Wraith(11)

I nipped through the silent streets, keeping my senses alert. This was prime mugging time. I might not have had anything on me that would delight a would-be robber but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t try. Fortunately I managed to pass through the city unimpeded – at least until I reached the road next to the old bowling alley and just started to relax.

A couple stepped out in front of me. The man was heavyset, with broad shoulders and a swarthy complexion. He held a baton of the sort you used to see the police with when the police were still around. The woman by his side looked even grumpier, with long, dirty-blonde hair and an acne-ridden face that hinted of long-term drug use. I held up my palms, indicating I was coming in peace. Neither of them seemed impressed.

‘Whatcha doing here, Saiya?’

I sighed internally. ‘The usual.’

‘You’re later than usual. He ain’t taking callers now. Come back tomorrow.’

I held my ground. ‘Oh, he’ll want to hear what I have.’ My eyes swept across the pair of them. ‘In fact, if you deny him this he’ll be very, very cross.’

‘We’ll take our chances.’

It was beyond me why we had to go through these motions every time I showed up because they always let me pass in the end. Despite their brave words, they were genuinely scared of Marrock – and with good reason too. They didn’t like me, however; they didn’t like that I carried secrets or that I could seemingly unearth the darkest parts of a person’s soul. I could have told them that no one was interested in whatever they were hiding but they wouldn’t have listened. Instead we had to act out the same charade every damn time.

Rather than argue my way past, I folded my arms and regarded them calmly. The woman nudged her partner and gave him a meaningful look. In response, he cleared his throat. ‘Fine,’ he snapped. ‘But we have to search you first.’ A lascivious gleam entered his eyes.

More than prepared to ward off his groping, sweaty fingers, I peeled off my jacket and tossed it towards him. He caught it one-handed and glared. Then I yanked my T-shirt over my head and stretched out my arms. ‘See?’ I said. ‘I have nothing.’

‘You have the knife,’ the woman said.

I unhooked it and threw it towards her. She wasn’t quite as nimble as her partner and she fumbled with it. If she thought it was a weapon to be fearful of then she wasn’t as tough as she acted. Even from a distance it was clear how dull the blade was.

‘I want that back,’ I said. ‘Don’t lose it.’

Her lip curled. ‘This piece of crap won’t get you far.’

I met her gaze, like for like. ‘Oh, I think you’ll find it’ll get me far enough.’ We were all posturing now. What a waste of time.

The man pointed at my legs. ‘You might still be concealing something there.’

I rolled my eyes. I was still wearing my shadow gear so my jeans were skin tight. There was no way I could hide anything under that constricting denim. All the same, I played along, unbuttoning them and rolling them down my legs. He licked his lips and continued to stare.

‘Happy now?’ I enquired.

He raised a hand and pointed at my knickers. I narrowed my eyes at him while the woman next to him sniffed. ‘She’s clean.’

‘Nah,’ he grinned. ‘I think she’s actually very dirty.’ He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. When I still didn’t react, he wrinkled his nose and shrugged. ‘Fine, yeah, whatever. She’s clean.’ He addressed me. ‘You can go.’

I curtsied melodramatically and pulled my jeans up. I pulled my T-shirt over my head and walked over, holding out my hand for my leather jacket. The man smirked for a moment and held it just out of my reach. ‘Come and get it.’

From the building behind us, a window opened. ‘Give it up, Pat. Marrock’s orders.’

Pat’s face twisted in a spasm of fear. He tossed the jacket to me and I shrugged it on and smiled. ‘Thank you.’ I pointed at my all-but-useless knife, which the woman was still clutching. ‘I’ll be back for that.’

She hissed at me but she didn’t dare do anything – not with Marrock having already given the word. I walked past them, resisting the urge to saunter. There was no need to rub salt in the wound.

Marrock’s bowling alley looked the same as it always did. I had no idea why he chose to make this place his lair; to me, it was beyond depressing. There was something about the rows of dark and silent bandit machines, not to mention the stacks of unused shoes, which always gave me the shivers. I picked my way through, aware that there were numerous hidden pairs of eyes watching my approach, and then strode down the middle lane to where Marrock had set up shop. He said he put his desk at the far end of the bowling lane because he was frequently bowled over by what people did and he enjoyed the metaphor. I suspected he simply liked forcing his visitors to make the long walk towards him whilst he watched, as if he were some kind of rubbish-heap king sitting in a throne room and granting an audience to his supplicants. He didn’t scare me though. Much.

An array of flickering candles lit Marrock from below, making him appear more imposing. In truth, he was remarkably small in stature – although I’d seen him put down two men twice his size. What he didn’t have in size, he made up for with bravado. Sometimes it’s the small ones you have to watch out for.