“But you really like him?” he asked, frowning at me.
I felt the blush on my cheeks as I gripped the edges of the vinyl chair. He wouldn’t know what I was talking about. “I don’t know. He’s not available, anyway. I’m pretending to be my twin brother so that he can graduate. He wants to throw away his whole education, but I won’t let him.”
“Does your brother know?”
I shook my head. “He’s busy. He thinks he’s earning money so that I can go to school. I don’t know if that’s what I want anymore. I used to know what I wanted to do with my life. Now I don’t know anything.”
“What about your parents?” He slowed down, looking at me with concern in his eyes.
I flinched and shook my head, blinking back tears. “They died. Car accident,” I lied.
“So, you’re an orphan.”
“I’m eighteen.”
“Still, that’s tough. My parents died when I was eleven. They say that’s the most impressionable age. I think I need therapy, but who has time for that?” he asked, waving his scissors around, his belly bouncing gently.
“I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” I said softly. What was with all the people and their dead families? Maybe it was normal.
He shrugged as he scooped out a dollop of white cream that he started working over my hair. It smelled musky and floral. “Well, it wasn’t a picnic. My father killed my mother and then killed himself. Try living that down. Everyone kept waiting for me to go nuts.”
I stared at him for a few seconds then down at my hands, trying to stop the shaking. “That’s terrible. So, of course you lived up to their expectations then after something horrible happened you had to realize that it was your life and you had to live it according to your own rules. Did you learn how to cut hair in jail?” I glanced up at him, kind of feeling stupid for making so many guesses.
He only raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Very impressive. How did you know?”
I shrugged modestly. “It seemed logical.” I glanced at my own reflection and gasped. My hair was perfect. Short, of course, but with defined curls that poked around my head like an intentional feature that drew the eye up and somehow enhanced my eyes at the same time. “You’re amazing,” I said, carefully touching my hair.
He fluffed it a bit twisting a stray curl into place.
“Yes, I am. If I hadn’t gone to jail, I never would have taken the only slot open in the beauty school program, and I never would have realized my genius. Sometimes the bad leads to good.”
I smiled back at him, feeling a little bit less lonely.
“Thanks. Are you Nick?”
“Donovan, but they call me the Greek,” he answered with a smile. “What about you?”
“I’m Violet when I’m wearing a skirt. Well, the Greek, how much do I owe you? I’m coming to the end of my bankroll, but I think I still have enough to pay for your haircut and a cab back to school.”
He frowned at me. “How well are you managing your money? I can smell your shampoo and lotion as well as something swampy. You didn’t just blow a lot of cash at a spa, did you?”
I shrugged and felt a little bit embarrassed. “I needed it. That reminds me, could you do something about this?” I pulled the wig out of my backpack and handed it to him.
He frowned at the wig then up at me. “By the time I was your age, I was managing street gangs. Not to say that’s what you should be doing, but managing an income is an important part of life. Forget about the haircut, and I’ll give you a ride home,” he said, lumbering to the door where he flipped over the sign and snapped the locks into place, pulling down the bars.
“That’s not necessary,” I said, feeling awkward.
He shook his head. “You haven’t eaten today, either. Now I have to feed you. It’s the sweater. If I were running a con, which I wouldn’t do since I’m a respectable barber, I’d use you as the absolutely helpless female to soften up the target. That sweater is perfect.”
I blinked at him. “Thanks. I think. I’m not helpless.”
“A few more blocks and you’d be on the North side. After dark. You’d be helpless then.”
I shrugged. “I’ve never actually been there. My whole life in this city and I’ve never even been there. I know it’s supposed to be full of gangs and drug dealers, but it can’t be that bad.”
He frowned at me. “Right. Come on back. I have pizza and coke. It’s not gourmet, but it will work until you can get to your stash. You have a stash of edibles, right?”
“I’m not helpless.” I followed him to the back past an enormous metal cage and took a piece of lukewarm pizza from him. “I’m just alone. What is that for?” I asked, nodding towards the cage before I took a bite of pizza.
