Sleight

by Tom Twitchel

  “No, no. Not really. He dropped a tray and some kids laughed. No big deal.” I thought it was a better idea to downplay any tension between me and Baffle.

  He nodded. “Hmm. Not exactly the way I heard it. You and he don’t have any problem do you?”

  And there it was. “No sir. We’ve been friends since junior high.”

  “Been friends? Did you have a falling out?” Mr. Conroy was one of the good guys and being evasive didn’t make me feel great, but what I’d done would help a lot of people, probably including him.

  I decided to take a different angle on the conversation. “We hadn’t seen each other since the mess in the gym. We haven’t had any time to talk at all.” Totally true, and neatly skirting the fact that I wanted nothing to do with Baffle.

  The nod was exchanged for a frown. “That didn’t really answer my question did it?”

  Being on the wrong end of a conversation with a man I respected made me anxious. “Why are you asking me all these questions Mr. Conroy?”

  His eyebrows arched. “Sampson has been accused of some pretty serious things today. I just want to know if there is anyone in school who might have a bone to pick with him. Maybe someone who thought he was doing a favor for people in trouble.”

  More than you know I thought, but I saw my chance to change the direction of the interrogation. “Oh, well there’s the kids that used to hang out with Munger and Witkowski. They all probably have a problem with Baffle. You know.”

  The lines in his face smoothed out and he stared at me with a blank expression. “Hmm. Well we’ll see. You know I count you as a friend, Benny. Don’t start fighting other people’s battles. No matter what the justification might appear to be.” He flashed a small smile and went back into the building. First day back and I had put myself on the radar with Mr. Conroy. Not good.

  I managed to get through the parking lot without getting stopped again and was on my bus back home in a few minutes. As the bus chugged away, leaning into the turn I looked at the oversized gold and silver garlands strung on the eves of the school roof, and the multi-colored lights wrapping the light poles.

  It still didn’t feel like Christmas.

  FORTY-TWO: UNINVITED GUEST

  I SPENT THE ride home dissecting all of the events of the day and even though some of it hadn’t been pleasant I was hopeful. Outside the sun was already setting.

  My mind drifted back to the conversation with Mr. Goodturn. Having him back had been emotional for me. We hadn’t even scratched the surface of the story about his incredibly long life because of the argument that had ended our conversation. I couldn’t decide how I felt about that either.

  We also hadn’t talked about Kenwoode and his slippery grasp on ethics. The backstory on Kenwoode that had been slowly unfolding didn’t fill me with the same level of confidence that Mr. Goodturn seemed to have. I couldn’t understand why he’d chosen him as the first person that should be contacted when he’d been hurt.

  The bus was several blocks away from my stop when my phone buzzed. Sawyer’s photo filled the screen.

  “Hey, what’s up?” I asked.

  “Where are you?” I could hear tension in his voice.

  “On my way. Are you alright? Did something happen?” I asked.

  He coughed into the phone. “Yeah. You need to get here as fast as you can. Mr. K and Brock are back and we’ve got a problem.”

  “Okay, but I’m on a bus.”

  “Just hurry.” The call disconnected.

  I squirmed in my seat the rest of the way to my stop trying to guess what had happened. I wanted to write it off to Sawyer’s excitable nature but the tone of his voice hadn’t just been stressed. He’d sounded afraid. The fact that he’d called me instead of Kenwoode worried me.

  When the bus stopped I squeezed through the crowd on my way to the door. I ignored the looks and comments, and got out as quickly as I could.

  Before I even got within a hundred feet of the building I saw Danton’s unmarked police car parked at the curb. As if my nerves weren’t already wound tight enough. When I was within a few feet the car door opened and Danton got out. His suit was rumpled and he did not look happy.

  “Get in,” he said.

  I stopped. “I can’t right now. I have...” I paused. What was I supposed to say?

  “You have what? Another rendezvous with the Winters’ kid?” he frowned and nodded his head. “Yeah, that’s right. She’s home again. I’m just betting that you knew. I got an earful from my captain, who spent some quality time on the phone with her mother. You’re coming with me.”

