12 Days of Fiction 2017: Day 4.
Fruitless Errands
“What now?” Maren asked.
I didn’t have to think much.
“Lewis’ place.”
“Oh no.”
“I’m sure he will know something, Maren. Or he will know someone who knows someone. He always does.”
“I don’t like it there. And he always insists on seeing your eyes.”
I stayed silent. Maren was right, of course.
You see, Lewis is… like a drug. Once you got him in your system, it’s almost impossible to flush him out. Maren knows that. Hell, Maren knows me better than anyone, how could she not know it? And Lewis and I have a story of our own.
However…
However. What a powerful word. Lewis has limits. Many of them are self-imposed, true; he could break them instantly. But oh the price to pay. There are rules: there are always rules. What he rejected cost him dearly; he’s but a shadow of his former self. Yet he’s still who he is, and nobody can even approach his level of power. That he has enough living like a bar owner and information trader is a boon for some of us.
Sometimes I think what will happen if he ever wants to go back. If he claims what was his. And the fact is, I don’t really want to know. He says all of that is behind him; that he has found free will and it’s amazing and frightful and wonderful. But I can only wonder…
If it ever happens, I hope I’m dead by then. Or I’ll have to face him. And who knows what will happen then.
But for the moment, things were like they were.
“Sorry, Maren, I was distracted. What were you saying?”
“Hmph! We could find information on the streets, or the net. What you really want is to see him again. You want to lose yourself in his eyes.”
My retort died in my lips.
Maren was right in part. What Lewis and I had was flaky, intermittent and decidedly dangerous. For both of us, truth be told.
“Let’s go,” I said instead. Maren didn’t talk to me during the ride to Lewis’. I had to dig information on Neodyne by myself, but all I got were public statements, stock exchange information and advertisements. Oh well.
The alley leading to Lewis’ was dark. Dark like a darkness that was somehow alive and wasn’t even going to allow any more light than was strictly necessary. Darkness that was carefully bred and nurtured. I walked along the queue, noticing the people staring staring at me, but I chose to ignore them.
I recognized the bouncer at the door: Agamemnon Castillo. Good guy. For a bouncer, that is. The couple at the head of the queue were shivering under his gaze. I just walked up to him.
“I want to see Lewis,” I said.
Castillo spun. Slowly, like the hill he was. He stared at me and he actually smiled. It was a terrible sight to behold.
“I’m sorry, Ms September, but the Boss is not available.” He sounded as if a mountain was talking to you. In a sense, it was.
“Not even for me, Mr Castillo?”
“He’s not home, Ms.”
For a second, I considered taking a look myself. I knew Castillo would let me in; if Lewis was indeed absent, he wouldn’t be happy when he got word I had been stopped at the gate. Unless, of course, he had ordered it himself. But I knew Lewis: in that case, Castillo would have simply told me he didn’t want to see me.
I nodded, and walked away. A punk in the queue elbowed his lady friend and pointed at me, a sassy smile in his face. I stared at him. Simply stared. He started to fret.
“Becca…” Maren said.
I moved away.
“Dang,” I said. “We’ll have to try other venues. Let’s see who’s at Vertten’s.”
“I like it at Vertten’s,” Maren said.
It started raining. I pulled up my hood and considered using a spell to stay dry. Then I decided I felt like a little rain. Why not. It was the perfect complement for an unsuccessful visit to Lewis.
When I reached the last corner before Vertten’s, I felt it. Something bad, immediately going to happen. When one learns from an oracle, the premonitory sense never really leaves you.
I rolled with the impact, and the man fell to the ground with a scream, me on top. He wore a shabby trench coat and a fedora that rolled away. The rain covered his face, but I recognized him.
“Steve Majewski,” I said. “Just my luck.”
