Into the Shadows (19 page)

Ragna glanced up at me and said, "Get
something. I hear the food is good." She then held out the napkin
to the Asian woman. "Add this to your menu flier and have them sent
out to your best customers by morning, Lynn. And bring me my usual
order."

They both looked at me, so I quickly ordered
the cashew chicken and a Coke. With a slight accent, Lynn thanked
us and walked off. Trying to appeal to Ragna's nice side, if she
had one, I said, "I'll get the check for both our meals, if you
like, ma'am."

She looked at me like I spoke in tongues. "I
don't eat food, you ignorant cur! Who's mentoring you?"

"Uh, Shawn Riordan, and I guess he only gave
me the basics one night. But . . . you just ordered your usual,
whatever that is, so I assumed that, uh . . ."

Ragna rolled her big eyes. "Freya, save me.
Riordan, the powder-sniffing musician idiot? No wonder you know
nothing. Very well, I'll give you a few lessons, and I'll even
speak slowly so you can keep up." I bit my tongue instead of giving
the response I wanted to, so I simply nodded. "For example," she
explained, "many of my kind know I control this place, and they're
going to get a revised menu tomorrow - one with a new item on it:
the Beck buffet special. That and the necklace will let others know
that you're my new minion. Normally, I'd only inform the Doyenne
and the faction emissaries, but your master wanted the word out
quickly. So, there you have it."

"I'd imagine the Doyenne won't be too happy
to hear about this."

"From the basics I know of, most likely not.
You let me worry about that." Ragna leaned even further forward on
the table. "If you don't fight me this time," she said, pointing at
my forehead, "I can learn what I need to know much faster than if I
let you blather on, blowing your whiskey breath on me." My
apprehension must have been evident. "There is nothing to fear,
Beck; I'll do you no harm. I'd have to answer to your master if I
did. Trust me, I don't want that.
No one
wants that."

Viggo said Ragna was trustworthy and loyal,
so I took him at his word. Hesitantly, I agreed and looked her in
the eyes. I had the feeling that something crawled into my head and
began to slither around. Other than a slight pressure in my skull,
it wasn't too unpleasant. My senses faded away; I was only focused
on the sensations in my brain.

I blinked. I saw Ragna in front of me again,
looking away. She was just letting go of my index finger, my
trigger finger. The Chinese restaurant came back into focus. Lynn,
our pretty Asian waitress, was setting a big plate of food in front
of me. She then handed a plastic shopping bag full of fried egg
rolls to Ragna. I blinked again and gave my head a quick shake to
clear it. I'd lost track of time - I had no idea how long the
crusty hemo was in my head. I waited until the waitress walked
away, and then said, "I don't know what you saw in here," tapping
the side of my head, "but some things are private."

"Don't worry," Ragna casually replied while
she inspected her bag, "I learned only what I needed to." She
looked and saw me staring at the bag. Holding up an egg roll, she
simply said, "Dog treats."

Another comment came to mind, but again, I
held back. Pillar of restraint, that's me. "If you know my
situation from your staring Jedi mind trick thing, what do you
think I should do?"

Ragna glowered at me with half-lidded eyes.
"It's called the Gift of Control. I could use it to make you think
you're a bowl of soup, so don't be so glib, Beck." She stared at me
until I nodded and then started eating my food. "It would seem that
working at a nightclub or a security firm wouldn't be as lucrative
as being employed as a personal guard - EP, you call it - for the
Outsider McKenna. I daresay he had plans to make you his own
minion. Now, if he still wants to hire you, he'll have to barter
with me."

I thought about that for a second, and then
asked, "Why would he do that? I mean, I'm already spoken for,
right? Why would he rent someone else's stuff when he can get his
own?"

"Because my 'stuff' is better; better than he
or anyone else might suspect, because you actually have the elder's
immensely powerful blood in you. In terms of minions, that alone
makes you more capable than most of the others. But to get back to
my point, McKenna thinks you're mine. I am of a higher progeny than
him, and I am over six hundred years older. My blood is more potent
than his, so my minions have greater potential. He might trade some
loyalty for a stronger, rented minion."

