Naked City: Tales of Urban Fantasy

“I don’t want semiautomatic weapons on my street, Alicia.” Charles motioned at the seat across from him. “I overlook a lot, but there are limits. I explained that to Boyd last week. On this, I will crush you.”

She sat and motioned for Frankie Lee to do the same. She tried the same argument that usually worked: “I don’t see why these—”

“No. Not this time. I play by the rules. That means, here and there, you’ll outmaneuver me. On this, it’s not going to be anytime soon. I overlook revolvers, but that’s where we are staying. The damage, the loss of life … I can’t explain it.” Charles looked genuinely sad, but she knew well enough that the old bastard was able to fake emotions. “You have been out of that world for years, Alicia.”

“Dead. Because you had me killed,” she corrected.

Beside her, Frankie Lee tensed, but he stayed silent.

“True.” Charles sipped his wine. “I’ll negotiate, or I’ll start killing your boys. Permanent death so as they’ll be removed from the city.”

Alicia paused. “And me?”

Charles leaned back in his seat. “I won’t kill you. You know that.”

“Again. Say it, at least. You won’t kill me again.”

“I won’t kill you again, but”—Charles glanced at Frankie Lee—“I’ll kill him, Boyd, Milt, each and every one you employ.”

Charles made a come-hither gesture.

One of her information runners, Lewis, was brought in.

“You all exist because I allow it; you can die because I prefer it. No semiautomatic weapons, Alicia. You will agree to stop pushing this matter,” Charles said softly. “Or he dies.”

She started, “I’m not going to give in because of a threat.”

Charles fixed his gaze on her and snapped his fingers. Lewis crumpled. “There are always unbreakable rules. Right now, this is one of them, and you, of all people, know that I will do what I must to enforce the unbreakable rules.”

Alicia looked at Lewis. Where do they go if they die in the land of the dead? She’d asked that question often enough, but Charles never answered. “No automatic weapons for how long?”

“You have no room to barter,” Charles said.

She suppressed a shiver at the threat in his voice. “Just checking the rules.”

“Thirty years. We can renegotiate then.”

“Thirty years,” Alicia agreed. “But you owe me a replacement, or undo what you did to Lewis.”

For a moment, Charles was silent. Then he nodded and said, “I can’t undo his death, but as a gesture of good faith, I’ll allow you to take one of the staff to replace your employee.”

Alicia kept her expression bland, but she felt the wave of sorrow that she’d been resisting. Charles had finally answered her: Some deaths apparently were even fatal enough that they were out of his reach. She’d known there were other dead cities, and hoped that those who didn’t reanimate here went to another world, a world where they were happier. She knew such worlds existed: Her own loved ones had gone on to them. She’d hoped, though, that the dead folk who were rekilled here went on to other dead worlds, but if that were the case, Charles could have undone Lewis’s death.

Lewis is dead.

Thinking about the metaphysics of living in the land of the dead made her head hurt, so she didn’t. Lewis is dead because I pushed Charles too far. The same trait that had made her good at opposing Charles, both before and after her death, got Lewis killed. Silently, Alicia walked over to the bar and accepted the drink the barmaid held out as she approached.

Behind her, Charles said, “Shall I invite my staff here, or would you deign to visit my home?”

Without looking back at him, she said, “Here.”

* * *

An hour later, Frankie Lee watched as several dozen people tromped into the room. Beside him, Alicia sat with her boots propped on the table as one of them—the only one Charles said was “off limits”—told Alicia their names and roles. Charles had cooks, maids, barmaids, singers, a personal tailor, and God knew how many other employees.

Frankie Lee tuned most of it out after the first fifteen minutes.

Finally, Alicia pointed toward a young woman. “I’ll take her.”

Charles frowned. “There are others—”

“No. Her.” Alicia folded her arms over her chest.

“She’s not suited for your sort of work, Alicia. Perhaps Steven. He’s handy with some sort of martial art, or Elizabeth … she’s an accomplished companion.” Charles gestured toward a pretty redhead.

“No.”

“Why?” Charles asked.

The smile Alicia offered was as frightening as her glare. “I’m a good judge of character. You softened at the sight of her.”

Charles frowned at Alicia. “What kind of job do you have for a singer?”

“I’m sure I’ll find a good use for her.” Alicia’s boots thunked to the floor as she stood. “I expect her and Boyd delivered to the inn.”

Frank felt a twinge of worry for the girl, as apparently did Charles. However, Charles merely inclined his head slightly and then walked out.

Once Charles and his people had all left, Alicia glanced at Frankie Lee. “Let’s go.”

“What will you do with her?” he asked.

Alicia leaned as close as she could get without her lips touching his and whispered, “Don’t ask questions I don’t feel like answering.”

He hadn’t ever been intimidated by much, but he knew when to have a healthy respect for a predator. Alicia was definitely on the predator list, and maybe her attitude should intimidate him. She’d shot him when he walked in her door, shot up the tavern, and in general, seemed pretty quick on the trigger. Frank could hear his mother’s voice in his memories: Don’t poke a rattler, Francis. No matter how contrary you’re feeling. Good sense keeps a person alive. He grinned. He was already dead now, and by the way Alicia had reacted to Lewis’s death, Frank was pretty sure that the permanent sort of death was rare.

“I suspect you’re aiming to intimidate me. I probably should step back, but”—Frank stood up, invading her space as he did so—“I’ve grown up with hard-ass women. Tell me what you have in mind for the girl, please?”

“Charles likes her. He won’t strike her easily, and I’ve been thinking about ways to spruce up the inn. He’s a pushover for music, so she must be good. We cater to a … rougher crowd, so it’s a high- risk spot. I can’t lure his favorites away, but this time…” Alicia shrugged. “She can work at my inn, and she’ll be safe because Charles is fond of her and, aside from the people who work for me, no one crosses him.”

“Smart.” Frank smiled at her, and they walked toward the door. “I think I’ll like working for you.”

“Who says you’re hired?”

Frank opened the door. “All the same, I might as well walk back that way.”

Alicia laughed, and together they crossed the weird city in comfortable silence. Once the General Store was in view, she linked her arm with his. “You did good work.”

“Thank you, Alicia.”

She stopped in the street. “I guess you ought to go home.”

“Home?”

Alicia gestured at the inn across the street. An unknown man stood at the door watching them. “Milt will give you a key to whichever room’s yours. It’s not fancy, but it’s ours.”

“Ours,” Frank repeated.

“I do try to take care of what’s mine, Frankie Lee.”

“I’m sorry about Lewis.”

She nodded. “You might get truly killed working for me. I’ll need to be telling the rest of the boys later, but