made of. He wasn't out to learn what he could carry with him for the rest of his life. And he wasn't out to gain the respect of the street, wanting neither its fear nor love. Colvin was of the fey and such things were beneath him.
Colvin wanted power.
He stood in front of the Phoenix Apartments. Lookouts between each of the buildings and hidden in stairwells had already alerted one another to his presence. He waited until he knew all eyes were on him. They would whisper that he lost his Goddamned mind. That this high yella, half a cracka, Mr Spocklooking fool was going to come up into Rellik's home base all on his own. He half-expected someone to take a shot at him from the shadows simply to put him out of his misery.
Maybe he was crazy. His plan was simple: he was going to walk into Rellik's chief stash house and abscond with any product and cash. It would hurt if not cripple Rellik, the shame alone might cause the dons to remove him, increase Colvin's own bottom line, and send all the message he needed to King. If in his pursuit of power, he earned respect, fear, and love — with his name whispered among the people — he could live with that.
Colvin closed his fists and opened them. The street lamps buzzed as if on the verge of shorting out. At their best, the lights didn't fully illuminate the court and parking lot but rather created ominous pockets of shadows. Colvin marched toward the main entrance. The red glow of a cigarette tip flared and then sailed through the air. Its owner went out to meet Colvin, grinding out the cigarette in a burst of sparks as he walked over it.
The Boars didn't tower over Colvin, but he clearly had a few inches on him and nearly a hundred pounds.
'You lost?' The Boars knew all eyes and ears were on him. The thing about being his size was that he rarely felt the obligatory need to constantly flex. His physical presence alone squashed most drama.
'I heard you had a surplus of money and product and needed help moving it.'
'You heard that, did you?'
'Probably conjecture on my part. Either way, it seemed like a situation I could ill afford to pass up.'
'You need to rise up outta here.'
'I appreciate the courtesy of the warnings. So much so, I'll give you a moment for you and your crew to vacate. Or, if it's easier,' Colvin shouted up to those listening from the windows, 'you could just drop the money and product out the window.'
'Get this fool out of my sight.'
Bodies approached from the stairwell, some reaching into their waistbands, others toting bats.
Colvin began a low chant in a tongue unfamiliar to The Boars. As far as The Boars was concerned, it was some Satanic shit he wanted no part of, so he stepped to Colvin. Without breaking the rhythm of his incantations, Colvin ducked under The Boars' wide punch and kneed him by his kidneys. He jabbed his elbow into the back of The Boars' neck, sending him lights out before he hit the ground. Before the approaching boys could draw their weapons, he arced his arms down, green light trailing the downward strokes.
Though Colvin wasn't an accomplished summoner like Mulysa, he did know how to open and close doors. Other than his glamour, it was his specialty. The blue trails split the air, giving the men pause. The unzippered fabric of space parted, revealing a deeper darkness than the midnight shadows they were in. Twin red dots flicked on a couple dozen floating in the air. The men trained their weapons on the penumbra apertures and opened fire.
A hiss echoed from the opening and a small figure leapt out onto the nearest gunman. Its spiked boots landed square on his face, the momentum of its jump toppled them both, while it remained perched on top of him. Their fall drove his metal spikes deepest into his face. The bone of his jaw snapped with a loud crack. His eye socket fractured. The spikes pulled his eye free, attached to one of the nails, the connecting muscle drawn out like a forkful of spaghetti. The boys' screams erupted. Still looming over the body like a predatory gargoyle, the creature turned its attention to the next gunman.
Suddenly the entire court lit up with gunfire and screams.
More creatures poured from the openings. Short hairy bodies, stalking keloids of fibrous muscle with grizzled beards. With the wizened faces of old men contemplating a meal of oatmeal. The gleam of their red eyes. A taloned hand raked though the meat of an arm, stripping ribbons of flesh. Filed teeth coming together like a living bear trap snapped on a man's neck. Blood throbbed from the wound in time to the pulse. The creature paused over him. Removing its pink cap, it daubed the spurting wound until it turned a foul crimson.
A half-dozen more tumbled out of the hole, taking positions behind bushes. They whirred their slings, releasing a volley of shots. Men tumbled from the shadows. Rellik's men kept firing.
Colvin stood among the ensuing chaos. The screams, the rent flesh, and gunfire combined into a symphony of violence. A shot grazed him. It would take him hours to notice. The battle, however, was over in minutes.
'Don't make me come up there,' Colvin cried up to the windows.
A bag tumbled from the window.
'And the product?'
Another bag followed.
Colvin carried one in each hand and walked down the sidewalk without a backwards glance. The Red Caps jumped back into their home between spaces before the wound in the air sealed itself.
Esther Baron loved volunteering for night drop at Outreach Inc. She always had the feeling that she wasn't doing enough. Standing behind the dining room table, she'd join hands like everyone else to pray for the food and evening. She doled out the food to the kids, not to keep them from being hogs — because there was plenty of food to go around — but to let the kids be served. It was a subtle message, to let them know they were home, could relax, and allow someone to do for them. Accompanying salad and broccoli — she encouraged them to eat their vegetables and oddly enough, despite them being teens, they usually requested seconds on the veggie of the day — was a spaghetti casserole repast.
Rok squirted some hand sanitizer on his hands then passed her an empty plate. This was when she appreciated Wayne the most. He warned her that folks typically came in with the idea of making a huge impact and turning kids' lives around… on one meeting. It didn't work that way. The only 'doing' was the ability to open oneself up and love another. For one evening, she arrived with the spirit to serve, to be a blank tableau for the kids without judgment, to show them grace. Provide a space of stability that could help them take the next step toward their goals.
'How you doing, Rok?' she asked.
'Doing good, Miss Esther. You looking good with your fine-ass self.'
'Rok,' Esther chided, but in a mild tone, enough to let him know she wasn't playing. 'You think that's an appropriate way to talk to a woman? I know I'd appreciate a compliment without the disrespect.'
'You look good tonight, Miss Esther,' he said without his usual bluster, awkward and sheepish. The way he glanced about to make sure no one noticed was almost cute. Wayne didn't hold the kids to some preconceived model of how they should be or act. He did believe in boundaries and letting them know what was appropriate between men and women.
Already at the table in the common room, Wayne chatted amiably with the kids as they came in. He asked about their day, teased them about their fashion choices, listened to them, and helped them through some of the decisions they made. The way he explained it, the time was about connecting. With them, finding out about one another and letting the impact of being in their lives speak to them. Success, even progress, had to be measured differently. But there was a look that would light up their eyes. Sometimes faint, sometimes bright, moments when they realized someone cared about them; cared without expectation or demand. He wanted everything for the kids, imagined them, saw potential in them in ways they couldn't for themselves. The job required a kind of fearlessness. A willingness to go deep with people, people who would likely disappoint. People who would likely make bad decisions. People who often couldn't get out of their own way. Not only was Wayne passionate for them, his passion was contagious.
'How're things going out there, Rok?' Wayne asked.
'Steady.'
'No recession worries?' Wayne joked with him, conscious of not sounding approving of him, but not wanting to be yet another lecturing voice in his life to be tuned out.
'What?'
Wayne also didn't want to make Rok feel stupid or condescended to. He got enough of that at home. And school, when he bothered to attend. 'You thinking about what we talked about before?'