"Are you sure? Loyalty is a pretty good
quality in a guard," I commented between bites of my meal.

"I've thought about that . . ." Ragna said as
she stared off. Then she looked back at me and chuckled; it sounded
more like a wheeze. "He could witness me ordering you to be loyal
to him. Since you're not really bound to me, your loyalty to him
would be optional. He might even think you're a free conduit to
trade information."

"I understood the false loyalty part, but
what do you mean by a free conduit, ma'am?"

"We Deviants know more than the other
factions - rumors, gossip, personal and business secrets, all sorts
of things. The other factions sometimes come to us when they want
to know something, and we don't give it away freely. Perhaps
McKenna will think you might occasionally let a rumor slip,
something you heard from me. All the while, you'd be reporting his
activities to us. He'll know you will, of course, so you wouldn't
be directly involved with any of his projects. But it's all
guesswork at this point. He might not choose to haggle with me for
your services. We'll see. How's your food?"

"It's pretty damn awesome," I answered, and
took another bite.

"Ah, good; let's see if this helps your
appetite." Ragna pulled the scarf down from around her face. Like I
said, the top half of her face was beautiful. The lower half . . .
wasn't. First of all, she had the mother of all underbites, but
that was nothing compared to the rest. All of her lower teeth were
way too long, and jutted out like blunt knives from her gray gums.
It got worse. From her lower lip down onto her neck and below, it
looked like Ragna had drooled acid out of her mouth. Strips and
pockets of flesh were gone, exposing bone and sinew. Where there
was skin, it hung loose, bubbled and pocked. Then she smiled.

"Oh, fuck," I grunted, pushing my plate
away.

Ragna cackled like a witch, and then covered
her face again. "Since you're done eating, leave some cash for your
meal and go find a way home. Be back here tomorrow at sunset."

I couldn't get out of there fast enough.

HITTERS

As the taxi was approaching my house, I
noticed all my windows were dark. I was positive that the living
room lamp was on when I left with Viggo earlier. I told the driver
to stop and got out a few houses down from my own. I waited for the
taxi to drive off before I pulled my Ruger and hurried to the cover
of my Jeep in the driveway. Suddenly, my cell phone chirped in my
pocket. I silenced it as fast as I could - I'd read the damn text
message later.

While deciding my strategy for what could
have simply been a burnt out bulb, I heard two car doors shut
somewhere up the street. Peeking around the back of my Jeep, I saw
two guys walking quickly in my direction down the sidewalk. They
looked bulky, like they were wearing flak jackets, and were holding
some type of firearms close to their chests. Motherfuckers would
not
leave me alone.

I thought about my options in the few seconds
I had. It would've taken too long to text a message to ShadoWorks
for reinforcements. Now that I knew Le Meur had sway with the
police, calling 911 was dicey at best. I could move off to a
neighbor's and make calls, but waking them up would cause a
commotion and maybe put them in danger. There was no way in hell
would I let that happen.

My last choice was to just slink off, hide
somewhere and call Viggo. I rejected that idea too. I wasn't going
to run away while my own home was invaded.

Some of that early morning anger came back
with a vengeance. Call me proud, call me stupid - I was still going
to defend the place where I kept all my memories.

The two hitters reached my gate, pushed it
open, and started through my front yard toward the porch. I had to
be quick and quiet - I didn't want any intruders in my house to
catch me out in the open - so I put my little gun back in my
pocket. As fast as I could, I spun around my car, vaulted the
chain-link fence, and charged at their backs from an angle. I threw
my body sideways and blindsided both of them. I brought the guy on
the left down under me; the other stumbled to his hands and knees
on the walkway.

The guy I was lying on started to struggle
and grasp for his dropped gun - a pistol with a silencer, a foot
beyond his reach. With a burst of speed I rolled off him, grabbed
his gun, and spun around on my butt. The other guy was swinging his
gun around toward me when I let off three fast, muffled shots. The
first two rounds hit him in the chest, enough to knock him off
balance. The third bullet went through his raised left hand and
into his cheek. He wobbled for a second, but I had no time to watch
him drop.

