by Jenna Black
“They stopped collecting trash when they put up the blockades,” Shrimp said.
“Because trash collection is a ‘nonessential service,’” Nate muttered, wondering if any of the assholes who’d approved Dorothy’s decision had any idea what it was like to have garbage piling up in the street.
Nate certainly wasn’t getting the “fresh air” he’d been fantasizing about. The garbage bags were full of rotting food people had had to throw away when their refrigerators died, and the gentle evening breeze carried that stink everywhere.
Despite the unpleasantness, there were still people on the street, transacting business as usual. Nate suspected the big drug money came from larger transactions than the petty sales in the street, but there was still a lot of money changing hands, and Nate guessed that recreational drugs were more popular than ever.
Of course, drugs weren’t the only things being sold, and despite the piles of garbage, a couple of the alleys they passed on the way to wherever they were going echoed with moans and grunts. Nate shuddered and felt vaguely queasy. No way he was shining his flashlight down one of those alleys.
Eventually, they came to a stop in front of a high-rise that looked just like all the others. Nate momentarily wondered why they had stopped. But then Shrimp shone his flashlight on a figure huddled on the pavement at the side of the stoop.
It was a man, possibly of Hispanic origin, although it was hard to tell. His hair was a mass of mats and snarls—not neat, cultivated dreadlocks, but the kind of mats you’d expect on someone who’d been stranded on a desert island for three years. An equally ratty beard hid most of his face, except for the two hollow sockets where his eyes should have been.
“This is Handy,” Shrimp said, the beam of his flashlight fixed on the man’s face. “He used to be Maiden’s right-hand man, back in the day.”
Handy squirmed as if trying to make himself comfortable, and Nate heard the clink of metal on metal. That was when he realized for the first time that Handy was chained to the railing of the stoop. The beam of the flashlight moved away from his face down his chained arm, illuminating the rusty metal cuff around his wrist, and then the bent and twisted ruin of his hand. Nate’s stomach turned over and played dead.
It looked like every one of Handy’s fingers had been broken in multiple places and then allowed to heal while the bones were out of line. There was no way he’d be able to use those fingers to grasp anything, and when Shrimp moved the flashlight beam to his other hand, Nate saw that it was just as bad.
“Handy grew up with Maiden,” Shrimp continued. “The two of them were tight. Right up until the time Handy put those hands on the wrong girl, one of Maiden’s. Maiden doesn’t share, and Handy knew that.”
His flashlight beam moved again, this time shining on Handy’s chest, which was clearly visible through a huge tear in his shirt—a tear that had obviously been put there so the message tattooed across Handy’s chest was visible: DON’T FUCK WITH THE MAIDEN.
Nate swallowed hard, hoping he wasn’t about to puke. He was going to see images of those empty eye sockets and ruined hands in his nightmares for the rest of his life.
Shrimp mercifully turned his flashlight away from the poor bastard.
“I don’t wanna bring Agnes to see him,” Shrimp said. “But I thought maybe you guys could tell her about this so she’ll understand why I keep saying no to her.”
“And you didn’t just tell her yourself because you wanted us to look all green and pukey when we talked to her,” Kurt said, and as hardened as he was by his life in the Basement, his voice came out a little shaky.
“Something like that.”
The breeze shifted direction, bringing a whiff of Handy’s body odor along with the scent of rotting garbage to Nate’s nose, and he lost his battle to keep his gorge down. Turning away, he emptied his stomach out into the gutter. He heard the squawk of Shrimp’s walkie-talkie, but he was too busy heaving to make out what was being said.
Until Shrimp practically shouted, “We gotta go. Fast!”
Nate wasn’t sure he could have taken a step, despite the urgency in Shrimp’s voice, if Kurt hadn’t grabbed hold of his arm and given it a firm yank.
* * *
Shrimp had been gone for about fifteen minutes when there was a knock on his front door.
