Terribles car, a black 1969 BT Chevelle, waited for them in the circle of pale yellow cast by one of the few working streetlights. Waited being the operative word. To Chess, the car always seemed ready to leap from its resting place, ready to start mowing down pedestrians just because it could.
But it didnt. It stayed silent and still while Terrible opened the door for her, closed it behind her, and got in on the drivers side.
On their way to the fire, to theWait. The one on Sixtieth? Didnt you say nobodys in that one, Bumps doing something else with it?
Aye. The car plowed away from the curb in a squeal of rubber. Were thinkin on makin it storing rooms, dig, gettin other shit done there too. Figured on setting a new room a block up.
So no one died. The tightness in her chest eased a bit.
Naw. Least not what Bernam say. Maybe one or two in there, aint can say certain. But nobody ought, leastaways.
Good.
He glanced at her, swinging the heavy car right, north on Sixtieth. Aye, cepting, how Slobag knew nobody in there?
If the rooms closed
Aint hardly nobody got that knowledge, though. Nobody been told. Just let em know tonight, first night it shut down.
Maybe he didnt know. Maybe he didnt care who he killed.
Terrible snorted. Still a fuck of a chance.
She sat for a few seconds watching his profile before finally resting a hesitant hand on his thigh, not sure it was welcome. Not sure if she should say anything. Anger still hovered around him, filled the car and tried to find a way into her body. She felt it like icy fingers sliding over her skin.
Not much she could do when he was in that kind of mood, at least not in the car on the way to check the wreckage.
Not to mention he hadnt said anything. She didnt know if he was thinking it, if hed thought of it. But he probably had.
If Slobag had some sort of inside information about Bumps operations, he had to be getting that information from somewhere. And there she was, the one person Terrible knew for a fact had been in Slobags pocket; or to put it more bluntly, Terrible knew shed been in Slobags sons bed, for months. Knew she still talked to him.
How long before she became a suspect?
Chapter Three
Because they had no unified rule, they had no peace. Peace in the world can only be found through the Church, just as peace of the soul can only be found through the Church.
AHistoryoftheOldGovernment, 16201800, from the Introduction by the Grand Elder
The last vestiges of the cheer shed managed to find at Tricksters evaporated. It wouldnt be long. Hed think of it. Hed wonder.
And she couldnt blame him. What was she supposed to do, get all pissed and indignant because he didnt trust her? Why the hell should he trust her? Hed trusted her before and shed paid him back by fucking his enemy. Hed be stupid not to wonder about her now.
That sucked. But it was true.
Their destination wasnt difficult to spot. The Chevelle growled up Sixtieth, chasing the orange glow of the flames ahead. A fire indeed. The building had simply disappeared. In its place a set of half walls created a bowl of fire, surrounded by curious onlookers standing too close even though it was spring. A few of them held out sticks with various animal parts on the ends; free fire shouldnt be wasted.
Chunks of cement littered the pavement, more and more of them as the Chevelle approached the scene, until finally Terrible had to park because there were too many of them to avoid. Broken glass sparkled under their feet.
Against the angry flames, Bumps profile stood like a pimp-shaped inkspot, his hat brim ostentatiously wide, his cape moving in the breeze. Even at a distance she could see how pissed he was, just from the way he held his shoulders.
The closer they got the more obvious his anger got. He glowered at the fire, glowered at Terrible, glowered at her. You finding they, Terrible, yay? Fuckin make they dead.
It wasnt much of a greeting, but she supposed it could be excused under the circumstances. Hell, even if they werent standing in front of what was probably half a million dollars or so on fire, it could be excused; it would have to be excused. No matter who she slept with, no matter who she still couldnt believe she was lucky enough to sleep with, the fact was that at its base her relationshipsuch as it waswith Bump entailed the biggest power imbalance possible. She was a junkie. He was her dealer.
In other words, he got to say whatever he wanted to her, do whatever he wanted to her, treat her like less than nothing, and she got to take it without resistance if she wanted to keep getting her pills. Which she did.
He glanced at her now. Ay, Ladybird. Aint fuckin supposing you witchy skills fuckin find they done it.
She shook her head. Sorry sat on the tip of her tongue; she swallowed it. Not the sort of thing I can do, no.
But you got them fuckin snooping skills, yay? Do you findin out things, on you fuckin cases or what-the-fuck them is you doin.
Shit. Usually the problem she had with people knowing her job was that they thought she could wave her hand and make things disappear or whatever; now she had Bump obviously thinking she was some sort of Sherlock Holmes or something and could just pop in and find out whoof the hundreds, even thousands, of possible suspectshad spied, had set this up.
If she had a choice well, shed probably still say yes, because this affected Terribles life, and that made it something she needed to do. But she didnt have a choice anyway.
Ill try. She shifted her weight, hoped she didnt look as uncomfortable as she felt. But really, I dont know any of the people involved, so I dont really see what I can do.
Aw, nay, aint you fuckin count youself short. Got them fuckin brains hidin in you head, yay? You use em for Bump. Use em for Terrible, yay? Got the thinkin you catch this one straightup fast, yay, fuckin straightup. What fuckin happening if them get Terrible afore you fuckin get the finding? Thinkin you aint fuckin liking that.
No, she certainly wasnt fucking liking that. Did he not realize that was why shed agreed to help out?
Shed known it was a mistake to tell Bump what was happening between them, what had happened. Being right usually felt a lot better than it did at that moment. This night was just going from shitty to shittier, wasnt it?
Ill do whatever I can.
Bump gave her a slow, fluid sort of nod, the kind that told her hed known all along that she would do it, and how hed get her to do it. Damn him. He wasnt stupid; no one got to be lord of the streets west of Forty-thirdalmost all of Downsidewithout being smart, tough, and fast, and of course utterly ruthless. Bump was all of those, with a greasy layer of sleaze smoothed on top like rancid frosting covering a moldy cake.
He leaned back on his gold-tipped cane, crossed one ankle in its furry boot over the other. Somehow even standing on the street across from a burning building he managed to look as if he was lounging around his horrendous living room, perfectly relaxed, lord of his tacky pornography empire.