Wrong Ways Down

CHAPTER NINE

AYE, WERE FUCKING dumb of him to think a new day could mean anything good. He stood inside a squat on Foster and looked at the bags in his hand, trying to calm down enough to listen to what Bumberjack were telling him.

“Told me them could handle what ghosts be out there, them did,” Bumberjack said. His voice were more slurred than usual; Terrible guessed them bags had been fuller when he bought em. When he bought em off Slobag’s men. “Told me I start buyin offen them, you get me, buyin them product, they help me out an be keeping me safe from that spook out there.”

“Ain’t a fuckin ghost.” It came out harder then he meant it to; Bumberjack shrank away. Shit. Terrible took a deep breath. “Ain’t a ghost, dig? Slobag lyin, tryin get people moving over to he.”

“But be a spook killed Slick, I’m hearing—”

“Weren’t a ghost killed Slick. True thing, aye? Were seen. Were a living one, not dead.”

Bumberjack ain’t looked convinced. “Why Bump ain’t got the Churchwitch in? Slobag men sayin can keep me safe from the spooks.”

Bumberjack weren’t usually so dumb. That bag Slobag’s men gave him musta been stronger than usual. Well, aye, them was tryna steal customers, wasn’t they? Coursen what they offered now were better than normal. Then after people made the switch Slobag’d start cutting their shit deep again.

“Bump ain’t got the Churchwitch in,” he said, real slow, “causen we ain’t needing her in. No ghost, dig? No ghost, no need for the Churchwitch. Iffen a ghost were around, she’d be in it. Aye?”

“But—”

“Naw, no but.” Terrible glared at him. “An no ghost. Ain’t wanna even be hearing that shit again, dig? I hear you saying that shit, I come back. You keep you fuckin mouth shut.”

“Aye, aye, okay, I ain’t saying on it. Swearing I ain’t.”

“He say any else to you? What you saying to he?”

“Ain’t said much.”

“Who else he chattering with?”

Bumberjack shrugged. “Ain’t seen. Ain’t were watchin, aye?”

Terrible pulled out his phone without responding and sent a text to the street-man number; a minute or two later a shadow covered the doorway of the squat, a shadow which became Soft Mike. “Aye?”

“Change these out.” Terrible held up the two bags he took offen Bumberjack. “Give he fresh. I taking these, aye? Ain’t worry on the paying.”

The day ain’t had gotten any warmer out, neither. Last day of the year. And the good mood he’d had that morning were totally gone, replaced by a feeling of … foreboding, he guessed. Foreboding. Had the feeling something weren’t right, like before the day ended he were gonna wish it had never started.

Ain’t helped that when he got outside with Mike, Mike said, “Why come Bump ain’t doin anything on this ghost we got out there?”

Terrible yanked a cigarette out of his pocket to give him something to do with his hands. Something besides punching Mike. “No fucking ghost. Ain’t knowing where you getting that shit. No ghost.”

“Heared be the Cryin Man, I heared.”

“Aw, fuck. Ain’t a ghost, for certain ain’t the fuckin Cryin Man. Cut that shit out, aye? No more.”

Mike shrugged. “Only sayin what I hearing.”

“You hearing it, you tell em be bullshit.”

But he could see in Mike’s eyes that Mike weren’t convinced.

Why the fuck did Slobag think people would believe he could do anything about ghosts? He ain’t had a Churchwitch on he side of town working for him or aught like that. Were possible he’d hired heself some other witch—were some around—but still. As far as Terrible knew Slobag ain’t had any to do with any witches; he ain’t had heard even the slightest rumor that there were anybody magic working for him. And he heard all kindsa rumors, all the time.

But then, nobody ever said Slobag made sense with what he did. And it ain’t mattered much anyroad. He were either killing and attacking so’s he could make Bump look weak, or he were taking advantage of killings and attacks so’s he could make Bump look weak. What mattered was that he stopped tryna make Bump look weak, and to get him to stop Terrible had to make the attacks stop.

