Sages of the Underpass

by Aaron Michael Ritchey

  She might as well have quoted The Pranad. “You only reach the peak of a mountain by conquering one pebble at a time,” Niko said. “I wanted to fly there.”

  “We all want that,” Bonnie said. “It’s called fantasy. Fantasies are fun, don’t get me wrong, but you can’t confuse the deliciousness of fantasies with bittersweet reality.”

  “Where did you find this one?” Teddy burst out.

  Bonnie patted Teddy’s arm. “At a prank house in the Devil’s Edge. He didn’t find me, though. I found him. His brother Pete helped.”

  Suddenly, the six weeks without Pete didn’t seem so bad. Niko needed a break from the drama. His whole family did.

  Bonnie insisted on buying the celebration dinner. In the parking lot, Teddy hugged her, then hugged Niko, before getting into his older sister’s car and motoring off into the traffic.

  That left Niko alone with Bonnie by her car. They stood in silence for a second, before she embraced him, their bodies melting together. Her perfume was stronger, and she was far less sweaty than she had been the night of their first date. She kissed his neck, then kissed his ear, before giving his lobe a little lick. “Now we’re even. You kissed my ear, and now I’ve kissed yours. We’ll get to lips at some point.”

  She stepped away. Her face was flushed.

  He was having trouble breathing. His body vibrated from the contact with her. He looked fearlessly into her eyes, trying to figure out a way to ask her for a kiss, a real kiss.

  She gave him a juicy smile. It was like she was radiating energy, only it wasn’t cold, no, it was hot to the touch.

  “Tonight?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I want to kiss you. Say no, it’s fine, but you need to know what I want.” The words felt daring, but he wasn’t ashamed.

  Her eyes went to the side. Her mouth hung open. Those lips, those full, red lips. “If we waited, it would be hotter.”

  Niko didn’t think so. “I don’t think I can get any hotter than I am right now.”

  “Then what are you waiting for?” She stood next to her car, her eyes smoky, her chest rising and falling.

  He crossed the distance to her, took her in his arms, took a last smell of her, and then kissed her. She drank him in, pulling him in even as he pressed against her. When he kissed her soft neck, she moaned. “If we don’t stop now, we never, ever will. How far do you want to go?”

  It took a minute to hear what she was saying. Thinking was hard, if not impossible. How far did he want to go?

  Then a wave of cold struck him, sudden, abrupt. The sweat on her skin iced over. She laughed. “Had to cool you off for a second. You weren’t answering my question, and I didn’t want to take advantage of you.”

  Already the transparent ice on her face was melting. And those eyes, so full of life, smiling as widely as her lips.

  He couldn’t say a word. Why weren’t they kissing?

  She slid her cold cheek against his. Yet underneath that cold, he felt her warmth. “Let’s wait for now. The anticipation will be delicious.” She turned, licked his skin, and then ducked under his arm.

  She swayed. His eyes drank in every curve.

  “Well, now, Nikodemus Kowalczyk, you do know how to show a lady a good time.”

  “Bye, Bonnie.”

  She threw him a kiss, which he caught.

  As he watched her drive away, he remembered how her body felt against his, how she smelled, how she tasted. And how brave he’d been, looking her right in the eye and asking for what he wanted.

  Back in his room, Niko did his routine. He got out his meditation mat, sat down, crossed his legs, and then took twelve puffs off the vape pen.

  It had been one of the best nights of his life. Silencing his mind had never been easier. Cycling his prana through his body felt simple now. It wasn’t like he’d forgotten about Bonnie. On the contrary, it felt like she was in the room. He could smell her on his clothes. Their lives were coming together, like two streams joining to become a river.

  The way felt open, his path clear. All he had to do was conquer one pebble at a time. Sooner or later, he’d reach the peak.

  But what did success mean to him?

  It was a question to ponder. And he had the idea he’d spend the rest of his life trying to figure out his own answer.

  The Power Dinner

  MONIQUE COULD’VE TAKEN the bus to Sauzalito to meet with Barton Hennessey, or she could’ve biked. Instead, Aleksy agreed to take her, using a SoulFire company car. She had to talk to him anyway. It was going to be a busy evening.

