The Corruption Within

by Ty Griffin

  I buried my hands between my knees, focusing on trying to take long, slow breaths, trying to ward off what had to be an oncoming panic attack. It took several minutes before I was able to slow my breathing and calm my heart rate. I sat there for a while longer, trying to understand what I had just seen.

  Chapter 7

  ◆◆◆

  “You lost him again?” Kayla asked incredulously.

  “Yeah,” I groaned.

  “I thought you knew how to do this stuff!”

  “Why, because I’ve got a record?”

  “Well … yeah.”

  I sighed in exasperation. “That doesn’t make me some kind of master criminal, Kayla. I did some dumb stuff and got arrested. I’ve never stalked anyone before. I didn’t want to follow too close and have him see me, so I hung back. By the time I turned the corner, he was gone. It’s not like I could run up and down the street calling his name or anything.”

  “Ugh, fine,” she said, throwing her hands up in frustration. She paced back and forth beside the bar in a huffy march. Her now neon-green hair bounced with each step, and the thin metal chains dangling from her hips jangled as she spun. It was kind of cute.

  I knew she wasn’t really irritated with me. She was frustrated that after six days we hadn’t gotten anywhere with our investigation. I was learning Kayla carried an impressive level of excitement about and dedication to any kind of adventure, and she was not the type to back down just because things weren’t going our way.

  “Well, what was he doing before you lost him?” she asked.

  “Same thing he’s done every night this week. He snuck around, looking in windows, testing doors to see if any had been unlocked, ducking in alleys, and generally being weird and a little creepy.

  “He wasn’t on Walshack Street this time, which is new.” Kayla looked up at me sharply, eager for some new information. “He went one street further and turned west. I lost him a block or two after that.”

  “I haven’t been able to come up with much, either,” she said. “I’ve tried several shops up near allies that would lead to the back of Gabe’s, trying to see if any of them have security cameras that might show someone going back there that night. There aren’t many that have cameras covering the street in the first place. The couple that do don’t show anything significant that night. Which isn’t surprising. The odds of one of those allies being the one that something walked down are pretty slim.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Plus the thing we saw didn’t seem to need to walk down an alley, since it could, you know, climb the freaking walls.”

  “Yeah,” she said, dejected. “But I’m not giving up. It might be unlikely but not impossible, and I still think it’s worth checking. The day manager at the bagel shop on Park is a catty, old thing and wouldn’t let me watch the security footage.”

  “Rude!” I interjected.

  “I know!” Kayla said, her wide eyes dancing in excitement. “Jerry, the dude who works nights, is our age. I’m going to go by tonight and see if I can talk him into letting me see them.”

  A flash of jealousy shot through my chest, and I had to quickly suppress indignation that I knew was unreasonable. Kayla had been coming by every morning before Gabe came in so we could compare investigation notes from the day before. While neither of us had come up with much, I had started to look forward to her daily visits. There was something so refreshing and attractive about the way she viewed life. It was more than just a positive attitude; she was eager to face new challenges and experience new things. She looked at the world in her own particular way and made no attempt to either conform to anyone else’s ideals or hide who she was.

  As someone racked with insecurity and indecision, Kayla’s openness and confidence was incredibly appealing to me—and more than a little intimidating.

  “Is his name really Jerry?” I asked, trying to hide how much I hated the idea of her flirting with some dude, even if it was just to get information out of him.

  She shrugged, smiled her devious little smile, and said, “I don’t know, maybe. He wears a lot of tie-dye.” She leaned against the bar and looked at me seriously for a moment. “So you never asked Gabe about the night you saw him attack that guy?”

  “God, no,” I said, feeling my face warm. “I talk to him as little as possible. Kayla, I can’t even tell you how scary the man was that night. I know he’s all sweet and kind when you see him with customers, but I’m telling you, the man was all kinds of terrifying in the alley.”

