Ghosts of Koa, The First Book of Ezekiel (50 page)

He looked in the refrigerator and rummaged around, feeling both relieved and annoyed at his hesitation. It was a new uncomfortable feeling, one he hadn't felt since his first kill. He could have just killed Grandma Moreno, or hurt her, slowly, to get information out of Ryan. But it all felt so senseless, inducing all that misery over the transgressions of one Azure. He'd been annoyed that she'd been there, annoyed that he'd had to cook for her too, put her to bed... but it was all for the better, perhaps. He wasn't in a hurry to hear Ryan scream for mercy--
 

He stopped. He'd just moved the assortment of gourmet cheeses and seasoned tofu when they'd caught his eyes... the pints of strawberry yogurt. Rows and rows of them, even. His favorite flavor. But that wasn't the weird thing. The brand was Dukat. Croatian. And it hadn't existed in over a century.
 

He looked on the second shelf, his eyes going wide. The fridge was like some strange time capsule, stocked with products he recognized but hadn't seen for decades. Tomislav beer. Prodavka jams. Bajadera candies. They were
all
Croatian brands, all from the old world that had burned in the Collapse. His world.

The meat. The onions. The cheese. The pastry. Hadn't it all been stacked so conveniently at eye-level, right towards the front of the fridge? It was why he hadn't noticed the rest of the items before, he'd been so hungry and also eager to get the assignment going. But as he looked now, he could see that everything in their fridge had been placed so perfectly... as though he'd been expected.

Feeling calmer than ever before, Xakiah rose to a stand and closed the door. Ryan must've known something was wrong, because he started to quake in his chair. Xakiah walked up to him and held up the yogurt for him to see.

"Your ex. Did she shop for this?"
 

"It-- it's not poison, sir. I swear it."

"Answer the question."

"No, she didn't buy it! She's a selfish bitch who never bought me anything, ever! I haven't seen or spoken to her since the break up, I swear!"

Despite the chill that had set down in him, the strangest of hopes began to rise in Xakiah's chest. He knew then what this hope was: that maybe Ryan wasn't innocent after all. Maybe he actually
was
in league with Beige and had been expecting this day to come. Maybe he'd prepared for this day, where he'd have to die for the councilman as a loyal dog would for its master. Maybe he'd been arrogant in his preparation, researching his executioner and arranging the contents of the fridge like a greeting card, to have a final laugh even as the trigger was pulled.
 

And yet as he considered all of this, he saw that Ryan's fear was real. There was no indication of foul play. Not from him, at least.
 

"Who bought this?"

"G-mama. I-- I mean, my grandmother. She does the shopping. But p-please don't hurt her. It's just yogurt, man."

Xakiah looked at him hard, unbelieving. "Your blind grandmother. She does the shopping."

"We have a home attendant," Ryan explained, trying his best to sputter the words out as quickly as possible. "Comes around every Sunday to help her shop!"

The home attendant. Was she in on it too? Had they all been expecting him?
 

"Where did they buy this then?" Xakiah growled. He was done playing games. He held the Dukat carton closer, nearly crumpling it in his tightening grip. "Where did they buy a yogurt that no longer exists? From my
country
that no longer exists!"

"I don't know, but grandmama wouldn't ask for that! Maybe there was a mistake!" Ryan shook his head maniacally. "Or maybe she was expecting company! I dunno, man! This is a no-dairy house! I'm lactose intolerant! We both are!"

Xakiah paused for a moment. Then he turned and went into the grandmother's room, knocking first.

"My apologies for disturbing you, Mrs. Moreno," he began softly, trying not to make a terrible mistake. "But I just--"

He stopped short. The burek was half-eaten, covers were thrown back, and the headphones were on the bed, a soft symphony emanating into the sheets. His eyes darted to the only other exit in the room, which was the window near the bed. Its dusty frame was still sealed shut and unbothered. Cobwebs still formed sticky hammocks at its corners. No fingerprints. No one had touched it... and yet the grandmother was gone.

The Ninkashi was standing up, a deep growl rumbling from belly to tongue, the sound rippling through its slick skin. Zeika staggered back against the brick wall that had closed behind her and forgot the gun, her eyes instead darting up and down the alley, looking for something, anything--

The trashcans.