Nadia had been standing at the window, staring absently out into the darkness of the Basement, occasionally glaring up at the blimp that continued to circle, displaying Dorothy’s message over and over and over. She jumped when she heard the knock at the door, whirling around. Based on the way Dante also jumped at the sound, Nadia suspected he’d been at least halfway asleep. Agnes might have been, too, though perhaps she’d just been lost in thought. There really was nothing to do—Shrimp didn’t have any books around they could read, and as long as they didn’t dare recruit from among Maiden’s people, they had nothing to talk about.
Nadia shared a puzzled look with Dante and Agnes. There hadn’t been a single visitor to Shrimp’s apartment since they’d arrived—probably because Shrimp was almost never around except when he was sleeping.
“Hello?” a woman’s voice called from the hall outside. “Anyone home?”
Natural politeness had Nadia wanting to answer; natural caution urged her to stay silent. Caution won. Shrimp had promised nobody would mess with them at his place—but he’d also told them not to leave the building while the power was still out, so obviously they weren’t as perfectly safe as he liked to pretend.
“It’s Kitty,” the woman continued, undaunted by the lack of response. “Maiden’s girl?”
Dante and Agnes both looked at Nadia, putting the burden of decision on her. Kitty had to know they were here—there was enough light from the candles to be seen around the edges of the door when the hallway was dark. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to snub Maiden’s girl. Even if he’d made it clear she wasn’t important to him, that she was no more than a pretty trophy to trot out as a cautionary tale.
Still uncertain how to proceed, Nadia approached the door and glanced out the peephole, just to confirm their visitor’s identity—and to make sure she was alone.
“Maiden wanted me to chat with you,” Kitty said, a hint of a tremor entering her voice. “If I don’t do what he says, he’ll hurt me. Please let me in.”
Through the peephole, Nadia saw that Kitty was carrying what appeared to be a bottle of wine, and that she was blinking quickly as if to stave off tears. If Maiden had ordered her to talk to them, Nadia had no trouble believing he’d mistreat her if she failed.
A floorboard creaked behind her, and Nadia saw that Dante had risen from the sofa. She also saw that he had a gun in his hand. It wasn’t the big automatic Nate and Nadia had brought back after their disastrous confrontation with Dorothy. This was something smaller and easier to conceal. Shrimp must have given it to him, which again made Nadia wonder just how safe their host really thought they were.
Nadia checked out the peephole one more time, but Kitty was still the only person she saw. And she also saw by the flashlight Kitty held that her outfit was way too skimpy and formfitting to hide a weapon. She motioned for Dante to put the gun away, sure he would keep it in easy reach anyway, then opened the door.
Kitty smiled brightly, and there was an almost manic gleam in her eyes. Nadia wondered if she was high or if it was just the result of too much adrenaline. Kitty’s life couldn’t be an easy one, and Nadia wished she could help her somehow. But for tonight at least, the best she could do was open the door and let Kitty in. No doubt Maiden had sent her—hard to believe this was a social call—but Nadia had no idea what he might want.
“Come on in,” she invited, making room.
Kitty took her up on the invitation, her eyes scanning the room. “Where are the rest of your crew?” she asked.
Nadia wasn’t sure why the question made her uncomfortable, but it did, and she answered accordingly. “Not here.”
Kitty blinked, surprised by the shortness
of Nadia’s response, but she didn’t let it throw her for long. She held up the wine bottle again. Nadia noticed that the bottle was open, and that there was a smear of lipstick around its mouth. Lipstick that must have come from Kitty’s overdone lips when she swigged directly from the bottle. Nadia sniffed the air, but she didn’t smell any alcohol fumes coming off the woman, and the bottle was still mostly full.
“Somebody want to get some glasses?” she asked. “Maiden’s being generous. This is the good stuff. He said it was like a hundred years old or something.”
Agnes went to get the glasses as Nadia led the way into the living room. She noticed that Dante had tucked his gun into his belt, keeping it accessible—and visible. The slight narrowing of Kitty’s eyes said she saw it, too, and recognized it for the warning it was. He remained on his feet and at a slight distance as Kitty and Nadia sat.
Agnes hurried in with four tumblers in her hands. “Shrimp doesn’t seem to have wineglasses,” she explained as she put the tumblers down on the coffee table.
