Generally women could walk around in the populated areas unmolested, at least in big cities. If assaulted, a woman could shoot to kill. After questioning, the cops called in the body, and depending on the perp, it often ended there.
Only men not in their right mind would try to touch a woman. Like with Gin’s first kill. They were twelve years old, Justin remembered. The man had been skinny and malnourished, terrible teeth, dirty. He’d bounded out from behind a wall. The guy was on top of her before Justin could do anything. Gin had her gun up immediately. A shot to the gut to get herself out from under him, and then a shot to the side of his head. Easy as one, two, and you could spare the three. She never hesitated.
She was briefly questioned on scene, and that was all. Police didn’t ask many questions over a guy like that, someone who clearly lived on the ground. Justin had learned two things that day. The first was that he would kill someone who threatened his sister. The second, that he would never have to.
“What are you thinking about?” Gin asked him.
“Villains,” Justin said.
“Villains?”
“Yeah. I was thinking about how all the villains in our life had a pretty short time of it. Hopefully the same applies to Scarecrow.”
“In terms of villains, I’m not sure Scarecrow qualifies,” Gin said. “He’s just an asshole.”
“Gin, he slit a guy’s throat right in front of me. On camera.”
“Oh yeah,” she admitted. “I guess that does put him in the villain category, doesn’t it?”
“You’ve never thought of offing him?”
“No, not really. He’s playing along. And we need him, at least for now.”
He kept his eyes glued to the road. He was terrified of Scarecrow on some level, whereas Gin wasn’t scared of him at all. Why the difference? He was under Scarecrow’s thumb and hated it, but Gin acted like she had Scarecrow right where she wanted him.
The whole situation was as tangled and sharp as the barbed wire he saw coming into view. They were nearly there.
At the train station, they pulled into one of the loading zone spots. It was exactly 7:00 a.m. The morning sun had risen only ten minutes ago, but to Justin the light was too glaring. As Gin opened the door, he could feel a chill in the air and was reminded it was the last day of September.
“I’ll bring him back to the truck,” Gin said, “You should probably get in back.”
“What if he doesn’t want to come?”
“He’ll come.”
Justin moved to the back where Charlie would normally sit. His brother wasn’t too happy with him right now. They’d left him with Mr. Mays and Devin, because no way in hell would Scarecrow ever know he existed, not after what happened with Joe. Devin would be taking Charlie to school, and that made Justin slightly nervous. For the first time ever, neither he nor Gin would be able to do it. The six-block walk to the school at the Catholic church was something he held dear. Plus he didn’t know Devin very well, though he seemed trustworthy.
Before he could dwell on it too long, Gin was walking out of the train station with Scarecrow a few steps behind. His thinning smoke-colored hair stuck up in the breeze. With his hands in the pockets of his trench coat, the man looked crazed.
Gin opened the passenger-side door for Scarecrow like they were on some twisted date. It was a subtle control move on her part. She was the one in charge.
“Justin,” Scarecrow said as Gin went around to the driver’s side and got in. “How are you feeling?”
“A little more bruised but less flayed than last time, thanks.”
Scarecrow smiled. “You know, Justin, I actually like you.”
Justin just eyed him.
“First things first,” Scarecrow said, pulling out a wrapped packet from his coat and handing it to Gin. “I need a blood sample.”
“Got my own needle,” Gin said, reaching across him and opening the glove hatch. She pulled out a similar packet. Where the hell had she gotten that? “If you think I’m sticking a needle in my arm coming from you, you’re crazier than you look.”
“Ah, ah, ah,” Scarecrow said, extending his packet. “How do I know yours isn’t contaminated with something that’ll fuck up the results? You use my packet. And before you disagree, look at it. It’s completely sealed. And know this: there’s no way in hell I’d give you a dirty needle when you have something I want. That would defeat the whole purpose, wouldn’t it?”
Gin examined the packet before nodding. “I’ll consent to this.” She made it sound like a contractual agreement.
