Showing posts with label Teng Rovoteria. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Teng Rovoteria. Show all posts

Thursday, December 15, 2011

16501--Similarities to Persons Living or Dead (Ch. 13)

Happy Thursday. To help keep my own feet to the fire, I'm using Thursday as my public accountability day. That means, posting a bit of coherently creative output for you to read and feedback on every week. If I perform according to my own intent, what I put here will be available as a whole elsewhere at the same time or shortly after appearing here.
Similarities to Persons Living or Dead is currently available as a part of The Official Private Eye Handbook, first book in the CITY OF MAGICK series. Please, feel free to take a look here, though, and at subsequent chapters. Let me know how you feel about it. For those of you finding your way here relatively late, no problem. The start of the story is just a click away.


SIMILARITIES TO PERSONS LIVING OR DEAD

Chapter 13
Even though I got back home as fast as I could, I found the door to my new apartment already open, something I never liked. Inside, I found Berlin sitting on my couch holding a bag of frozen peas to the back of her head.

“What’s going on?” I asked her. “You OK?”

“Getting there, I guess,” my assistant reported. “Thanks for asking. You just missed three guys hitting me on the head and dragging your client out of here, though.”

“Dark eyes? Kinda zombie?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Acquaintances or angry clients?”

“More SOC stalkers,” I said. “They’re some sort of reanimated dead. They seem alive, but they’re missing pieces.”

“Souls most likely,” Jonni said. “They looked like they were missing a layer and I thought they smelled funny.”

“OK,” I told her. “If they’ve got her, they’re gonna be taking her to Corvus. Hey, where’d you find peas?”

“In the freezer.”

“Not my freezer.”

“I put them there,” she said. “No, I didn’t open the deadly box,” she assured me, rolling her eyes.

“OK, then, keep on not doing that,” I told her, walking over to my desk.

“What’re you going to do about the incredible wailing woman?” Jonni asked me.

I sighed and opened the center desk drawer. I reached in, ignoring the pens, paper clips and other random items to take hold of the rune-covered, circular rod. “Something drastic,” I responded. “Probably something I’m going to end up regretting.”

“Brick?” Jonni asked, no small concern in her voice. “Why does it look like you’re holding a magical rod?”

“Because I am,” I sighed again as I crossed the room and went around the dining table, to the large blank section of wall between the balcony and the kitchen.

“What is that?” my assistant asked, rising from the couch to follow me. “New toy?”

I touched a specific rune on the rod and then touched one end of the black metal rod to the wall. A heavy 8’x8’ mirror with an ornately crafted frame became manifest against the wall.

“Ooh, impressive,” Jonni said. “That really opens up the room.”

“You don’t know the half of it, Berlin,” I told her as I tapped the end of the rod against the looking glass. The surface of the mirror began to ripple like a pond. “It’s called the Wayfarer’s Arcanum.”

“Oh, that does sound majestic,” Jonni said. “It has sort of a poetic flair.”

“Sure, whatever,“ I told her.

“Really? Then let me borrow your glowing heart pendant,” she said. “I want to do some research.”

“It’s…special,” I said, handing over the rock. “Be careful. Keep the door locked. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.” With that, I walked through the mirror and found myself in a reflected version of my own living room. Though the scenery was different from my last visit through the darkly reflected realm, the large wooden crate of precious metals was still about where it was before, relatively speaking, just about ten feet in from the mirror. Following the pattern I had learned before, I crossed the room and went through an opening in the wall into darkness.

Breaking up the featureless blackness, there was a seemingly endless line of mirrors to my right and, to my left, a dirty stone floor where a sprawling craftsman’s workshop had been staged for who knew how long. Hard at work at his blazing forge, the lean, tall dark elf known to me alternatively as Teng Rovo-something and as Smith, stood sweating in the hot air as he used his tongs to manipulate something in the hot coals.