  He didn’t actually grab my arm but he was really being aggressive. He looked out of breath and had dark circles under his eyes. “I can’t. Are you...are you arresting me?”

  The winter wind whipped at his hair, making him look even more disheveled. I could feel raindrops starting to fall.

  “No. But I’ve had it with trying to nail down details with you. We have security footage of you and another person entering a condo downtown where there was a massive multi-car pile-up. The other person is seen on an intersection video two blocks away about forty minutes later with someone who looks suspiciously like Justine Winters. You never come back out of the building. At least not as far as anyone can tell because the security cameras in the emergency exit were fudged.”

  My heart was strumming away. There was something serious going on up in Mr. Goodturn’s apartment and I couldn’t allow Danton to drag me away. “Can it wait? I’ll tell you everything. I have to get...I have to get to my grandfather’s. There’s been some sort of accident.”

  He took a deep breath. “Your grandpa?”

  I nodded, hoping it wasn’t the truth.

  “Okay, let’s go then.” He stepped past me and started to walk toward my apartment building.

  “He doesn’t live there,” I said. I pointed at the second floor of the pawnshop building. “He lives up there, on the second floor. And I think I need to go up there alone.”

  Danton shook his head. “No. I’m not letting you out of my sight. Look, Benny, if your grandpa is hurt let’s get him some help. But I need answers and I’m all done waiting for you to trust me.” He turned and walked up to the pawnshop door. He pulled on the handle. Locked of course. He looked at me, obviously feeling like I had been scamming him.

  “You have a key?” he asked, his voice tight.

  “Yeah, but sometimes it’s just stuck. Let me try.” I stepped up to the door, knacked the lock and yanked hard, opening it easily. Danton’s frown deepened as he followed me inside.

  “The lights are off? The place is closed and your grandpa leaves the door unlocked?”

  The entire situation was spinning out of my control. “Um, no. He never leaves the door unlocked if he’s closed up.” Danton looked skeptical.

  “How do you get upstairs?” He asked.

  “There’s a service elevator in the back,” I said, leading him to the back of the shop and the hall.

  We stopped in front of the shabby entrance to the elevator, Danton looked around, clearly suspicious.

  We got in, the door rumbled shut, and the car lurched and shuddered on its way up.

  “Sort of a weird setup your gramps has here,” Danton said.

  The elevator came to spongy stop and we got off. Danton’s eyebrows rose as he looked around at the decidedly upscale hall, high ceilings and ornate entrance to Mr. G’s.

  He let out a low whistle. “I take that back. Really weird.”

  I hesitated in front of the huge wood door and the fancy topiary flanking it. “Danton, there are other people staying here with my grandfather. Before you jump to any conclusions will you hear me out first?”

  Cocking his head to one side, Danton squinted an eye at me. “What’s he got going on in there? A brothel?” he asked, a wry expression on his face.

  I grimaced. “No. It’s just that the call I got wasn’t from my grandfather so I don’t know who exactly or what exactly is going on in the
re. Is there any way I could get you to wait for me out here?”

  “Sure. I’ll just hang out here, and trust that you’ll be back, in what...an hour or two? No. I’m coming with you. What are you hiding Benny?”

  I pushed open the door which hadn’t been locked. Not a good sign. I looked back at Danton. “You know all that stuff I said to you when you asked me how I got away from the hospital?”

  “Yeeaah.” He gave me a wary look.

  “Well most of what I told you was truer than you thought.”

  Danton was about to respond when Sawyer walked into view.

  His eyes went wide when he saw Danton. “Who’s this?” he asked.

  That’s when we heard the first scream.

  FORTY-THREE: TURNCOAT

  DANTON DIDN’T HESITATE. He had his gun out and brushed past me and Sawyer before I could say a word. We were halfway through the hall when another scream split the air.

  “It’s coming from the library,” I said, pointing down the wide hallway that led to the rooms facing the street. Sawyer shook his head and started to say something but Danton had a finger to his lips.

  Stopping for a second, the gun pointed toward the floor in a two-handed grip, Danton snarled, “Stay behind me. And don’t talk.”

  When we got to the library another scream came from within but it wasn’t as loud. Almost half-hearted.

