Monique sprinted toward him. Something serpentine lashed out at her. She floated above the daemon snake, which was trying to entangle feet. Again, the two were working in tandem. An impossibility.
The shadow man was more distinct now. Not only did he have sandals, but he also had a layered skirt with a definite ancient world allure to it. Roman? Greek? Earlier?
She wasn’t sure. Either more shadows, or a cloak, hung off his shoulders.
It launched itself off the steps. A fist formed, with rings, definite rings on fingers. It had grown fingers.
Monique dodged the first punch, then the second. She drove a fist into the face of the chochlik. She felt a presence on the other side of her knuckles.
“Monique, I’m set up,” Aleksy said. That meant he had the altered Whitney, and this was their chance. Aleksy drew in a breath. “Pete, no.”
Monique had a second to wonder who Pete was, and then, she remembered. The other brother. The young man. He was lying in the bodies in the living room.
Then she was ducking punches and trying not to trip on the snake’s coils. If it grabbed her, if she went down, she knew the shadow man wouldn’t miss that opportunity to hurt her.
“Aleksy, now is the time.”
But he wasn’t moving. Seeing his brother had frozen him.
The shadow man hissed at her. She heard it, and it sounded almost like words. She felt the attack in her prana, a Third Study, Erosion, Negation Pinch. It hurt, and she had to back away. She put up her Luna Fourth Study, Prana Protection, to keep its fingers out of her core.
Her prana ticked lower, and her implants gave her the percentage, but she was in the upper eighty percent.
This thing wasn’t just raw prana, there was a definite sign to it—another impossibility. The snake slithered out the door, eliciting more screams. No one out there was sober enough to use a Whitney, and they had probably hawked every containment unit they had. Too bad. A level-five cambion like that could keep them in prank for months on end.
Poor junkies, their plight caused her great concern. Ha.
The shadow man whirled around her, hissed again, and then disappeared through the wall.
Monique snatched up Aleksy’s Whitney and raced outside. “Did anyone see where it went?”
“It’s dark. It’s a shadow. Maybe west.” The prankster offering help wasn’t helping.
Again, she’d lost the thing. But it was becoming something, something not exactly daemon and not quite human.
She marched back inside. Police sirens wailed behind her.
Aleksy held his thin, dirty, drug-addicted brother in his arms “He’s alive. Some of these people aren’t.”
Monique so wanted to make a dark joke, but she kept her tongue still. They had another murder on their hands. This wasn’t good. SoulFire had been able to keep a lid on the first set of Devil’s Edge murders, but there was no way they could keep this quiet. She wouldn’t let them even if they tried.
And once the government and the law enforcement agencies got their intelligence on the daemon, every other corporation, plus scrappers looking for the paycheck of a lifetime, would be coming after the chochlik.
She’d failed for the last time. And if Aleksy’s brother died, it would be her fault.
The Kitchen
NIKO STOOD WITH HIS back to the sink, arms folded. Mamo and Aleksy sat at the little kitchen table.
At three in the morning, if you’re talking about something in the kitchen, things are not good. Niko thought there was a song about that, about being in a kitchen at midnight, with everything falling apart. It might as well have been about his family.
Aleksy had dropped Pete off at South Valley Medical’s detox center. His brother had called them after the fact, to let them know. Mamo had pleaded with him to come and tell the whole story. The internet news streams blazed with headlines about more murders in the Devil’s Edge. This time, there were details about a rogue daemon, kept secret by SoulFire. And at the center of the controversy? Monique Lamb. She’d come out in an interview that very night.
Aleksy didn’t talk much about the daemon attack, nothing about Monique, nothing on how much SoulFire knew about the entity. He did let it slip it might be something unique. Pete had been passed out, nearly dead, when the thing attacked. Ironically, his prank addiction might have saved his life. Four had been wounded. Three killed.