Teng looked at me sternly, then back to his forge. Pointing at the bellows with the index finger of his heavy-gauntleted right hand, commanding, “Hotter!” In response to his barked order, the bellows pumped hard, forcing more and more air into the forge. Apparently satisfied for the moment, the mighty smith walked at me with purpose, his long white hair flowing behind him. He pulled off his left gauntlet as he approached and tucked it into his leather apron. “Welcome, Wayfarer. Finally have someplace you need to be?”

“Yeah, that kind of day,” I replied, handing over the Wayfarer’s Arcanum. “Sorry for the interruption.”

“No bother,” he said to my surprise, though still gruffly. “I needed to see you anyway.” He handed over a small wooden box as he said, “Here’s some bullets for you to test. They’re similar to the sample you gave me, but I added some magnetized iron and some extra powder.”

“Yeah, heavy,” I said, taking one out to feel. “I like it. This is great work, Smith. Or do you prefer ‘Teng‘?”

“Either’s fine,” he told me. “Stop trying to make me blush and tell me where you’re going.”

“Corvus Building, downtown,” I said, following him as he bolted off for a mirror before I could even finish speaking. “So you know where it is?”

“What floor?” he smiled.

“Top, thanks,” I told him as he used the obsidian rod to make the rippling mirror show us a bathroom inside the corporate target. “Now, do I need to come back through the same place I go through? I opened a hole in a wall once before.”

“You opened a passage through a wall,” he corrected me. “Use a reflective surface to get back to the mirror hall.”

“Oh, so I made a hole in the wall, like in a cartoon?”

“Sure, I suppose,” he said.

“What if I tap the rod against someone’s head?”

“The Wayfarer’s Arcanum is a finely crafted tool of subtle and ancient magic,” Teng explained, handing it back, “so it will certainly smite your villains mightily, especially when it is applied…upside the head.”

“’Upside the head‘?” I asked in disbelief. “Pick that one up around the forge?”

“Did I use that wrong?”

“No, surprisingly well actually,” I told him.

“Be sure to keep a good grip and remember your follow through. Go forth with confidence and stealth, Wayfarer.”

“On my way,” I said. As I’d arrived, I was off again, stepping through another mirror and back to Corvus. Certainly, it was nowhere near the top of my list of places I wanted to hurry back to and I definitely would’ve been happy about having time to plan, but there were times when evil activities just couldn’t wait to be stomped.

Taking advantage of my speedy travel and the privacy of the bathroom, I pulled the SOC card from my jacket pocket. I took a deep breath and let it out as I whispered, “Murder of crows.” The card began to glow in my hand.

The whispers began at once. A torrent of voices rushed through my mind, a chaotic noise of messages to and from Corvus. Standing still, it seemed that relaxing and clearing my mind would allow me to begin to make some sense of the crosstalk. I also discovered that some of the messages were flying in the form of images. With a little more effort over several minutes, guiding the imagery I paid attention to showed me where to find Harmony inside the Corvus office building. As expected, she’d been brought to the top floor for interrogation.

The Corvus puppet masters were desperate, but they couldn’t lobotomize her and hope to still get the information out of her that they wanted. My best estimation said there was little danger of them dragging her into the ranks of their mindless legions. On top of that, what Harmony and I knew and they didn’t, was that they could spend all night cutting off her fingers and toes without ever getting the info they wanted from her. Neither of us knew the secrets that would save Corvus. They needed to talk to Alex Gold. Harmony needed me to get in and get back out with her. If I was going to have any chance at getting her out whole, it was going to have to be done quickly.

On my last visit, it looked like the heaviest security was down on the first floor. Telling them that I was hired by Moss would’ve gotten me upstairs easily enough. Making up some story about finding their money might even have been enough to get me in the same room with Harmony. After all the effort they’d gone through to get her and bring her in, though, I had the feeling I wasn’t getting her away from them except at gunpoint. On any other job that would’ve given me a big, happy, warm puppy feeling, but I had no idea how many single-minded, reanimated guards and stalkers they might have had that I might not have been able to shoot down even with my shiny, new customized bullets.

