Play at Soul's Edge

by Sophia Amador

  “I’m sorry. I’m helping one of the teachers tutor elementary school kids this afternoon.”

  Sumiko shook her head, still grinning. “I don’t see how you get all your homework done with all the volunteer work you do.”

  “I enjoy helping others. And as you probably know, it doesn’t hurt to have plenty of charity work on your college applications to compete with all those private school kids.” With a squeeze of Elisa’s hand and a wave, he headed off down the hall.

  Sumiko watched Adrian disappear down the corridor. “You sure got lucky, Elisa. Adrian seems too good to be true.”

  Mario

  The furnace cast a dull reddish glow over the gang members’ faces, outlining them in shadows. Adrian descended the steps to the basement. At the final landing, his gaze passed over the group neutrally. Their faces all lifted to follow him, like plants to the sun.

  Mario’s nostrils pinched together. The bastard knew he cut a striking figure on the stairs. Adrian strode with poise across the room as though unaware of all the eyes on him. In an alcove at the end of the room, a large black armchair stood on an elevated platform. Adrian lowered himself into it, resting one elbow on an armrest.

  At his motion, Kim rose from the floor at his feet. Her long blonde hair flowed down her back, and her eyes were heavily made up. She wore a halter top and tight shorts that exposed a great deal of her soft flesh.

  Underneath the makeup, her face was pale and her forehead creased. She pasted an attempt at a seductive smile on her lips and tried to slide onto Adrian’s lap.

  Adrian had sometimes allowed this behavior. But today, he appeared indifferent—no, angry. He disentangled her arms from his neck none too gently.

  “Kim. Off,” he commanded.

  She instantly let go and slid off his lap. “I’m sorry, Captain.” She crept to the side of the room, hunched her shoulders and twisted her shaking hands together. Mario wondered for a moment what could possibly have put her in such a state.

  The others in the room shifted restlessly as Adrian reclined in his seat and raised one finger. At his command, two burly kids walked to the back and hauled in a chair that they set down before Adrian. A thin, pasty-faced boy had been strapped to it, and he lifted his head, staring at Adrian with defiance mingled with terror.

  Mario sucked in his breath; it was Lonnie. He wondered how the kid could have made a mistake big enough to land him on Adrian’s shit list so soon after joining the gang. He almost felt sorry for the poor kid. Soon all that defiance would be gone.

  “Lonnie,” Adrian said softly. “You disobeyed my direct orders. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  The boy tossed tangled brown hair back from his face. “Lies. All lies, Captain. They were spread by my enemies—” He glared at Kim where she crouched against the wall. “I would never have gone against your orders.”

  “Really?” Adrian asked. “Cesar, tell them what you found.”

  Mario noted a slight tightening of Adrian’s fingers, and realized that Adrian was uncharacteristically furious. As usual, none of his emotion showed on his face. What had Lonnie done? And how was Kim connected?

  Cesar stepped forward, dreads swinging against his chest. “You scum,” he spat. “You were trusted with a sensitive delivery. Instead of doing your job, you stole from us. On top of that, you endangered someone we were contracted to protect.”

  Lonnie fidgeted. His eyes dropped.

  “Captain,” he whispered. “Please, you have to understand, there’s gotta be a mistake…” His voice faded into a hopeless whimper.

  Adrian stood and paced towards the squirming captive. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?” His lip curled. “I had to personally retrieve the stolen product. And clean up your mess. Really, Lonnie? Sugar?” He shook his head slowly. “How unimaginative.”

  Sweat slid down Lonnie’s forehead.

  “Normally,” Adrian said, “disloyalty is punishable by death. But there are things far worse than an easy death.” Lonnie lifted his eyes to him in fear and rising alarm.

  Adrian swung his left hand out from behind his back. He held a syringe. He lifted it point upwards and squeezed so one drop of clear liquid oozed from the tip.

  “Do you know what this is, Lonnie?”

  There was utter silence in the room.

