Play at Soul's Edge

by Sophia Amador

“Ms. Salas, this is Nancy Wilson from Rockton Social Services. I want to let you know that I’m very sorry about the loss of your brother Armando.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. “Let me assure you, your concern is misplaced. As I told the police yesterday, I haven’t been in touch with my brother for years, not since he married that trollop. I’m not going to pretend to grieve for him.”

  “…I understand, Ms. Salas. However, there are a few things we’d like to discuss with you.”

  Silence.

  “Ms. Salas?”

  “Yes, I heard you. Listen, I’m about to leave for an important appointment, and I spoke to the police at length already. Can’t you talk with them?”

  “Ms. Salas, I’m afraid there are some matters I need to discuss with you. As you are aware, your brother’s wife and daughter have also passed away.”

  The voice on the other end of the line sounded impatient. “I told you, I never had contact with his wife, and I’ve never met his daughter. I’m sorry about all this, but I can’t be late for this appointment.”

  “Ms. Salas, please don’t hang up. You see, his five-year-old son survived, and you are next-of-kin.”

  More silence. “I didn’t even know he had a son.”

  “Yes, he did. His name is Adrian, and he is going to need a home.”

  This time the silence stretched out for a long while. “If you’re asking what I think you are, I’m afraid that’s not possible. I’m about to take a position that will require a lot of travel, and I won’t be able to take care of a child.”

  “Ms. Salas, I’m sorry, but as the next-of-kin, you are now the legal guardian of your nephew. If you wish to put him up for adoption, you may, but at this point he is your responsibility until the paperwork goes through.”

  “What?” The voice rose. “I can’t take care of a child! This is ridiculous, to foist this sudden duty on me without so much as a warning!”

  “Ms. Salas, I’m very sorry, but can’t you please think of the child?”

  Agitated breathing was audible on the other end of the line.

  “He’s in the Rockton Social Services office right now, but we are unable to provide further care, and it would be very helpful if you could pick him up this afternoon.”

  “Impossible.” There was the sound of pages flipping. “I’ve checked my calendar, and I can’t pick him up before Wednesday. What did you say the address was again?”

  Adrian crept away, back to the room where he had been waiting. He sat again in the little chair, rested his bandaged arms on the scuffed Formica table, and laid his head in his arms.

  “He’s a beautiful child,” Nancy said to her colleague when she thought he wasn’t listening.

  “I know. With those gorgeous eyes, that thick hair, and so well-behaved, obviously intelligent.” The colleague clicked her tongue. “So tragic.”

  “I’m hoping once the aunt sees him, she’ll change her mind about keeping him. It would be a shame for him to go into the system.” Nancy shot a sidelong glance at her colleague. “It always worries me when an exceptionally beautiful child goes into foster care. Sometimes they seem to bring out the worst in people.”

  The other woman tightened her lips. “Nancy, you shouldn’t be talking like that. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

  When Nancy spoke again, she sounded tired. “I know I shouldn’t say anything, but after what happened to little Sierra Mayes, I…”

  “You can’t keep beating yourself up about her. That couple had an impeccable record as foster parents. No one could have predicted what happened.”

  Nancy rested her head on the back of her chair. “I know. I just wish…” Then she shook her head. “I can’t help worrying about what might be. About what the future might hold for that little guy.”

  She glanced at the boy in the waiting room. He was trying to play with a toy dollhouse. There was a cheap plastic doll family inside. The boy’s hand crept forward. He picked up the mother doll and stared into her painted face, his eyes round, turning her slowly back and forth, running his fingers through her hair.

  One little hand rubbed his eyes, but he didn’t cry.

  19

  Adrian

  ADRIAN CARRIED ELISA in his arms and Rory lagged behind. The corridor leading to the private rooms was dimly lit by wall sconces placed at long intervals. A faint scent of incense wafted through the hall, and the thumping music sounded far away. Elisa’s eyes were closed, her face flushed. Her pores had opened and her sweet scent tickled Adrian’s nose. He tucked her head into his chest and her thick, long hair straggled over his hands and forearms.

