Wrong Ways Down (downside ghosts) Read online

  “First I knowing.” Wayne’s breath stirred the dust on the carpet. “Ain’t can say sure, I ain’t can.”

  Coursen he couldn’t. Probably spent so much time on the nod he ain’t known one day from another. “Any buy offen em? Any talking to em?”

  “Ain’t can say on that neither,” Wayne said. “I ain’t bought any, an they leaving fast then. Ain’t looked out the window last night, I ain’t.”

  So maybe them weren’t lying on having heard something. Still didn’t mean what they heard had any to do with Sue, though. Coulda been just a street-fight. Coulda been Slobag’s men, aye, he guessed, but he figured iffen fighting started he’d have heard on it, somebody woulda given him a ring-up.

  And that were all shit he’d have to worry on later. “You keep yon ears open, dig? Iffen you hear aught, you give me it. Nobody else, just me, aye?”

  They both nodded. Well, nodded as much as they could, with their heads pressed into the floor.

  “I come back soon, you have the lashers for me. At least fifty. Ain’t playin here. You owe, you pay. Dig?”

  More nods. He’d believe that one when he saw it. He’d already put Wayne in a cast once, a year and a half or so past. Since then he’d been good on paying, mostly, but he’d started slipping again. “Ain’t gonna keep givin you the chances, Wayne. Don’t make me get mad, aye?”

  He let go of their necks and stood up fast, pushing himself back as he did so he hit the doorway before they started to get up. Fuck. The last thing he needed was Slobag getting he nose in this, but when had the world gave a fuck what he needed?

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHESS AIN'T LOOKED like she were home; her car weren’t outside, and he didn’t see any lights on in her place, neither. Fuck. Hadn’t seen her in two days now. Were dumb keeping track, but it were still true. And he was edgy and pissed off—weren’t unusual, to be fair—and … would be cool to see her, was all. Even only for a while, cause he were seeing Amy that night.

  And he were gonna see Bump, too, but not for half an hour or so. To kill the time he wandered in the Market. He had a large number of quiet snitches—he guessed they weren’t really snitches, since they talked only to him and he sure as fuck weren’t no cop—but they gave him what knowledge they had, mostly on where he might find whoever had some owes that day, but sometimes on other shit too. Shit he might could use. He’d find a few of em there, and from there he could maybe head out and find more, see what was being said.

  Unfortunately he found out what was being said almost as soon as he got to the Market. He’d headed for Edsel’s booth, thinking there was a chance Chess might be there, but she weren’t. He liked Edsel, though. Got to know him a little better, hanging out with Chess, and liked him.

  And Ed heard on everything. Maybe causen everybody liked him, maybe causen he were so good at being quiet, maybe causen he wife had she one of the biggest families Terrible ever knew of. Whatany reason for it, though, he did.

  “Hey, Terrible,” Ed said, as Terrible walked up to the booth. The front table was covered in magic shit; Terrible even knew what some of it were now, iron and bones and little bottles of blood. “You right?”

  Terrible nodded. “You?”

  “Aye, be all good, all right up.” Edsel leaned forward some, holding he hat with one hand while he glanced around. Least Terrible figured he were glancing around, seeing as how Ed wore them dark glasses to protect his eyes. “Hear we maybe got weselves a ghost problem hereabouts.”

  “What?” A ghost? Where the fuck that came from?

  “A ghost, aye? Killed a street-man, I’m hearing. An one of Bump’s dames get attacked, too. Be true?”

  No point lying on it. “Street-man dead, aye, an aye a whore got robbed an all. But no ghosts. Ain’t even magic, lookin like.”

  Edsel shrugged. “Ain’t what word I’m getting, dig. Galena got she a sister lives on Ace, said she neighbor say she saw a ghost out there on the last night, right by Slick.”

  What the fuck? A ghost killed—no, no, couldn’t be. Ghosts couldn’t talk, and Unk said he’d heard them dumped the body talking. Or at least a dude talking. Couldn’t be a ghost alone. Ghosts ain’t could drive, neither, least not what he knew. Oughta ask Chess on that one. But he ain’t see any ectoplasm on Slick, nothing that said might be a ghost.

  Especially if it were true Slick got killed so somebody could get at Sue. Definitely weren’t a ghost attacked her.

  “Weren’t a ghost,” he told Edsel. “Slick got dumped by a car, dude driving it talked an all. Weren’t a ghost. Got somebody looked out a window, ain’t seen a ghost neither.”