  Brock’s voice travelled out to the hall where Danton, Sawyer and I hugged the wall to the left of the library’s entrance.

  “That’s not going to do you any good. No one can hear you.”

  Danton looked back over his shoulder at Sawyer and me. “Who is that?”

  Whispering, I said, “Brock. He’s a friend of my grandfather.”

  A sultry voice floated out of the library. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with. I’m the least of your problems.”

  Having heard enough Danton swept into the entryway and leveled his gun. I followed at his elbow.

  “What the f—” he gasped.

  In the center of the library furniture had been cleared out leaving a single chair in the center of a rough circle. Held in place with zip ties was a woman with long red hair, looking very unconcerned despite the screaming she’d been doing a few moments ago. Her low cut dress and long legs made her look like a damsel from the cover of a detective novel. The ones where there’s a woman in distress, wide-eyed and fearfully looking for help. But, she didn’t look distressed and didn’t seem like some frail beauty.

  Brock was standing close to her, a handful of zip ties in one hand and a knife in the other. But that probably wasn’t what made Danton hesitate. Standing several feet from Brock and the bound woman was a monster.

  Incredibly tall, wide and massive the huge thing hung back, chest heaving, startling blue eyes locked on the woman. Its arms were thickly muscled and long powerful hands hung at its sides. It was completely covered in some sort of dull black material. I’d call it a onesie or a uni-tard but that would make light of the hulking menace the thing presented. Only its hands, head and feet were exposed. Its face was covered in a shaggy dark beard and topped by a thick mane of coarse hair. The flesh was a sooty color, like ash. The nose was broad and flat and the mouth was showing a lot of white teeth.

  Scary enough, but what was even more disturbing was that I could tell that Kenwoode was in there somewhere. Legends of werewolves, stories about Bigfoot all flickered through my mind. None of those images were a match for what we were looking at but it wouldn’t be hard, in the right light, to see this thing as a movie monster come to life. I looked at Sawyer and he nodded at my unspoken conclusion.

  So while I was running all of that through my head, the thing turned toward us. So did Brock and the woman.

  My—holy—don’t anyone move!” snapped Danton, gun tracking mostly on the Kenwoode-thing.

  Brock looked at us in surprise and then shook his head in disbelief. “Really? You brought a cop?”

  “Shut up!” said Danton. “Drop the knife and stand away from the girl.”

  Brock sneered. “You’re in over your head pal, drop the gun. In the morning you’re not going to remember any of this anyway.”

  I was shocked, and not just at Kenwoode’s transformation. Brock was matching Danton’s tone and controlled aggression in a way that didn’t connect with his temper. The Kenwoode thing had lowered its shoulders and settled into a crouch. The kind of stance that a dog takes before it leaps on something. I figured things were going to go sideways any second.

  Working the slide on his automatic, Danton racked a bullet into the chamber and pointed it at Kenwoode, but spoke to Brock. “Okay don’t drop the knife. Cut her loose or I shoot your pet gorilla here.” He was breathing slowly, the gun didn’t shake and it was abundantly clear from the tone in his voice that he meant business. Kenwoode growled. I didn’t think he liked the gorilla reference. He edged closer.

  Standing with his legs spread apart, Brock dropped the knife point first and it stuck in the floor. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “Danton, I think—” I started to say.

  “Shut up Benny,” snapped Danton. “You!” he pointed at the Kenwoode-beast, “Back off and lay down by your dish!”

  Whether it was the second animal reference or that he had already been primed to attack, Kenwoode launched himself at us. He had been close to the windows, so at least thirty feet away from us.

  He cleared all of it in one leap.

  Well, almost.

  Danton squeezed off a shot before I could react, his second shot went wide, a panicked thrust of my knack messing up his aim.

  It knocked Kenwoode back, but it didn’t stop him. He landed on his knees and his loud wail of pain made my ears hurt. He gnashed his teeth and gathered himself, preparing for another lunge.

  “No!” I yelled.

  As he stood up and prepared to come at us again, Danton raised his gun. I reached out to screw up his aim and then felt something land on my back, knocking me to the floor. Sawyer was on top of me. I scrambled to get free.

