Nocturnal: A Novel

Rex didn’t have to worry about her anymore.

Or Oscar Woody.

Or Jay Parlar.

Rex drew. He drew Alex Panos. He drew Issac Moses.

Rex didn’t know how it worked, but he didn’t have to. Oscar and Jay were dead. Issac and Alex would be next.

He’d skipped school again. He wasn’t ever going back.

Rex drew.

An Offer Aggie Can’t Refuse

Hands shook Aggie James awake.

He was old, recovering from addiction, hadn’t slept worth a crap in days, but there was no grogginess, no confusion.

He knew exactly where he was.

He knew what the hands meant.

The masked men had come for him.

Aggie jerked upright, his threadbare blanket flying away, his hands waving about in total panic without direction or purpose. He started to scream, but only managed to take in a big breath before a hand smacked him in the face, smacked him hard, snapping his head back as he fell to his ass. The room spun. His face stung like someone had pressed a hot iron against it. He blinked a few times, feet automatically pushing him away, sliding his butt across the floor until his back hit the white wall.

A flash of pink fabric with white spots, a hand clamping on the back of his head, another across his mouth. He smelled household cleaners and faded smoke. In an instant, he registered her raw power — her hands were steel skeletons covered with warm flesh, hands that could snap his neck with no effort at all.

Aggie stopped struggling. He stared at the old woman who held his head tight.

“You be quiet,” Hillary whispered. A pink scarf with the white polka dots covered her thin gray hair. The scarf’s tied ends dangled below her chin. So many wrinkles on that face. Aggie thought about striking out, but she held him so hard he couldn’t move his head, couldn’t even open his mouth.

“You be quiet. I can kill you, easy-peasy, you understand?”

“Mm-mm,” Aggie said.

“Good,” she said. “Tomorrow night, we come for the Chinaman.”

She turned his head so he could see the Chinaman, who was sound asleep.

“I let you go now,” she said. “You make any trouble for me, they will take you instead. Understand?”

“Mm-mmm,” Aggie said.

She let go of his head, but her face stayed close to his. “After the ouvriers come for the Chinaman, I will come for you. I will show you what happens if you do not do what I ask.”

Aggie shivered, both in fear and in hope. “You mean … you mean maybe I don’t die?”

Hillary nodded. “Maybe. If you do what I say.”

Aggie nodded violently. “Anything,” he whispered. “Anything you want. What do I gotta do?”

She stood and stared down at him. “You help save the life of a king,” she said. “You do this, maybe you live.”

She walked away. Aggie couldn’t stop shivering. He’d resigned himself to a brutal end where those freakish masked men dragged him out of the cell. But now, her words allowed a sliver of hope to pierce his soul. He gently fingered his jaw. It was already swelling.

Maybe he could get out of this insane dungeon.

Maybe … maybe he could live.

All he had to do was help save a king.

BMB, B & P Trade Notes

Pookie watched Bryan shovel a forkful of chocolate-chip pancakes into his mouth. Before even chewing, syrup still dripping from his beard, Bryan also crammed in two full strips of bacon.

“Yeah, Bryan,” Pookie said. “Now I see why a hot piece of ass like Robin Hudson can’t stay away from you. It’s the charm.”

“Fa you,” Bryan said, chewing with his mouth open.

“And dirty talk, too? You’re the total package, Clauser.”

Bryan grabbed a piece of toast with his right hand, smashed it into a ball and shoved the whole thing into his mouth.

“So sexy,” Pookie said. “Are you still sick?”

Bryan nodded, then shook his head. He took a big sip of coffee to wash down the obscenely huge mouthful of food. “I still hurt all over, but not as bad,” he said after a big swallow. “I’m not feverish anymore. I think I’m over it, whatever it is. Man, I’m so hungry.”

“Eat all you want, little fella, as long as you don’t hurl on me.”

Bryan answered by shoveling in more pancakes, more bacon, and another balled-up piece of toast.

Pookie felt a sense of relief. Bryan was clearly feeling better. He still looked tired and pale, but the spark had returned to his eyes. He really had to trim that beard, though. Despite the improvement, Bryan still wasn’t back to normal. Pookie wondered if normal was something Bryan could ever be again. Hell, had he ever been normal? Still, an alert Bryan was the Bryan that Pookie needed. The case wasn’t going to solve itself.

Pookie heard the roar of a motorcycle engine approaching. The sound lowered to a gurgle as a purple Harley pulled up outside. The driver backed it into a parking space, then took off a dark-purple helmet to reveal the bony face and mottled, bald head of one Black Mr. Burns.

“That bike looks awesome,” Bryan said. “He did that work himself?”

“I think so, yeah,” Pookie said. “The guy is great with mechanical stuff.”

“At least he’s awesome with something.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Bryan slathered red jelly on a piece of toast and shrugged. “You and he went through the same shit. I don’t see you driving a desk.”

The comment pissed Pookie off and also stirred up his guilty feelings. Bryan was being dismissive of a friend and former partner. That made Bryan a dick. Pookie was probably an even bigger dick, because as much as he hated to admit it, sometimes he felt the same way about John.

“The guy got shot,” Pookie said.

“So did you,” Bryan said. “You’re out there every day, walking the line.”

Pookie didn’t really have an answer for that. “What the fuck do you want the man to do, Bryan? If he could be out there, he’d be out there.”

Bryan shrugged again, ate half the toast. “He’s drawing the same salary as you,” he said as he chewed. “Same salary as me.”

“Yeah, because he earned it,” Pookie said. “Here he comes, so shut up about this, you got it?”

Bryan crammed the rest of the toast in his mouth and nodded.

John’s dark purple motorcycle jacket matched his helmet. Both items looked fresh off the rack, but Pookie knew John had bought them about four years ago.

John started to slide into the booth next to Bryan, but Pookie stopped him.

“Hold on there, BMB. I think you should sit on this side, with me. Bryan is getting his grub on.”

John looked at the three empty plates of food, as well as the crumbs dangling from Bryan’s fuzzy beard. “I guess so.”

Pookie slid over as his former partner slid in. John’s gaze flicked to all corners of the diner, lingered on every