“I board animals for people. You’d be surprised the unconventional pets people keep that ordinary boarding places won’t have anything to do with. Pigs are probably the number one pet I get, enormous sows twice as heavy as you, but also had a pony once, a couple of alligators and snakes.” He opened a cupboard and took out a powder that he sprinkled generously on my wig. “That should neutralize the odors.”
“Snakes?” I shuddered and took my wig back. I sniffed it and it seemed perfectly fine.
He shoved two pieces of pizza in his mouth as he nodded, then headed out the back door, turning the key in the lock after I’d followed him.
I watched from behind him then when he was done, I turned around and gasped, falling back a step, bumping into the Greek as a man materialized out of the darkness.
“Greek, where are you going with this delicious morsel?” the man growled.
“I am not a morsel,” I said, bristling. “You want to eat me? Go ahead. I will throw up pizza all over you!”
My stomach felt very queasy, and the man, his voice sounded horribly familiar.
“Easy,” the Greek said, putting a soothing hand on my shoulder. “Armand’s just a little bit poetic, aren’t you Armand. Go ahead. Go inside. Eat,” the Greek said, throwing the keys at Armand who caught them out of the air without looking at them. He still stared at me, his eyes weirdly yellowish brown. Very creepy.
“Is the pizza any good?” he asked, leaning forward, like it was important.
I glanced at the Greek. “Yeah. It’s great. Really great to have cold pizza on an empty stomach and then have someone scare you half to death.”
He sniffed. “Is your lotion vanilla with a hint of jasmine?”
I froze. This was psychotic stalker talk. I glanced from the shadowy man to the Greek before I shrugged and put out my wrist for him to smell.
He bent his head and inhaled, the sensation sending a skittering down my spine. He glanced up, and I caught a glimpse of something familiar in spite of my being certain I’d never seen him before.
“Come on,” the Greek said, tugging on my sweater, away from Armand who smelled girls wrists like it was the bouquet off of wine. He was beautiful, though. Wild, ferocious, but like the Greek said, something poetic about him, something hurt and hungry. I should bake him something. And the Greek. He couldn’t live on pizza and coke.
I sighed. I did not need to bake for people I’d just met. I slid into the passenger’s seat of the rusty old white hatchback. The Greek didn’t look like he’d fit, but he managed. Barely.
“Be careful about Armand,” he said as the car roared to life. Dusk settled heavily around us, the darkness behind the shop giving me a glimpse of stars overhead.
“Yeah. I’m never sure what to do when someone smells me.”
He gave me a nervous glance. “What school are you at?”
“Calder, but you can drop me off anywhere in the ritzy snobby area. There aren’t a lot of drug dealers down there, at least not without licenses.”
He’d flinched when he heard the name, Calder, eying me with fresh curiosity and something bordering on paranoia. “I’ll drop you off a good ways, if you don’t mind.”
I didn’t. “Thanks for the ride,” I said as I got out a few
blocks from the school. I’d pulled out my boy’s clothes and put them on over my girl’s stuff while he’d driven, my wig the final piece of my costume.
“Are you sure I can’t pay you?”
“Save your money. I’m serious. For everything that takes money, there’s a free version, or even better, someone pays you to do it.”
I smiled and closed the door, waiting for him to drive off, the red tail lights winking at me.
I felt almost happy as I went through the gates of Calder. I’d made a friend. And beneath my wig, my hair looked amazing.
Chapter 11
The Butcher
I focused on my Butcher duties, addressing the needs of those Butchers and boys in my care. The rebel Butchers were causing problems. None of my Butchers quite put the pieces together, but the reported werewolf deaths as well as rumors of unrest sent me out into the night, pacing through Bordertown and into North city, pushing into the darkness, taking a Butcher or two for assistance. Assistance was more like training than actual help, particularly when Andy tripped in front of a zombie and almost got his face eaten off.