“Need any help?” Scarecrow asked.
“I can manage.” As though she knew exactly what she was doing, she tied off her arm with a small band that came in the packet. Without flinching, she inserted the needle. Justin watched as dark blood bubbled up inside the vial. “Little help with the band, Justin,” she said.
Justin leaned forward and unwrapped her arm as more blood pulsed into the vial. It was over quickly. She removed the needle, handing the whole contraption over to Scarecrow as one dark bead of blood surfaced on her skin. She picked up a small piece of gauze and wiped it away as Scarecrow bagged the blood sample and stuck it in his coat.
“Fingers crossed, I’m sure,” Scarecrow said with a smile. Gin just crossed her arms and looked at him, returning the smile.
Justin did not smile.
He tensed, the physical effects of the anger rising in him, Scarecrow’s glibness compounding his frustration. He wanted to explode. “Why the hell do you even want this?”
Scarecrow looked him in the eyes, serious now.
“Redemption,” he said simply. As Justin tried to make sense of the response, the man’s expression softened.
“You’ll also be wanting this,” Scarecrow said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a very significant wad of cash. “I owe you some props, Justin. Our invisible bosses didn’t see the fight the way I did—they said nothing about the glove, only that they were impressed. You brought Black Jim to the brink of defeat. This is nowhere near what we would have gotten if you’d won, but it’s a very sizable amount. Half of it is yours. This half.”
Scarecrow handed the roll of cash over to him. “Don’t count it now. It’s ten times what you got last time. Make sure you take good care of your sister for me.”
Justin felt like his heart had fallen though his chest. With everything that happened, he’d half forgotten about the money and half didn’t put any stock in it amounting to anything.
“Don’t get me wrong, kid. I still think you got a soft spot, and I know there was something janky with that fight, but people aren’t seeing it that way, and I guess that’s all that matters. You know how to perform for the cameras. And with this new arrangement we three have, I gotta believe you won’t be throwing any more fights.”
“I didn’t….” But Justin trailed off, stuck between denial and thinking of the unfortunate “arrangement” that would now have him winning every Fray. No matter the cost. He had to.
Scarecrow raised an eyebrow, eyes glinting. “I take it you’ve seen the views?”
“I’m aware, yeah.” He’d only watched the fight at least a hundred times. It had already become the most widely viewed Fray of all time.
“Turns out you are the new number one. Not in terms of rank, but in terms of views. The St. Josaphat Arena and the Mutual Conglomerate Arena sit at number one and number two. Top two Shadow Frays. Not even Black Jim can say that, can he? Of course, I give myself some of the credit, but I’ll give you credit where it’s due too.”
“Thanks,” Justin said quietly. Had he just thanked Scarecrow? He really must not be thinking straight.
“You also have a name.”
“A name?” Justin asked. This he didn’t know.
“They’ve taken to calling you the Night Visitor. ‘The Visitor’ was too plain, apparently. I tend to agree. This one has a nice ring to it. Anyway, it’s got the seal of approval from the Shadow Masters, bless their anonymous ass
es. It’s going up on the pages and promos soon. You’ve hit the big time, kid.”
Gin smiled at him, proud.
“You don’t have another fight scheduled yet. I think they want to make sure their new star is camera ready before they stick you back in a Fray. Take your hoodie down for a second.” Justin complied and Scarecrow eyed him, seeming to study his injuries for the first time. “Even with all those bruises, you are a good-looking man, aren’t you? No homo, ’cause I’m not bent. I prefer your sister’s pussy, but those genes practically have me creaming in my pants.” Scarecrow turned to Gin. “I don’t suppose you’d want to go another round quick, would you? I can make it fast.”
Gin seemed to think about it. “Tempting.”
Scarecrow laughed loudly, opening his mouth to reveal smoke-stained teeth. “I could throw in another 10 percent.”
“Don’t,” Justin practically growled to Scarecrow as he flipped his hood back up.
