“Yeah, pretty much.”
I COME OUT of a shadow by the anime section in Max Overload. It startles two kids pawing through the cutout bin where the used and extra discs get dumped for a couple of bucks each. They look at me, more surprised than scared. I grab a couple of handfuls of movies and give them to each kid. “Take ’em and go home. Stay there and don’t let anyone in. Things are going to get weird.” I walk them to the door so none of the counter people tries to stop them. “We’re closing early,” I tell the closest kid working the registers. He’s a pale pretty boy with a lopsided haircut that hangs over one eye. He’s wearing a T-shirt that says THE GOVERNMENT KILLED TUPAC AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY T-SHIRT. I’ve never seen him before. “Let these people take the damned movies. Just get them out of here. Then you and the rest of the crew take off. You’ll get paid for a full shift. If you’re smart you’ll go home. If you go somewhere make sure you know where all the exits are. Lock up on the way out.” He just looks at me. “Who the hell are you?” “I own the place.” He turns to the guy working the other register. “Is he for real?” The second kid glances at me. “Yeah.” “Cool.” I head upstairs as guy two whispers to guy one. They don’t know that my hearing is better than theirs. “I told you about him. He’s Mr. Kasabian’s boyfriend. Did you see all those scars? They never leave upstairs. No one knows what they do up there all day, but there’s always bloody, torn-up clothes in the trash.” When I’m upstairs I lock the door. “The revenuers onto you selling moonshine?” I drag the bedside table over and wedge it under the doorknob. Get my lead out of the top drawer and sketch shield circles on the door and table. “What’s going on, man?” I open the closet that’s Kasabian’s bedroom. “I know that running your board is most of the hoodoo you’re into these days, but can you use anything else in here, like a weapon or some antispirit rune stones?” “What are you talking about? What’s going on?” I sit on the bed, suddenly tired. “We were ambushed tonight by a load of Drifters. Brigitte got bit. I got her out and over to Vidocq’s. But most of the Drifters got out in the streets. I don’t know how many, but by morning there are going be a lot more. I’m going to be running around trying to take care of this, which means you’re going to have to look out for yourself.” “Fuck me.” I’m hot and my head is throbbing. I toss the coat, the belt, and the gun on the bed and go to the bathroom. Half my face is smeared with soot from the barbecued zeds. I run water in the sink and wash my face. Drying off, I remember the wounds on my hand. I get an Ace bandage from the medicine cabinet and wrap it up. I don’t really need to. The cuts are all scabbed over, but I learned a long time ago that hand wounds and scabby knuckles tend to make people nervous. Since it’s vaguely flesh-colored, an Ace can keep people from noticing. And it isn’t as much trouble as throwing a glamour on the hand and trying to keep it there when you’re punching people in the brain. “What are you doing in there? Talk to me.”