  Monique had sold her own car. It made sense. She didn’t have to pay for the upkeep, she didn’t have to pay for parking, and she didn’t mind public transportation. She liked watching the people. And she didn’t need to worry about her safety. Some days she ran into work, and she had her bike if she needed to get there quick. She had a private bathroom, including a shower. It required extra packing and planning. However, she needed the money to pay the nurses taking care of Logan.

  Logan’s unfailing routine was calming. Feeding him oatmeal seemed like a blessing most days. On the days that it didn’t, she let go of the negative thoughts.

  Still no news on who had stolen her life savings. She also let that go, though it was harder. Not that she missed the money. She simply wanted to satisfy her curiosity. That would be an indulgence at this point. Her deadlines were far more important. She had to find the shadow man and his new partner, the anaconda daemon, and they weren’t anywhere near Fort Tahoe anymore. Were they heading west? It seemed so. And the clock was ticking.

  The Grand Tournament, March of next year, would be here before she knew it. And the executives made it clear she needed to field a team that could win the Triple Crown: the Unum, the Triumvirate, and the full Zodiac.

  She could kill two birds with one stone by meeting with Hennessey. She could get a sense of any up-and-comers and also get some information on his revolutionizing the BCBA cons. She knew money was involved, but she wanted to know what kind of talent was involved.

  Besides, it was good to keep near the action—she needed her feet on the ground.

  Aleksy drove her across the Red Gate into Sauzalito and found parking near the café where Barton wanted to meet. It was on the Bay, with a view of downtown Bay City. The view was both stunning and expensive.

  Monique brought a small bag with her, an ice pack in the top, keeping the contents cool.

  Aleksy opened the door for her. “I can wait with the car, Ms. Lamb.” He corrected himself. “Monique. Sorry.”

  She got out and slammed the door. “Apology not accepted. You can come, but remember the lengthy NDA you signed. No posting on social media. Let’s get this dinner over with, then you and me can talk about Fort Tahoe. I read your report. I appreciate your ability to be vague yet convincing.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I’d like to talk to you about it. I have so many questions.”

  “I have answers. They will be vague and unconvincing. Honesty is such a messy affair. Come on.” She led him across the parking lot. “I don’t know if you are an aficionado of ass-kissing. If you are, then you are in for a treat. I would imagine there will also be a great deal of lying. We live in a time of great moral decay.” She laughed at herself. “Though I’m assuming that’s what every human has ever said about the world ever. So we’re in good company.”

  He laughed politely.

  “There you have it. That will be Hennessey, except more money will be involved.”

  The hostess walked them over to a table at the very edge. Three candles flickered in glass vases. All the other tables had one. Of course, Hennessey would grab some because SoulFire had the three-flame logo. The night was cool, the air salty from the bay. The scented candles gave off a subtle perfume.

  Barton stood, tall and thin, with a healthy glow on his pointed face. Monique did introductions. The agent shook Aleksy’s hand uncertainly and tried to pull Monique in for a hug. As if men and women should hug, yet men with men c
ould only touch hands, briefly and firmly. Monique stopped him and shook his hand, and they all sat down.

  “Kowalczyk?” Barton asked. “You don’t happen to be related to Niko Black, are you?”

  “I am.” Aleksy looked rather dashing in his suit and tie—dashing in an uncomfortable way. “He’s my brother.”

  Barton smiled. “So, Monique, did you bring the brother in to twist my arm to represent Niko?”

  “No. I needed a ride. Aleksy and I are comrades-in-arms. I’m working on business stuff, outside of my normal Battle Artist duties, and he’s been helping. Is this a problem?” Monique knew even if it was, Barton would shine her on.

  Barton’s smile didn’t waver. “Well, any friend of Niko’s is a friend of mine.”

  “I said brother, not friend,” Aleksy said a bit stiffly.

  “Aleksy is a trustworthy sort.” Monique lifted her glass. “A toast. To the Bay City Battle Artists.”

  They clicked glasses.

  “The BCBA is doing some exciting things, Monique,” Barton said.