Kitty smiled. “He thinks wine is for sissies. Real men drink the hard stuff. Course he’d never say that where Maiden could hear.” She gave a nervous little laugh, then uncorked the bottle and poured them each a healthy dose of red wine. Her movements were just a tad hurried, betraying her nerves. Maiden might have sent her here for a friendly chat with his guests, and the thought that they might not let her in had obviously scared her, but that wasn’t the only reason she was nervous, or she’d have calmed by now.
Nadia debated whether to come right out and ask Kitty why Maiden had sent her down here but decided against it. Kitty would get around to it eventually.
Kitty distributed the glasses of wine, leaving Dante’s on the far end of the coffee table and then moving away. Obviously, she was aware that Dante was being very watchful and was unwilling to get too close to her. Nadia wondered if he suspected she might go for his gun. It was hard to see Kitty as much of a threat in general, much less as a threat to three people, but she couldn’t fault Dante for keeping his guard up.
Even with the safe distance, Dante didn’t pick up his glass. “I don’t mean to be rude or anything,” he said, “but Kitty, would you switch glasses with Nadia?”
Kitty gave another one of her nervous laughs. “You think I’m trying to poison you?”
“Probably not,” he admitted. “But I’d hate to be wrong, so if you wouldn’t mind…”
Nadia thought Dante might be taking his security concerns a bit far, but there seemed to be no harm in swapping glasses just to be safe. Unless Kitty told Maiden about it later and he held it against them.
Kitty shrugged, showing no sign that she was terribly insulted by Dante’s implication. She exchanged glasses with Nadia with no further comment, quickly taking a big gulp.
When Kitty didn’t keel over or start choking, Nadia took a more tentative sip of her own wine. If the bottle was as old as Kitty had said, they were already doing the stuff an injustice by drinking it out of tumblers. The least she could do was sip it with the respect it deserved.
One sip was all it took to tell Nadia that this really was the good stuff. She was hardly a wine expert—technically, she wasn’t old enough to drink yet, but in preparation for her future life, her parents had started introducing her to fine wine when she was thirteen, never giving her enough to let her feel any but the mildest effects. It had taken a while to acquire a taste for it, but by now her palate was sophisticated enough to recognize quality of this level.
“This is wonderful,” Agnes said, taking another sip and rolling it around her mouth before she swallowed. She looked over at Dante, whose glass still sat untouched on the table. “You should try it.”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” he said. “I’m more of a beer kind of guy. I’ll leave the fine wine to people who can appreciate it.”
For the first time, Kitty looked genuinely annoyed. “Maiden has sent you a gift. This wine probably costs more than your average Employee earns in a year.”
Dante was unmoved. “I’m sure the gift was meant for Nate and Nadia and Agnes, not for me or Bishop. We weren’t invited to Maiden’s fancy dinner, remember?”
Kitty’s eyes glittered, and she tried to stare him down. However, she wasn’t very good at it, and she quickly looked away. “Fine,” she muttered. “Have it your way and insult Maiden. Good idea.” She finished the rest of her wine in one long swallow, then grabbed his glass. “You don’t want it, I’ll drink it for you.”
Nadia wasn’t entirely sure what was going on in Dante’s head. Kitty had already demonstrated that the wine wasn’t poisoned. Maybe he just didn’t want to risk alcohol when he was on self-appointed guard duty.
Kitty took a sip from Dante’s glass, then put it back down, pushing it away from her. “Whew,” she said, fanning her face. “The good stuff really has a kick.” She reached up and put her hands in her hair, pulling it up off the nape of her neck as if she was hot. Nadia felt no effects from the alcohol yet, but then she’d only been taking delicate sips from her glass—and she hadn’t chugged straight from the bottle before entering the apartment, as Kitty had.
“It is rather … potent,” Agnes agreed, having polished off her glass already. “But very good. Maybe just a little more.” She leaned forward to put her glass down on the table. And missed. She gave a startled exclamation and tried to catch the tumbler before it hit the floor, but instead of grabbing the glass, she ended up banging her hand against the edge of the table.
