Finally, the office door swung open, and a tall man in a leather vest and gear bottoms came out of it. This one had burn marks and one eye, outdoing even Skull. Marco whistled, the sound barely audible as the man left swiftly without a glance in his direction.
“Come in,” Peter said, waving to him from the office, “You wanted to ask something?”
“Yes,” Marco nodded, casting his eyes around curiously.
The office was too white and too empty. The big conference table took up some of the space, and that was it. It was like an apartment that no one lived in, without a touch of personality to it. It indicated to Marco what kind of man worked in here. He guessed that Michael was an ascetic, which supported his image of the man so far. The man himself, however, was nowhere to be seen, and he guessed that Peter took his place when the boss was somewhere on a business trip.
“I need to go out today,” Marco said quickly because Peter was obviously in a hurry, stacking papers and cleaning up the table before he left. He paused now, though, and turned to look at Marco.
“I thought you agreed with our terms,” he said, taking a watchful stance with his arms folded on the barrel of his chest.
“Yes, I… I know. I just really need it. Just this once. It’s personal…I can’t tell you. Send someone with me. It’s a quick trip, but it’s important…” Marco was babbling, and he paused and cleared his throat. He braced himself and then did something he had never done before, but he had seen the kids here do it, and it usually worked. “Please?..”
Peter’s eyebrows rose, and suddenly he looked like he was holding back a smile, only Marco didn’t know why. The older man stared at him, weighing him up as if he were trying to see right into his soul. An incredibly tense minute passed before he sighed and picked up his suit jacket.
“Come on.” He took Marco by the elbow and opened the door. “Skull, go with Marco, take the car…” he tossed the keys to the giant “…get Rob to cover for you for a few hours.”
Skull only nodded and picked up the phone, while Peter paused at the door, turned, and gave Marco a hard look. “Behave yourself. Or he will kill you real quick.”
He patted Marco on the shoulder and flashed an angelic smile, so uncharacteristic for a man his age. Then he left the room and closed the door, ignoring Marco’s wide-eyed expression.
They took a black SUV and drove to the address that Marco had given Skull. The only time they spoke was when they were waiting for a green light, and Skull suddenly turned and stared at Marco with his impassive black eyes.
“If you’re planning to run off, this is your chance,” he rumbled, his deep, slightly accented voice resonating off the car’s interior. He lazily reached out and opened the door for Marco.
Lips twitching against his will, Marco held back his smile. He waited a moment, giving Skull an ironic look before he took the handle delicately and closed the door.
“No, thank you,” he said carefully, “If I wanted to run, I could do it anytime right from my window.”
“No, you couldn’t,” Skull objected calmly and started the car, frowning.
“Yes, I could,” Marco pressed.
“You wouldn’t get past the perimeter.”
“That crazy girl gets out every night just fine,” Marco replied, shaking his head with an innocent expression, and Skull actually looked surprised.
“Who…Pain? How do you know?” he boomed.
“She was there when they found me. I heard her,” Marco shrugged.
“Huh,” was all the response he got, and they fell silent again.
They pulled up not far from a shop on a deserted, sunlit street, and Marco got out of the car. Skull followed him without a word, and when Marco walked inside, Skull stayed by the door. The shop owner perked up at the sight of Marco and greeted him loudly, but Marco shook his head once and the man’s “Hey, Ma…” was left hanging in the air, unfinished.
There were only a couple of other people inside – teenagers chatting between the racks – but Marco hurried past them to the back wall where there was a rack of clothes for sale. He hoped the thing he’d seen a month ago was still there.
Skull watched him from the doors, his seven-foot bulk looming over the room. He stood out like a sore thumb among all the Rasta colors, and the owner glanced worriedly between him and Marco.
Without wasting another moment, Marco dug among the clothes. To his surprise, nothing had changed, and the thing was still there. Must be too big for the kids, he thought idly, pulling it out with a satisfied smile on his face. He turned to leave, then paused. While he was here, he might as well buy some more clothes that actually had colors in them. His black and white wardrobe back at the Headquarters was boring as hell. Quickly, he picked a few Tshirts with funny captions, not wasting time on sizes but simply taking the biggest ones.
The owner kept his cool when Marco came over to pay for the clothes. He dug out three credit cards and dropped them on the counter.
“Try this one,” Marco said, handing him the one he was sure still had some money on it. The man ran the Visa through the machine, then pursed his lips with a shake of his head.
“Sorry, pal,” he returned the card, and Marco gave him another one. That one was empty, too, but to Marco’s relief there was a small amount available on the third one. He packed his things and turned to leave…and bumped right into Skull’s huge frame.
“You made me take you out because you wanted to go shopping?” the giant rumbled, and Marco made an effort to relax.
“Well… A man’s gotta dress!” He patted Skull’s shoulder cheerfully, fighting the urge to drop the bags and run out the back before it was too late. “You might wanna pick up some stuff, too! You could… tear up a shirt or two here…” he finished uncertainly, trying to imagine Skull in a Bob Marley T-shirt. He’d thought the giant would look less scary like that, but the mental picture was even more disturbing.