“Hearing Slobag tryin hire some dudes away,” Pete said. “Hearing one a his men pull up on Roley on the yesterday, lean out he car onna street and start giving him chatter on how iffen any wanted to come working for he, he make em all be safe.”

What the fuck? Roley hadn’t said a word to him or Bump on that, least not yet. “Any others?”

“Ain’t knowing. Ain’t heared other names but ain’t can think Roley be the only one. Why Roley, dig?”

Aye, Terrible wondered that, too. Roley’d been working a warehouse up Seventy-first, far from the borders. Seemed awful funny, Slobag sending men all that way but not having em closer. Seemed awful funny them head straight for Roley.

But again, who knew why the fuck Slobag did what he did? Maybe he were tryna take the far streets and close in around Bump, like flanking, instead of moving straight up. Either way he had to be stopped.

Terrible nodded at Pete, who seemed to be waiting for a reply, and headed back to the car. Maybe stopping in Roley’s place would be worth doing.

What a shithole.

Smelled like old socks and mold; probably causen there were old socks everywhere, and dirty plates covered with mold littered the kitchen. Even on the grimy tile floor. No wonder Roley couldn’t get laid, iffen he were tryna bring dames back to this place.

“Were sleepin.” Roley sounded peevish and annoyed. Katie got that tone sometimes when Felice made her clean her room before she could go out to get some eats with him. But Katie were eight years old. And she was a fuck of a lot cuter than Roley, and she weren’t a smug prick neither.

So Terrible didn’t reply, just watched Roley move stacks of stroke mags and papers and empty potato chip bags off his couch to clear a space. He ain’t really wanted to sit there, but he were trying not to let Roley know how much he hated him, so he sat. “Hearing Slobag sent some men have a chatter with you on the yesterday.”

Roley nodded. “Gave me all this shit on how workin for them be safer than stayin here, dig? Causen of the ghosts an all.”

Terrible lit a smoke, as much to try and hide the smell of the place as because he wanted one. He ain’t bothered offering one to Roley. “Why come you ain’t say to me?”

“Said to Bump, on the morn.” Roley smirked. “Went by he place, gave him what happen. He ain’t happy on it, he weren’t at all, noways. Wonderin why he ain’t given you it? Seemin kinda funny, ain’t it, that he keeping that from you.”

Terrible could stub out he smoke in Roley’s arm before Roley’d even know what he were doing. Change that smug fucking expression on he face real fucking fast. The fuck did he think he were gonna gain with that shit?

“Tell me again,” he said, letting Roley’s attempt at a dig, or whatany it were supposed to be, lie there on the floor among the filth. Where it belonged. “What happened. What them said.”

Roley yawned. “Awful tired, I am, an I gotta work again tonight, seein as how you ain’t letting me off. Maybe we chatter on this later, aye?”

The wall opposite the couch were covered by one of the biggest TVs Terrible ever seen. One a them brand new huge ones with the thin screen. He headed for it, tugging his knife from his pocket as he went and flicking out the blade. Fuck this. He’d pay for a new one outen he own pocket. Be worth it.

He’d just pulled back his arm to thrust the blade into that screen when Roley’s yelp stopped him. “Okay! Fuck, okay, shit, what the fuck problem you got? Work together, we do, ain’t see why you gotta fuckin be that way. Why you treat me so shitty alla time like I’m some loser.”

“Why’nt you just fuckin say me what they tell you, an you can get back to you fuckin beauty sleep.”

“You pissed causen what I say on the Churchwitch?”

“What?” Was he gonna have to hit Roley to get a damn answer?

“Askin you, you pissed up at me causen that. Only sayin, you around she a lot. She ain’t my type, but guessing she cute enough.”

Terrible opened his mouth, then stopped himself. Roley seemed awful interested in getting knowledge on Chess. On how Terrible felt about Chess. Why?

Not that he cared. Only made him more certain, though, he ain’t could beat on Roley for it, prove he right. “Just give me what Slobag’s man said.”

