by Riley Archer
“Ooh, there he goes.” Jose suddenly perked up.
I whipped around.
I expected the rude rogue to have moved, but he was right in place. His tension reminded me of a lion ready to pounce. He was staring at a man with white tufts of hair, who was clutching his chest across the street. There were two of him. One was on the cement, and the other was ethereal and on his feet. The spirit version directed his gaze longingly at the sky.
Gerry.
He was already dead, and passersby were just starting to panic. City people were brutal.
A cute young Collector with copper-colored curls stepped out of an RC elevator. He approached soul Gerry. If I hadn’t known better, I would think an old man had bumped into his grandson on the street. The Abyss opened up and looked like a swirling shadow portal into the bakery behind it. Gerry nodded and stepped inside as easy as if he had been asked if he’d like an afternoon tea.
The rogue’s scythe disappeared. Then he marched away, and it became clear that he was totally invisible to any non-reaper he might collide with. Poor souls. Poor PSLs.
“That was uneventful,” I said, arms crossed.
But it wasn’t entirely. What in city hell was a rogue, and what was with the scythe Houdini act?
“Mmhmm,” Ash seemed to agree. “I guess we’ll have to go empty-handed. Man, I really thought this chick would lead us to a Glitch.”
I was about to be faux appalled and throw out a, What is that supposed to mean? or something, but the quip dissolved on my tongue when she pulled a crumpled five-dollar bill from her bra and slapped it into Jose’s hand.
“To the market as dark as my heart then?” Jose offered, stuffing the five into a ripped pocket.
6
The Unoriginal Black Market
At some point, someone had wanted to create an inconspicuous alley to deal in shady undead things. So, what did they do? They’d decorated the ledge of the shadowed entrance with a skull and then added red rubies that glowed from its eye sockets.
“Subtle,” I scoffed.
“Only reapers and other not-quite-human entities can even see this alley,” Ash said. “Cool, huh?”
“Yeah. Looks real exclusive.” I followed them in. My curiosity burned hotter than my desire to conceal my know-nothing-ness. “What do you mean by other not-quite-human entities?”
Ash stopped so abruptly that I almost smacked into her. She turned. “Oh, honey, I’m such a grandma reaper. I forget how much they shelter the babies.” She patted my shoulder, and I barely tolerated it.
Not that I knew from personal experience, but Ash was more annoying little-sister material than grandma material.
“Wanna tell me what you mean? Or maybe we can discuss shelter some more. Yours specifically.”
Ash scowled and silently mimicked me. Jose watched us in some fuzzy area between bored and entertained.
“Excuse us,” a smooth baritone voice cut the claustrophobic space we were in.
We had just enough room to allow the gothic trio to pass us. The last one’s hand brushed mine as he squeezed by, and it was cold enough to convince me he hung out in freezers as his day job.
“Vampires,” Jose leaned down to whisper in my ear.
“Fuck off,” I quipped with a laugh.
Then, I thought about the guy’s ice-cold hand. Macabre wardrobe. Long and dark unbrushed hair. But it was daytime, and they weren’t ashen or melting. And … just no.
Ash propped a feisty hand on her tiny hip. “Oh, so you’re part of a society of reapers, but vampires are off the table? What about witches, hmm? Werewolves?”
“Leprechauns?” Jose deadpanned. Then he laughed and waved his hand. “Joking. I mean, pots of gold? Ridiculous. Bloodsuckers though? Those sexy monsters are real. Now, let’s please stop clogging the entrance because those ones were polite.”
We pushed forward, and I just went ahead and pulled out Mr. Sparky. My mind reeled over Otto’s veiled warnings that I’d brushed away. Warnings about things worse than reapers, about what scythes were meant for. Why did he have to be so mysterious about it? Why couldn’t his perfect mouth have uttered something like, Vampires and practically every other big bad out there is real, so watch your neck and, you know, your back? That wouldn’t have been so hard, but I guessed it would’ve thrown a wrench in his mystifying persona. The more I thought about it, the pricklier I became with annoyance and longing. I’d been too busy to feed my fantasy, but the thought of Otto just now made my chest swell with ache. It was disgusting.