  “Sawyer, what the hell?”

  “Sorry, sorry,” he said, rolling to one side.

  I turned back but it was too late. Kenwoode had jumped again and Danton fired off two more shots that took him dead center. The blasts knocked him back and he fell to the carpet, writhing in pain.

  While Danton focused on Kenwoode, Brock dropped, rolled, grabbed his knife and sprung up beside the woman, who seemed completely unaffected by all the yelling and gunfire.

  “Get back!” Danton shouted, trying to sweep me behind him with his free hand.

  “Stop!” I said. “You don’t understand!” I put my hand on his arm. Sawyer hung back a few feet, a wild look on his face.

  “I’m calling the police,” a voice said from behind us.

  We all glanced back down the hallway to see Constance peeking out of a doorway.

  “Lady, I am the police! Call ‘em. Tell ‘em shots fired!” barked Danton.

  “Look at your hands handsome,” said the woman, craning her neck trying to make eye contact with Brock.

  Brock hesitated and looked down at his hands. Frost covered his them, and was travelling up his arms. He stared at her, slack-jawed, his mouth freezing in place as ice crystals spread over his face. His knees buckled and he slumped to the floor.

  She looked back in our direction. “Officer, please, please untie me.” she said huskily.

  Danton hurried over to her and reached for the knife that had fallen out of Brock’s hand.

  “Danton! Don’t!” I shouted, as I ran toward him. The woman turned her green-eyed gaze on me. Her lips split in a malevolent smile. I stumbled back, turning away from her, as an intense chill gripped me. Then I was nearly blinded by a flash of blue and white electricity, and heard a body fall behind me.

  Sparks danced in front of my eyes as I watched Sawyer walk up to me, wide-eyed and sweaty.

  “Thank God,” I wheezed. “That witch almost got me wi
th her knack-whammy.”

  “Now, now,” cooed a voice behind me. “Is that any way to talk about a lady?”

  Whirling I turned and saw Danton sprawled on the floor, a wisp of smoke curling up from his charred shirt.

  I looked back at Sawyer. “What? Why?”

  “Sorry Benny,” he said.

  And then he zapped me.

  FORTY-FOUR: CHEAP AIRFARE

  INSTINCTIVELY I RAISED my hands to protect myself, and threw my knack influence in front of me.

  Although I was busy considering all of the other crazy that was unwinding around me, the result was pretty cool. The bolt of energy that Sawyer directed at me splashed sideways and burst into a cloud of bright sparks.

  I was still standing.

  “Crap,” mumbled Sawyer.

  I was preparing to congratulate myself when he regrouped and sent a pair of bolts at me. I deflected one, but the other pushed through the edge of my knack influence and took me in the stomach, knocking me to the floor. Gasping for breath, my head spun and I fought to stay conscious.

  Laying on my side, paralyzed, I watched Sawyer grab the knife and cut through the ties that were holding the woman. She stood up and started to walk past me, then stopped and turned, taking a step back toward me.

  “What are you doing? We don’t have time!” Sawyer blurted, stopping halfway to the library entrance.

  She gave him a disgusted look and then stared at me on the floor. She pointed a sculpted finger nail at me and grinned. “I think you might be the one I’ve been looking for. I’ll see you soon.” And then she swept out of the library, Sawyer following behind.

  Brock was still down, and not moving. The Kenwoode thing was growling and thrashing, like a mechanical toy that was running out of juice. The smoke wafting from Danton’s chest had thinned out to a lacey tendril that drifted toward the ceiling. He didn’t move. Rolling onto my back I sat up and bit back a gasp. I looked down at my shirt. There was a hole burned through it and the skin was blistering. Turning over, I got to my knees I crawled over to Danton. I felt a huge responsibility for him. He’d had no idea what he was getting into. He was breathing and although his jacket and shirt were a mess there wasn’t much damage to his skin. I was sure Brock would recover. Kenwoode had stopped moving, but I could see his massive chest rising and falling. I couldn’t let the mystery woman get away. Rising shakily to my feet I stumbled after them.