Play at Soul's Edge

by Sophia Amador

  She had been so desperate for him that she trembled, for once in her life unable to speak, as he bent over her, finally naked, his hair brushing her face when he lowered his mouth to hers. His body was even more impossibly gorgeous than she had imagined, his well-muscled, tanned chest like that of a god, his beautiful eyes alight with lust.

  At last he had taken her, and in that moment she was lost, her body clenching in waves of agonized passion, in a pleasure more intense than she had dreamed possible. In the end, as he collapsed on her, he gently sought out her mouth and kissed her again.

  That night she had lost her heart to the worst man possible. She had heard all the stories whispered about Adrian: he had utterly no morals; he cared for nothing and no one besides himself; at the very most he might toy with her, use her for his pleasure. That had, to her horror, in one deadly instant, become her only goal in life.

  The sight of him, a glimpse of the curve of his throat, a single gesture with a graceful hand—any of these made her violently fascinated, weak and trembling at her core, all her resolve seared away in a single instant. She was helplessly, hopelessly attracted to him; like a moth to a flame, she would go to him knowing full well it would bring her only pain and death.

  She still held that one golden night in her memory, precious and unrecoverable, as the one crowning moment of her life when everything had been worthwhile, when she was not Kim Lugo, trash from a lousy neighborhood, but a princess, a treasure, taken by a king.

  They had had sex again since that night, but it had never been the same. He had never again shown her that gentle, caring side. Instead, he had been indifferent, or even worse, playful, a devilish smile dancing on his lips, as he whispered commands in her ear that she must follow regardless of pain or cost.

  She did everything he asked of her, obeying the least of his whims to the letter, never voicing the despair that filled her heart and mind. If she were caught, he would not care in the slightest when they took her to jail. And, she thought in hopeless anguish, she would be loyal to him even there, and would not let his name pass her lips as they sentenced her.

  And now… he had let her know her part in his plans, let her know exactly what he thought of her, what was going to happen to her… and the worst of it, not even by his own hand. She could have borne it if it had been at his hands.

  But no. She bowed her head. She was nothing now. Less than nothing. A tear squeezed out of her eye. All because of that girl.

  She ground her teeth. She wouldn’t let it go. Kim Lugo didn’t just take shit. Even if it killed her, she would get her revenge.

  Mario

  Mario examined the small slip of paper and painfully decoded the message with his little codebook. He hated this part of the job. So easy to get one letter wrong and mess up the whole thing. Tongue between his teeth, a stub of a pencil in his hand, he peered at the codebook and back at the message several times.

  What a waste of time. Who the hell was going to find that piece of paper anyway? Why did it need to be in code? But it was the Captain’s orders. Mario didn’t really understand why. Not that it mattered.

  You did it the way the Captain wanted, or you didn’t survive long.

  Finally he finished. “Shit,” he said. “It’s tonight.”

  School had been dismissed hours ago, and it would soon be dark. The sky was overcast and it was cold enough that Mario’s fingers were clumsy as he manipulated the stubby pencil. He and Ron Hundley had been hanging out behind the school, smoking. Nobody ever came to the back lot; it was known to be their territory.

  Hundley grimaced. “It’s Wednesday. We never have to go on Wednesday. It’s always Friday or the weekend.”

  “Stop wiping your ass, Hundley. It’s time for our delivery.”

  Hundley ran a hand through his greasy black hair. “Shut the fuck up. I’m coming.”

  Hundley’s battered old Chevy waited at the far end of the school lot. Mario sneered. He’d prefer to take his Harley, but they had to take the shipment in the trunk, so they needed a car. Mario hated being cooped up inside a metal box. Especially Hundley’s old piece of shit, stinking of stale tobacco smoke and rancid burgers.

  He sat in the passenger seat, the window rolled all the way down, drumming his fingers impatiently on the door handle as Hundley coaxed the old claptrap into life.

  Hundley grinned evilly at him as he pulled out of the lot. “What’s the problem, Fonseca? You look like you’re in heat or something.”

  “Your car smells like a shithole.” Mario popped open the glove box and wrinkled his nose at the mess inside. “I can’t believe you reuse condoms, you cheap bastard.”