  “I still don’t understand what he was doing,” she said. “I mean, I know you said he was demanding something from the guy, but what was it? Is it something to do with the cops asking Gabe about people being attacked?”

  “You think he was just investigating the attacks? By attacking someone? And why would he be investigating in the first place?” I countered.

  Kayla shook her head slowly. “No, I know. It doesn’t make sense. Although it doesn’t make much sense that we’re investigating, either,” she said with a slight smile. “It’s got to tie in somehow with the weird creatures around here, right?”

  It still surprised me how easily Kayla had accepted the idea that there were intelligent, malevolent, possibly spiritual creatures wandering the streets. I still broke out into a cold sweat when I thought about my experiences with them, but after the initial shock, Kayla’s biggest concern was why the creature hadn’t been as interested in her. She handled the whole thing with the same sense of wonder-filled excitement with which she seemed to approach every new situation.

  “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “It seems too much of a coincidence for it not to. We could probably tie in the whole thing with Barnett, while we’re at it.”

  Kayla jerked her head up to look at me, eyes wide. “I forgot about Barnett! Has he come back around?”

  I shook my head. “I think I’ve seen one of his behemoths a couple of times, but no Barnett so far. I’m sure he will be back around before too long.”

  “What are you going to do when he does come back?”

  “I have no idea. I guess I’ll have to—”

  The bell above the door jingled, and I looked up to see Gabe entering. I waved and said, “Mornin’, Gabe,” trying to sound as innocuous as possible.

  Kayla slid her coffee cup toward me and pushed in the bar stool she’d been sitting in.

  “Morning,” Gabe said. “Kayla, you don’t have to leave just because I show up. You know you’re welcome to hang out as long as you want.”

  “Oh, thank you, Gabe,” she said, as lively as ever. “I should probably get going. I’ve got errands to run.” She waved bye to me and patted Gabe on the arm as she left, the tips of her hair flipping as with an energy of their own.

  Once the door closed behind her, Gabe looked at me and said, “You two seem to be getting on pretty well.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “That’s good. She seems like a good kid.” He stepped behind the bar and began pouring himself a cup of coffee. He paused mid-pour and side-eyed me. “You haven’t had a day off yet, have you?”

  I shrugged. “No, I guess not.”

  “Why don’t you take the day off?” Then, after a thought, he reached in his pocket and pulled out his keys. Tossing the keys to me, he said, “The large silver key is the key to the bar. Make yourself a copy so you’re not locked in this place when I’m not here.”

  “You trust me with the keys to your store?” I asked.

  He just shrugged. “Should I not? But I want it back when you move on.”

  Incredulous, I shook my head, waved goodbye, and left. As I walked down the street, I looked at the keys in my hand. There was the large black key to his old pickup truck, the large silver key apparently for the store, and three smaller, similar-looking keys on a single ring. It was a simple setup and a perfect reflection of Gabe’s simple lifestyle. It was also an incredible gesture of trust from a man who had already entrusted so much to me. And as I looked at those keys, I bega
n to formulate my plan to betray that trust.

  I walked several blocks until I got to a dirty little pawnshop with rusted metal bars covering the windows. The chirp of a door alarm as I stepped inside caught the employee’s attention, and he nodded a greeting at me. He had olive skin, a small hooked nose, and dark, weaselly eyes. The fingers of each hand were weighed down with gaudy gold rings that highlighted the ratty vibe of his silver fedora and black, thick-rimmed glasses.

  “What’cha lookin’ fer?” he asked.

  I had saved almost everything Gabe had paid me that week and was tired of walking everywhere. “Got any bikes?” I asked.

  He grunted and pointed to a cluster of bikes in a corner. I made my way over and began checking them out. Of the handful that were not obviously made for children, most seemed to be in various stages of disrepair, chains hanging from gears, tires flat, or missing pedals or seat cushions.

  My eye caught on a silver street bike that looked almost new. I checked the yellow tag hanging from the handlebar, and my heart sank. It was ridiculously overpriced. For only a little more, I could have gotten a brand-new bike, but I was trying to save for a new phone and was hoping to spend as little on a bike as possible.