The first hitter raised off the ground enough
to launch himself at me. I just managed to get my knee up, stopping
him short before he could land on me. The bastard was pressing
forward, grabbing at my coat. He was too close for me to get a gun
with a silencer between us, so I used the butt of it to whack him
in the skull. He took the hit like a champ, but his grip on me
loosened. I shoved hard with my knee and moved him back a foot or
so, and then put two bullets in his neck. The hitter collapsed on
my lawn, gurgling through his ruined throat. I didn't have much
sympathy for him at the time.

I hurriedly grabbed both hitters' guns and
ran for the side of the house, half-expecting someone to shoot at
me from my front door. I hopped my fence again and crept down my
driveway toward the back of my house, staying under the windows. I
looked around the corner into my backyard and saw a body sprawled
facedown next to my small patio. I wasn't expecting that.

The back door was locked when I got to it - a
little surprising, since I thought that was the door they'd use to
break in. It made me wonder if anyone was actually in the house. I
hung one gun in my belt and opened the door with my keys as slowly
and quietly as I could. The damn hinges squeaked. Fuck.

I pushed the door open with my shoulder and
pulled out the other gun again. The house was dark and silent. I
started to move stealthily through my kitchen; a few steps in, my
foot bumped something. With my eyes getting used to the dark, I
could tell it was another body. I stepped over it and reached the
far end of the kitchen. I figured that if I turned on the overhead
light behind me, it'd shine in the eyes of whoever might be waiting
for me. It'd give me the initiative. I flicked the light switch on
and pointed both guns forward into my living room.

Another body was on the floor in front of my
TV. Viggo sat in my recliner, legs crossed and wiping at his chin
with a handkerchief. I sagged with a heavy sigh, too wound up to
cuss.

"You should have checked your text message,"
he said without a hint of emotion.

"Yes sir, sorry - I was sort of busy." As my
adrenalin eased off, my bruised shoulder began to throb with pain
from the recent activity. I belted one of the guns again, then
opened my freezer and grabbed a bag of corn to press on the area
where the rubber bullet hit.

"If you mean the last two assassins from the
van, I would have handled them. I expected them to investigate when
the others did not respond to the radio calls. If you had taken a
moment to read my message, you would have been made aware of the
situation."

I looked behind me at the dead hitter in the
kitchen and saw a small transmitter in his ear. I turned back to
Viggo and walked forward to take a seat on my couch. "Again, sorry;
I didn't expect you to be here."

"Nor did I, not until I heard about the order
for your demise," he told me casually while he stuffed the
handkerchief into one of his coat pockets, "and to have your corpse
left to rot in a sewer where a Deviant might find it."

"How lovely," I said with a frown as I sat
down and set the guns on the coffee table. "It's always nice to
know someone cares enough to make me a rat's dinner. Can I ask who
you heard this from?"

"From the Doyenne, of course - I was in her
office when she gave the word." Viggo noticed my shocked look, and
added, "She was not aware of my presence; my Gift of Shadows is
much stronger than her Gift of Discerning. Soon after the order was
given, I came here to greet them. You will receive all the credit
of foiling the attempt, which will only strengthen your reputation,
or, in the Adept's views, infamy."

"Uh, thank you, sir . . . I think. Not
doubting you, but are you sure that's a good move?"

Viggo nodded. "Quite sure; Adepts will be
even less inclined to lose minions and resources to remove you.
That, coupled with Ragna's backing, will make you more of a
dangerous commodity. Speaking of which, what is your impression of
the dog-woman now that you've spent a short time with her?"

"Oh, she's a peach," I replied
sarcastically.

"Then I hope you enjoy that fruit, because
you will be spending a fair amount of time with her for the
immediate future. Do not fret, Leo. Ragna is an acquired taste. You
might even learn a few things."

"Believe me, sir, I already have."

"Good. For now, though, you must be
introduced to the toils that come with being my minion. It is time
to start earning your keep, Leo. These assassins came in a van - I
want them to leave in it. Once the van is loaded, drive it to the
location where we held you and park it in the garage. You may keep
the guns you earned. The other weapons, and anything else they
carried, will be left in the driver's seat. I will get someone to
bring you back home. I suggest you start by removing the two bodies
from your front yard."