Rather than have things play out like a bad zombie movie, I decided to use a technique that had gotten me out of a couple of tight spots before. I climbed up on a sturdy, flipped over trash can and took a disposable lighter to the sprinkler sensor. “What was the name of that restaurant?” I was asking myself when the alarms started blaring. I was soaking wet before I had my feet back on the hard tile floor.

There were only a couple of women screaming and squealing out of the half-dozen running for the stairs. Everyone else I could see was eerily calm, almost sleepwalking away from their cubicles, evacuating in a calm and orderly fashion. Well, at least they knew enough to go…or maybe they were only following an order. Either way, good for me. I didn’t have to kill the lights and the low-light goggles could stay in my coat pocket.

As I moved back through the cubicle maze, I heard a woman yelling from Moss’ corner office. I was surprised I could hear it as far away as I was and in spite of all the relentless noise of the alarms and hiss of the artificial downpour. It had all become unbelievably loud to me. I picked up my pace and stopped at the open doorway. It seemed crazy how very loud everything was. Helen Blazes was standing over Director Moss. I could tell that the office had been wrecked--smashed table, overturned chairs, papers and office supplies strewn about the floor--even before I’d started the water works.

“Get up! Get up!” Helen yelled at Moss as she tried pulling him to his feet. “He’s getting away with her!”

“Stone,” Moss said, hurriedly buttoning his suit jacket to cover a blood stain on his white shirt.

“Brick,” Helen beamed in as charming a tone as I’d ever had thrown my way, “what’re you doing back here so soon? Don‘t tell me you missed me already,” she said, trying to strike a casually sexy pose in a clinging wet dress while the chaos continued around us.

It was almost creepy. “Alright,” I said, “so we’re just pretending that the alarms and the indoor rainstorm aren’t happening? Is that it?”

“I hired Mr. Stone onto the case,” Moss said, sweeping his soaking wet hair back off his face. “Good timing, Stone. That bastard Gold was just here. He made a mess, kidnapped a girl and ran back out again.”

“You just missed him,” Helen added, pointing at the office door.

“So, if I hurry, I can catch him? Got it,” I said. “We’ll talk later.”

Undaunted by the downpour, I raced back to the elevators. By the time I was stabbing at the call button, my mind had been doing flips trying to figure out how I was going to find a homicidal Alex Gold with a captive Harmony Storm. By the time I reached the lobby, it was thick with sleepwalkers filing out the front doors. It felt like I was the only one in a hurry, pushing and squeezing my way through the slow-moving pack. Beyond the doors, I could hear fire engines getting closer and as I made it to the sidewalk along with scores of other people of questionable body temperature the sirens were about two blocks away.

I heard an engine revving and tires squeal nearby. As I continued to push through the mire of drones, I saw an old yellow sedan pulling off from the curb. Alex Gold was in the passenger seat. Well, they were found. That just left catching him and rescuing her. With violent suddenness, more noise and effort, the car swung a U-turn and sped back past the building. Harmony was the driver.

“Brick!” Harmony shouted as they passed.

I could hear the fear in her cry. My heart hammered hard in my chest and my politeness and restraint went for a walk. I started fighting my way forward trying to chase the car. I was pushing and shoving and knocking to the ground people whose only offered resistance came from the inertia of their complete lack of drive to move. Conversely, I was like a lunatic shopping after dark on Christmas Eve and that crappy car was the last of the must-have items on my list.

I felt my hand tighten its grip on the sturdy metal rod it carried as the impulse formed deep in the ancient lizard section of my brain to start swinging at every skull around me. Then, muscles tensing to begin my first assaults, I saw myself. There I was in a frozen moment of rage about to explode, my reflection captured in a window. Weight lifted from my chest and shoulders as I shoved people aside, sweeping them left and right to clear myself a path to the glass just a few feet away. I could just barely see the ghostly image of myself as an image in the glass and began tapping the window with the Wayfarer‘s Arcanum on the chance that it would be a reflective enough surface to get me to where I needed to go.