  “Is this tag right on the silver one? Does everything work right?” I asked.

  The grimy man huffed in offense. “That makes me think you don’t trust me. I have very high standards for the things I sell,” he said, his voice a smarmy whine.

  I looked back and forth between him and the handful of incomplete bikes piled against the wall. I pointed to a bike in the middle of the pile. “This one doesn’t have wheels … or a handlebar,” I said.

  He sneered at me and said, “I might would of been willing to haggle with you a little but I don’t think I like the way you’re insinuating. If you don’t like the price, don’t buy it.”

  I thought about walking out. I wanted to inform the man of certain things he could do with certain pieces of his anatomy. I would say that I chose the high road and bit my tongue, but the truth is I chickened out. I may spout off when my anger flares, but most of the time the idea of someone—even the ass behind the counter—mad at me is overwhelming. Besides, I was tired of walking everywhere and didn’t want to spend money on a new bike.

  I looked over another bike that was about the right size. It was an old, single-gear bike painted red and black with a few rusty patches for emphasis. It was priced higher than I wanted to pay but closer to my budget. I pulled it free from the pile and pushed it toward the counter. The tires held air, the pedals turned freely, and it had both handlebars and a seat. Swallowing my pride, I leaned the bike against the counter.

  I pointed my chin toward a sign on the wall behind the counter. “You still make keys too?” I asked.

  The man smirked. “Yep. How many you need?”

  I pulled Gabe’s keys from my pocket and felt a tinge of guilt. Despite all the secrecy and shadiness surrounding Gabe, he had been nothing but good to me. But I had made up my mind and wasn’t about to back down. “Four keys. One of each of these, except the black car key.”

  Several minutes later, he handed me Gabe’s original keys plus a small brown envelope with four new keys inside. I gave him cash for the keys as well as the bike, cursing myself for a sucker as I did.

  “Appreciate the business. If ya need somethin’ else, just come on back,” the man said, his voice dripping with sickly sweet smugness.

  I pushed my bike out the door, grumbling and cursing under my breath the entire way, then swung a leg over and carefully tested the pedals. I made it a couple minutes down the road before I finally thought of a good response to the slimy geezer’s attitude.

  I decided to take a detour on my way back to Gabe’s, enjoying the freedom provided by the bike. I turned down an alley at random, not caring where it took me. Even with the graffiti and fast-food wrappers in the alley, I felt a little like Jack and Rose at the front of the Titanic, just enjoying the wind in my face. Having the security of a job and a place to stay as well as the freedom of no responsibilities for the day was euphoric.

  “We could have ensured the weasel in a hat respected you,” a voice said.

  I looked to my side and saw the head of a wolf inches from my elbow. I let out an unmanly scream and jerked my handlebars involuntarily. The front wheel turned, caught traction, and stopped. I, and the rest of the bike, continued moving and skidded along the pavement several feet.

  When I looked up, I saw the same bat-winged, wolf-headed creature that had spoken to Kayla and me standing over me. My heart rate immediately doubled and I tried to scoot away. I covered my head with my arms, expecting an attack. When the attack didn’t come, I looked up and saw the creature crouched down, resting its clawed hands on its knees, its head cocked at me.

  “Weak, little human thing.” It growled. “No wonder the shop owner treated you so.”

  “You saw that?” I asked, pushing myself to my feet. I moved slowly and deliberately, worried I would startle the thing into attacking me.

  “Yes, I saw,” it sneered. “The store man disrespected you. He thought very little of you, and you allowed it.”

  “Yeah, well, it happens,” I said. I went to my bike, walking backward so as not to show the thing my back. I picked it up and inspected it for damage while keeping a cautious eye on the creature. There were a couple scrapes but no major damage.

  With a rush of its wings, the creature pushed himself toward me. I held my bike between us, hoping it would shield me from its claws.