She sprinted, barreling down to the end of John Street. A second later she could hear the Ninkashi lunge and then gallop after her, crashing into the ground and wall in clumsy swift pursuit. Ten feet from the cans, Zeika jumped headfirst, reaching out. The creature tackled her, and they hit the ground and skittered like rocks, right into the garbage. The cans fell, spilling waste and rot everywhere. The Ninkashi tumbled away, and Zeika reached, snatching a metal lid, bringing it up just as the monster leapt back onto her.

She slammed the lid into its shattered face, saw the spray of blood-- and the monster struck back, its stinking knuckles pounding into her eye, chest, sides. Zeika bit down against the dull blows. She braced her two legs and arm against the monster and pushed up, lifting it as far away from her body as she could. With her armed hand, she hit the thing again, this time with the edge of the trash lid.

The monster's teeth crushed in, and it spat and screamed, and Zeika swung again, and again and again-- and on the last blow, she thrust her legs and arm outward, throwing the Ninkashi completely off her. The monster rolled, its movements more sluggish now as it tried to get to its feet once more. Zeika was already up, gripping the lid, ready to slam it home. She screamed and lurched towards it, feeling something more savage fill her up as she focused all her thoughts on its demise.
 

The bellow of the shotgun threw the monster back, at the same time blowing chunks of flesh from its side.

Zeika stumbled to a stop and looked just in time to see Franz pump the shotgun again and fire. The Ninkashi
 
flew back, this time hitting the wall and crumbling. It twitched, its energy drained, and Zeika finally allowed herself to breathe as she fell back against the opposite wall of the alley. She watched it happen again-- strangled, desperate breaths as the monster rolled over and began to cough.

Did these things ever
die
?

"Oh no you don't," Franz muttered, pumping the shotgun again. He walked up, put his boot into the creature's gaping chest, and aimed at its head. The monster screamed in a high and bloody rage not known to this world. The shotgun's own roar was louder, and in the next moment, all was still.

"Cough that up, you rotty bastard." Franz took his foot off the creature and backed up as blood began to pool from the mangled head. The ichor shimmered, darker than human blood, and yet brighter, as though laced with gold.

Zeika, bloodied, shocked, and trembling, was still hunched against the alley wall when Franz grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and dragged her back inside. The wall closed up tight behind them.

"Someone was bound to hear that racket," he muttered. "Better lay low fer a while." He threw her to the ground, tossed her Beretta at her feet, and then stepped over her.

Manja ran over, hugging her. Zeika hugged back, but her voice was stuck. Her body still shivered.

"Lovely evening for a stroll, ain't it?" Franz said, chuckling. "Thanks for distracting him for me. Couldn't have clocked him good as I did if you hadn't. Nice team work, sugar."

Zeika looked at him, poison filling her up. "You son-of-a-bitch."

"Scotch?" He filled a glass and smiled.

Any other time, Zeika would have said no, but this time she walked over and grabbed the liquor without question. She knocked it back, gulping and not stopping until it was empty.

"A bit o' moonshine always helps the double-dealing go down. You're tougher than I thought, missy."

"You almost killed me--"

"You almost killed yerself. The kid too. I told you going out there was suicide, but you thought you knew better. Always knew you were a hard learner."

Zeika's hands shook as she set the glass down. "He told me... he told me they hunt during the day."

"The cop? He tell you his dick was made of sugar cane too?" Franz scowled. "These things are animals, and when animals are starving, they adapt. They move into shallower waters, change their hunting patterns. Don't ever ask an Azure what a starving animal would do. That's Civilian territory."

Zeika rubbed her face, knowing her former plan was dead. There was no way they would make it to the Island like this. She thought the Ninkashi had been neutralized, and it wasn't a variable she'd prepared for. They needed a soft and silent smuggling, but with those things back out there, they wouldn't make it to the border, or even across it, not without serious firepower. And even if they did make it to the edge of the demesne, no smuggler was going to risk his neck-- literally-- just for a few Azure bills. Not even for a few blue thou. It was a minute before she could look Franz in the face.

"All right, then. Tell me." She rubbed her shoulder. "What would a starving animal do?"