Out of the corner of her eye, Nadia saw Kitty’s lips turn up just the slightest bit. A chill raced through her body as she looked down at the wine in her hand. Strong it might be, but there was no way it was strong enough to make Agnes that uncoordinated after one glass.
A whole bunch of things happened at once then.
Agnes tried to stand up, and her knees buckled beneath her.
Dante shouted and drew his gun.
And Kitty grabbed for Nadia’s throat. Nadia meant to leap to her feet, but her body reacted sluggishly. All she managed to do was drop her glass and spill the remains of her wine. Before she knew it, something was wrapped around her neck, biting into her skin.
“Put the fucking gun down,” Kitty ordered, tightening whatever she had around Nadia’s neck. Nadia tried to reach up and pull it away, but she couldn’t feel her hands, and her arms flopped uselessly.
Dante’s eyes were huge and startled in his shadow-darkened face. He was crouched in a shooter’s stance, his arms rock-steady as he kept the gun trained on Kitty. Unfortunately, they all knew he couldn’t shoot, not with Nadia so close.
“You ever seen what a garrote can do, kid?” Kitty snarled. “I can take her head clean off with this thing. Put the gun down now, or I’ll show you.”
Nadia cursed herself for her lack of foresight. She’d seen how little Kitty was wearing and assumed that meant she couldn’t hide a weapon, but she’d never considered the woman’s long, lustrous hair as a potential hiding place. She wanted to tell Dante not to do what Kitty ordered, but whatever was in the wine had taken firm control of her body and she couldn’t make her lips obey her. Her mind, however, stayed entirely clear. She shuddered to think what this drug was generally used for on the streets of Debasement.
Slowly, reluctantly, Dante lowered his gun.
“I said put it down!” Kitty shouted, tightening the garrote until Nadia felt a trickle of blood run down her throat.
Dante hastily dropped the gun, then kicked it away. “Please don’t hurt her.”
“That’s better,” she said with smug satisfaction. “Now drink your wine like a good boy. And don’t even think of trying anything.”
“Why didn’t the wine affect you?” Dante asked, moving forward slowly, his hands raised. Nadia could practically see the way he was coming up with plans in his head, then rejecting them one by one.
“There’s an antidote,” she said. “I took it before I came in.”
“What is it you want, exactly?” he ask
ed, but Kitty wasn’t about to let him stall.
“Drink the wine, and I’ll tell you. Do it fast unless you like seeing her bleed.”
Dante had no choice, and he knew it. The agony in his eyes made Nadia heartsick, but there was nothing she could do or say to comfort him when her mouth wouldn’t move. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault. Wanted to point out that he’d done everything he could to protect her, even gone above and beyond what seemed reasonable.
Dante stared at the contents of his glass for a long moment, then forced himself to drink it down. He closed his eyes afterward, his throat working convulsively. Trying not to gag on something he knew was drugged, Nadia supposed.
Kitty’s hold loosened slightly, but not enough for Dante to take advantage of it, and Nadia had all the fight of a rag doll. “I was never gonna get away from Maiden,” Kitty said. “Once he put the slave bands on me, I was his for life. No one else would touch me, and anywhere I could go in Debasement, he would find me.”
Moving carefully, though it was too soon for the drug to take effect yet, Dante lowered himself into the nearest armchair. “So you’re going to turn her in for the reward?” he asked.
Nadia felt her nod. “Nothing personal, and for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. But they’re offering Employee status along with the money. They’ll get me out of Debasement, out of Maiden’s reach.”
Nadia suspected Kitty was underestimating Maiden if she thought he couldn’t get to her outside of the Basement. Gang lords tended to have long arms. Not to mention the fact that Dorothy didn’t actually want Nate or Nadia to be captured. Nadia was damn sure that when Kitty tried to turn her in, something was going to go horribly wrong—by design—and Kitty was going to wind up dead. Just like Nadia.
“It won’t work,” Dante slurred. “You … Y…” His mouth stopped working and the words died in his throat. He had probably meant to explain the big flaw in Kitty’s brilliant plan, but thanks to the drug, he couldn’t do it. She probably wouldn’t have believed him anyway.