The narrow alley finally opened up, and there was no ceiling to block the day’s gloomy light. It wasn’t a very big alley with a near dead end, but it was practically everything I’d been picturing. Black doorways with chipped paint. A person rocking in a corner, completely shrouded by a thin, tattered cloak. Cobwebs everywhere. The air was thick with malice and smoke. And let me tell you, malice didn’t have a pleasant scent. I had an inkling some supernatural beings were lighting incense and burning bodies nearby.
“This is the low-level area,” Ash said with the posture of a tour guide. “Tarot readings, bone charms, organ trading, et cetera.”
By organ, I didn’t think she meant the musical instrument. I shuddered and scrunched my face.
She continued, “What we need is pretty high-level stuff. But you’re in luck! Since Glitches are almost as popular as rats nowadays, the price is better than it’s ever been.”
If this was the low-level area and we needed to go somewhere high-level, then why were we here? “Don’t tell me the Floo Network is real.” I spun to face her. “And what’s the price?”
She pointed at the dead end. Jose pulled on a skinny water pipe, and a ginormous door pulled open with it. I watched, slack-jawed. The fake bricks were genuinely convincing.
What was behind the hidden entrance was not what I’d pictured.
This was more like a morbid flea market. An expensive, shady one. It almost had the bustle of New York, but the crowd was different. Darker. Red-rimmed eyes ran over the length of my body, and I had to feel myself up to make sure I was still clothed. The tents were covered. I supposed even supernatural baddies were polite enough to suck blood or do whatever dark deeds they were into in private. The weather had changed; it was gloomier but somehow warmer. And the daylight had turned pinkish, like we’d walked into the belly of a beast. It all added to my rising temptation to hightail it out of here.
“Thanks to some clever witches, this is a central location. Places all over the world have access to it from their local market,” Ash said with too much pep.
She and Jose looped arms with me.
“Are we a threesome now?” I asked as they dragged me forward.
Jose shrugged. “I could float the idea.”
Ash laughed. “No. People disappear here all the time. It’s a law-neutral zone. At least, if we go, we go together.” Again, too much pep.
We veered toward a wide black tent, and my heart sank. Once the velvet-lined curtain fluttered closed behind us, my arms were released. The entrance was flanked with two small tables on either side. Shoes were tucked underneath them, and all kinds of goodies were haphazardly stacked on top. Watches, necklaces, rings, crystals, cash, phones, and weirder stuff—a glass eyeball, a jar of dead bugs, a deck of cards someone had nibbled on. Overall, they were the sort of things people didn’t usually part with.
Ash and Jose were tucking their shoes underneath the table.
“Is the owner afraid of dirt and jewelry?” I almost refused to leave my boots here, but I swallowed down the stubborn urge. This strange place could hold the key to finding my murderer.
“The shoe thing is weird. Maybe he likes feet,” Ash said as she unclasped the chain around her neck. She pulled out dog tags that were tucked beneath her shirt and sat them on the table. “This crap is a trust thing. You have to leave behind the most precious possession on your person.”
“And it has to be the most precious or else he’ll know.” Jose took out his
nose ring and set it on the ancient wood.
I forgot that I’d bought Hello Kitty socks that morning, right before my Starbucks errand. That fifty bucks had burned a hole in my pocket like a teen with their first paycheck. Whatever. I wouldn’t be ashamed of them. “Who’s he?”
“You’re about to find out.” Ash gave my feet a bemused glance.
I almost laid down Mr. Sparky, but I thought a little harder about it. My most precious possession was my only small token of freedom. The spirit chip on my license.
I sighed, pulled it out, and ran my eyes over Ellie Ken’s unnatural smile and perfect hair.
“Ooh, not that.” Ash pushed my license into my chest. “You’ll need that.”
Mr. Sparky it was then. As we stepped behind yet another curtain, I felt naked and vulnerable and nothing like Elektra, which I was sure was the point. I wasn’t an assassin, which made being unarmed that much worse.