Skull didn’t seem to appreciate the humor. He shoved Marco out the door before he could protest and pushed him toward the car.
“Did you steal those credit cards?” he asked all of a sudden, and this made Marco stop and spin on his heels.
“What?? No!” he exclaimed, appalled, “I’m not a thief!”
The giant stopped, too, and gave Marco a long, ironic look.
“You stole my knife from the car,” he stated.
Marco swallowed. Without another word, Skull held out his hand. Slowly, Marco reached behind his back and took out the knife. He placed it into the giant’s palm and stepped back.
“But the cards are mine!” he stabbed his finger at Skull accusingly.
The fighter nodded, as if thinking Yeah, right, and pushed him toward the SUV again.
“Wait, I forgot something,” Marco said, trying to brush past him back to the shop. Skull blocked his way, and Marco growled irritably, pushing him in the chest, “I need to pee, okay??”
“Then I’m going with you,” Skull replied, unperturbed.
“What??” Marco squealed, “No! That’s just… creepy! Wait for me here!”
He hurried back toward the door, but was suddenly pulled backward by something that felt like a tow truck grabbing his belt. Silently, Skull dragged him to the car, opened the door, and manhandled him into the back seat as easily as he would a child, rather than a six-two, 210-pound man.
Moments later, they were speeding up the street, and the way Skull glanced at Marco in the rearview mirror told him not to open his mouth again. All he could do was sit and sulk in the back seat, shooting him angry glances, so that’s what he did for the rest of the trip.
Chapter 7
Pain stretched on her bunk with a loud yawn. She could hear her sister stirring on the other side of the room, grumbling into her pillow. It was eight o’clock, and outside the window the day was beautiful. Not a cloud in the bright blue sky…just like her mood. Finally.
She jerked the pillow from under her head and threw it at her sister, while sitting up.
; “Rise and shine, baby!”
Jane cursed and hurled the pillow back, so that Pain flattened against the wall as she caught it.
“What’s up? It’s too early for the good mood…” Jane muttered into the covers. “Something’s not right…”
Pain smirked at her, though Jane wasn’t looking.
“You know what’s up,” she said as she pranced to the mirror. “He’s outta here.”
She studied her eyebrow: there was barely a greenish bruise left, and that meant her healing was improving. She rewarded herself with a smug smile.
“You don’t know that,” Jane said, finally raising her face from the pillow.
“He’s outta here!” Pain’s pose reflected her stubborn reply as her hands rested on her hips.
“How do you know? I don’t think…”
Pain began ticking off the reasons on her fingers.
“I saw him leaving with Skull yesterday… He didn’t show up for supper… And he’s not gonna show up today. Trust me.”
Jane sighed and fell back on her bed. With an indifferent shrug, Pain turned on her heels and disappeared in the bathroom, not trying to hide her self-satisfied expression.
Soon enough they were on the second floor, Pain pushing her sister out of the elevator impatiently.
“Hurry, hurry! I can’t wait to see it again!”
Pain shoved Jane in the back as her sister spread her arms wide, pretending to be stuck in the elevator doorway.
“What??” she asked incredulously. “The canteen?”
“The canteen without his face in it!”
The older sister finally broke free and dashed down the hall like a kid running to the Christmas tree in the morning. Jane picked up her pace and followed her, only to bump into her sister’s back as she suddenly stopped in her tracks in the doorway.
Pain stood there as if she’d been turned into stone and stared. There, among the throng of black and white clothing by the counter, a single red T-shirt stood out. It caught her attention like a red rag to a bull. Two thick, tattooed arms protruded from the T-shirt, as well as a Mohawked head. The fighters around them only took a second to notice Pain’s furious expression and point Marco in her direction.
He turned, his expression as cheerful as ever, and stood before her with his fists on his hips and a huge smile that would have looked genuine, if she hadn’t known better. Across his broad chest, a splash of white on red, shone five fat letters:
BITCH
Pain exhaled raggedly, as the fighters around her chuckled at her livid expression. She felt Jane push her in the back.
“Oh, come on already,” said her sister, “what do you care?”
But Pain wasn’t willing to be in the same room as him. Not now. She turned and stalked to the staircase door.
*
Marco chuckled with a deep, rumbling sound that made him even happier. It had been a while since he felt like laughing. He watched Little Bitch storm out of the room leaving her sister alone, a surprised expression on her face. Then she shrugged and continued walking, glancing at him arrogantly in all her five-foot glory.
“I thought you wanted to stay here…” she muttered as she pushed him aside and stood in line in front of him.
His face twisted into an incredulous grimace as he looked her up and down. He’d expected something much more toxic, really. Still, he mentally tagged her Little Bitch 2.0.
*
Pain ran up the stairs, fuming and cursing. She hated stupid T-shirt captions even more than stupid, insolent men. It was like he’d been sent to personally torment her. Everything about him was irritating.
She hurried toward her room so she could sit down in silence and come up with a countermove while that bastard was enjoying his breakfast in the canteen. But then she froze, her foot over the next stair. He was in the canteen, just like everybody else from his floor…
Without wasting another moment, she spun and ran back down the stairs toward his room. She had no idea what she would do when she got there, but the chance was too good to miss. Without being seen, she quickly reached her destination and disappeared inside. She had about twenty minutes before he returned.
