Shadows in a Dark City

by Kirk Dougal

  “I'm going to go make a play and see what's what. Wish me luck, doll.”

  “Good luck,” Miriam said with a smirk. “But not too much.”

  I weaved my way through the maze of tables toward the corner. I rounded the last chair and looked at the woman. My breath caught in my throat. I'd caught a whiff of something familiar.

  “Did you want something?” she asked, shaking me out of my daydreaming.

  “Is this seat taken? I'd like to buy you a drink.”

  Her gaze ran up and down my body like a trainer trying to decide if the horse he was saddling was a champion thoroughbred or a hack for the glue factory. It lingered on my face for a few seconds before she looked away, taking a slow drag on her cigarette. The woman was a dish. Hell, she was the whole damn meal. If the killer wasn't using her looks to lure his victims, I couldn't imagine what his moll looked like.

  “I don't think we've met before,” she said. “Should I know you?”

  “No, but we can make up for that tonight.”

  “I don't think so,” she said, still staring away from me. “I'm waiting for someone.”

  “Well, maybe I can keep you company until they get here.”

  I felt somebody walk up beside me. I turned and stared at a familiar face, but I couldn't come up with a name.

  “Sorry I'm late, doll,” he said without turning away from me. “I got caught with business.”

  The woman turned to the other man and, for a moment, I smelled the same flowers and promises as when I was with Mama Gwiddon. It wasn't as strong, however, as if I'd caught it on the way by.

  “It's jake, Fingers,” she said. “I've got all night for you.”

  I knew the man now. Fingers Callahan was a bagman for Duke. He got his nickname because the first thing he would do if you were late with a payment was break your fingers.

  He smiled at me.

  “This guy bothering you?”

  “No, he was just leaving.”

  Fingers nodded.

  “You heard her, pal. Time to fade.”

  I returned the smile and gave a tilt of my head. There was no sense making a row. I'd already found out what I came to see. I wandered away, making a full loop of the room before I headed toward the door.

  *****

  I lit my Lucky and breathed in deep, trying to relax a little before the action started. It was overcast, and the night was black beneath the covered moon. Not that it mattered. I could point to where the moon was right now if I had been forty feet underground and drunk.

  The entrance to the speakeasy was the back of the bakery across the street. I'd parked myself in the shadows across the way to stand what I hoped would not be a long watch. In the meantime, I'd need to entertain myself with memories of my time with Miriam. The third gasper was burning my fingers before the woman walked out of the alley, crossing in front of me and continuing on to my left.

  I let her go. She must have learned her lesson after Diartello and didn't leave with her mark. If I was right, Fingers would appear in a few minutes, and I'd follow him to their meeting spot. If I was on the wrong track, well, there was always tomorrow night, and now I knew what she looked like. Besides, right now she was my only lead to the killer.

  I was right. Fingers walked out of the back of the bakery about a minute later. Walked was the polite term. He was damn near jogging by the time he hit the street, and I had to step out quick to keep up with him. For a block, I was afraid he was going to hear me on his trail, so I tried to keep close to the buildings to duck out of sight if he turned. But Fingers never stopped to listen, never glanced back to see who was racing along in the night behind him. His mind was somewhere else. I closed the gap.

  In the third block, his pace slowed. He started looking at the surrounding structures, searching for the right one. He finally stopped to stare at a bookstore before turning to the alley beside it. I moved in close enough for him to notice me.

  “Got a match, pal?” I kept my hat low so he wouldn't recognize me.

  Fingers swung around.

  “What?” He spoke as if he'd just woken from a nap and wasn't altogether yet.

  “A light. You got a match, buddy?”

  Fingers finally stirred himself enough to realize what I'd said.

  “Get lost. I'm busy.” He turned to the alley again.

  I clubbed him along the side of his head with my revolver, the Colt carrying enough weight to drop him like a sack of potatoes. I dragged him into the bookstore doorway and took off his coat and hat before leaning him against the wooden frame.

  “You can thank me later, Fingers,” I said. “Keep a watch on my best hat.”

  I eased my way into the alley. Some of the cloud cover moved, and a sliver of the moon revealed boxes and garbage cans stacked along both walls. I gripped my gun tighter.