  Rory unlocked one of the rooms.

  “Guard the door,” Adrian ordered, his face stern.

  Rory nodded, his pulse visible in his throat. Adrian twisted away from him. He would deal with him later. Let him wait—and worry.

  Adrian entered the room, shouldering the door closed, and placed Elisa on the bed. Her head lolled to one side, and he brushed a few strands of hair away from her face. He tucked her hair behind her ears and ran his fingers through her damp locks. She murmured in her sleep and rolled into his touch. He opened the first few buttons of her blouse to make her more comfortable, his fingers brushing over the rosy skin at her throat and neckline.

  She was beautiful even unconscious, her delicate lashes folded over her cheeks, her lips lush and sweet as berries.

  Rory was right, he thought with sudden bitterness. He had slept with girls nearly this inebriated before. Of course, they had always been more than willing. He made sure of it, finding the idea of compelling any woman into bed with him distasteful.

  But he had thought little of them beyond satisfying his own desires.

  He rose from the bed abruptly. His former behavior repulsed him. The idea of desiring anyone other than Elisa seemed ludicrous now. And even the suggestion of making love to her while she was in this condition was deeply upsetting.

  He carefully folded back the sheets and slid her legs underneath the blanket. He took off her shoes one at a time and kissed her bare toes. They wiggled under his touch, and he chuckled. He folded the blankets over her and tucked her in.

  He sat by the side of the bed. Normally he would have been out and about his business by now, leaving someone behind to guard Elisa while he accomplished more important tasks.

  But now nothing seemed more pressing than staying by her side to protect her.

  He dropped his head into his hands. What would his mother have said? After all, hadn’t it been a drug deal gone wrong that had taken her from him?

  He rubbed a hand over his chest, the sudden heaviness strange and overwhelming.

  How ironic it was, now that he was finally ready to make different choices, for the first time someone was thwarting his will. He had never thought Schwartz could gain a hold over him. He had always assumed he was the one using the man and his contacts. Because he could think rings around them all.

  He had been so blind.

  Now, however, he needed to reorient all his priorities. If it wasn’t already too late. Adrian took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. He would change everything, but under his own terms.

  He could still play the necessary roles. He could still make them fear him. Long enough to give him room to maneuver.

  He took out his phone, sent a brief text to Cesar, a few longer ones to others.

  Then he leaned his head against the wall for a few minutes, lost in thought. At last he strode to the door and opened it.

  Rory, still on guard in the hall, bounced to attention. His face was pale. Behind him, Cesar hovered, lips pressed together.

  “Rory.” Adrian’s face was completely emotionless. It showed nothing of what was in his heart.

  Rage. Unreasoning, towering rage—at Schwartz, at Rory, at all those who might seek to hurt the one woman who had changed everything.

  But Rory knew him well. He swallowed at the expression of icy calm on Adrian’s face. “
Yes, Captain.”

  “Do you recall how I said that anyone who allowed Elisa Gallardo to come to harm would be punished?”

  Rory’s fine hair fell in his eyes. “Yes,” he whispered.

  “Cesar.”

  Moisture beaded on Rory’s forehead. Adrian nodded casually to Cesar, who took one of Rory’s hands. “You’re trembling, Rory.”

  “I’m sorry, Captain.”

  There was no one else in the corridor. Cesar lifted Rory’s hand, and with a single swift motion bent a finger back sharply. The snap was audible even above the beat of the music.

  Rory shrieked and all the blood drained from his face. His uninjured hand clenched.

  “You’re fortunate,” Adrian murmured. “Your punishment will heal. But if even the slightest harm comes to Elisa under your watch in the future, I won’t be so forgiving. Understood?”

  Rory’s breath came raggedly as he nursed his injured hand. Cesar stepped back, his face impassive.

  “Do you understand, Rory?”