I fell out of a mirror. To me, it was a random mirror that looked just like any of the countless others that stretched off into featureless black on either side of the one I’d just tumbled through. I picked myself up from what passed for floor and looked to my left and to my right. I saw black and I saw mirrors, but no indication of the fire from Teng’s forge nor the sounds of his work. I had to find him or, at least, the master mirror that would get me home. The rod glowed. Why’d the rod glow? Because I thought of the master mirror? It glowed a little more brightly. Of course, it can point me to the master mirror.

I held the glowing rod to my right and said, “Master mirror,” but the glow faded as I felt only a slight tug to my left. I turned to my left and said, “Master mirror,” again, picturing the huge thing back in my apartment. That time I felt a stronger tug from the rod as it glowed brightly. I started walking. I wasn’t sure how far it was to my reflected living room, but at least I was going the right way.

I had to get on to my next move. It looked like Gold had Harmony driving uptown. The fact that Gold was still alive was becoming less of a secret every passing day. Too many of the wrong people knew he was breathing, in fact, so he couldn’t have been trying to keep Harmony quiet. That ship had sailed. He may’ve finally snapped, but like the folks at Corvus, he must’ve thought she knew something important. Like them, it would make sense that he’d take her to whatever he was calling home to squeeze info out of her…What was the name of that ritzy hotel again?


Thursday, September 15, 2011

16412--In Warm Blood (Ch. 14)

Happy Thursday. To help keep my own feet to the fire, I'm using Thursday as my public accountability day. That means, posting a bit of coherently creative output for you to read and feedback on every week. If I perform according to my own intent, what I put here will be available as a whole elsewhere at the same time or shortly after appearing here.

A Knowledge of Heather is currently available as a part of The Official Private Eye Handbook, first book in the CITY OF MAGICK series.  Please, feel free to take a look here, though, and at subsequent chapters. Let me know how you feel about it.  For those of you finding your way here relatively late, no problem. The start of the story is just a click away.
IN WARM BLOOD
Chapter 14


It was still a dark and stormy night, but things were looking better. That was, of course, from my point of view: not only had I not become part of the evening’s rising body count, I was hunting people who thought that I had become a part of the evening’s rising body count.

After a quick trip back to Pietro Ferrari’s building, I made a phone call to police headquarters from the lobby to let Cross know where to find the “legitimate businessman” I was after. I hadn’t actually been at his arraignment, but I was pretty sure that he’d been violating the conditions of his bail over the last few days. I had the elevator take me to the floor below Ferrari’s penthouse, then crept up the stairs to the luxurious top floor.

Poking my head from the stairwell doorway, I couldn’t see anyone around. Of course, it was after three in the morning, so I didn’t expect there to be too many people standing around. Still, I wanted to act quietly. That didn’t seem like it would be too hard. I guess, since he seemed to control the whole top floor, he felt confident about security. Both the elevator and the stairs opened into an entry hallway and there was no doorway to stop me from walking right into the apartment. I figured he usually kept at least one guard on duty, but whoever was supposed to be guarding probably ended up as a stain at the train station. So I ended up with no door to kick in and nobody to beat up or blow holes in. Ferrari was trying to bore me to death. Still, I was supposed to be dead, so I tried not to take it personally.

As I walked past the kitchen, I heard a toilet flush and turned to see the missing guard step out of the little guests’ room. So they had at least had sense enough to replace the night guard with a small-bladdered substitute. He didn’t notice me as he was zipping up, so I cleared my throat.

You!” he said.

“Right on the first guess,” I said, grabbing his tie and dragging him out into the entrance hall. After a couple of punches to the gut and a broken jaw, he fell to the floor and stopped trying to get back to his feet. With a satisfied smile, I sauntered back to that kitchen I had spotted. There was a goon with his back to me, staring into the open refrigerator.

“Hey, Johnny,” the guy said, not looking up, “you back? I was startin’ to think maybe you fell in.”

