastic. “I know you can’t wait to enjoy that perk I fought so hard for.”

  I pasted on a smile of my own and nodded. “Of course. That night. How could I forget?”

  I ushered Alex out of the door and wondered if I could jump back into the shop and slam the door before she turned around. She must have sensed my thoughts because she turned around and jerked me out of the door by my collar.

  “Don’t worry. I would never let you forget something like that. Let’s get going. If we hurry, maybe we can find you a set of Agency pajamas before bedtime.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  As soon as Alex and I parted ways, I made my way up to the top floor of the tallest building in the complex. The Judas Agency’s architecture was arranged into six circular buildings forming a larger outer circle. The shortest and foremost structure was six stories tall, and each building thereafter grew by six stories of black glass and intimidation, leaving a courtyard of stone and statues in the middle. In a landscape of shantied steel destruction, the complex stood as a foreboding reminder that The Judas Agency reigned over all.

  Well, almost all, and that was one thing I wanted to talk to Judas about. Of course, I would have to warm my way up to a subject like The Council of Seven. When it came to dabbling in areas that were above his head, he tended to get twitchy.

  The elevator doors opened, and I stepped into the grandiose waiting room of the great betrayer. It was all dark wood, leather, and horrifying sculptures of cruelty and torture. I suppose I might become accustomed to it eventually, but that day was not today. I did my best to stare at the ceiling as I passed a new piece depicting a lion and his unfortunate human-shaped lunch. Whoever made these things needed some serious therapy.

  Once I was past the kitty buffet, I set my sights on the receptionist. Both her age and her origin appeared to be the mid-fifties. She had silver hair done up in a beehive and jeweled horn-rimmed glasses to complete the angry librarian look. She always refused to tell me her name, but I did know one thing. She was Judas Iscariot’s personal assistant, and anyone who could do that job was tougher than Superman’s chest hair.

  “Good afternoon Ms. ...”

  She looked over her glasses at me the way she always did and raised an eyebrow. “What can I do for you, Mr. Gantry? I have misery requests to process, and Mr. Iscariot needs his afternoon stress break.”

  Her eyes perked up a little at that. “Perhaps you’d like to help. I planned on sending for someone, but I’ll bet he’d love to break you.”

  I laughed. She did not.

  “How long are we going to do this? What am I supposed to call you when I come up here?”

  “I would prefer you didn’t call me at all.”

  “Come on. How about Susan or Sarah? Janet? Ruby? Barbra? Give me a hint. Is it Rumpelstiltskin?”

  “Shall I let Mr. Iscariot know you are here?”

  I sighed. “Yes, please. And I’ll earn a name from you sooner or later, Tonya.”

  I raised my eyebrows looking for a reaction. But she just hit a button on her desk, and the huge doors to my
left buzzed. “You want to earn my name? You can start by delousing my cat and rubbing my feet.”

  I turned toward the doors as she looked back down at her paperwork, but I saw her try to hide a grin. I was growing on her. We’d be passing notes in class before she knew it.

  The doors into Judas’s office were another artist’s horror show with depiction after depiction of different historical atrocities. I hated to even touch my knuckles to the wood for fear some of the brutality might rub off and give me gangrene of the finger.

  As usual, before I could knock, the door swung open on its own.

  “Mr. Gantry, come in.”

  I inched my way into the huge office and sneak-peeked around the corner to where I knew his desk sat. “I hope I am not interrupting anything. No baby koala torture or puppy branding?”

  “Not today, but if you’re volunteering ...”

  “No.” I held up my hands and shuffled into the room to face the man himself. Judas always dressed in black on black—silk suit and tie with matching shirt. He wore his hair long and his beard somewhat unkempt, but his eyes could stare down a granite wall reinforced with diamond rebar.

  Behind him stood his two faithful ... Actually, I wasn’t sure what they were. Minions, bodyguards, friends? Two demons, both frighteningly intimidating in their own right.

  Procel, on his left, was an eight-foot albino with dusky wings, mottled robes, and horns that extended high above his head. His twin red eyes looked to be made of pure fire and always seemed to flicker even if there was no light in the room.

  Mastema on the other hand, was a horrifying vision of beauty and death. She perched on a pedestal to Judas’s right like a bird of prey—all sharp claws, leathery wings, and shapely skin. A sadomasochistic nightmare. Her blindfold always disturbed me the most. That, and her ability to track my every step as she grinned with sharpened predatory teeth. It was as if she had to dampen her bloodlust to avoid being driven to violence by the mere sight of her prey. Every time I saw her, I had an urge to freeze like a rabbit, which only perpetuated my role as her helpless quarry. Between the two of them, I would take my chances with the giant albino any day.

  “I was hoping you had some time for a report and a couple of questions. I just wanted to be sure you were up to date on all my projects.”

  Judas sat back in his chair and eyed me across a mile of black stone he called a desk. “Sit down. Tell me about your assignment.”

  He gestured to my usual guest chair. A horror all its own made of human bones and some sort of leather of which I did not want to know its origin.

  I sunk into the racked skeleton and folded my hands in front of me. “Actually, that was one of my questions. It seems we don’t have an assignment at the moment, and we’re expected to do something called ‘freelancing?’”

  Judas nodded as if planning a terrorist plot for extra credit was the most natural thing in the world. “Freelancing is common among our more ambitious Agents. What did you have in mind?”

  I took a breath and tried to remember that The Judas Agency was a place where global tragedy was a household name, even if Judas Iscariot had hired me to stop the worst of them from happening.

  “Actually, it’s Alex’s idea. She thought derailing a train might be a big enough event for some of the higher-ups to take notice.”