  Cesar reached for Rory’s hand again.

  Rory hissed and drew his arm back with a jerk. He found his voice. “Y-yes, Captain, I understand. It won’t happen again. I swear.”

  “Make sure of that.” Adrian turned away, his face indifferent. “You’re free to go. Get that injury taken care of.”

  “Yes, Captain. Thank you, Captain.” The last words came out on a whine of pain.

  “After that,” Adrian said, “call a meeting for tomorrow morning. I’ve decided it’s time to take our operation to the next level. Everything is going so well that I convinced our suppliers that we could double or even triple our volume.”

  Mario

  Across the street from the club, Mario waited in a black sedan. The windshield wipers swished, beads of lighted raindrops twirling and sliding across the glass.

  Such a boring job. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a glassine envelope, and tipped a small amount of white powder onto the web of skin between his thumb and index finger. He pinched one nostril shut and brought his loosely closed fist to his nose.

  Sniff.

  The powder stung his nose, but by snorting it he avoided the risk of addiction. He straightened, enthusiasm for his task returning.

  He was doing all right. The new wads of cash—and, best of all, his powerful new contacts—were putting him on the fast track to success. And the stuff was so soothing. He was ice cold now. There was no way anyone could detect traitorous emotions from him.

  No way would Adrian ever know. Mario was safe now. He was on his way to being more powerful than ever, more powerful even than Adrian.

  His phone rang.

  His new phone.

  “Yes, sir?” He listened closely for a few moments. “Of course, sir. Right away.”

  Adrian

  The early morning light streamed through a gap in Elisa’s bedroom curtains, and Adrian got up to adjust them so the light wouldn’t fall on her face. But at his movement, Elisa opened her eyes and squinted up at him.

  “What—?” she asked. She shaded her eyes with her hand, her features contorted. “Ughh.”

  Adrian sat beside her on the bed and stroked her hair back. “I brought you home last night. How are you feeling?”

  She shook her head and winced at the movement. The sight of her so pale and ill roused strange feelings in his chest. She shouldn’t be in such a condition.

  No one should be.

  He tipped a couple of Alka-Seltzer tablets into a large glass of water. “Here. Drink this; it’ll help.”

  She reached out a shaking hand, and he propped her up and placed a couple of pillows behind her head. She clasped the fizzing glass in her hands and stared into the bubbles, then took a slow sip, grimacing.

  “The most important thing is to drink plenty of fluids; you’re dehydrated and liquid will help flush out your system.”

  Her hands shook a little. “The room is wiggling around.”

  He wrapped an arm around her and held her tightly. “Keep drinking and it will settle you. I’ve got a mango smoothie for you in the refrigerator. That’ll get your blood sugar up. Remember, plenty of liquids.”

  After a while, color returned to her cheeks and she sagged against the pillows. He took the empty glass from her hand and she rested her cheek against his thigh. “Thank you.”

  He shook his head. “Thanking me is the last thing you should be doing.”

  “I feel…” she whispered, “so awful.”

  He stroked one hand gently over her forehead. “You’ll promise me, won’t you, that you won’t take any more drugs?”

  She grimaced. “Aren’t you being a hypocrite?”

  He smiled. “I prefer to say that I’ve had a revelation and a change of heart.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’re going to give it up? I mean, the gang?”

  He combed his fingers through her hair a moment. What could he tell her? “As soon as I can.”

  “And you’ll stop lying to me?”

  He didn’t want to lie to her.

  But he had to. Not only would the truth drive her to more poor decisions, but there was Schwartz to worry about.

  It was just for a little while. Just till he could get things straightened out. And maybe he could minimize the damage. Not lie to her directly. Just… twist the truth slightly.

  He cupped both hands around her face. “It turns out that a lot of the stories about Tenebras are just that: stories. They want to build up a scary reputation, so they spread rumors.”

  Elisa shook her head. “Come on. What about all the violence?”