Scarecrow laughed again. “Only kidding, only kidding. Mostly, anyway.”
Scarecrow was looking between Justin and Gin. Justin was sure his face looked as pissed as he felt, but Gin sat with her arms crossed, a slight smile on her face.
“One final thing,” Scarecrow said, reaching again in his pocket. “Take this phone.” He handed a plain-looking phone to Justin. “It’s untraceable, a burner, but don’t try to call me or anyone else on it. I have my own. I will only turn it on when I get the info on the Arena for your next Fray. My guess is it will be weeks, not months. I will only turn it on to send you a message to meet here again, same time. After that it will be off. I suggest you turn yours on only once a day to check for a message. Turn it off before sixty seconds pass and don’t check it again until the following day.”
“I don’t understand,” Justin said. “Why so secret?”
“Kid, you’ve got millions of people watching you. You just rocketed up to the top. This is a big money business, and you’re the hot new commodity. People will be gunning for you, looking to find out any information they can. If either one of us is compromised somehow, I don’t want info to spread. I don’t need to remind you that your sister being here right now as we talk is really fucking dangerous for all of us. Don’t take any chances. Don’t speak about it at home; don’t speak about it on the phone or in any electronic communication. You never know who out there might be listening, and that includes our bosses. We can never meet inside this truck again. For all we know, this truck is bugged and we’re already fucked. Keep that in mind.”
With that, and without waiting for any response, Scarecrow opened the door and was gone.
Gin turned slightly pale. Her strong façade had finally broken. She may not be afraid of Scarecrow, but his parting words had rattled her.
HALE WAS going crazy, and it was only Monday. Thank God the day was nearly over. Or was it? He supposed not if he’d be awake half the night again. The sun would soon set, but it didn’t matter. He had no view to appreciate the dying light. He’d never been able to see the sunset from his old place, but he had watched it reflect off the tall buildings of Chicago. Why was he missing something he never really had? Stupid, insipid thoughts wiggled through his brain like worms. Truly this was insanity. He wanted to pound his head against the wall.
Why not? Hale beat a steady rhythm on the wall with his forehead. He needed to get out of here. He hadn’t left these four walls since returning from the Arena. Tonight, he vowed, he’d wait until it was good and dark and take his bike out. He’d be fine under the safety of his helmet. He’d wear all black and scream through the night on his Harley, ride her dark and go as fast as he possibly could. The moon had been half-full the night of the Fray. It should be approaching full now. That should be plenty of light to see by once he got out of the city.
Maybe then he could get the Visitor out of his head too. Every time Hale closed his eyes, he thought back to the fight. He got images like flashes of film in his head. He’d watched the video plenty, watched all of the kid’s videos. There was something about him….
Hale paced to his bed, then back to the window. He was obsessed, and it wasn’t just the kid’s skills, although no one had given Black Jim a match like that in ages. No, it was more than that. The kid’s body, that broad chest, those stacked shoulders, his dark hair and eyes, his tanned skin, even the scent of his sweat—the kid himself excited Hale, had Hale wanting to taste him, run his tongue along the lines of his muscles, every single one. Could be he was projecting, but Hale also perceived a mysterious kindness. This guy wasn’t like other fighters—
Someone knocked on his door, startling him. That was weird. Benz had a very distinctive knock, a hard four-beat rap that only his big hands could make. Whoever knocked was not Benz, and it made no sense for anyone else to visit. Hale couldn’t show his face right now. He walked as silently as he could from the window, knowing very well he might have to pretend no one was home. What if they heard him? Saw his shadow? He paused. Maybe he shouldn’t approach the door to see who it was. Maybe he should wait—
“Hale, it’s me.” Benz. Good. But what the hell? He looked though the peephole, confirmed Benz was alone, and quickly undid the two chains and two dead bolts.
Hale saw that Benz was holding a dish of something, something that smelled fantastic. Venison? “God, man, am I glad to see you. I’m going insane here.”