  “Rapture,” Adrian murmured. “The ultimate drug. Once you get started, there’s no turning back.” His voice was low and melodic. “You are consumed by desire for it from the moment you get up in the morning till the minute you go to bed at night.” His voice dropped even lower. “You become a slave to the drug. Or… to the person who controls its supply.”

  Adrian glanced at the silent group. “We now control the entire supply of Rapture to this city. Imagine the power that gives us.”

  Lonnie licked his lips. Adrian’s right hand came up, and Mario saw he held a knife. With a lightning-fast movement, he spun it and slashed across Lonnie’s neck and shoulder.

  The boy gasped. He hadn’t even had time to flinch. Mario had frequently seen demonstrations of Adrian’s inhumanly fast reflexes. All the Blades knew never to get suckered into a knife fight with him. He could cut you before you even knew he had moved. But this must have been the first time this kid had seen it. Lonnie peered down at his chest, breathing heavily, no doubt expecting to see Adrian’s knife buried in his heart.

  But all Adrian had done was slice his clothing. A piece of his shirt fell to the ground, exposing his right shoulder. A thin red line crossed his skin, oozing small drops of bright red blood. With another lightning-fast move Adrian brought his left hand, still holding the syringe, to the boy’s shoulder. Another second and he had injected the full dose into one of his veins.

  The boy stiffened as the drug hit him, eyes rolling back in his head. Adrian watched dispassionately as the drug took effect. Lonnie slumped in his bonds. His eyes opened, hazy and languid.

  He laughed. “This—is punishment? I’ve never felt better in my life.” He threw his head back with a brash glare that encompassed everyone in the room.

  Adrian tossed the syringe casually on the floor. “You say that now, my friend, but wait until your supply is cut off and your only chance for more is in my hands.

  “Your body, heart, and soul now belong to me,” Adrian whispered. “I have been merciful and allowed you to live—this time. But should you, in the future, disobey the least of my commands, I shall make sure you endure agony beyond the fires of Hell.”

  Mario shifted from foot to foot, avoiding glancing at Lonnie. He jolted when he heard his name. “Mario,” Adrian ordered, “take our prisoner back to his cell for the next few days. Make sure he gets a regular fix for three days. Then—” He waved a hand. “Withhold it for two.”

  “Yes, Captain,” said Mario. He jerked his head at two kids in the back of the room. They hoisted the chair with its captive, now slumped with his eyes closed, writhing in pleasure, no longer aware of his surroundings or his fate.

  It was impressive that the stuff could make him completely unafraid. Maybe taking just a small amount could be useful, if Mario wanted to hide something from Adrian. He’d just have to be careful not to get hooked. He could skim a tiny bit off the bricks he handled. No one would notice since he, unlike Lonnie, knew enough to alter the records before they went to Cesar.

  He fingered the baggie in his jeans. If he could hide his emotions from Adrian’s scrutiny, it would change everything.

  Adrian

  Adrian strode away from the meeting, making sure his face remained impassive. When had it become so complicated? The realization that Elisa could have been endangered by his own people had lit a conflagration of rage within him that he could barely contain. Lonnie’s punishment suited one who had tried to addict an innocent to Rapture.

  It was one of his few codes. No innocents were to be hurt. Those who chose to buy drugs, to lead a life of crime, to attack Adrian or those he protected—they were no longer innocent. When he dealt out puni
shment, he prided himself on his neutrality, his ability to dispense his own form of justice.

  He couldn’t remember feeling this kind of fury, not for a very long time.

  He shook his head. He didn’t have time for speculation. Mario was hiding something, he was certain of it. Adrian had almost called him out in the meeting, forced him to confess. But he had too many other tasks to do today. He could always take care of Mario later.

  He had extracted a detailed confession from Kim and let her know to expect punishment. Of course, the knowledge that he had been done with her had been sufficient for now. Her devastation had been visible on her face. Pain of the heart could be far worse than physical pain.

  Then he had to arrange to keep Elisa out of her apartment while he searched it. He was not going to leave sensitive tasks to underlings again. He found the tainted sugar and replaced it, checking carefully to make sure the apartment was clean. Then he had to arrange an excuse that would convince Elisa to change her locks.