  “I won’t say it doesn’t happen,” Adrian continued in his most reasonable and soft voice. “But Tenebras mostly spreads rumors to scare people and keep them in line.”

  A thought struck her and she drew away from him, stiffening. “You’re not—you’re not one of those—‘Blades’, are you?”

  “No. No, I promise you, Elisa, I am not one of the Blades.” He pressed her head to his chest and stroked her hair. “So can you possibly forgive me?”

  “I—I don’t know,” she mumbled with her face pressed into his shirt. “Are you really sure they’re not as bad as everyone says?”

  “Absolutely,” he said. “And when I go to college, I’m leaving all this behind me.” He took her head in both hands, sincerity shining in his eyes. “I hope I can make you proud of me, Elisa.”

  He bent his head and kissed her along her jawline and down her neck. She twined her arms around his shoulders. As they kissed, longer and deeper, he gently lowered her down on the bed.

  “Shhh,” he said. “Rest now.”

  Every word he said had seemed to twist within him. But it was necessary. Just for a little while longer, until he could figure out how to deal with his problems.

  He would kill Schwartz, and everyone involved in the development and synthesis of Rapture. It was no longer just for himself. It was a public service. Look at all the deaths they had been responsible for.

  Once they were all taken care of, he would leave the gang. He would start a new life with Elisa. She would never need to know what he had done.

  And then he realized.

  He was going to have to tell her everything. He was going to have to stop lying.

  And that meant he couldn’t kill Schwartz.

  He was going to have to figure out something different. A way to stop them that did not involve cold-blooded killing.

  But could Elisa possibly forgive his past? An icy chill struck his chest. What if, when he told her the truth, she rejected him?

  Bonner

  It was late, and Hyman Bonner was tired. The security guard yawned and shuffled his feet under the desk. Night shift at the security gate to Schwartz Pharmaceuticals was unbelievably boring. He scanned the bank of video monitors, checking for activity. Nothing.

  The front doors slid open, and Bonner came to attention. He glanced at the verification unit on his desk. At the ID displayed, he stiffened.

 
; “Good evening, Mr. Salas,” he said, avoiding the intern’s eyes.

  Adrian nodded, a pleasant smile on his face. “Good evening, Mr. Bonner,” he said, and passed through the central doors.

  Bonner stared after him, sweat breaking out on his forehead. Then he swiveled to the bank of monitors and carefully deleted the last few minutes of video. He pivoted his chair to the computer that stored all entries to the building. Carefully, his big fingers clumsy on the keyboard, he typed in a sequence of keys that would erase the last ID verification. Then he painstakingly checked his work a second time.

  He swiped a hand across his face. He was in so much trouble.

  It had started with only the smallest of thefts from the lab. Nothing anyone would miss. Hey, the company only paid him minimum wage, so it wasn’t his fault he needed to supplement his income. Liquor and cigarettes were expensive.

  But somehow the mild-seeming student intern had found out. One night, a few months ago, Adrian had invited him out for a beer after work.

  Adrian had delicately hinted about the thefts, and listened intently to Bonner’s woes, his face full of sympathy and concern. “Have you ever considered taking on a second job?” he asked softly as Bonner finished another beer. Bonner belched in satisfaction, thumping the mug down on the scarred table.

  “Who’d hire me?” He shrugged. “I don’t even have a degree.”

  “I can think of a job for which you’re perfectly suited,” Adrian murmured.

  “Yeah? What?”

  “I have something I need some help with. And it doesn’t require a degree. What I need is someone discreet and absolutely trustworthy.”

  So it had begun. At first, it had been fairly simple. Adrian paid him cash to ignore certain of his late night entrances. Bonner was nervous, but Adrian explained it was all perfectly innocuous. He was working hard on a project. As a student, he wasn’t allowed to work overtime, and he really needed to spend the extra hours in the lab without anyone knowing. That had seemed fine—at first.

  But then Adrian had begun to bring non-employees to the lab at night, and asked for more security codes.