Roley sighed, but the smile ain’t quite left he face. Sick little shit. “Pulled up onna street, leaned out them car, ask me how I feel working for a dude lets ghosts kill he men an ain’t done shit on it. Telling me how iffen I come working for them, start handing my money over to them, dig, they keep me safe.”

Terrible took a last drag off his cigarette and stubbed it out against the wall. Fuck Roley. “What’d you say?”

Roley watched the cigarette hit his floor. “Told em to fuck off.”

“You alone then?”

“With Nick, only he weren’t there. Went to get he a Coke, he done, were in the Stop Shop.”

If only that were suspicious. Well, it were suspicious, but not as much as he wanted it to be. Iffen he were the one wandering around Slobag’s territory tryna poach men, he’d talk to em on their alones, too. Better odds, and less danger. One dude weren’t gonna attack a couple guys in a car. Two dudes together just might.

“Any else?

“Nay. Were it. I say fuck off, them drive away.” Roley showed he teeth. “Woulda said right away, but were workin. Ain’t wanted to be abandoning my work, aye?”

If Roley thought that were some kinda clever sarcasm or whatany, he were dumber’n Terrible thought he was. Not that Terrible was gonna tell him that. “Good. Make certain you don’t.”

He almost wished Roley would, though. That’d be something he could beat on Roley for, and Lacey’d just have to fucking deal with it. As it were … he were the one fucking dealing with it, and that sucked.

He’d almost given up on hearing from Chess when she called him around six-thirty. Late for her to be finishing up there, specially on Holy Day when she usually got home around four, so maybe she’d spent some extra time there at Church; maybe meant she had something for him on the Peace Factory. He hoped so, anyway.

He answered. “Hey, Chess. You right?”

“Yeah,” she said, and she did sound cheerful. Not the artificial kind of cheerful, neither; he were getting good at telling the difference, at knowing when she was really feeling good and when she was feeling good just causen of what pills she swallowed. Her voice were more … solid, when it was real. “Right up. You?”

“Aye.” He paused. He were supposed to pick Amy up around eight. That ain’t left much time.

But he could be a little late, couldn’t he? Seeing as it was work. It weren’t him deciding to be late just so he could hang out with Chess. It was time he needed to spend. It was keeping the whores safe, doing his job. Amy’d understand.

He hoped she would. And he hoped he’d be able to think of a way to explain it to her so she knew it was work, and not just wanting to spend time with Chess.

So he asked, “You busy?”

“Nope. I just got home.”

Why they seemed like they always danced around this he didn’t know, but they did. Like neither wanted to commit to it; like neither wanted to stick out their necks in case somebody brought down a blade on it.

But he figured her company was worth more to him than the other way around, and he figured it was his place to do the asking anyway, so it ain’t bothered him. “Buy you some eats?”

“Yeah, sure. Come over.”

He wouldn’t ask if she had anything for him on the phone. She wouldn’t expect him to. Instead he turned the wheel—he’d been driving aimlessly, keeping an eye on the busier-by-the-minute streets—and headed for her place.

She came outside as he turned off the car to go get her, and hopped into the passenger seat in a swirl of cold air and the scent of herbs and flowers, whatever that was that she always smelled like. Real light, like an afterthought, so he knew it weren’t some perfume or whatany that she put on. It were just her skin, her hair. Just her.

And she did look happy. Relaxed. He’d been right on that one. He wouldn’t ask why—she’d tell him iffen she wanted him to know—but it was good to know he’d been right. Seemed like he got smarter and smarter on her every day, knew more and more.

Maybe he weren’t the only one getting more knowledge. Chess looked at him close, with narrowed eyes pale behind black make-up. “You okay?”

He shrugged. “Ain’t slept much on the last night.”

That weren’t all bothering him, or, it were a side effect of what bothered him. Hearing all them ghost rumors bothered him. Hearing on Slobag’s men wandering around in Bump’s territory bothered him. The frustration—the sick feeling of being too stupid to figure out what was happening, of knowing if he were just a little smarter he’d be able to get it—ate at him like street-dogs on garbage. He bet he weren’t looking too good.