“No need to worry about me,” I said.

You!” he exclaimed, spinning toward me with that same deer-in-the-headlights look as the first guy.

“Right again,” I said, grabbing his tie and pulling him toward me. “What gave me away? Was it the hat? The coat?” I didn’t get an answer, though. He was about as fragile as Johnny. Ferrari‘s tough guys must‘ve jumped ship when the indictments started coming in. Some bad guys had no stomach for pressure.

I took a bottle of cooking oil with me from the kitchen and found my way through a few of the other rooms. There were only a few lights on through the whole place, but enough to keep me from bumping into most of the furniture. I ended up in a game room. I could see light from under a door and people moving around. I couldn‘t tell how many, but one of the muffled voices sounded like Ferrari. It would have to do.

I dumped the bottle of oil onto the pool table. I grabbed a couple of bottles of rum from the bar and, using the fresh book of matches I’d taken from Aeaea, set the pool table on fire. Hungry flames leapt up and black smoke began to billow. I moved to the wall near the office door and waited. After less than a minute, the smoke alarms started blaring. As expected, the office door opened and one of Ferrari’s men came out.

“Holy--! Hey, boss! We’re on fire!”

He started to run past me, but didn’t notice me so I tripped him. He fell behind the bar. I jumped on his back and broke a bottle of something expensive over his head. I caught a glimpse of the fire extinguisher he must’ve been after and picked it up. Ferrari came out next and stood stunned in the doorway.

“Johnny!” he shouted, dropping his cigar. “Mitch!”

“Catch,” I said, tossing him the extinguisher. He caught it and fumbled with it in a panic for a few seconds. Once he finally got the pin pulled, he emptied the canister putting out the blazing pool table. I flicked on a light switch, saying, “Nicely done, Pete. Now drop the can.” One look at the .44 and he complied. “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I was kind of hoping.”

“Well, you can put a stop to that,” I said. “We’re the only ones left. Your boys all dozed off--headaches or internal injuries or some such. You really should try to create a safer work environment. Maybe you’ll do better in the prison laundry.”

“We can still deal, Stone,” Ferrari said. “This doesn’t have to be ugly.”

“It does if you’re involved,” I said, waving him toward the office door. “Come on. Let’s get out of the smoke.”

“I knew you could be reasonable.”

“Shut up and show me what you’ve got,” I told him.

He walked over to ridiculously huge wall mirror and began tapping it with the rod. As before, the mirror‘s surface became like rippling water. Changing up the process a bit, Ferrari turned back to me and touched one of the symbols near the center of the rod‘s length. The black rod began to glow and then the end pointed at me flared with a bright light and unleashed a ball of fire rocketing my way. I was just able to dive and roll, leaving it to blast into the wall. “I thought you’d had enough fire for one night, you ass!“

“The rod has so many uses, though,” he said, “it seems a shame to waste them.”

I fired off two rounds, hitting him in the left arm and leg. Blood splashed out of him as he fell through the mirror, howling in pain. I scrambled back to my feet and ran through after him. Ferrari was whimpering, but still trying to grab the rod he’d dropped when he hit the floor. I kicked his hand away.

“He-Heal me,” Ferrari pleaded, whimpering. “I’m begging ya…please. The rod…”

I felt confused for a couple of seconds, then stupid for taking so long to realize, “The rod heals, too? Of course, like you said, it has lots of uses. What’d you call it? Wayfarer? It’s full of…useful tricks for travellers.”

“I’m dyin’ here, Stone,” Ferrari moaned again. “Just…”

“Quit your moaning,” I told him. “Bleed-out with some semblance of dignity.”

“Hey, come on,” he pleaded. “I thought we was gonna make a deal.”

I thought I was gonna kick you in the balls,” I said, starting to open storage boxes. “You blew any chance of a happy ending when you started shooting.”

“You mean, you really…would’ve let me go?”