  It used to be that everything went smoothly, as smooth and cold as the stroke of a knife. As it had since the day, so long ago, he had made the decision to live for one thing only.

  It was so much easier to shut away the pain, to focus on that single task. Revenge. He hadn’t been more than seven years old when he started his hunt in earnest. It took two years to track down his first target.

  But once he found him, it had been smooth, smooth like butter, like the tenderest of meat.

  The money he had squirreled away, the deals he had set up, pretending to be a courier for a mysterious adult—all had gone off without a hitch.

  No one believed a nine-year-old could plan like an adult, could commit crimes like an adult. It made it all so simple. He could do what he wanted practically beneath their eyes, and they never suspected. The few times he had been caught, it had been easy to pretend he was innocent, while his accusers searched in vain for the adult who had “used” him.

  Curious about their consistent disbelief in his machinations, he had once arranged an IQ test for himself. The shocked expression on the psychologist’s face had been intriguing. She had checked her answer key twice.

  “He’s reached the ceiling on this test; I need to administer a second one to determine your son’s true score,” she told the drug addict he had bribed to pose as his mother.

  When the results came back, an avid gleam appeared in the psychologist’s eyes. “I’ve never seen a score like this before. According to the statistics, it’s reached by only one in a hundred thousand children. We don’t use this terminology anymore, but you could say his physical age is nine while his mental age is eighteen.”

  Walking away from the psychologist’s office, he knew he had been wise to stay anonymous. He still remembered her fervent attempts to convince his ‘mother’ to have him return for more testing.

  He was a freak.

  Maybe his life could have been different. Maybe he could have been a scientist, someone who made discoveries that could change the world.

  He snorted. Unlikely. He had seen what happened to children who were too smart, even if they had the support of their parents. Especially in their poor neighborhood. There were no programs for the “gifted” in their area. The smart kids in his school were made fun of, or beat up. Even though part of him longed to be nothing more than a bookish nerd who spent all his time in the library instead of running the streets, Adrian knew that was foolish.

  Besides, he had a job to do. There had been four of them. He was going to hunt them down one by one.

  The man’s eyes had rolled from side to side as Adrian held the knife to his throat.“What’s going on? You just a kid. What are you, nine? Listen, kid, untie me. Let me go. You don’t wanna do this.”

  Adrian’s hand tightened on the knife. A drop of blood oozed from the man’s skin. “Her name was Beth, did you know that?” he whispered. “Beth. She loved music and games.”

  “Who? What you talking about? I swear, I ain’t done nothing.”

  “Beth,” he whispered one more time. His hand shook, and for a moment he almost turned away. He almost made a different choice.

  But then he drew the knife across the bastard’s throat.

  13

  Elisa

  ADRIAN AND ELISA STOOD outside the main doors of the gym, shivering in the icy air, waiting for the Halloween Ball to start.

  Sumiko and Chloe had gone all out, dressing them as Bonnie and Clyde. Adrian wore a slick vintage 30s gangster suit, and Elisa a 30s-style jumper in black satin, with the tiniest of slit skirts.

  Elisa fingered her low-cut neckline. Sumiko and Chloe had knotted a saucy red tie around her throat, pointing straight to her cleavage, and put a red velvet garter way up her thigh. She had never worn anything that exposed so much of her body before, and it made her hyperaware of parts of her anatomy she’d spent years being instructed by her mother to ignore.

  She caught Adrian staring at her décolleté and self-consciously dropped her arm. Her face grew warm. He winked at her and dipped his head to lightly graze her cleavage with his lips.

  His touch sent a shiver through her body. Not that her legs weren’t already dotted with goosebumps, in the skimpy skirt that barely covered her ass.

  She had almost refused to wear it when Sumiko and Chloe had unveiled the costume that afternoon.

  “Come on,” Sumiko insisted. “Don’t you want to look sexy for Adrian?”

  Elisa glanced over her shoulder at herself in the mirror. “Sexy, maybe, but practically naked? It looks like you were hoarding every square inch of fabric like it was gold.” Although, she had to admit, she liked the way her legs stretched so long and elegant from the tiny skirt to the strappy black heels.