Mamo drank decaf coffee from a chipped cup with faded blue flowers on it. Lots of Splenda and non-dairy creamer. Tato was sleeping. He’d woken up, heard the news, sighed heavily, and said he was an old man, and he couldn’t stay awake. Was that an excuse or the truth? Maybe he just didn’t want to have his heart broken anymore. Pete had a way of doing that.
Aleksy sat with his arms crossed. “They said they would detox him for three days. They have a recovery program. Is Pete still on your insurance?”
“Yes.” Mamo set her cup on her saucer with a clink.
Niko had heard that sound a million times in his life.
Aleksy nodded. “If there are any other expenses, I can help pay.” His tired eyes darkened his face. He wouldn’t have to work the next day. He had paid time off.
Not Niko. Owning your own business didn’t come with such perks.
“We’ll deal with it.” The words came out sharper than Niko intended.
Mamo flashed him a disapproving look.
Aleksy closed his eyes. “Why wouldn’t you want my help?”
That was a question Niko had a thousand answers for. They all boiled down to the fact that Aleksy had left them and only came around for Sunday dinner, more out of a sense of obligation than anything else.
Mamo must’ve seen the expression on Niko’s face, and knew that any answer would lead to shouting. “We will discuss this later, Aleksy. But we could use your help.”
Aleksy scratched at a stain on the table. “Not just about Pete. You need help with the business. Because Niko is finally making it as a Battle Artist.”
The one word, finally¸ hit Niko the wrong way. As if it was something that might not have happened at all. “Mamo, we’re fine. The deal with Fright Night is off. Andrew J. Coffey isn’t going to be fighting any of us. Barton said he’d find someone else. I’m not holding my breath. He got what he wanted.”
“He got you to concede the BCBA match. Is that right?” Aleksy asked.
“I’m surprised you know about that,” Niko said.
That brought a shrug from his brother. “Monique knows about it. She tracks a lot, and she knows your name, Niko. That is huge.”
SoulFire’s CBA was talking about him? The news stunned Niko silent.
“I’m glad that Teddy is going to be okay.” Aleksy finally got the gumption to look Niko in the eye. “But you’re going to need someone to cover on-call.”
Niko wasn’t sure what was in that look. Was it an offer to come back and help? Or was he simply stating a fact? “We won’t. The Sages are over. Evelyn quit. Pax’s core was cracked in the fight. It’ll be months until he can cycle, if he can cycle at all.”
Niko had messaged back and forth with Pax that day, and while the big guy made jokes, he was in a bad way. He was going to have to take a leave of absence, and the California Department of Transportation had jobs a lot of people wanted. His insurance would cover him, but his career was jeopardy. He couldn’t work if he couldn’t access prana to help fix roads with his Masonry Studies.
“What about another critique group?” Aleksy asked.
“The Sages weren’t a critique group, exactly. It was more than that. I can’t go back to the Premiers. I don’t even want to. Find another one? No. I think I’m done again.”
“Again.” Aleksy shook his head. “You’ve got to stop quitting. You have to find a way, Niko. I know you think surrendering makes you some kind of wise man, but sometimes you can’t surrender. Sometimes you have to fight.”
“When did you ever have to fight?” Niko felt the heat of his anger. Hating Aleksy had become such a habit, letti
ng it go wasn’t going to be easy. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to.
Mamo watched them, eyes going from face to face, her sons, once again, digging new grooves into the well-worn tracks of their resentment.
“All the time, Niko,” Aleksy said. “You think I live this perfect life at SoulFire. I don’t. You think I don’t feel guilty for leaving the family business? You’re wrong. I want... I want you to succeed. I want to help.”
“What does that look like?” Niko heard himself nearly yell the question. He didn’t want that. Yet, he was losing control. “You’re not going to leave SoulFire, so you can’t do shit to help us.”
“Language!” Mamo snapped.
Aleksy slammed a hand on the table. “I don’t know. But I would like to talk about it. Can you do that? No, probably not. You like it this way. You hit a problem, and you want to give up. Well, fine, give up. Then it won’t matter.”