“Jess made you food. Figured you could use it.”
He was starving. “I’ve been living off protein powder for the last two days. Tell her thanks.”
As Hale reached for the covered dish, he noticed the fingers on Benz’s right hand were wrapped up thickly. “That explains the knock,” he said, nodding toward the hand. “What did you do?”
“Yeah, had my hands full and then this….” He waved his hand in the air. “This is what I came to talk to you about.”
“Uh-oh. Why do I suddenly have a bad feeling?”
“Must be psychic. Put that away, okay? We need to talk.”
As Benz locked the door, Hale quickly went to put the dish in the fridge. Despite the savory aroma, he suddenly had no appetite. What the hell was this all about?
Back in the main room, Benz was leaning on the bike. Hale sat down on the bed across from him. It made him feel small, sitting on the bed with the large man mostly standing, looking down at him. “So, you gonna tell me what happened?” Hale asked.
“A friend happened.”
“Some friend.”
“It’s a dead end, man. I’m sorry.”
“What do you mean?” Hale spoke slowly, like time was standing still.
“I tried to make inquiries about the kid, find out who he is, but I didn’t get very far.”
“Shit.” Hale rested his arms on his knees, deflating. “Someone did that to you, just for asking? Makes no sense.”
“Like I said, it was a friend. When she saw that I was going to keep asking around despite her warning, she decided to let me know how serious she was.”
“She broke your finger?”
“Two of them. With a paperweight.”
“Who uses a fucking paperweight?”
“Someone who wants a weapon close by.”
“You okay?”
“Could be worse. Had to bust a hole through my nails to relieve some of the pressure. They’re swelled up pretty good.”
“Jesus.” Hale exhaled like he had been holding his breath. “I’m really sorry.”
“She said it was better to break my fingers now than someone break my skull later if I was gonna keep it up.”
“Are you… safe? Are you in danger?”
“Nah. She was the first person I asked.”
Hale hung his head, staring at a spot on the floor. He closed his eyes and the spot turned black, a spiral, like his hope was being sucked down a drain. “So we’ll never find him, then?”
“Afraid not.”
The two men were silent. Hale opened his eyes but couldn’t bring himself to look at Benz.
Finally
, Benz stirred, shifting position to settle next to Hale on the bed. “What’s going through your head?”
Hale looked at his feet. “Honestly, nothing. The last few days I’ve been going crazy, couldn’t turn off my thoughts for the life of me. But now there’s nothing.”
“Sorry, brother. I tried.”
“Thanks for trying.”
“Welcome.” They sat in silence, for how long, Hale couldn’t say.
“I gotta get to work, man,” Benz finally said. “I’m sorry to leave you like this. I’ll stop by again soon. You know, Edna’s getting a real kick out of reading to you.”
Hale lifted the corner of his mouth in a weak attempt to smile. “Highlight of my day, man.”
Benz chuckled, his eyes lighting up. “She’s familiar with those stories and can read parts of them, but when she gets going, it’s all coming out of her own head. The stuff she comes up with cracks me up.”
“Yeah. The way I remember it, Goldilocks didn’t tame the bears and ride them into the forest looking for the Big Bad Wolf. Smart idea, though. Better than the original.”
“You should give her a call once I leave.”
“Maybe I will. Might take the bike out later.”
“That’d be good. Just be careful.”
“I’ll be careful enough.”
“And Hale? Clean up in here. It smells like spunk.”
Hale shrugged. “That would be all the jerking off you smell. Bored off my ass. And protein powder makes it really potent.” And he also couldn’t stop thinking about the kid—or the Night Visitor, as they were calling him now. Hale would never know his real name.
“Glad you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”
“Yeah. Night, Benz.”
And then Benz was gone. The man could probably sense that Hale wanted to be alone. The last four days he would have killed for company, and now he couldn’t manage it at all.
He picked up his phone and texted Jess: Can’t do a story tonight. Tell Eddie I love her.
Shadow Fray Page 15