  Before he could elaborate, the server came. Barton ordered the sushi plate, Aleksy did the same, while Monique didn’t order a thing. She patted her cooler bag. “I brought my own dinner. I hope that’s okay.”

  The server, an older man, nodded. “Yes, Ms. Lamb.” He withdrew.

  “You were going to pay, weren’t you, Barton?” Monique asked. “If not, Aleksy has his corporate card. I wanted to save SoulFire some money, and I’m recently short on funds.”

  Barton didn’t know how to take any of that, obviously. No one at her level ever should’ve admitted any sort of weakness. That was what was expected. Chief Battle Artists should be filthy rich and show it at every turn.

  Monique didn’t have time for such theatrics. And because she was relatively important in the world, the restaurant would let her have a picnic.

  Barton found his cool. “That’s fine, Monique. And if you need a few dollars, I could help out.”

  “I think the limit is twenty-five dollars.” Monique motioned to Aleksy. “You remember our compliance training, right? We can’t have bribery.”

  “Not a bribe,” Barton said.

  Aleksy had a quizzical look on his face. “There is a twenty-five-dollar limit on gifts.”

  “So I hope your sushi is under the limit.” Monique laughed. “Now, let’s talk about the BCBA and the cons you’re sponsoring.”

  Barton equivocated. “I’m not sponsoring a thing. I’m lending my name, and the name of my agency, but it’s not like I’m throwing in money. What have you heard, exactly?”

  “That you are pitting your Premiers Critique Group against each other. And now you are putting together matches against the Unrepresented. It’s a lot of flash, Barton. I thought you were more into fire than flash.” She caught the appreciative look on his face. “Yes, I did read your book. I liked it. The Art of the Inner Warrior has sold well, which makes SoulFire look good.”

  Barton lowered his head. “Well, thank you. Here’s the thing, the BCBA should be a Division Four qualifier. We got the League’s approval. We’re just drumming up publicity. Does SoulFire have a problem with that?”

  “SoulFire doesn’t. We want to win the Triple Crown in the Grand Tournament next year, and we like the talent you bring us, for the most part.” Monique pinned him down with her gaze. “However, my fellow executives were afraid you were using SoulFire to play your games. That we can’t allow. Personally, I think pitting critique group members against each other is cruel.”

  “Survival of the fittest,” Barton said. “You know how the game works.”

  “Darwinism is fine when talking about catfish and crawdads. But people are stronger together when they are encouraged to work together.” Monique didn’t relax her fiery gaze. “Let’s just say, for me, how you bring us talent is as important as who you bring. If not more so.”

  Barton smiled and looked away. “I get your message, Monique. I understand.”

  “I’m feeling a ‘however’ lingering,” Monique said. “Do you smell that, Aleksy? Yes, it’s the raw scent of a big but.”

  The sushi plates came. Monique unpacked her bag, removing a plastic container of rice, a container of cold vegetables, and some Korean fish cake. She used the chopsticks at the table.

  Both the men began to eat.

  Barton bought a bottle of expensive white wine. “Here’s my big but, Monique. It’s the drama, the theatrics of the situation. That is what is drawing people to the matches. We live in a time of reality television. I have clients being actively recruited to be on True Battles. That show is killing America Sings! in the ratings.”

  Monique nodded to Aleksy. “What did I say about great moral decay?”

  “That all civilizations have it,” Aleksy replied.

  Monique liked a guy who hit his cues. “Barton, here’s what I don’t want. I don’t want the BCBA to become a shark tank.”

  “Great show,” the agent said, smiling. “But go on.”

  “Actually, you and Andrew are going to do whatever you want with the BCBA. It has its ups and downs. Sometimes it’s great, sometimes it kills careers, and sometimes it’s just white noise. I don’t want anyone to ever think that SoulFire gets its Battle Artists through savage recruitment practices.”

  Aleksy mumbled something.

  Both turned to look at him.

  His eyes darted around, as furtive as furtive could be. “I didn’t mean to say anything. I’m just the driver after all. But come on, Monique, it’s always been that way. It’s savage. It’s dog eat dog. We’re talking about Battle Artists.”

  “I’m liking this guy!” Barton said a bit too loudly. Heads turned. “He’s right, Monique. We’re just trying to make the best of a bad situation.”