The cluttered shop could have been mistaken for the home of a hoarder. There were so many shelves, all filled to the brim with corked bottles with questionable contents and jars of dried herbs. A thick layer of dust coated almost everything. Rows of candles were lit and ignored, dripping wax down the candleholders and onto the soft rug. Rotten plants hung limp in their pots, and empty birdcages swung in an invisible breeze. If Command Coordinator Atlas had nightmares, I felt like I’d just stepped into one.
“This way.” Ash wasn’t intrigued by the chaos. She walked up a small set of stairs and knocked on the rounded door.
“By the way, don’t stare,” Jose whispered.
“Stare at what?”
The rounded door opened, and a little boy with onyx hair and chalky skin stood on the other side. He was cute as a button despite being a sun-deprived twelve-year-old, except for his black eyes. Oh, and tiny horns that I almost hadn’t noticed because they blended so well. Those were eerie.
“Erik!” Jose squeaked like his throat was made of sugar.
I had imagined the cryptic he as a thoroughly scarred warrior man, a brooding hottie like Tanaka, or a wizard with a long gray beard. But a little boy with little horns?
His beady eyes flicked to me. Oops. I’m staring.
“How can I help you today?” he asked, and his right-to-business voice was so adorable that I almost wanted to pinch his alabaster cheeks.
Ash leaned into the doorway. “She’s crashing at that sweet RC pad, and she said we could stay with her if we got her some elevator juice. How’s your stash doing?”
He scanned us all again, lingering a bit on me. “Come in.”
We ushered into his dim office, and he climbed into a chair that was far too big for him. He had a legit desk that was covered in graphic novels, action figures, and candy wrappers. He popped a Laffy Taffy into his mouth and smoothed out the plastic.
He blinked a couple of times, looked at me, and asked, “Why can’t you give Elsa a balloon?”
He was dead serious. This little shit was testing me with a candy joke. “Can I get some background information on Elsa or …”
He waved his hand like a dismissal.
After a pause, Ash snapped her fingers and jumped. “Oh! Oh! Because she’ll freeze it.”
Erik shook his head, and she wilted like the plants he had abandoned on the other side of the door.
Smooth as a kitten, Jose purred, “Because she’ll let it go.”
“Damn it,” Ash muttered as Erik clapped.
Erik held out his pale hand, and Ash revealed something from beneath her jacket. It was a plastic-covered comic book; Ant-Man was spelled out in blocky yellow lettering on the front. Erik practically stood on his chair to snatch it out of her hand. We waited while he scoured the pages.
Catching the question mark blaring above my head, Ash said with a shrug, “I always keep one for emergencies, like a spare tire. You never know.”
“You owe us a spare,” Jose said in a singsong pitch.
I nodded. Fair enough.
Erik sighed. “I have this one. But I like it, and my stock is overflowing.” He opened a drawer and filed the Ant-Man copy into it with a pleasant but creepy smile cutting into his cheeks. He flicked out his hand again, the demanding little demon. “ID?”
I passed over my license. He glanced at it and then at me, as if making sure we matched. “They got your scowl wrong,” he said as he hopped out of the chair and went over to some medieval filing cabinet in the corner.
He pulled a stool from beneath it so he could reach the top drawer, and I almost cooed. I didn’t though because the kid scared me.
Erik pulled out a ratty briefcase, stepped down, and slapped it open on his desk. Candy wrappers rained down to the floor. The inside of the briefcase looked fit for a bad science experiment. He took what I could only describe as a high-tech needle-fork and dipped it into an empty glass ampoule. Or maybe not empty because the fork sparked like it had been shoved into a wall socket. He pulled it out, recorked the glass, and then pressed the fork into my spirit chip. It sparked again but less violently.
Erik handed me back my license. “Depending on where you go, this should be good for about five round trips or so.”
It was still my license—aka traceable—but I’d go over those details with Ash and Jose later. But apart from the candy-and-comic-loving dark arts child, this seemed pretty simple.