“No, but I wasn’t going to shoot you. Now, what am I looking at?” I asked. There were ledger books and notebooks and photos of…“Is this a sheep? And…wow…three girls and none of them old enough to be mistaken for his wife.”

“I got dirt on a lotta guys,” he chuckled, but with strain. “Other bosses. Businessmen. Cops.”

“I told you you’d need the luck.” I kicked a box on the floor and heard a jingle. The long, wooden box felt heavy and solid. I flipped open the lid and found thousands of gold sovereigns and stacks of shiny metal bars. “Are these silver or platinum in here?”

Ferrari moaned.

“Hey, don’t be a sore loser,” I told him, “just answer.”

“Both,” he sighed.

Nice. Ferrari had just handed over records from his activities and incriminating evidence against who knew how many other people. He had just handed me a box of gold sovereigns and other precious metals. “Wow, between all this and being shot,“ I told him, “you’re having a crap week. Hey, what’s in this metal box?” I asked, opening a small money box.

He sighed again and said, “Safe deposit box keys.”

“Don’t like all your eggs in one basket, eh?” I said, scooping a few handfuls of sovereigns into the money box to carry along with me. “Well, it looks like I’m going to be busy for a while.”

I was starting to reach for the magic rod when I saw the smith at the door to the mirror office. His stern gaze was on me, hammer in his right hand and red-hot tongs in his left. “Teng, right?” I asked.

“You struggle for the Wayfarer’s Arcanum,” he said.

I kept the magnum’s barrel on him as my left hand grasped the rod. “Sort of,” I replied. “Struggling part’s kind of done, unless you’ve got something to add.”

“I do not contest,” the elf told me. “I am a craftsman.”

“You don’t say,” I said, standing back up. “I’m a detective. I don’t want to bother your work. I need this loser and his boxes of evidence.” The smith watched me quietly for a few seconds, then put his hammer and tongs on the floor and walked into the office. I put away my gun as he approached me and held out his hand. I watched him for a few seconds, then handed him the rod. He didn‘t seem the handshaking sort.

“The Wayfarer’s Arcanum is a traveller’s convenience,” he said, touching a symbol that made the thing glow, “possessing a score of capabilities.” The elf touched the rod to each of the boxes of evidence, making them glow and then vanish.

“Hey, I said I needed those!”

“When you return through the glass,” Teng began, “touch this rune, fehu, and your boxes will be released.”

“Oh, thanks,” I said. I had neither the tongue for magic nor the desire to develop one. I just nodded and trusted my memory to get me through for a few minutes.

“It’s not a common practice since it drains a lot of power,” Teng said, “but if you want this one healed, touch this rune, uruz, to create a healing aura.”

“This is probably as close as he’ll get to penance,” I said. “Why spoil it?”

“When you return through the glass,” he said again, this time handing me back the rod, “touch this rune again and hold the Wayfarer’s Arcanum to the mirror. Repeat the process when you wish to place the mirror and use it again.”

“Riiight…You say you’re a craftsman,” I said to him. “You make bullets?”

“Bullets?” he echoed.

“Bullets,” I said, handing him a bullet from my pocket. “I’m thinking electrum in this size.”

“Hmm,” he pondered, looking over the .357 caliber bullet. “Should be simple. Any special targets? Undead?”

“Effectiveness against anything generally magical,” I said. “I don’t want to pump a magnum load into a rabid grand shroud hag or a slathering shadow beast and have it laugh at me. When I pull the trigger, there need to be tangible results.”

“Reasonable challenge,” he said. “I’ll probably need to add some sigils. Check back with me.”

“Cool,” I said as he walked out of the mirror office and closed the door, returning to his forge. “Ferrari, you breathing?”

“Owww.”

“Wussy,” I taunted.

“Screw you, Stone,” he said, continuing to bleed on his red velvet carpet.

“That’s the spirit,” I said, heading back to the big mirror. “Let’s get you back where the cops can take care of you.”