  “Hey. They’re expensive, especially when you go through them as fast as I do.”

  Mario rooted through the pile. “What’s this? Used toilet paper? Fuck.”

  “Get your fucking hands off my shit. Funny you’re complaining, seeing that rathole you live in. I’d rather live in a sewer than your dingy-ass apartment.”

  “Shut your hole.” Mario held up a crumpled fast-food bag. Something was written on one side and Mario smoothed it out. It read “Britny.” He peered into the bag. “Shit. No wonder your car reeks. Half a month-old burger covered in mold.”

  Hundley made a grab for it but Mario tossed it out the window. “Hey! That was my dinner!”

  “You didn’t even buy it. You jacked it from this chick Britny.”

  “You don’t know shit. Maybe she’s my girl.”

  Mario snickered. “Even one of your slutty hos ain’t giving you a moldy burger. Bet you fished it out of a trash can.”

  “You’re just jealous because none of the ladies give you gifts.”

  “I know what kinda ‘gifts’ those ‘ladies’ give you.”

  Hundley suddenly hit the brakes and Mario was thrown forward in the seatbelt.

  “What the fuck—” Mario fell silent. Up ahead a lone patrol car cruised leisurely past.

  Hundley slowed to within the speed limit, but the squad car didn’t turn around. Mario returned to leaning out the window and glaring. With no more incidents, they drove through the city streets and onto a frontage road in the industrial section until they got to their destination, the parking lot of a nondescript, windowless white building with a faded sign. Hundley pulled around to the back, past an overflowing dumpster and into a garbage-strewn lot.

  Mario got out while Hundley left the car idling. It was a routine job, but Mario kept a sharp eye out for anyone who might be following them or loitering around. The back lot was deserted. At the back door, he pressed the button and waited, making sure his face was visible through the peephole in the center of the scuffed, dented door.

  It only took a few minutes before the door was opened by a thin, pasty-faced kid holding a laundry bag. Mario didn’t bother with greetings. He nodded and hoisted the bag onto his shoulders. The door slammed behind him.

  Hundley already had the trunk open and waiting. Mario tossed the heavy bag in.

  Then they were back on the road heading to their next stop. Mario leaned out the open window again. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out that it was Adrian’s new girlfriend who lived in the apartment they’d been using. But what was confusing was why. What kind of game was Adrian playing?

  Adrian thought of people only as tools to be used for his own purposes. Hell, the only reason Tenebras existed was to serve Adrian Salas’s ambitions. It bothered Mario sometimes, but in the past he had always shrugged it off. What else could someone like him do? Besides, he had once thought it was too late. He had thrown in his lot with Adrian, and no one left Adrian’s service alive.

  Mario had to admit he had done well for himself since he joined the gang. It had enabled him to get out of a number of scrapes. Adrian made sure the gang members took care of one another, and Adrian’s connections with the cops and school administration guaranteed that, if caught, Mario always got away with a slap on the wrist. And the financial rewards were far better than he could get with a regular job
.

  But it was getting far too difficult to continue to obey Adrian’s every whim. Now, though, if—when—Mario’s plans came to fruition, everything would change.

  Hundley parked a block away from their destination. The two of them scanned up and down the street; there were no pedestrians visible. Mario hoisted the laundry bag across his shoulders. They walked across the parking lot and overgrown side yard of a beat-up four-story apartment building. Their target was behind it on the next block.

  Mario pulled out a key and slipped it into the lock. He eased the door open and checked the hallway.

  After the door to the girl’s apartment had shut behind them, they relaxed. The place was unoccupied as it always was during the times listed on the coded messages.

  The apartment was shabby, not much better than Mario’s own home. But it was significantly cleaner than the dump where he, his three younger half-brothers and two half-sisters crashed with their mom. She never bothered to clean up after her binges on drugs or liquor. But it had been the only roof over Mario’s head until he joined Tenebras and had instantly taken a big step upwards in street cred, as well as gaining access to the gang headquarters for nights when the screaming and stink became unbearable.