  Monique wasn’t about to back down. “No mentioning SoulFire. No more promises of getting in with us. No use of our logo unless you go through my department. We don’t have an exclusive contract. We work with you to represent talent, but if I think there is any abuse of power, I will work with other agents. Or I’ll work with the Unrepresented directly. Notice, I didn’t use the word ‘we.’ I said ‘I.’ The Arts, in the end, aren’t about battle. The Arts are about peace.”

  Barton was smart enough not to argue. “Yes, Monique. Yes, I totally understand. If I’ve overstepped my bounds, I apologize.”

  Monique let go of her anger. She smiled at Aleksy. “And here I thought you were on my side. Dog eat dog? You are right. But there’s more to it than that.”

  The rest of the dinner went well. They chatted about Barton’s clients, possible teams for the Grand Tournament, and Andrew J. Coffey, who was winning, but his numbers weren’t as big as they once were. Barton hoped their BCBA cons would help with that.

  He never said he was getting a percentage of the box office, but Monique knew he was. And Andrew was as well. Good for them. Money wasn’t everything, unless you didn’t have any.

  Barton left them.

  Aleksy started in with the apologies. “I never meant to butt in. Monique, though, you have to know that it’s hard to make it as a Battle Artist. You must see it every day.”

  “Most days, I see numbers. I see wins, I see losses, I see So-Me likes, and I feel my beloved company breathing down my neck to make sure SoulFire is competing at an acceptable level. The actual Arts are lost.” Monique raised a hand to get the server’s attention. Now that Barton was gone, she was going to order a bit of red wine and enjoy it. Barton wasn’t going to put the brakes on his schemes. However, she’d make sure SoulFire wasn’t involved in any meaningful way. That would appease the executive team—most of them, anyway. Alvin Fujimori would be the exception. In reality, Barton had so many clients with SoulFire, they were synonymous in most people’s minds. As long as Barton never did anything blatantly illegal or stupidly questionable, there wasn’t much she could do.

  “Do you practice the actual Arts?” Aleksy asked.

  And this was what she needed to talk to him ab
out. “Aleksy, what you saw me do in Tahoe, I need to know you aren’t talking about it. It’s important.” She heard the desperation in her voice. Very few things could disrupt her serenity. This was definitely one of them. She took in a deep breath, remembered the source of all life, and rejoined the moment.

  “I signed a very lengthy NDA,” Aleksy said. “And you are in a position of power. Why would I say a word and jeopardize my situation? I’m just curious. You were using Studies from every sign. And after the fight, you weren’t even winded. You’re a Jupiter Belt, at least, which makes sense. But how rare is that anyway? You could be at the top of the League. You could... I don’t know... fight crime. We’re talking superhero levels of power.” He realized he was babbling and hushed himself.

  She wasn’t about to go into her rant about belts. Or about Battle Signs.

  She wanted to get more personal with Aleksy for some reason. “Power. Power. Power. I’m a Battle Artist. I have power. I’m the CBA at SoulFire. I have power. Power. Heroes. It’s a trap, Aleksy. It’s not the power. It’s giving up power. It’s being vulnerable.” Now she’d gone and done it. She’d have to be vulnerable with him for a moment, in hopes he’d get it. “For example, my father lives with me. He’s suffering from a kind of dementia.” She chuckled wearily. “I’m not sure he’s ever been exactly sane. Now, he’s more comatose than mean. That’s a terrible but welcome change. Logan Lamb was never stingy with his fists. Which means to say, I grew up being abused. Now I take care of him. I had to forgive him.”

  And that was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Losing the money was simple and unimportant compared to that. Hunting the shadow man was far easier.

  She thought of the daemon’s sandals—what kind of daemon had footwear? She let go of the thought. “I don’t have the power to heal my father. I don’t have the power to change him, or the past, or very much at all. But I do have the power to forgive him.”

  Aleksy wasn’t about to admit he was confused. He’d started out by talking about superheroes, and they’d ended up talking about Logan. Yet that was the nature of true power—it was simple, subtle, and easily dismissed. It was the only power that mattered.