Franz smiled. Wide. "I thought you'd never ask."

Kenneth Taitt lived pretty large for being a Civilian of the Fifth Demesne. Victorian-style house, hanging garden, brick walkways. Not as lavish as a typical Azure home, but by Civilian standards he was royalty. But he wasn't here. He wasn't anywhere, actually, and hadn't been seen for weeks, according to his neighbors.
 

Caleb had checked his mailbox and seen at least a month's worth of mail crammed in. Some letters had even spilled onto the ground. Bills and junk mail, mostly. There were a few letters from the Prime Minister's office. They'd looked like unanswered invitations to some Azure-Civic balls happening in the 52
^nd
Demesne. Caleb had pocketed one of these for later. Illegal, but he was already on trial for murder. He wasn't going to lose sleep over a little mail theft.
 

He'd moved on to the Cartegenas'.

He stepped onto the front stoop of the old donut shop and checked the sign on the door. Yeah, this was the place. He stood there for a second, letting the soft silent night fill him and relax his thoughts. Part of him felt he should have started with Zeika's gun shop, but people tended to move more than places did. He had to catch up with as many witnesses as possible and get a story that made sense. The gun shop could wait.

The moment he lifted his knuckles to knock, all life inside the donut house seemed to cease. The dancing shadows in front of the drapes disappeared and the lights behind them extinguished.

"Not suspicious at all," Caleb muttered.
 

He zipped up his trench coat, concealing his holstered Glock. His department issue had been turned in upon suspension, but nothing was going to stop him from carrying his own. Not while Koa and the Ninkashi were slithering around. He knocked lightly on the door.

"Quién carajos eres t
ú
?!"

Caleb creased his brow. Angry already? He hadn't even started asking questions yet. "La policía, señor Cartegena. Detective Caleb Rai. Solo quiero hablar con usted." His Spanish sucked, but he thought he'd gotten at least
that
right.
 

"La policía azur no son bienvenidos en mi casa!"

Guess he got it right. The man was getting more pissed by the minute.

"I'm not just a cop, sir. I'm a friend. A friend of Ezekiel Anon."

The door swung open, and Caleb stepped back to see an older woman, who must have been Mrs. Cartegena. She had pushed her husband out of the way to open the door. Good thing too. The man had a wooden baseball bat at the ready and would have batted a thousand if she hadn't stepped in front of him.
 

"Please, detective," she said softly, wringing her hands. "Come in."

Mr. Cartegena snorted, putting down the bat. "And take off your goddamned shoes."

*
*
*
*
*

"We didn't know how far he would take this. That he'd use her for the repeals." Tears were running down Mrs. Cartegena's face as she told him of Sal Morgan and his Vigils. "After the guild attack, he came to us, told us she was missing. He sounded so sincere. He asked all these questions about her, about where he might be able to find her. He said our cooperation would be for her protection. But we-- we didn't know--" She broke down, sobbing. Mr. Cartegena rubbed her back.

Caleb looked at them both over the steam of his coffee. She had poured three mugs, but hers was left sitting there and going cold, probably now bitter with the tears that spilled into it. Shame. She made a damned good cup.

"Typical Azure garbage," Mr. Cartegena chimed in, his voice thin of patience. "He talked out of one side of his neck and then sold us all out. And the Anon girls still haven't turned up. If only we'd known the three of them had been in it together, we might have been able to stop it."

"Three of them?" Caleb put his cup down, his eyes fixed on the old man.

Mr. Cartegena shook his head. "Parents. They really do make the best pimps. They know all their kids' best selling points."

Caleb leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Wait. Zeika and Manja were
sold
to Sal Morgan?"

"A sale disguised as a legal adoption. Money for guardianship."

"Rumors?"

"Fact. Straight from the mouth of Kenneth Taitt. And he'd know. Adoption paperwork goes right through the Guild of Almaut in the Fifth."

Ken Taitt. Master of the Guild of Almaut. The same man who'd given information on Zeika to the Halls of Pact, the same man Caleb couldn't find. If Taitt had known that the Anons had been sold, why had he allowed it to happen right under his own nose? Something about Mr. Cartegena's facts didn't add up.