It was good for them. Good for me. I had a plan in place to infiltrate the rebels, knew the general area they kept their base, and everything was going well, but at the same time I couldn’t concentrate on the Butchers when I felt the gnawing hunger on the edges. I ate Landry’s rolls like mad, but the hunger kept growing every time I saw Tancetta, touched him. I shouldn’t have wrestled with him. I’d been trying to hold back, to not make contact until he felt comfortable, but him coming to me, wanting to see me, it had been ridiculously gratifying.
I needed to talk to him about his parent’s death, to solve the murder and check it off my list, but I felt reluctant both to hurt him and push him into forced testimony when he was just opening up. He would tell me when he was ready. When he told me about Olivia, I wanted to tell him not to see her. I felt jealousy, possessiveness that was as irrational as it was powerful. Having him beneath me on the mat had felt wrong. Holding power over him while I fed him energy, with him relaxed, compliant, it felt wrong. I couldn’t clarify what about it had been off, but at the same time, the way Francis talked about him, made me wonder if Sebastian was interested in me.
Friday afternoon I went to his room, needing to see him, to get everything cleared up, but he wasn’t there. After asking the guard on duty, he pulled out the sign-out sheet and informed me that Tancetta had left for the weekend.
I gave him my thanks and walked away trying to understand the anger, the absolute fury that had me aching to rip apart the city until I found Tancetta. Tancetta didn’t matter. I knew that, but I didn’t feel like it and it was driving me crazy. Maybe he was with Olivia. Maybe it was her that he liked. It was my job, my duty, to keep my boys, my Butchers safe. She was one of them first and foremost. We’d also always had expectations from our parents, but that had always been something I’d worry about later. Maybe I wouldn’t have a chance at later if she was finding herself a Baker. A union between a male Butcher and female Baker weren’t exactly forbidden, but it was a bit like marrying your cousin. If they had any children, they would struggle with the transition to Butcher. Who wanted to watch one’s offspring die a horrible death? It was bad enough watching Tancetta struggle and struggle and struggle, trying to consume enough bread, to hold it in when he couldn’t keep anything down, bad enough to see him pale and thin, struggling to stay alive. To watch your own child go through that?
I shook my head. If that’s what Olivia wanted, if that’s what Tancetta wanted, I would support them both. I owed her that much.
“What are we doing tonight?” Francis asked, falling in beside me, his hair matted to his forehead like he’d just rolled out of bed. At five p.m.
“We’re setting a trap. Congratulations, you’re bait.” I slapped him a little too hard on the shoulder.
He sighed, shaking his head. “I think we should use Tancetta. He’d attract some monstrous beasties with that soft underbelly of his.”
“Indeed.” I frowned at the thought of Tancetta in danger. “Unfortunately, we’re not after the beasties tonight.”
Francis was not one of the Butchers who knew about the renegades. I’d hoped that I could get things under control without alarming the younger Butchers my age. The older Butchers in college followed me without question, but sometimes I couldn’t help but wish it was one of them who were giving the orders, taking the responsibility.
The trap was set. Francis ran through the streets of Bordertown whooping and throwing firecrackers, making noise that attracted all the werewolves. Most of them had the fortitude to close their doors and lock themselves in for the night, but a few needed a reminder and chased Francis.
I watched from the vantage point of a large Victorian mansion that had seen much better days. Most of the windows were boarded up, but that didn’t stop it from being used habitually by transients.
Francis was fighting off the werewolves, but clearly showing signs of weakness, like he was going to be killed at any moment. If he’d given me a signal, I would have been beside him in a moment, but he held the wolves off for a long time until two shadows emerged with glinting knives and flares of light that illuminated their masked faces.
They fought in unison, only slightly off from the different fighting style. Some of the moves were familiar, but others different, almost Brazillian.
“You came just in time,” Francis said, breathlessly.
They mumbled something I couldn’t hear.
I shot the smaller one with a dart then dropped down behind the other. The small one didn’t even notice the small needle in the side of his neck.
