“Heyja, Grif.”
“Jesse.” Grif’s heart sunk at the sight of the Centurion… then leaped when he saw the other one. “What are you doing here?”
Leaning against the wall in a black turtleneck, with combat boots poking from beneath a long flowered skirt, Courtney shot him a disinterested look, then returned her attention to the view outside the open glass door without answering. The maimed souls from the nineties had just begun trickling in from incubation, and Courtney was his district’s greenhorn.
“She’s just tagging along,” Jesse offered, shoving hands in pockets that flared almost as wide as the wings on his back. Parachute pants, Grif remembered. Offed in the eighties, the kid had gotten stuck with the rawest deal in fashion history.
“I have some time before my next Take,” Courtney countered coolly, because the only thing she hated more than talking was Jesse talking for her.
Finally, Grif’s gaze landed on the old man crumpled on the kitchen’s linoleum floor, blood pooling around his head from the back half of his skull, which had been caved in with an equally blood-soaked rolling pin. Grif’s shoulders slumped. “God. Tony, I’m sorry.”
Tony, already in the first stage of his plasmatic fade, sidled up to him. “You kidding? I’m relieved. I don’t have to walk around in that broken-down flesh no more. Who knew my arthritis was acting up that much?” He rolled his shoulders, then shrugged. “Guess you just get used to things, huh? They sneak up on you over the years, and pretty soon you forget you ever knew any different.”
Shaking his head as he stared at his destroyed body, he then turned to Grif, bushy brows arrowing up. “Hey, did you know you have wings?”
Grif shrugged. The dead, at least, saw him for who he was.
“I guess you did know,” Tony said, then jerked his head at the back door. “No wonder my dogs liked you.”
Two furry lumps could be seen through the glass door, one piled atop the other, where they’d dropped after being shot in the head. Their ephemeral forms joined Tony, one at each side, and he absently scratched them behind the ears.
“Where’s Kit?” Grif asked, swallowing hard. If she were here-if she were dead-he’d know it. He was her Centurion, after all. Plus, she’d already be at his side, probably yapping about how she knew she’d seen his wings.
“Wasn’t here when I got home,” Tony said, and Grif couldn’t help but heave a relieved sigh. So she’d fled after their fight. He’d check her house. Next to him, Tony scratched his own head. “I called to her, to you, even the dogs, but no one answered. Then, I was bent over the wine fridge, looking for a second merlot, when… when…” He looked over at Jesse. “What happened then?”
“Your head was smashed in like a rotted watermelon.”
Grif lit a stick with shaking fingers. “Jesus, Jesse.”
“That’s all right,” Tony said, putting his right arm directly through Grif’s chest as he tried to pat his back. Tony jerked back, and Grif shivered with the plasmic intrusion, and took in another grounding puff of smoke. “I guess the only real surprise was that it didn’t happen sooner. You can’t live like I did, and make as many enemies as I made, and not expect it to come back ’round.”
Nodding, Grif let that sit for a moment, and they stared together at Tony’s cooling body before Grif said what he was really thinking. “Can’t rat me out to Caleb Chambers and not expect some fallout, either.”
Tony said nothing.
Tilting his head, blowing smoke into the other man’s face. “Why, Tony?”
Frowning, Tony stepped away, then gestured to his body with one hand, the house with the other. “Because I wanted out of this fishbowl for good, Grif! Ever since you and that broad busted in my pad, I’ve felt more alive, and freer, than in years! It made me realize that life was just passing me by! I was as much in prison as old Frankie Alessi!”
Grif snuffed his Lucky out in a crystal ashtray, and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well, like you said. You get used to things and pretty soon forget you ever knew any different.”
Tony looked angry at that. “Yeah, and you made me remember. I thought I’d been safe all these years, but really? I wasn’t any more alive than you. So, yeah, I went to Chambers. The old family might own me, but he owns them. He owns everyone.”
“And you thought that if you turned me and Kit over to Chambers, he’d call the soldiers off you once and for all.”
“It was stupid. It was wrong,” Tony admitted, before pointing a bony finger at Grif. “But you drank my most expensive bottle of wine!”
“Oh, stop. You ratted me out before that. Besides, technically, I shared the juice with a Pure.”
Tony’s nose scrunched. “A what?”
“You’ll see,” Grif muttered, turning to Jesse. “How’s Sarge?”
Jesse, who’d been listening to the conversation as closely as Courtney had been pretending to ignore it, snapped to, and regarded Grif with a smirk. “How you think, homes? He’s pissed and calling for your head.”
Grif looked at Courtney, who just nodded.
Jesse stepped forward, grabbing Tony beneath one scrawny arm as he began to wobble due to the fade. “You should just come back with us, G-Man. Everyone knows your old lady is floating around the Everlast somewhere. And you got eternity to run into her, right? You’ll find her eventually.”
Grif jerked his head. “I’m not here for Evie anymore.”
Surprised silence filled the room. Even the dead Dobermans looked up at Grif with quizzical expressions.
“What, the other betty?” Courtney scoffed. “She’ll be along soon enough, too.”
“Courtney!” Jesse yelled.
“What?” She spread her hands wide. “So what? It’s Grif!”
“He’s wearing flesh!” Jesse said it like it was a disease.
And Courtney, realizing her mistake, covered her mouth with her palm. “Shit.”
He had free will while wearing flesh. He could change things on the Surface. Grif’s gaze darted from her to Jesse and back again. “Your next Take… is Kit?”
Jesse and Courtney just stared.
“Man, I’m sorry to hear that,” Tony said, with a frown. “I really only meant for them to whack you.”
“Shut up, Tony.”
“Oh come on,” Jesse finally said. “It’s not like it’s any real surprise. You can’t change fate, Grif. She’s destined to die.”
But he’d changed it once before. “Where is she?”
Jesse crossed his arms. “Like we’re going to tell you? And get Anas all up in our asses? No way.”
“Who’s Anas?” Tony asked. “Is she cute? Better tell her to watch out. I’m feeling frisky.”
“What are you doing?” Jesse asked, following Grif as he stalked from the room.
“Don’t you have a soul to deliver to the Everlast?” Ignoring the semitransparent dog trying to nudge him into patting its head, Grif picked up the phone and dialed the number he’d memorized the day before.
“Fine.” The other Centurion gestured to Tony, but he was busy trying to pick up his wineglass. Sighing, Jesse finally crossed the room and grabbed the old man’s arm.
“Hey!” Tony said, trying to pull away, but Jesse just ignored him.
Halting directly in front of Grif, Jesse raised his brows. “Just so you know, Sarge plans on sending you straight to the Tube the moment you step foot in the Everlast.”
“Then I’d better work fast,” Grif said, but cursed as his call went to voice mail. Hanging up, he tried again.
“You coming, Court?” Jesse asked, flanked by two dogs and a dead mobster.
Courtney kicked her heels up on the coffee table, causing Tony to scowl. She ignored him. “Nah, this is the most interesting thing to happen since Paulo tried to start a soccer league in the Milky Way. I’ll be there by morning.”
“Not if I can help it,” Grif told her.
“But you can’t, Grif.”
This time they all turned, and listened, to Tony. He shook his head, the old mobster gleam back in his dark, watery eyes. “Chambers runs this town from end to end. He makes the rules, and takes what he wants. Just like