  “Only sayin what I hear. Ain’t just Galena’s sister neighbor sayin it, neither. Be all over. Hear it more’n a few times this day, dig?”

  Fuck. The last thing he needed was people getting all fucking scared thinking be a ghost loose in Downside. Make people more fucked-up than they was already.

  “Ain’t a ghost,” he said again. “You tell em, aye? Just some fucker gonna get heself killed when I’m finding him. Be plenty in it for anybody gives me a name, dig, you tell em.”

  “Aye, pass it on, I will.” But he ain’t looked convinced at all, not what Terrible could see. “The girl … she be right? Ain’t hurt bad?”

  “Not too bad.” That was a lie, and he hated telling it. Sue’d been hurt bad. The kind of bad that ain’t ever could be forgotten.

  But that were her business, hers alone, lessin she decided she wanted it told. Weren’t his place to pass that on, so he wouldn’t; far as any would hear from him or Bump or any Bump’s people, Sue got beaten up and that was it.

  Then, without him even meaning them to, the words slipped out. “Seen Chess?”

  Ed smiled a little. Fuck. Shoulda kept his mouth shut. Bad enough people had seen what happened that night he tried to forget. Bad enough they’d asked him on it, and he’d had to say nothing happened and nothing were happening, and say it hard enough that they knew they better not talk on it again to anybody. Bad enough he got shit already, and who he got it from. Not that Ed would give him any, but still. “Ain’t today, nay. On the yesterday she stopping by, but ain’t stayed long. Figuring she score, she take off. Oughta give she a ring-up, you ought.”

  No, he wouldn’t do that. If she weren’t home she could be working, and he didn’t want to bother her.

  He shrugged, like it ain’t mattered. “If people thinking be a ghost, had the thought maybe I oughta ask her on it, is all.”

  “Aye, I dig, be a good thought.” Ed nodded. But that knowing look ain’t left his eyes, and Terrible’s neck started getting warm. He reached up to try and rub the heat away, but he knew it wouldn’t work.

  Ed made it even worse when he said, “I see she, I say you looking?”

  “Naw, naw. I just catch she some other time, aye? No need to say on it.” That sounded like something some dumb fucking kid would say. Like he were tryna hide. “Ain’t need to bother, is all.”

  Edsel paused. “She gave me the ask when I seen she yesterday, dig. Iffen you around. So guessing she be glad hearin from you.”

  Terrible didn’t know what to say to that. Weren’t really a surprise. Chess was, he guessed, his friend. She thought of him as her friend. Why wouldn’t she ask on him? She rang him up sometimes, too, or texted him to see what was he up to. Ain’t meant shit. Or, ain’t meant what he wished it did.

  “Aye, well,” he said finally, causen Edsel looked like he were waiting for him to speak, “guessing I talk to her later. No worryin on it, aye? Just get that word out, iffen you ain’t minding. No ghost, what I got. Just some dude, an I wanna find he.”

  He pulled another twenty out of his pocket. Tryna give lashers to Ed were always tricky; he’d take it after he done something but never wanted to take it before, and never would take too much neither. But it were always worth the try. “Here. For the help.”

  For a second he thought Ed would give him the no, and started thinking what to say next, but Ed took it. “Thanks. Do
what I can do.”

  Terrible gave him a nod, lifted a hand to say bye, and left. Hopefully that’d make a difference. Hopefully the ghost rumor ain’t would take on any momentum, because he really, really didn’t need that shit in the middle of everything else. Five years or so past there’d been a ghost scare in Downside—before Chess moved in—and it had been a huge fucking mess. No ghost, just a story started by Slobag to make trouble, but it’d taken he and Bump weeks to get everyone calmed the fuck down.

  People started thinking on ghosts in town, made em start wondering why Bump ain’t protecting em. People started wondering why Bump ain’t protecting em, made em wonder what else Bump couldn’t do. Fighting with Slobag they expected. Fighting with ghosts they didn’t, and making them doubt Bump’s control led noplace good.

  So he needed to get that shit stopped right away.

  And hope to fuck it weren’t true.

  He ain’t minded the cold, or the dark, but it did make shit harder. Finding people on the street weren’t as easy, and not as many people out there who might try starting shit with him he could finish. And fuck how he wanted to finish something just then, when Bump’s anger still made him tight inside. And fuck, wasn’t he glad he got the chance; third name on he list were home.