Tato came into the kitchen in his pajamas, hair wild, his face red. “I will not have you two fighting in front of your mother. I will not have you two going at each other while your brother is in the hospital. If you can’t be civil, then you both should leave.”
Niko’s father was easygoing until he hit a certain line, and then he laid down the law. That was how it had been growing up, when Niko was a kid. Now he was a grown man, working for a business he didn’t want, and yet, Aleksy’s words hit hard. He wasn’t wrong. That made it worse and made Niko angrier.
He kept his voice even. “Tato, it’s fine. You’re right. We were getting too loud.”
Aleksy stood. “I’ll leave. We’ll figure out Pete first.” He looked like he had something else to say. Instead, he moved around the table, gave Mamo a kiss on the cheek, and then walked over to give his father a long hug. “Sorry, Tato. You know how Niko and I get.”
“Yes, well, yes,” the old man gruffed. “I’ll walk you down.”
Before he left, Aleksy gave Niko another cryptic look. What did his brother want to say? Then the moment was gone.
Aleksy gave him a nod, then went down the steps with their father.
Mamo’s cup clinked on the saucer. “Your brother means well. He feels bad. We’ve talked. And yet, tonight, he did want to help. Maybe you don’t want it. To be clear, I do. I want my sons to be happy. Peter might never be. Maybe that is why he likes the drugs. Aleksy is trying to be happy. But you, Niko, what would make you happy? To be a Battle Artist?”
It was another way of asking how he would measure success.
He thought of Danette, struggling, fighting, creating a career for herself out of nothing at all. He thought of the BCBA, Barton Hennessey and Andrew J. Coffey, and their games. He thought of the other Premiers and their mad grab for every single opportunity, large or small.
There was madness, chaos, and greed at every turn.
Then he thought of the crowds, the nervous thrill of walking across the tiles, and the feeling of the fight, the sweat and strategy. It felt right. It felt like what he was meant to do. He could get that part-time, do little cons, and that might be enough for him. It would scratch that itch.
In some ways, however, only doing MudCons felt small, as small as quitting.
“I don’t know, Mamo. Maybe that’s why I’m so quick to give it up. The Arts make me happy, and they make me miserable, and I can’t tell which is which most of the time. More than anything, the Arts feel... relentless.”
Mamo chuckled. “And you know, I say, a dream is a terrible, wonderful, powerful thing. Maybe it should feel relentless. This business is the same for me. I think, sometimes, that Tato and I could get jobs somewhere else, working for someone else, even as old as we are. We could close the business. We could be free of it. Then I know, we can’t. We have our customers. We have our life. You make that possible. We don’t thank you enough. But thank you.”
Tato climbed up the stairs. The wood complained at his weight. He stepped into the kitchen. “You two. You are not yelling. If you need me, I am here. But I would much rather be in my bed.”
“We are fine,” Mamo said. “Just talking. Another late night. More trouble. But I thanked Niko for giving us our life and our business. It’s because of him. Maybe it shouldn’t be.”
Tato frowned. “Please, Mamo, it is very late. Or early, rather. Can we talk about this tomorrow? After we’ve slept?”
Mamo smiled a sad, knowing smile. “We won’t. We’ll take calls. We’ll have someone walk in with a broken phone. And we won’t talk about it. It is too easy not to talk about. That is what we have done for five years. We didn’t talk about Peter, and look where he has ended up. Let’s talk about it now. Niko needs time. He needs this terrible dream.”
“We can hire someone. On temporary basis.” Tato nodded. “He has sacrificed too much for us. Now is the time for us to give to him. We might need to take out a loan. But let us try.”
His parents fell quiet. They were looking at each other, their minds working. And Niko realized it wasn’t for the first time. He’d not witnessed it before, yet he knew this discussion wasn’t new.
All this time, he thought they took it for granted that he would work the business. That didn’t seem like the case.
Niko had a lot to consider. “Let me think about this. Mamo, I wasn’t kidding. I don’t have the Sages anymore, and I don’t have a big fight coming up. I appreciate you guys trying to come up with an alternate plan, but at this stage, I’m not sure I need it.”