Reopening the mirror portal, I grabbed Ferrari by the legs and dragged his sorry ass back into his smoky office. Following Teng’s instructions, the boxes of Ferrari’s incriminating insurance/evidence materialized in his office beside him. Then, walking back to the master mirror, I touched the rune again and held the rod against the surface of the glass. There was a glow and the ornate mirror faded away. The sound of approaching footsteps meant it was time for me to get out of the way and let the cops earn their pay. It was way past my bedtime and I still had to find a place to sleep. I tucked the metal box under my arm and the Wayfarer’s Arcanum into the pocket of my private eye trench coat (standard issue) just as Cross came in with a bunch of uniforms and paramedics trailing him.

“Stone! You alright?” Cross asked.

“Just peachy,” I said. “Impeccable timing, as always, Chief O’Hara.”

“What the Hell happened here?” he asked.

“It was like this when I got here,” I told him.

Brick…”

“Oooh…scary dad voice. Look, if it’s illegal, he’s probably done it,” I said. “The D.A.‘ll probably have some extra charges to file Monday. Ferrari needs medical attention and those boxes next to him have some really sick sorts of evidence inside. His henchmen are…around.”

“Yeah, I saw. What happened to them?” he asked.

“They fell down,” I said, pulling down on my hat brim. “A lot. No extra charge.”

“You feel up to making an actual statement?”

“That’s my story and I’m sticking to it,” I said. “Now, I need to go find a bed.”

“I assume that means you’re done leaving bodies on the sidewalk for tonight,” Cross said.

“If at all possible.”

“Great. Call me after you wake up.”

“Don’t be clingy, Cross,” I said. I headed for the elevator. Digging up dirt was one thing, but cleaning up I left to others.

Outside, the storm was down to a drizzle. I had more than enough for cab fare and Ferrari was paying for a decent hotel. I wasn’t ready to start trying to scrape my worldly possessions off my walls just yet. I really hated cleaning. Police and medics were shoving in and out of the building. I was fighting to find my way past their barricades, but almost knocked a long-haired beauty over as I moved through the crowd.

“Hey, Brick, good to see you’re alright,” Overknight said, suddenly catching me in a one-armed hug. “I was actually a little worried about you.”

“Hey, Jen, what’re you doing here? Docs cut you loose with your wing in a sling?”

“Yeah, it was a through and through,” she said. “It looked worse than it was.”

“You slacker,” I said. “You let me take you to the hospital and make a fuss over you for a scratch?”

“I wanted to give you a chance to feel useful,” she told me. “Thanks for the save.”

“Just good teamwork,“ I told her. “I almost didn’t recognize you. What happened to your ponytail?”

“I’m off-duty,” she said, shaking her hair to show off the bounce of her long, black locks, “so I let it down.”

“Looks good,” I told her. “You look a lot better than the last time I saw you, anyway. Got in a little tanning time while you were slacking off?”

“Well, you look exhausted,” she said, walking with me out of the police perimeter. “After they let me out of the hospital, I was going home, but Cross said you called so I figured I‘d come down here and rescue you.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re alright,” I told her, “but you should go home and rest.”

“And you should come with me,” she said. “As I recall, your place needs a few hundred coats of paint.”

“You want me to stay at your place, Overknight?”

“Maybe even longer,” she said. “You’re still a witness, after all. Even if Ferrari is out of action, till word gets out, more hired guns can still come after your ass. Remember the Bogies?”

“Yeah, so hanging around me even with an imagined price on my head isn’t safe,” I told her. “Your insurance premiums up-to-date?”

“Well, yeah…I think so.”

“I’d probably better just find a hotel,” I said. “You’re trying to hug an icy heart, kid. Be smart and head home.”

“I’ll go,” she said, “but you are coming with me. I think we need to practice keeping each other alive a bit longer.”

I was too tired to argue for a change. Overknight slid her good arm back around my waist and we worked through the crowd. Against my better judgment, I could feel myself starting to relax. Being alive together would do for the night. Tomorrow would wait for tomorrow…or maybe even the day after.