Not that he ever did. He knew what he looked like.

But just like always, having her in the car made him feel better. No matter who he was or how he looked, Chess was willing to ride around with him, be seen with him. Spend her time with him. That was pretty fucking cool.

“Well,” she said after a second, “maybe what I found out today will help. I hope so, anyway.”

“Aye? What you got?”

She bobbed her head back and forth, an “eh” kind of movement. “I don’t know. Not a lot, but it’s interesting. I think it’s interesting.”

He didn’t bother to say that if she thought it was interesting, he probably would, too. Instead he stayed silent while she pulled some sheets of paper from that big bag she carried. Printouts, looked like. “Thought you ain’t could get any reports on them from you Church.”

Printouts, turned out to be. She angled them so he could glance over. “I looked at their website. What places like that put out in public can be as useful as the private stuff, you know?”

“Aye,” he said, not really thinking, as he parked outside Dunk’s. Part of their protection deal was they gave him decent food, like real quality; well, lots of places made that same deal, but Dunk’s were his favorite, and close to Chess’s place. Besides, she seemed to like it, so even if he didn’t he’d take her there. “Everybody gots shit them hiding.”

“Yeah. Well, what they’re hiding is a little Church trouble they had last year. See here, where it talks about a ‘revamped product line?’ And acts like it’s just part of their big quest to help people? That’s because they were using illegal power methods to charge their stuff, and some of their customers got hurt.”

“Illegal power? Like with dead bodies or ghosts or whatany?”

“This was illegal spells and sources, but yeah. Stuff they shouldn’t have done, that only Church employees are allowed to do.”

“What you meaning, sources?” The whores ain’t said any got stolen from their purses, but maybe something—no. Whores never lost track of their shit. Had minds like bankers, them did.

“Illegal energy raisings, or using forbidden materials.”

Energy raisings. “Like what you say me before, on death curses, needs a killing to start it up?”

She smiled at him, and ain’t even looked surprised that he remembered. “They weren’t killing people, but yeah, basically. You commit a crime, and feed that energy into the spell to start it. Illegal or immoral acts can raise a lot of energy.”

Acts like rape. He examined the pages she’d handed him. A list of “products,” with pictures. A history of the company; he’d read that later. And a few pictures of the owners or bosses or whatany of the place, with them bullshit paragraphs next to each to tell people how smart they were and how they’d achieved everything they’d ever planned to do or whatever the fuck those things said.

“Why come this one ain’t got a picture?” he asked, showing her the name he meant. Brian Tyler, Head of Product Development.

Chess shrugged. “There wasn’t one on the site.”

“You get any—”

She was already shaking her head. “That’s stuff I’d have to ask an Elder for. Sorry. I did a regular internet search for him, too, to try to get a picture, but nothing came up, really. No images or any real information, except that he graduated from the University of Truth in Springfield six years ago. His name was listed as part of the graduating class.”

He nodded, folded the papers, and got out of the car. New Year’s Eve weren’t much different from any other night in Downside; drunks stumbling around, people screeching and playing music, but it started earlier than usual. The noises were like an assault.

When he opened her door for Chess she started talking again. “There’s nothing about any other employment, so I don’t know what he might have done between graduation and now.”

“See what else I can find,” he said, as they started walking toward the diner. “Address and all that shit, dig.”

“Where? I mean, I can’t—”

He smiled at her. “Thinkin you the only Church worker we get knowledge from?”

Her head tilted back, letting him know she got it. “Right.”

“Only you the best one,” he said, ushering her into the diner ahead of him so she didn’t have a chance to react.

After they’d sat and ordered he unfolded the pages; they sat at his usual booth, the last one on the right, so nobody were behind him or could see what he was doing. Not really much use, any of what she had. Well, no, it were useful—it gave him something, and since he ain’t had shit before that mattered—and he was grateful for it, but he’d hoped for more.

“People buy this shit?” he asked, scanning the list of products. “Spells to make kids obey? Spells to make worries better?”