I inspected both sides of my piece of plastic freedom and sniffed it. It didn’t seem any different. “That’s it?” I muttered.
“That’s it?” Erik slapped his desk so hard that it rattled. His voice ebbed to an octave of an actual demon and raised the hairs on my arms. “My clients risk their lives to extract Glitch energy, which isn’t easy with you RC drones everywhere, and then I use my considerable skill sets to convert it into something you can use for your personal pleasures, and you say, ‘That’s it’?”
The temperature in the room dropped several degrees, and I wasn’t sure if it was just me.
“What I meant to say”—I tucked my license away—“is, thank you.”
The air got a bit less nippy as Erik plopped into his chair and rolled his eyes. He waved two fingers in a circle, which basically meant get the F out of here. “See ya.”
“You’re so gracious, Erik,” Ash said as she pushed me out.
“A true saint in a world of sinners,” Jose added.
“Shut. Up,” Erik growled, sounding more like a bratty brother than the hellion he’d been moments ago.
But I didn’t forget the chill in his darkly infantile office and ran out of there like the floor was made of hot coals.
I had my boots done up in record time and clutched Mr. Sparky to my heart. I ran my eyes over the tables full of crap, and an inky feeling slid into my veins. “Wait. There was no one else in there. Whose stuff …”
Ash’s fake grin was painful to look at. “Honey, you don’t piss off the spawn of a succubus and a reaper. Nothing is sweeter candy than supernatural energy.” She waved her finger above the tables. “These guys learned the hard way. Now, let’s go before Erik bores of his taffies and decides you might taste better.”
The spawn of … what? Was that even possible?
I’d worry about the answer to that later. For now, there was no need to dillydally. I didn’t even mind Ash shooing me.
But on our way back, I stopped in my tracks. I thought I saw a figure that looked suspiciously like Otto weaving between tents. I blinked hard and looked again, and nothing was there. No Grim Tanaka. No Grim at all. Just some swaying beads. I didn’t know if I was disappointed or relieved, but whatever I was, it left me shaking.
Maybe I missed bugging Otto and was hallucinating. Or maybe he was stalking me. Or maybe I should ask Ash if any of these creepy shops had an otherworldly therapist. I could probably use one.
The thought of someone stalking me shouldn’t give me a thrill.
7
The Wet T-Shirt Contest
Atlas had lied. There was no warning text. Just an uptight Command Coordinator pour
ing two glasses of wine inside my—his—apartment.
I panicked and pretended I hadn’t walked in. If I’d wanted to be discreet, I probably shouldn’t have slammed the door. Good thing Ash and Jose got distracted by something sparkly and said they’d see me later. But if their attention span was extra short tonight? I wasn’t keen on introducing Atlas to my blackmailers/illegal roommates.
I had a fraction of a second to figure something out. Um … ah!
I yanked off my boot and hung a Hello Kitty sock on the doorknob. I limped back in before I could think about it too much. I’d have to show Atlas out later to hide the innuendo and would probably look goofy doing it, but that was fine. I looked goofy now.
I slipped back in. “Sorry about that. A big bug was following me.” All hells. I should’ve been a better liar by now.
Atlas glanced at my bare foot, two full wine glasses in hand. “You killed a bug just now?”
His golden hair was tousled, his tie was undone, and the first few buttons of his polo were open, exposing a morsel of tanned chest. I wondered how he managed that. Good genes or did his salary cover a tanning salon membership?
“No, no,” I said, waving my boot around. “Just scared him a bit. What’s up?”
“I thought we could go over your day and maybe get to know each other better since we’ll be working together for a bit. If that’s okay with you?”
“Sure.” I smiled, though I was planning on downing that glass of wine as fast as I could to get him out of here.
He might have looked relaxed, but he still sounded like a big, bad boss. I pulled my other boot off my heel and followed him into the living room. The presence of my solo sock would be the most interesting part of this conversation; I was planning on boring him to second death.
Atlas sipped. “Do you feel that you’re acclimating well? The atmospheric shift can be dizzying for a few days.”