  Mario dumped the bag open in front of the huge stuffed blue dog, out of place in the corner of the living room. Hundley flipped the dog around and unzipped the back, then rooted around in the stuffing. He emerged with a small packet, showed it to Mario, and stuffed it in his jacket pocket.

  The two of them took several small, soft-sided packages wrapped up in butcher paper and twine out of the bigger cloth bag and buried them deep within the stuffed dog. When the bag was empty, Mario rolled it up and shoved it into the dog as well. Hundley adjusted the stuffing to cover the new objects within the dog, and zipped up the back. The two of them replaced the animal in its corner. Mario gave the apartment a once-over to make sure they were leaving it as they had found it. Then they silently slipped out the door and down the hall.

  As they stepped out the back door, a shadow emerged from the bushes and confronted them.

  10

  Ben

  “WHAT ARE YOU TWO assholes doing hanging around Elisa’s apartment?” Ben Lancaster came forward into the light cast by the fixture by the door, fists raised.

  Hundley and Mario exchanged a glance. “Go,” said Mario. “I’ll take care of this fuckwad.” Hundley nodded and took off running.

  Ben ignored him, focusing on Mario. “I said, what are you doing in Elisa’s building?”

  “Who?” asked Mario, grinning.

  “Don’t give me that crap, Fonseca. I saw you hanging around her a couple of weeks ago. And I’ve seen you here before. Tell me what you’re doing or I’ll pound your face in.”

  “You and who else?” sneered Mario. He made a show of glancing around the street, his grin mocking. “I’ll wipe the ground with your fucking ass.”

  “What’re you doing with Elisa?”

  Mario tried a blank look. “Dunno who the fuck you’re talking about. Ron’s got a friend in this building. We were visiting him, that’s all.”

  Ben snorted. “Sure he does.”

  “It don’t matter, cause I’m gonna fucking kill you.” With the speed of a cobra striking, Mario darted forward and led off with a hard, fast uppercut.

  Ben blocked and threw a roundhouse punch at Mario’s jaw. “Ha! I’d like to see you try!” He threw a flurry of punches, fast and furious and hard.

  Mario, panting, danced out of reach, feinted, blocked, and then returned a barrage of blows and kicks. Ben felt rage swelling, the rage that had been building up ever since he had watched that kid Pete regress to infancy and then slowly recover in his father’s clinic, since he had heard about the new drug—that was the rage he funneled into his fists, attacking Mario with everything he had. His fury was like a creature deep within him. He hammered on Mario, crushing him to the ground, moving faster and harder than ever before. He might not be able to stop the drug, but he could protect all the innocents on the street from Mario here and now.

  Mario fell to the ground, limp. Even though he had stopped fighting, Ben continued beating him, raging in fury. He couldn’t stop smashing his fists into the bastard’s face and gut.

  It wasn’t until he noticed Mario’s head lolling at a crazy angle that he came to his senses. It was as though the rage had been turned off like a spigot. Ben dropped to his knees and closed his eyes. What had he become? He was acting like a crazy monster, beating an unconscious man. He had always been a fair fighter, not someone who would attack someone already down. He had become unhinged.

  Ben heard a grunt and opened his eyes. Mario had dragged himself to his feet, blood pouring out of his nose, clothes torn. His teeth were bared, and in his hand he held a wicked-looking knife.

  “You bastard,” Mario snarled. “I’m gonna nail your ass for good.” He raised the knife.

  Ben knew he should defend himself, but something in him seemed to have snapped. He felt dizzy, weak. He sat on the ground, waiting for Mario to stab him.

  There was a blur of movement, almost too fast for him to see. A tiny, dark-skinned girl appeared in front of him, kicked the knife out of Mario’s hand, and took Mario in a headlock before either of them could move. The girl couldn’t have been more than four and a half feet tall. She had tightly curled black hair, black velvet eyes, and despite the pink Hello Kitty shirt she was wearing, the fiercest expression Ben had ever seen on a human being before.

  “All right, what’s going on here?” her voice rang out.

  Ben could only stare, dazed, at this apparition. “Who are you?”

  She tightened her grip on Mario to keep him immobilized. “Keisha Huston. Pleased to meet you. I think I’ve seen you around school.”