The room was a mess: even worse than her own place was sometimes. She glanced around in revulsion, looking for something interesting. Clothes were strewn all over the place, and there were a bunch of magazines on the bed, a pyramid of apples and a burnt paper on the desk. Pain blinked at that. And then she got an idea.
She turned back to the huge heap of clothes on the bed. Some of them were from the supply room; others were obviously his own, all bright colors and silly captions. The idea that had formed in her head was childish – just like his idea with the T-shirt print.
Quickly, she worked her magic on the clothes, trying to use as many of them as possible without needing anything else to finish her project. It was easy: the material was stretchy and thin, and even the prints turned out to be of use in the end. She couldn’t help but grin at the caption she’d managed to create out of them.
She was done in less than ten minutes, then went back to the door and rose into the air. The wall clock left its place above the door: the hook behind it was just what she needed. Then she got everything into place and left through the window before anyone saw her.
The sun blinded her as she hovered outside. There were a few fighters smoking on the benches, and she landed away from them, hidden behind the trees. She decided not to go to her room, though. She hadn’t had anything for breakfast, so she might as well celebrate her little victory.
The nearest store was across the field and a few blocks away. She headed there at a jog, reaching the road in a minute, and walked through the quiet streets smiling. The best ideas are always spontaneous, she thought. She was clean. There was no way to prove that she was the one who did it, and no one would see it but him.
And that was what she called the perfect revenge.
Chapter 8
Marco sat still for a minute after he finished his meal. Overwhelmed by gloating, he tried to remember the last time he had been so excited about something. This place suddenly had a new appeal, and he smiled at the thought that Little Bitch was actually the reason of her own unhappiness. He decided it was worth staying here for a while, after all.
Stacking his plates, he watched a big crowd of Ghosts leave the canteen, the younger sister among them. Some guy slapped her rear, and seconds later was spitting blood while she simply walked ahead without another glance in his direction. Marco wondered idly what would happen if he slapped Little Bitch like that. No doubt she would freak, he thought with a sneer and added it to his mental to-do list. He picked up his tray, standing up…
…and found himself face to face with Rob.
“Nice T-shirt, jackass,” Rob said, glaring down at him. “I told you not to encourage her!” He stabbed his finger into Marco’s chest and jerked his head toward the trash can.
With a sigh, Marco carried his tray to the trash, then joined Rob and Brad, his partner, at the canteen door. They both were in full gear and armed, and that meant they were going on an assignment, Marco knew.
“I heard you had some fun in the training hall yesterday. So sorry I missed that,” Rob continued to gloat as Marco strode down the hallway, as if he could outpace Rob’s huge strides.
“Just rein in your Bitch Interrupted before somebody got hurt,” Marco snapped back, “and by somebody I mean her sorry white ass.”
“Cut it out, Marco,” Rob retorted as they crowded inside the elevator together with a half-dozen other fighters, “I see everything that’s going on, but since you’re older than her, I’m counting on your common sense. ’Cause that girl’s got none, believe me.”
Brad was silent all this time, following them quietly like a two times smaller copy of Rob.
“Why are you following me, don’t you have work?” Marco asked, staring into Rob’s dark eyes with irritation. “Or is your work to bug me all day?”
“If you’d pre
fer Skull, I can tell him that you want to see him on my way out,” Rob said, and Marco snapped his mouth closed, but only for a moment.
“Fella, I’m just kidding, I looove talking to you,” he replied, patting Rob’s shoulder as they came out on the third floor, and Rob shook his hand off nervously.
“Don’t fella me, kid. You’re even younger than my brother here. Have some respect.” He shoved Brad with his shoulder, and it dawned on Marco what was so familiar about Rob’s partner. “Just grow up already, because if you don’t manage it in the next few days, I can tell you won’t stay here for long. Pain can do all she wants. She’s not the one who’s being watched. She’s already passed the tests and will join the agents in a few months. You’re not even close to it, especially while you’re wasting time on your stupid teenage wars.”
He gave Marco a serious look as they walked down the hallway, and just for once Marco didn’t try to argue. He only exhaled loudly, stopping by his door.
“Look, why don’t you talk to her instead? That girl’s pure evil. You can’t ignore the fact that she’s bullying people.”
“Again with this bullying, Marco…” Rob shook his head and waved his hand at him. “You’re the one in the BITCH T-shirt!”
He stepped closer as Marco reached for the doorknob.
“She may be a pain in the ass, but she’s a sixteen-year-old girl in a building full of cutthroats. What kind of bully is-HOLY CRAP!!” he yelled suddenly and jumped backward as Marco opened the door and a large, dark form sprang at him. Rob knocked into his brother, and all three of them struck defensive poses for a second, their wild eyes on the doorway.
Marco was the first to unfreeze and return to the door with a troubled grimace.
Sky Ghosts: Marco (Young Adult Urban Fantasy Adventure) (Sky Ghosts Series Book 1.5) Page 4