“Pretty sleazy, huh?” Her smile, the way her dark red lips curved, made him feel like he was in on some secret with her. Like they were the smart ones. “Those places will sell anything.”

“It ain’t work, aye?”

“Nope.” She lifted her right arm and curled it behind her head, curled her fingers, to gather up her hair and pull it off her neck. Her head tilted to the right as she did it, so her throat was a long pale line rising from the collar of the blue shirt she wore over a black long-sleeve t-shirt. He knew he shouldn’t stare, he should look away fast before she noticed. But he couldn’t help it. It was so … she weren’t even aware of it, how pretty the movement was, how graceful it was, how it made his breath stop.

Then he saw the mark. The bite mark, down low, more on her shoulder than her neck. But definitely a bite mark. No mistaking that one.

Seeing it felt like being punched. Now he knew why she were in such a good mood. That hadn’t been there that morning, neither, and she didn’t seem to realize it were there, like it were brand new. So now he knew—probably—why she’d got home later than usual.

He wondered who the guy was. If she even knew his name. He hated himself for wondering. Weren’t his business. Hated, too, the way before he could stop it he imagined his own teeth sinking into that soft pale skin, remembered the taste of it and her hands in his hair, imagined her gasping under him—

Fuck. He looked away, fast, feeling heat creep up his neck and below his belt. The papers in his hand shook; with effort he stilled them, stared at em like they held the secrets of the fucking world, cleared his throat. He couldn’t look at her.

Not even when she spoke. “What’s up? Something on there I missed?”

It took him a second to come up with an answer. “Naw, naw, just … wonderin about this place, is all.”

The food arrived. How much would Chess eat? Not his place to say on it, but he still watched, carefully avoiding looking at her throat again. She was too thin—well, no, she was perfect, but he worried maybe she ain’t ate enough for health.

Not a subject he could really talk on with her, though. Best he could do was keep asking her to come eat, and hope iffen he put food in front of her she would. Usually she did. Not as much as he’d like, but she did.

She grabbed a few fries. He relaxed a little.

“Yeah, well.” She swallowed, glanced around to see was anybody listening. “I wonder about it, too. Some of the stuff they’re selling isn’t technically unethical, but it’s right on the border.”

“Wonder if Slobag gots people there.” He’d meant it only to change the subject—to get back into the subject, actually, stead of sitting there sweating causen his imagination were revving so hard—but as he said it he really did wonder. The rape thing were still a sticking point for him, but the way Slobag were taking advantage of the whole thing …

“Slobag have a witch?” Chess asked. Real casual, but he wondered if there weren’t some tension in her voice, on her face as she sipped her Coke. Made sense, though. She weren’t dumb. She had to know that next time Bump needed magic she’d be up top on he go-to list.

“Not what I got,” he said. “Ain’t hearing any like that.”

“Well, that’s good, anyway. I’m sure you’d hear about it if it was happening.” She took a bite of her burger. Even better; fries weren’t enough, he ain’t thought. Needed she something more substantial. “So I was thinking, we could go take a look at that place. The Peace Factory. It’s in Cross Town.”

“Aye, thought on that,” he said. “Went over once afore, only ain’t can really do it more’n that myself, dig, causen—”

“They’ll recognize your car,” she finished. “You might as well hang up a big blinking sign over it that says ‘Terrible’s watching you.’”

Felt good to laugh. Felt good hearing that tone in her voice, that teasing one. Most dames didn’t joke with him, like they figured he ain’t had a sense of humor.

“Is that the idea? I mean, so people know you’re around?”

He shrugged. “Ain’t want em forgetting, aye?”

Again that look in her eyes, like she thought he was smart. He braced himself for her to say something on it again, for he neck to get warm again when she did. One day maybe he’d be better when she said that stuff, like able to handle it more. As it was he knew she could see it, just as clear as he could see them teeth-marks on her. Who was he? Had to be somebody she knew, causen it ain’t seemed like she’d have had time to pick up somebody new.

But she didn’t see em again, them she took home. He’d never seen her even talking to em again. Hell, he’d seen her deliberately move to the other end of the room to avoid em. So who?