“It is good for you to fight,” Tato said.
“Why?” Niko knew his father was always gung-ho about the Arts, but he never knew why.
Tato nodded. “It is what you love. In this world, we must do many things we don’t love. When I see you fight, I see the intensity, the passion in your eyes. And it pleases me. That is why.”
It gave Niko even more to think about. He went and kissed his mother on the cheek, then hugged his father, just like Aleksy had done. He retreated to his room.
Everything in him wanted to go to bed. He got out his meditation mat and vape pen, and he got on the floor, crossing his legs.
He inhaled the mist twelve times, then worked his way through the Duodecim twelve times. When he hit his mattress, it was a little past four. He’d get up to open the shop at eight thirty. One nice thing about running their own business was they could open the door, then make coffee, eat breakfast, and take it easy.
There were a ton of benefits.
His body was tired, but his mind went through the night and the kitchen talks. Aleksy offering to help. His parents offering to help. Then he drifted back to his breakup with Bonnie. She just wanted him to open up to her. She wasn’t asking for anything unreasonable. He thought of Teddy in the hospital bed, his family around him, worrying.
He thought of Coffey’s message, threatening to destroy Niko’s career.
Lastly, he could see Danette, her intensity, her passion, her wisdom. He wondered about her story. He wanted to talk to her. He’d been in his head too long. It was time to put his own drama aside and listen to what the world wanted of him.
He knew the truth immediately. It wanted him to fight.
The Mother
“I WASN’T SURE YOU’D come.” Danette sat on the wood of the front porch seat. Her house was as closed up as it had been on that first night he’d ridden up on his bike.
The Pig was parked in the driveway. He gripped his phone in his hand. He was on call, but unlike with the Premiers, he wasn’t a bike and train ride away. If he got a call, he could answer it and drive to wherever he needed to be.
“It’s Tuesday night. Where else would I be?” Niko asked. His mind was sluggish from lack of sleep, and his eyes felt like they were full of dust.
And yet, it was good to see the woman, in her Artist robes, her short hair falling back from her thick face.
“Where else would you be?” She pointed at the phone. “Working. Teddy is doing better. Pax told me he’d talked to you.”
Niko leaned against the splintery white paint of
the railing. “Pax sounds good. He made some jokes, but I don’t know how honest he’s being with me.”
Danette raised her face to him. “Pax has the man thing. The worse he is doing, the braver the face he’ll show you.”
“Any word from Evelyn?” Niko asked.
“None.” Danette forced out a sigh. “She hasn’t called me. I haven’t called her. It’s what she wants. I have hope that she’ll come around eventually. It was an accident.”
“We’ve been having a lot of those recently. Car accidents. Accidents on the tiles. And then my brother Pete is nearly killed. Lots of accidents.” Niko switched gears. “Do you think Barton will find another Artist for us to fight at Fright Night?”
She shrugged. “He doesn’t need to. We conceded the fight, so the BCBA’s support of traditional Artists remains untarnished. We could go after his integrity.” She chuckled, part merry, part mean. “If he had any.”
“So what do we do?”
Danette stood. “What else? We train. You did something to Marjory. I want to see if you could do the same thing to me. Tonight. If you can do a Radiance Fourth Study, that will give you a definite edge. Inversion is powerful, especially when it’s unexpected.”
“I’m close to a Venus Belt,” Niko agreed. “Wochick’s tinctures and vapes have helped me. More than that, the training I’ve done with the Sages has opened my mind.”
“That’s what I want to hear. So, let’s go.” Danette walked off the porch.
Niko stayed where he was. “I want to hear your story, Danette. If you tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”
Danette turned away. “That won’t help us. My story is very uninteresting.”
“I need to hear it.” Niko spoke to the woman’s back.
She let out a long breath and returned to her seat. She patted the wood. “Come and sit, then. I can feel how churned up you are. These past days haven’t been easy on you.”
Sages of the Underpass Page 32