Now I really was jumping around the alley and Fate was openly smiling at my enthusiasm. “I wish I could see Malokin’s face when he finds out we got five of his people! And my bucket list officially has a check!”
I was almost skipping as we started to walk back to where we’d left our car at the market. “Five of Malokin’s men down. Four for you and one for me. Maybe three and a half from you. I did make that one guy easier. I think I deserve partial credit on him.”
In the middle of my elation and recent achievement, I didn’t expect the smile to slip from Fate’s face.
“I think we need to have a talk.”
Chapter TwentyOne
“There’s something I need to tell you about last night,” Fate said.
“What?” I said aloud, while internally I was shouting I knew it. He had slept with someone, goddamn gigolo. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him.
“That’s not fair.” There was a gravelly quality to his.
“What’s not fair?” He wanted to talk fair?
“What you’re thinking.” His voice went from gravel to stone. “It’s written all over your face.”
“What’s written on my face is what I heard in your tone. Obviously I’m not going to like whatever it is you have to say, which I’m withholding opinion on until I hear all the facts.”
His eyes called me a liar but when his mouth opened, he said, “I want you to meet someone who was converted by Malokin who’s staying with Lars—who, by the way, I didn’t sleep with, even though, according to you, I can’t keep my dick in my pants. And you can’t kill her.”
“You do know how odd that sounded, right? Putting that whole speech about your penis in the middle of that statement?” On the positive side of things, Fate wouldn’t sleep with someone involved with Malokin in any way. It still didn’t mean I was going to like this.
“Having to ask you not to kill someone is utterly normal? Your bucket list? Again, completely normal shit you’ve got going on. And yet I don’t accuse you of being a murdering lunatic.”
Spotting a gang on the horizon, Fate and I ducked into a partially burned out self-serve laundry place. After all, we couldn’t kill every lunatic on the street or there wouldn’t be enough people left when things hopefully righted themselves.
I hopped on top of a somewhat clean washing machine and continued my argument. “Only because I haven’t been doing very well with it. You, on the other hand, have had quite a bit of success with your numbers, from what I’ve heard. I know your batting stats are up there. Don’t forget, our coworkers talk. A lot.” I leaned back and immediately thought better of it as my palm landed in a mixture of spilled detergent and ash.
“Do you realize how long I’ve lived? I wasn’t a priest, for God’s sake.” He handed me a rag that was lying on the counter.
I took it and jumped off the machine, trying to keep a few feet of distance between us. If I was three feet away at all times, it would be psychically impossible to have sex. “No, I have no idea how long, because you’ve never told me that either. Who is this person and why are they with Lars?”
“It’s some girl who showed up at his shop. She’s under his protection.” He hopped up on a folding table to sit, leaning forward with his hands braced on either side of him.
“I’m not saying I would kill her, but why can’t I?” I clanged a dryer door shut. “Since when did we start caring about keeping his people alive? Is this some sort of pity deal?”
“She came to him for help. She claims she’s not a bad person. Lars is a bit on edge about her.”
It took a second for all the pieces to click together. When things moved as fast, as they did these days, it was hard to be sharp at all times. But whoa, when they did click, I was speechless, at least for a second before I blurted out, “He’s fucking one of Malokin’s converts? I can’t believe this. And I’m supposed to not kill her so he can keep his sex toy?”
“I didn’t say you wouldn’t want to.” He leaned back, resting an arm along the machine next to him, somehow finding the only clean space in the joint. “I’m telling you, you can’t.”
“And you’re fine with this?”
“I’m giving him space to figure it out.”
“Figure it out?” I snorted. Lars screamed sex. “If he hasn’t figured it out yet, he should probably give up hope. Like Lars needs another crazy girl to fuck? You boys are unbelievable. Hey, why try and stop this at all? Hell, more crazy chicks to bang.” His eyes followed me around the place as I thought out the situation on my feet. “And don’t look at me like I don’t know. I’ve heard all the stories.”
He shook his head. “This one’s different.”
“Oh yeah, I agree there. Most of the girls he fucks aren’t part of Malokin’s Army of Evil.”
“You’re making assumptions. I met her. I’m not so sure she’s bad.”
“Let me guess, you want to fuck her too?”
“Nope. Not even a little.” His gaze locked on me like a homing signal and sent me scurrying to my next pointless thing of observation, a detergent dispenser.
“Why wasn’t I invited last night?”
“Bucket list.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot.” These people made an awful big thing out of a list I hadn’t been able to execute very well. “When do I get to meet her?”
“Leaving the timing up to Lars.” Fate jumped down from his seat, ducked his head out of the building and then waved me forward.
***
The house was peaceful and quiet. Fate was out looking for more pop-up armories with the Jinxes, and everyone else was asleep. The moonlight spilled in through the doors.
At night, when it went silent like this and the crazies had all finally succumbed to exhaustion, I could almost pretend everything was normal.
The warmth of the mug seeped into my palms, where they wrapped around it, as I walked over to the couch. I’d curl up in the corner and watch the waves break on the ocean. Sipping my tea, I’d dream of normal everyday bliss while I waited for exhaustion to claim me as well.
I’d imagine that the world wouldn’t be falling apart. Maybe I’d never died and was at a friend’s beach house, making a late night cup of tea because I was up and worried about a trial next week or some other matter that now seemed trivial.
Only hiccup was, in my dreams, Lars was never sitting on the deck with a machine gun resting on his lap.
I moved past the couch and opened the door to the deck instead. He looked over at me as I took the seat beside him. His boots were kicked up on the railing as the moonlight bounced off his hair. He was a handsome guy if you could get past the fact he’d been the Grim Reaper in a past life and he looked like he was still willing to lend a helping hand to anyone who wanted to pass over.
“How are you?” he asked.
His eyes scanned me, searching for some visible display of my messed up psyche. That’s when I knew for certain he’d not only had the entire story of everything that had gone down recently, but all the nitty gritty details as well.
“I’m fine,” I replied. And I was but I could have been a walking train wreck and still wouldn’t have admitted it. Looks of pity had that effect on me.
He nodded, like someone who understood on a personal level what it was like to keep your own counsel.
“Live long enough and bad shit tends to happen. More often than usual with you, but it’s unavoidable.” He smiled, taking the unintentional sting out of his words. “Take enough steps and sooner or later one of them is going to be in dog shit.”
“I guess I’m lucky like that.” I looked down the beach, seeing a few stragglers but not much else. “Quiet tonight.”
“Enjoy it. We might not get too many more of these.” He crossed his ankles where they rested on the railing, the heavy boots making a thudding noise in the quiet of the night as he repositioned them.
I buffed my nails on the pajama shorts I was wearing. “I wasn’t going to ask but since the world’s going to shit and I’m at a lack for more appropriate small talk—“
“Figured he’d tell you about her,” he said with no surprise in his voice.
“Yes.”