  “I'm down here, lover.” The voice was silk and promised more than could be put into words.

  On the street a breeze had chased away most of the city stench, but here the air was dead, sleeping in little pockets and shaken only by my passing. I stopped to sniff, but it told me nothing of the woman or the killer I expected to find with her. I wasn't worried about the moll. I needed to know where her partner was hiding.

  “Come on, don't be shy.” Her voice urged me on, and I felt myself take two steps toward it. A shadow stepped away from the wall, eyes glowing in the low light. “Here I am,” she said, her voice purring over the words.

  A stray breeze wandered through the alley. I knew immediately I'd made a mistake. There was no partner. My nose filled with the odor I couldn't identify at Diartello's murder scene. The smell of cat sluiced off the woman and tried to drown me in its wake. I jerked my hand up and pointed the gun at the shadow. A roar erupted from the creature, part growl and part scream. It lashed out, and my gun went flying into the dark as her claws sank deep into my arm. Another slash and my ribs burned, blood running out on Finger's tattered coat.

  The shadow leaped forward and hit me in the chest. I flew backwards, crashing into the wall behind me and collapsing onto the alley concrete. Finger's hat flew off and showed my face.

  “Well, you're not the meal I expected, but those who are hungry can't be choosy.” The woman glided gracefully back and forth in front of me, toying with her mouse before she ate. I could barely understand her words through all the purring and growling in each breath. “If I'm going to move my own crew in, I need to start a little war between these bastards to thin their herds. This didn't need to be your fight.”

  I pushed myself up and leaned against the brick.

  “You're wrong.” The clouds moved away, and the full moon shone brightly into the alley. In front of me was a werecat, the shining ebony hair of the woman now matching the black coat on this panther standing on two legs. “This was always our fight.”

  I howled as the first pain of the change contorted my body. The sound deepened as my body thickened, muscles and fur ripping apart what was left of my suit. Realizing her mistake, the woman tried to run away, scampering toward the alley opening. I struck at her, and it was her turn to crumple against the wall. Neighborhood dogs answered my snarl as I attacked, and we matched swings, each pair of our claws digging out fur and muscle, blood splattering as it flew.

  The werecat growled as she leaped at me again, but this time she slipped on the garbage and filth, and I landed on top of her as she fell. Her scream ended with a gurgle as my teeth finally closed over her throat.

  *****

  The first sounds of the city coming to life woke me up. The sun wasn't visible yet, but there was a pink promise on the horizon, and that was enough to make me move quickly. I found my gun and gathered up the rags that had once been my suit. I wrapped it around myself as I turned to leave the alley and caught a glimpse of what was left of the woman. Most of her was scattered in bits and chunks with lots of black fur all over the ground.

  Fingers was still sleeping off my knock in the doorway, so I took back my own coat and fedora, pull
ing it down tight over my forehead. I hoped I looked like some poor sot heading home after a binge. At least my car was parked only a few blocks away.

  I'd eaten as much as I could hold after the kill. The full moon was the only time I fed like this, and I tended to gorge myself on the flesh and blood, enough to last until the next month. McGlinty would need to take care of cleaning up the mess. He only paid me to find the problem and solve it.

  I stumbled down the street, turning my face away from the milk truck driver as he drove by. Big cats hunted alone, but they lived in prides. That meant there were others like the woman in the city, and I'd need to find them all. The battle between her kind and mine went back as far as any of us could remember. McGlinty would need to pay extra to foot the bill for them, too. But that could wait.

  I glanced down at the handful of brown fur in my hand, the fur the werecat had ripped off my body at some point during our fight. It was more than enough to pay off Duke for the information. I'd need to explain what I'd done to Fingers, too.

  That could also wait. I had something else to do first.

  I needed to take Miriam to dinner and a show.

  About the Author

  Kirk Dougal grew up with a book in one hand and a bat or ball in the other. When he could no longer play the games he loved, he began writing the stories he wanted to read. Kirk is an award-winning journalist and best-selling author of thrillers, fantasy, and mysteries. He lives in Ohio with his wife and four children.

  To learn more about upcoming releases, cover reveals, or where Kirk will be appearing, please go to his website at http://kirkdougal.com/

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