  Chloe pouted. “Aw, we worked so hard on these costumes. Don’t tell me you’re going to throw away all our work.”

  Elisa had to give in, though not without hearing her mother’s voice again. “Shameless hussy! Halloween belongs to the devil, and now you will too!”

  “Shut up!” Elisa said to her. “Everything you told me about Halloween was a lie. It’s time for me to start my own life!”

  And she had strutted out of Chloe’s apartment on those stiletto heels.

  A cold gust snapped at the hem of her skirt, and she shivered. Adrian draped his striped jacket over her, and she huddled into the warm silk lining.

  At last, their group reached the head of the line. They were swept into the gym, now transformed into a murky cave of thumping, bruising music lit by occasional strobe flashes. Adrian led her onto the dance floor.

  He tilted up the brim of his fedora with the barrel of his gun. “Not bad, eh?” The striped suit outlined his lean body perfectly, making him every inch the Depression-era gangster.

  His glance slid coolly down her tight skirt, over the red velvet garter encircling her thigh like a warm hand. His gaze seared her bare skin like a laser, leaving a fiery trail over the exposed swell of her breasts.

  Amazing how clothes could change everything about a person.

  Elisa’s hair trailed over her naked shoulders, and she tossed her head so her heated curls stroked her skin. The rough bodice of the dress rubbed her nipples and they hardened.

  She could see why her mother said costumes were the work of the devil. Wearing the tight, slinky outfit, her lips outlined in a crimson pout, she felt wild and daring, a little like an actual 1930s gun moll. What rebellious and sinful desires had Bonnie indulged when she followed Clyde away from her safe Kansas life?

  Elisa’s own life was so tightly constrained—her mother had ruled her every thought and action for so long.

  Had Bonnie felt this kind of heady freedom, this spark of forbidden excitement, when she left it all behind?

  Adrian moved out of the darkness, shadows playing over the planes of his face. Casually, he slid one spaghetti strap off Elisa’s shoulder with the barrel of the gun.

  It was a game.

  But it made her feel sexy. Excited.

 
She tingled all over. His eyes raked across her like they were stripping her bare.

  “You know,” he whispered, his lips grazing her ear, “Bonnie was quite the innocent until Clyde drew her into his criminal life. But then she eagerly embraced his wicked ways. He corrupted her completely. Would you do that for me, if I were a man like that? Forsake your morals, live the outlaw life?”

  She sucked in a breath.

  “Think of it: utter freedom. No rules. They went where they chose to go, in stolen cars, caroused brazenly in luxury hotels. If they wanted something”—he snapped his fingers—“they took it.

  “Anyone who crossed them died.” He mimed pulling a trigger.

  Elisa inhaled, licked her lips. It was just play. Not real.

  “To Clyde, taking a life meant nothing. Killing was only another tool to get what he wanted.”

  Adrian’s acting ability was superb; Elisa was enthralled. Even though she shouldn’t be.

  “Yet she followed him.” His voice was low, sparking across her brain with that taste of the forbidden, vibrating over her naked shoulders, his words lapping at her exposed throat. “Would you do that for me?”

  Caught up in his illicit fantasy, she nodded, breathless, playacting, as thrills pierced her over and over. “I’d follow you anywhere, Adrian,” she whispered. “Do whatever you asked.”

  He smiled, and it was a dark, dark smile. “Good.”

  Keisha

  Keisha pushed her way through the crowd of students dancing, posing, and shouting in the badly-lit gym. The outfit she wore was ill-fitting, and the cheap material rubbed her skin raw in several places, especially the garters at the top of the fishnet stockings. She was having a hard time concentrating on her targets.

  She had caught sight of Mario earlier and had shoved her way after him in the darkness. But by the time she pushed through the gyrating bodies, he was gone. She’d lost Ben Lancaster as well. It didn’t improve her mood.

  She finally decided to take a break. It was quieter behind the gym, by the drinking fountain, away from the music and shouting. Keisha relaxed against a wall, half-hidden behind some potted plants, and drank a soda, allowing her energy to gradually return.