What fucking difference it made? It weren’t him, and that were all that mattered.

He ain’t even knew for sure she’d left work at three-thirty like usual on Holy Day. She maybe just printed them pages for he right after the service ended, then left. It were New Year’s Eve, weren’t like a regular day. She coulda spent the whole afternoon finding somebody to celebrate with.

“We could take my car,” she said. “Drive by there tonight, maybe. I bet nobody will be there, we could look around. We could go after that fight ends.”

He hadn’t expected that one at all, and shoved some food into his mouth to give him a second to think. He wanted to say aye. Not just cause it was Chess, but—well, aye, cause it was Chess, but the thing was, working with her was fun. It was fun, having her there and talking to her on it, causen she had good ideas and she seemed to think his ideas were good, too. Talking to her made him feel smarter. He were pretty sure talking to her made him actually be smarter.

But … Fuck. He couldn’t. Well, he guessed he could, but seeing as how he was probably gonna be late picking Amy up, he weren’t certain leaving her early so he could go see Chess were such a great plan.

She musta seen it on his face. “What? Tonight’s no good?”

“Maybe … maybe day after be better, aye? Time to plan an all.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Not watching the fight alone?”

He shrugged. The shrug might as well have been him saying aye. He hated having to tell her about the other dames he spent time with. He weren’t sure why; they all knew about each other, Amy and Sela and Evie, and sometimes Vannie when she ain’t had a boyfriend. Ain’t bothered them. They even talked to each other—which he hated, but weren’t like he could do any about it.

But it felt different with Chess.

“So you’ll be busy all night, huh,” she said. Her slim fingers fiddled with the straw in her Coke, her eyes focused on it. She never looked at him when the dames he saw came up in chatter. He didn’t let himself wonder on why.

Then she gave a short cough, sounded kinda forced. “Well,” she said. “Cool. Have fun, you know?”

He nodded. Shit. He ain’t knew what to say, and he felt like an asshole. “Hey. This night’s right up for me, dig, I can—”

But she weren’t gonna let him finish that. He knew it as soon as he opened he mouth and she turned to check the clock on the wall. Twenty past seven. “What time are you picking her up? Amy, right? What time are you supposed to get her?”

Lie. He should lie. Say ten, or eleven. Anything to stop her saying what he knew she’d say after he answered.

But he also knew she could find out easy what time the fight started, and she’d know he weren’t gonna leave his place in the middle of it to get Amy. If he told her ten and she seen the fight started at nine, how would that look? “Eight.” Then, real fast, “Only I can be late, she already got that I—”

“No, no.” She were already slipping her coat back on, the cute one with them big buttons in the front. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t, I mean … ”

“Naw, naw, Chess, ain’t worry on—”

She grinned at him, a grin that ain’t quite reached her eyes. “Shame on you, letting her wait like that. Come on. I’m done eating, anyway.”

She ain’t even ate half her food. “Whyn’t you have a little more, aye, or take it—”

“I’ll get something later.” She’d finished fastening the buttons and started putting on she gloves. “Besides, you should be worrying about what Amy’s going to say, not about me.”

Her tone were teasing and light, but he saw shadows in her eyes and her smile ain’t looked strong like it had before. Fuck. She was upset now—she looked hurt now—and he saw it despite the way she were tryna smile and joke, despite the fact that he weren’t even certain she knew it herself. Was fairly certain she ain’t knew at all, actually, and that if he asked she’d be confused. And it was his fault.

“She already got that I might be late,” he said. Probably sounded a little desperate but shit, he didn’t feel right getting up and taking her home when she seemed unhappy. Seemed like he oughta stick with her for a while, try getting her cheered up again.

Or she’d just cheer herself up. Fuck. She were already digging in her bag; he heard the clasp on that heavy silver pillbox she carried snap open. “It’s fine,” she said. He caught a glimpse of her palm—two, or three? He couldn’t tell for certain—before she flipped the pills into her mouth and washed them down. “Come on. You don’t want to keep Amy waiting.”