Stealth nodded solemnly. 'He was half hidden so I couldn't go for a head shot. A body shot would have ruptured the tank, and that would have roasted you alive.' He shuddered and glanced at his tattered left arm. 'Burning to death isn't something I'd wish on anyone.'
I turned to Raven. 'You should have seen it. He nailed me in the back and knocked me forward into the woman I was trying to save. That blasted us out of the way of the flamethrower.' I looked back at Stealth. 'It's a good thing you remembered I was wearing kevlar.' The look of surprise on his face took a second or two to die. I felt a chill pass between us, but it drained away as Kid Stealth punched me lightly in the shoulder and gave me a genuine smile. 'Yeah, I'm glad I remembered, too…'
Digital Grace
I
Given that I didn't know where I was when I woke up, I figured still having my clothes on was a plus. I mean I can remember similar incidents when I thought otherwise, but I hadn't been tied up in those situations. I also didn't have a kid sitting on the end of the bed pointing a pistol with a bowling-ball bore at me.
'Kyrie, he's awake.' The little albino showed me his teeth in a feral grin and held the heavy revolver with pale, unwavering hands. 'Do anything, Kies, and the last thing going through your mind will be a bullet.'
Great,I thought,I'm being held by some psycho punk who's been downloading intimidation lessons from Kid Stealth. 'No problem, ace.'
I took a moment or two to assess my situation. Because of the thick blue and red Amerind blanket drawn up to my neck, I couldn't see my hands, but it felt like the kid had used hawser to bind my wrists together. The cable had been knotted tight, but my hands weren't tied behind my back. Whatever spark of hope that little gift inspired died in the railroad tunnel at the end of the gun barrel staring at me.
The old, metal-frame bed had been painted enough times for me to see a rainbow of colors where chips cut through to bare metal. Off to my left, just on the far side of the doorway, I saw a table and two chairs. My leather jacket hung over the back of one of the chairs and my shoulder holster, complete with pistol, lay on the table itself. The room, from the cobwebs in the corners to the cracks in the plaster, had seen better days, but it was still habitable. The bedding looked fairly clean, but the scent told me it had been a week or two since it had been washed.
Using my elbows and heels, I slowly pushed myself back and up into a sitting position. I clamped down on the blanket with my chin, pulling it up with me. Bending my knees and digging my heels in, I popped the blanket up into a little tent and watched the albino over the artificial horizon stretched between my knees.
'So, tell me, do you have a 'Preferred Guest Rate' or am I being soaked for full fare during my impromptu stay?'
The albino's pink eyes watched me without blinking. His white hair had been shaved into a mohawk and stiffened with glue into a bristle of porcupine quills. Aside from the reddish cast to his eyes, the only color on him came from the dirt beneath his fingernails and the little creases at the corner of his thin-lipped mouth. His jaw showed white wisps of beard-to-come. His Maria Mercurial t-shirt and synthetic pants matched the dingy gray walls in hue.
Before he could answer, or pull the trigger, a second person entered the room. She was a pretty little elf, if a tad on the lean side. She had fire in her dark eyes, though she seemed to take care to hide it when she looked at the albino. She wore her black hair very short in a boyish cut. That, and her slender figure made it easily possible for her to pass as a young man-a wise thing to do if, as was my guess, we were in the Barrens and this was where they lived. She wore mostly synthleather-standard for the sprawl-though hers was of browns and tans that would have seemed more appropriate out in the Tir.
'How are you feeling?' Kyrie leaned on the foot of the bed as she asked the question. 'Are you hurt?'
I shook my head casually. 'Tongue feels thick. I could use some water.'
She turned to leave, but the gunboy snarled at her. 'Overruled. You'll get water when I say you get water.'
'Albion, he's not an enemy.' 'He's not a guest either, Kyrie. He's a hostage.' Albion locked his serpent-stare on me again. 'You're Wolfgang Kies, right?'
My eyes narrowed. 'Cut to the chase.'
'My game, my rules, my speed.'
'Okay, if that's the way it is. Yes, I'm Wolfgang Kies.' I pulled my head up and back, pressing it against the wall behind me. 'Next?'
'You work for Dr. Richard Raven, right?'
That question, combined with calling me a hostage earlier, started alarm bells going off in my head. I knew that Etienne La Plante, a big Seattle crime boss, had a standing reward for the delivery of Raven's head in a sack. I didn't think these kids were setting a trap for Raven with me as bait, but anything was possible in the sprawl. As desperation finds plenty of prey in the Barrens, that might be exactly what was happening.
'Yeah, I work for Raven.'
Immediately Kyrie's expression brightened. Albion remained stone-faced, but tipped the pistol up toward the ceiling. Some of my anxiety drained off as the pistol ceased its violation of my personal space, but I knew lots more was going on than I could read.
Two more kids entered the room, and the second I laid eyes on the smallest of them, how I got involved in this mess came flooding back with a clarity that caused me to blush. I'd just come out of Kell's over between First and Second, down by the Market. I'd been drinking a bit, but not much because I was more interested in watching the Seadogs1in their fight for the pennant than I was in getting drunk. Jimmy Mackelroy salted
1The Seattle franchise for major league baseball is officially still called the Mariners, but pretty much everyone who isn't under contract to them calls them the Seadogs. About ten, fifteen years ago they had a really bad streak-stats just weren't clicking the way they should, so everyone started calling the team the Dogs. Then this guy-an ork related somehow to Plutarch Graogrim, another of Doc's chummers-gets this idea about turning out Seattle Seadogs merchandise, including caps and shirts, and all with a great pirate-hound logo. Everybody started getting into the game away with a three-run homer in the ninth, so I left and headed out toward Stewart to get my Fenris.
I should have known better, but in the alley between Kell's and the Gravity Bar I heard someone crying. I pulled my Beretta Viper 142and thumbed the safety off, then glanced around the corner of the alley. Aside from two rats perched on the rim of a dumpster and the usual accumulation of trash, I saw nothing out of the ordinary except a tiny humanoid form.
Its head came up and revealed the most cherubic little face I'd ever laid eyes on. Because of the multiple layers of clothing swathing the child I couldn't tell if it was a boy or girl. It took one bold step toward me with its left foot, men hesitated and let its right leg drag shyly in behind the left. With the length of cuff overhanging its right hand, the child swiped at the tears on its grimy face, then smiled at me.
'Ah you Wolfgang Kies?' it asked in an innocent, mush-mouth voice.
I slipped my Viper back into the shoulder holster I wore under my leather jacket. 'Yes.' I stepped into the alley and approached the child.
'And do you wook for Docto Waven?' it followed up in a voice rising with expectation.
I dropped to one knee and held out my left hand. 'Yes. Are you lost?'
It smiled as agelessly as a Buddha. 'No.' It held its hands out to me. As it did so, a mist sprayed out from its left sleeve, while the little figure clapped its right sleeve over its own nose and mouth.
The neurotoxin stung my eyes, but before I could even think of running, I'd pulled enough in through my open mouth to drop me on my tail. I coughed weakly, whole charade, with a local radio station even doing play-by-play of fantasy dog-day games. The Mariners tried to sue, but when fans stopped coming to games in protest, the suit was dropped and the Seadog name has been a thorn in their sides ever since, even though the team has gotten good.
21 hasten to note that even some newer, wizzer gun wouldn't have kept me out of this situation. then lay back. As consciousness drained from me, I remember praying one thing over and over: 'Please, God, if I have to