  Ben laughed. It was all so incongruous. “I’m Ben Lancaster, and that jackass you’re holding is Mario Fonseca.”

  Mario glared. “Get the fuck off me, bitch.”

  Keisha shook her head. “Not until I know why you were coming at this guy with a knife. Looked like you were about to kill him.”

  Mario struggled ferociously in Keisha’s grip for another few seconds, then gave up, wheezing. “That shithead tried to kill me.”

  “Is that true?” Keisha asked Ben.

  “Yeah. But he deserved it. I caught him breaking and entering.”

  “No way, you liar!” shouted Mario. “Check the fucking apartment for all I care.”

  Keisha’s nostrils flared. “Why don’t you each tell your story?” She tightened her hold on Mario. “If I let you go, will you calm down and talk?”

  The muscles in Mario’s neck tensed. “Yeah.”

  Keisha released her headlock. Mario sprang free and jumped backwards, dropping into a crouch, his head flipping back and forth between Keisha and Ben.

  “Now,” she said, hands on her hips, “what’s going on here?”

  “Dumb idea, letting me go, bitch. Matter of fact,” Mario said, a nasty grin appearing on his battered face, “I’m gonna take your fucking ass down hard.”

  A siren snarled off in the distance, coming closer, and Mario cursed. All at once, he spun and took off, rounding the corner and disappearing.

  Ben and Keisha were left standing in the empty yard, glaring at each other.

  Ben was the first to recover. He straightened and offered his hand with a smile. “Wow. Where’d you learn moves like that? I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a great kick.” He absently rubbed the back of his head. It was wet. When he pulled his hand back, it was stained red.

  “You’re bleeding,” Keisha said. “We better get you to a hospital.”

  “As it happens,” said Ben with a grin, “I was just going there. Going home, that is.”

  In an examination room of the Lancaster Free Clinic, Keisha sat on a folding chair while Dr. Lancaster bandaged Ben’s injuries. He winced as his father daubed antiseptic on another one of his wounds.

  His father said cheerfully, “I tol
d you to stay away from Mario. How many times have I had to patch you up because of him?”

  Ben glowered.

  “If you hadn’t come and saved my son’s butt, I might have an even bigger mess to clean up.” Dr. Lancaster nodded at Keisha. “Did you really kick a knife out of that guy’s hand?”

  Keisha shrugged. “Lucky shot.”

  “Lucky my ass,” said Ben. “It was a great move. Where’d you learn it?”

  Her eyes shifted to the ceiling. “Here and there. I’ve studied martial arts for a while.”

  “Hmm.” Dr. Lancaster shot a piercing glance at her, but continued to work on Ben’s injuries. “How old are you?”

  “I’m a senior,” said Keisha. She changed the subject. “Did you say that kid was a gang member?”

  “Yeah,” said Ben. “He’s a member of Tenebras. You’ve heard of them, right?”

  “I just transferred in today. I don’t know much about Rockton.”

  “They’re the biggest gang in the school. That asshole is responsible for more shit than any ten average criminals. Drugs, robbery, you name it.”

  She aimed a brilliant, fascinated smile at him. Ben had never seen anyone like her before, and he found a goofy grin spreading across his face. The fact that she was half his size but packed a wallop bigger than guys three times bigger than her was just another thing that made her intriguing. “Anything else you wanna know?”

  Elisa

  Adrian deftly maneuvered the little car into a halfway-legal parking spot just a bit too close to a fire hydrant. When Elisa pointed it out to him, he only smiled.

  “Don’t worry about it. There’s no one writing tickets on this street at this time of night.”

  He opened the car door and helped her out. It was a cold, crisp late October night, and a crescent moon oversaw fitful wisps of clouds. The night air smelled like winter, and Elisa shivered. Adrian draped an arm around her. He smelled like roasted chestnuts fresh off the bonfire, and she inhaled deeply as he pressed her into his shoulder. His fingers tangled in her hair and left fiery trails over the back of her neck. She lifted her face up to his. Then his lips connected with hers, her eyes closed, and her body roared like a furnace, vanquishing the chill of the night.