“You shouldn’t be led by a Butcher who sends you to fight overwhelming odds alone.”
Francis smiled. “Did I say I was alone?”
The two turned to me and we began another fight. This battle went much faster. I’d drugged the first, and the second had run out of powder.
The first one discovered the dart in his neck and did the only intelligent thing. He ran away from us as fast as his legs could carry him. Francis made to chase him, but I grabbed him by the back of his coat and kept him there. I had no intention of losing one of mine in their trap.
“How is your arm?” I demanded of my opponent, blocking his punch and coming up under it with my knee in his ribs.
He grunted, all his focus on blocking, fighting, trying to keep up with me. I could have taken him down, but I felt like he needed training. I found myself doing forms with him, forms he should know but didn’t. He picked it up quickly, but still fumbled. He needed sharper movements.
“Good,” I said when he finally made contact with my shoulder. I winced slightly. I would have a bruise.
“Good?” my opponent breathed, his voice bordering on hysterical. “I’m fighting you!”
“And you finally made contact. Good.”
“I’m not one of your pathetic Butcher boys,” he hissed. His voice reminded me of someone. Not only reminded, sounded remarkably like. I hadn’t heard Tancetta sound like that since he’d come back to school. I grabbed his wrist, finding skin to skin contact for a moment. The connection wasn’t there.
He punched me directly in the stomach as I struggled with my shock. I moved, spinning behind him until I could unlace the mask and rip it off. Tancetta’s face glared at me before I felt burning agony across my shoulders. I fell to the ground as the bar of acid burned through my skin. I broke a neutralizing powder capsule and sprinkled it awkwardly behind me before Francis took it away from me and did a better job, dragging me into the shadows of the Victorian building while Sebastian Tancetta joined whoever had rescued him.
After the burning stopped, I raced after him, but cautiously. I paced up and down the surrounding alleys, but the Butchers had disappeared, and I hurt.
“Tancetta’s a lot bigger than he was earlier today,” Francis commented.
I growled at him.
“At least three vigilante Butchers are out here r
oaming the night. Flaunting your authority,” he continued, ignoring my threatening stance.
I inhaled deeply and forced the anger out, leaving me exhausted and in pain. The anger chased around the edges. Tancetta, who I’d trusted as I never trusted my best Butchers, had betrayed me.
I pulled a roll out of my coat and bit into it, tearing it with my teeth. He hadn’t had anything like the same energy. How could it be the same person I’d seen day after day? I handed a croissant to Francis who took it wordlessly, and then when I felt a little less like a kicked puppy, made my way through Bordertown to the North City.
Francis came with me, which I didn’t mind enough to make him leave. I had an idea that I might need a rational voice to keep me from doing something extremely stupid.
We fought through a group of shambling zombies, Francis getting a little bit wide-eyed as he stuck his knife in a zombie’s chest only to have his whole hand go up into the chest cavity. He would need a bath.
I grinned as I fought, each death making the hunger grow, my fighting becoming keener and keener until I heard Francis yelp.
He’d managed to get trapped between zombies and a brick wall. The brick wall was the only thing left of a building, surrounded by an empty lot.
I threw a light explosive that scattered zombies apart and waded through the shambling undead to retrieve him.
I grabbed his hand and pulled him out, then jogged away from the gathering monsters, back to Bordertown. I was hungry, hurt, and furious, but first thing I needed to do was shower and get Francis back into a calm state where he wasn’t covered in disintegrating spleens.
“I’m going to throw up,” he said as I led him behind a shop where I sometimes hosed myself off. I turned on the water and sprayed him down thoroughly before we continued to the metro.
“How did you not get covered in zombie?” He still sounded a little hysterical, also cold and shivering.
I handed him a roll. “They gave you more attention. You did great. It’s, yeah, you can throw up if you need to. There’s no shame in that.” I glanced away from him while he bent over, sick on the pavement.
Butcher, Baker, Vampire Slayer: A Retelling of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night Page 10