  “I can make it so no creature, human or otherwise, ever disrespects you again,” it said. “I can make you powerful. You could be like one of your superheroes, if you’d like.”

  “For what?” I asked. “What do you get out of it?”

  It took a step closer, its canine nostrils flaring. I tried to back further away but bumped into the wall behind me. “I want to help you, human. I am offering power and influence. I am offering you the ability to get what you want in life.”

  As scared as I was, I didn’t miss the fact that the creature had avoided my question. I started scooting down the wall toward the street. “Why me?”

  It shuffled its feet, following as I tried to inch away from it. “You would make a good partner, human. You want the things I offer, I can sense it in you, but you do not have the strength or will to attain them. You would be … receptive to the power I could provide you.”

  The hollow pit in my stomach told me that there was some truth in the creature’s words. The idea of being respected, not being written off because of my past or how I looked, was tempting. There was a part of me that always knew no matter what I did, I would never be able to get ahead in life. I would always be fighting an uphill battle, and the possibility of receiving something that could give me a winning hand—it couldn’t be that easy, could it? Power offered by a gnarly, carnivorous, talking creature in a back alley had to have some strings attached, right?

  “What would I have to do? What … what would you take?” I asked. “Would you take me? Make me something … bad?”

  “Make you bad? No, human,” it said, its voice almost as slimy as the pawn shop man. It leaned in closer, its eyes narrow, as if inspecting my very soul. “You are neither very good nor too evil. I believe you to be … ambivalent. I will not change who you are. I will just give you the power to be all of who you are. All you have to do is invite me in. We will be partners, and I will help you gain great power.”

  I thought about it longer than I would like to admit. I wanted it. I wanted power. I wanted to be at the top of the food chain for once. But something about the way the creature looked at me—like Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother, big eyes and teeth included—cautioned me that I would be biting more off than I could chew, so to speak.

  “No, I’m not interested,” I said, trying to move quicker.

  “Sure you are,” it sneered.

  “No, I don’t want your offer. Leave me alone.”

  �
��Yes, you do!” Its voice was harsh and demanding. It pressed in close to me, its sharp teeth clicking barely an inch from my face.

  “No! Get away from me!” I shouted. I pushed my bike into the creature as hard as I could. It didn’t budge an inch. I pushed with every ounce of strength I had, but it was like I was pushing against a brick wall.

  And then it moved. It waited long enough for me to know that I could not force it away and then shifted its weight back, giving me enough room to slide past. I didn’t hesitate. I moved off as quick as I could and, as soon as I had space, dropped the bike on its wheels, jumped on its seat, and started pedaling.

  As I made it to the street, I heard the creature say behind me, “You will change your mind, Ambivalent One. When you do, you call Veikr. Veikr will give you the power you are too scared to admit you want.”

  Chapter 8

  ◆◆◆

  By the time I got back to Gabe’s, I was less scared and more frustrated. Frustrated that a flying, talking wolf called me weak. Frustrated that it thought it could convince me to—to what? Let it possess me? Frustrated that I was so tempted to go along. It wasn’t like I had done so well with my life that the creature could do much worse. But it was my life, and, as crappy as it had been, I wasn’t ready to give up control—if that was, in fact, what the thing would require.

  As I approached the bar, my mood soured further. Officers Tilley and Lark were walking out the door. I groaned and thought about ducking back into the alley to hide. But they had already seen me, so I tried to work my way behind them and into the bar. Lark stepped in front of me, a cocky grin on his face.

  “Petterson,” said Officer Tilley from my left.

  “Tilley,” I replied with a slight nod.

  “That’s ‘Officer Tilley’ to you,” growled Lark.

  I don’t like bullies, especially bullies in uniforms, and I had already been pushed around enough for the morning. Besides, the lanky cop was nowhere close to as scary as some of the stuff I’d seen in the last few days. I stared at Lark, giving him my hardest glare, and said, “She didn’t use my title, why should I use hers?”