“Yeah, sure,” Lars responded, neither of them seeming overly concerned.
Faith ran over to the phone and dialed nine-one-one. Lars saw her and shrugged as the client threw his shirt back on. She watched the guy leave through the back exit while she wondered why the phone just kept ringing.
Lars walked over to the window as she continued waiting.
He leaned a hand on the wall as he watched the fight but then spoke to her. “They aren’t going to answer, no matter how long you wait.”
“Why not?”
She thought about how many times it had rung and realized he was right. If they hadn’t picked up by now, they probably weren’t going to. She put the phone back on the cradle and stared at it for a second longer before she got her mind to give up on the police.
She walked back over to where he stood, watching the fight that was still in full swing, minus a few combatants who were lying unconscious on the ground. The sight made her fidgety but he was leaning against the wall still, not a tense muscle to be found. “Doesn’t this bother you?”
He pointed out the window. “As long as they kill each other on that side of the sidewalk, nope.”
“Why?”
He looked at her as if it was obvious but then explained. “Because from the sidewalk in is my land. Nobody fucks around on my land.”
She nodded, deciding to let that conversation go for now. “And this is all because of Malokin?” she asked, even as she got the distinct impression Lars wasn’t in the mood to speak. Or hear her speak? She wasn’t sure which.
“Yes.”
“But how?”
“We don’t know how it works exactly, but his presence here is making people angrier. They aren’t in their right minds anymore. Not all of the humans but enough to cause utter chaos.”
“So him simply existing spreads anger?”
She thought back to what Malokin had wanted, how he’d introduced the other one, and shivered.
“I told you, it’s safe here.”
She nodded. Better to let him think she was scared of the fighting outside than what had really made her shudder.
A black Mercedes, with windows tinted so dark you couldn’t see anything inside, whipped into the lot, parking twenty feet from the fight in progress, and in clear view of the gang. Cutty got out and paused to look at them, unconcerned for his safety, and then strolled into the shop.
He walked in, shaking his head in disgust as he did. “Bunch of amateurs. They don’t even know how to throw a punch correctly.” He looked at Faith. “You ready to go?”
She nodded and grabbed her purse from the back, all the time thinking of how odd this situation was and how weird the guys were.
Chapter Eight
It was her second night at Cutty’s. She’d gone to the shop again that morning; the only difference this time was there was even less talking with Lars than yesterday. She knew there were two other tattoo artists as well but she hadn’t met them yet. So she’d straightened up some more and tried to appear useful, even though she didn’t feel like she was doing much of anything.
It was a relief when Cutty had pulled up to pick her up. There was a tension between Lars and her that didn’t exist with Cutty or the other guys. She couldn’t figure out if Lars wanted her in the shop or couldn’t wait to get rid of her. When Lars looked at her, sometimes he seemed downright mad about something.
Cutty, on the other hand, was all smiles when he’d picked her up today and brought her back to his house. It might have had something to do with the list of supplies she’d given him. She’d offered to cook and these boys definitely liked to eat.
“You really didn’t need to do this,” Cutty said as he came to stand beside her. “But I do love chicken cutlets.”
She smiled at him as she poured more breadcrumbs onto the plate. “I want to do this. You’re letting me stay in your home while I have nowhere else to go. I need to do this.”
Cutty startled her as he hopped up and sat on the counter next to where she was dipping the chicken cutlets into the egg batter.
He plucked a pretzel out of the open bag he’d carried with him. He popped one into his mouth and didn’t wait to finish chewing before he started talking. “You know, once we figure this situation out, the whole Malokin mess and the world going crazy, all that crap, I can help you get settled somewhere.”
The fork clanked onto the bowl where she dropped it. “You can?” He’d help her rebuild a life? She’d been worried about how she’d make all the connections she’d need, figuring it was better to take it day-by-day instead of dwelling and becoming overwhelmed.
“Don’t get too excited. There are some drawbacks. It’s not going to be like when you were human. You’re going to have to move every so often. You can’t plant roots down deep because we don’t age. Stay in a place for more than a decade and people start wondering why you still look so damn good, although the invention of Botox has really helped out. Still, you can only milk that for so long. It’s why we all move as a group, the guys I mean. It’s nice having some kind of a family.” He looked at her and smiled. “There aren’t many of us. It would be nice to have someone else around. You get sick of the same faces after a while.”
Should she play it safe and say, hey, that’s great, or bring out the elephant? It took her less than a second to decide. “Aren’t you a little worried that I’m a murdering psycho?”
He shrugged his shoulders as he popped another pretzel in his mouth. “I wasn’t until you said that,” he replied and then started laughing at his own joke.
“Your buddies seem a bit more worried than you are.” She knew Lars didn’t trust her and she wouldn’t feel safe if she was alone in a room with Fate. Her connection to Malokin seemed to set him off worse than the rest.
He popped another pretzel in his mouth as if it were the most trivial thing in the world that the other guys thought she might be a super villain. “Don’t worry about those jackasses. They’ll figure it out eventually.” It took her a second to decipher his words past the mouthful of pretzels.
“I’m not used to anyone thinking I’m the spawn of Satan but there’s probably a learning curve to stuff like that.”
He laughed, and looked at her like he was just starting to see her. “You’re funny. Were you sarcastic when you were alive?”
“A bit but I tried to keep it toned down.”
“Sarcasm is considered the lowest form of humor,” he said in mock admonishment.
“Only people who suck at it say that. Everyone else laughs,” she said. “So why are you so sure I’m not going to kill you in your sleep tonight or I haven’t secretly poisoned the breadcrumbs?”
He smiled. “Do you really want to know?”
She smiled back. “Yes.”
“Well, we told you about the agency that runs the Universe. There are all sorts of positions in the agency. There’s Murphy’s Law, Mother Earth, Cupid, every possible rumor or superstition you’ve ever heard of as a human, there’s someone doing that job. They’ve got a leprechaun that controls the amount of four-leaf clovers, a Black Cat Lady who sends out cats before something bad happens. There’s Fate who, if you can’t guess, helps steer people in the right direction. It’s all run and controlled by the agency, technically it’s called Unknown Forces of the Universe but that’s too much of a mouthful to say all the time.”
“Who runs the agency?” she asked.
“Upper management. They’re very reclusive and not usually seen. I’ve only met one myself and that wasn’t until all this shit started happening.