  Judas smiled. “I think that is an excellent plan. A derailment will be localized yet still garner a large amount of news coverage. The mortality rate on a passenger train will be high but not worldwide. The event will avert any suspicion someone might have that you’re working against The Agency as well. That many fatalities will go a long way toward hiding your identity in the Denarii Division.”

  My jaw came unhinged, and I couldn’t seem to get it back in place. Judas noticed this and stopped talking. His eyes began to take on that you better explain before I use you for kitty litter look, so I forced my lips together and tried for a coherent sentence.

  “Not a passenger train! Why would you think that was a good ... never mind. Alex wanted to use a hazardous materials cargo train ...”

  Judas opened his mouth to speak again, but I held up a finger to forestall the horrible image he was about to paint in my mind again.

  “... but we couldn’t find one suitable within the timeframe.”

  Judas closed his mouth, looking almost disappointed.

  “We decided to derail an empty coal train in the middle of a town center instead.”

  Judas visibly sank, and I shuddered to think of what he would come up with on Iscariot Freelance Day. I was sure it would have something to do with evil llamas and a castration clinic.

  “I suppose that will suffice. Perhaps you can arrange a reason for the town center to be—”

  “No. We are not hosting a down home hoedown with a surprise train crash finale. I thought you wanted me to stop bad things from happening, not create them.”

  Judas leveled his stare at me, and I sucked up a bit of the upholstery between my butt cheeks. “Do not forget where you work, Gabriel. This is The Judas Agency. If you have to sacrifice a few in order to ensure you are in a position to save thousands, hundreds of thousands, or millions, then sacrifice you shall. I’ve said it before. This job is not a pleasant one, but the call of the Denarii is an invaluable one.”

  I sighed. As a berating went, that was about a Ward Cleaver as it got. Judas hadn’t even gotten out of his chair. Maybe he had enrolled in some sort of Hellion hot yoga to calm his nerves. Since he was in a less than murderous state, I figured this might be a good time to hit him with my other little question.

  “I did have one other thing to talk to you about, if you don’t mind.”

  Judas’s eyebrow twitched the tiniest bit in response, so I went for it.

  “It’s about Simeon Scott.”

  Judas flew out of his chair and all but launched over his desk to loom over me, putting a finger in my face. So much for the yoga theory.

  “Simeon Scott is under the authority of The Council of Seven. Do not attempt to or in any way investigate his business Topside or in The Nine.”

  Every vein, muscle, and tendon strained under his skin, making me believe he was all but ready to jump out of it and strangle me if I said one more word on the subject.

  Mastema let out a little giggle, and my eyes flitted over to her leaning forward on her perch as if she were enthralled with the machine gun scene of the Godfather.

  “But he’s doing positive things Topside.” I was never very good at responding to nonverbal cues. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  Judas made two fists in front of my face, tried to relax his hands, clenched them again, and ground his teeth. If he didn’t strangle me soon, I was sure he would have a stroke.

  Like I said, twitchy.

  “The Council of Seven is above my authority. If they discover you nosing around their charge, they will want to know why. Considering Simeon’s history with our organization, that could prove fatal to our cause to say the least.” Judas leaned in even closer, which by now was close enough for me to feel his breath on my face. “If I learn that you are investigating Simeon Scott, I cannot overstate the extent of my disappointment. It will be severe. It will be painful. Have I made myself clear?”

  I leaned back trying to put some space between me and Judas’s fists and reddened face. “As Mr. Peanut’s monocle.”

  I am assuming this was not the sincere response he wanted as he bared his teeth in a vicious growl, then he closed his eyes to calm his homicidal nerves.

  My tendency to smart off whenever I was nervous and his affinity for wanting to throw me through a window every time I did made us uncomfortable bedfellows, but we were working on it.

  With each breath, Judas retreated a few inches, and I regained my fatality-free zone again, at least for the time being. When he opened his eyes, I offered him a toothy smile that felt more like the fear response to a bear attack. He closed his eyes, steepled his fingers in front of his face, and had to calm hi
s breathing again.

  Like I said, we were working on it.

  When he was soothed enough to control his murderous intentions, he retreated to his desktop and leaned against it, continuing to steeple his fingers for comfort.

  “I understand you have earned an apartment here in the towers.”

  I cocked my head at the sudden change of subject, caught my brain up, then offered a slow nod, still grinning with my teeth bared and eyes wide. “Alex went to bat for me. I have a locker and everything.”

  Another breath and Judas almost seemed affable. “Excellent. You should plan on staying here from now on. I think you will find the accommodations comforting, if not safe, from many of the hazards you face in Scrapyard City.” He said that last part like it was a piece of rotted lettuce stuck to his shoe.

  “Thanks. I am planning to stay there tonight.”

  I got up to leave, thinking I had done enough to push my luck for one evening.

  “If I need anything in the night,” Judas said just before I walked out the door, “Mastema will know where to find you.”

  I shuddered and glanced over at the raptureish hellion huddled in the corner. Suddenly, sleeping naked on the roof of the Wax Worx felt safer than one night rolled up in a demon hot pocket waiting for a good night kiss from Mastema.

  I waved and then shuffled back out the door, reminding myself to never voluntarily visit Judas’s office again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Heading straight to bed after a visit with Judas was like curling up with a good book at a heavy metal concert. The two things just didn’t go together, especially after that last visual about Mastema tucking me in. Forehead kisses from Freddie Kruger would be more comforting.

  I had a little spare time, so I decided to go back and see if Zoe was back at the shop yet. Despite what Alex had said, looking out for her felt like the only thing I could control. Between my partner derailing trains and Judas endorsing it, I wanted to do something that felt—right.

  When I arrived at the shop, it didn’t look like anyone had been there since Alex and I had left. My mind began to spin and thoughts of Zoe digging the dynamic trio into a world of trouble started to bubble and churn.