  He flexed his fingers, stretching them, before curling them into a fist and slamming them into Sharp-Eye Ben’s face again. Ain’t should have felt good doing it, but it did.

  And it helped him forget all the other shit. Helped him forget how he’d failed protecting the girls and how maybe he weren’t smart enough to find the dude attacked Sue. Helped him forget how his daughter ain’t even knew she was his, that she thought some other dude was her dad and he couldn’t ever, ever say the truth. Helped him forget how he looked, how fucking pitiful he was when it came to Chess, how he weren’t good enough to even be her friend, weren’t good enough for much at all.

  Except this. This was the one thing he did better than anybody else, leastaways better’n anybody else he’d ever met. He’d never lost a fight. And when he was doing it, using his fists, his whole body … he felt right. Like his body did the thinking he mind couldn’t seem to get, and when he was fighting he thought faster than anybody else. If fists were brains he was the smartest dude in the city, and he couldn’t help how that made him feel good.

  “Two weeks is up, Ben,” he said, letting his fist hang cocked in the air so Ben could see it. “Ain’t seein any lashers in my hand.”

  “Sorry,” Ben gasped. Kinda hard to make out the words, what with he mouth all puffy and bloody, but Terrible had a lot of experience with that. “Tried, I done, I tried, but I ain’t got it yet. Just another week’s all I need, another week—”

  Terrible hit him again. “Don’t got another week.”

  He dropped Ben—he’d been holding him up by the hair—and turned away as Ben crumpled to the floor. Ben were a speed-banger; his place looked like a banger’s place, almost empty, and cold in the merciless light from the unshaded overheads.

  But Ben were a cutpurse, too, which meant he might have something hidden away. Some last valuable thing, pass on to somebody who’d buy he a bag with it, since Ben couldn’t buy from any of Bump’s until he’d paid up. Also meant he knew other thieves, more’n Terrible did.

  “Gonna have me the money soon,” Ben whined behind him. Terrible hoisted the end of the cheap-ass couch to look underneath it. Nothing but dust and bloody tissues. “Met—met me a dame, says she give me it, she do. Just ain’t knowing you be here on the today. Can have it on morrow, I can, have it for you then I’m swearing, just … ”

  Terrible ignored him. No food in the kitchen cabinets—no surprise there—cepting some dusty hard candies loose on a shelf. Nothing in the fridge but cheap beer. He opened the drawers, the freezer, looked under the sink. Dead bugs and rat droppings. Why anybody live that way when they had the choice? Terrible’d had enough filth around when he were a kid, sleeping on the street, staying with any lonely drunk or junkie offered him a bed or some food. Now he had he own place, he ain’t ever wanted to sleep with rats or roaches again.

  Ben was still on the floor, ain’t moved at all. Blood dripped out his nose onto the thin dirty carpet. Terrible stepped over him to look in the bathroom and bedroom. Better chances on finding aught in there.

  Couple loaded needles. He didn’t touch those. Didn’t really wanna touch shit in that bathroom, actually, or in that apartment. Chess carried gloves, just like she carried baby wipes. He wished she were with him. She’d help him search, help—no, he didn’t wish it. He hated her seeing him work, leastaways like that. It were different when he was protecting her or helping her, but … he hated her seeing him work.

  Not causen he were embarrassed by what he did. More like he were embarrassed causen of how he felt about what he did, and it were just more evidence that he was a dumb fucking savage or aught like that, not the kinda man a dame like her even should talk to.

  He’d found two gold watches tucked up under the mattress, obviously stolen, before Ben spoke again. “Please … hear you had you a robbery on the other night, I hear. Maybe I can get some knowledge on it for you.”

  So Ben only knew about Sue, not Slick. Or was pretending he only knew on Sue, but Terrible guessed he honestly ain’t. Shit like that weren’t Ben’s style; he didn’t think Ben had any at all to do with the attacks, only that Ben might be an ear to the ground and Ben would be happy as hell to pass on whatany knowledge he got.

  Ben musta seen him thinking. “Please. Terrible, maybe I find somethin out, maybe I give you what I find, maybe that be a help? Them watches—that one be my daddy’s, it were, my daddy’s watch.”

  “Aye?” Damn it, why’d Ben have to fuck up a good deal with such a dumbass lie? He checked the back of the watch face, read the monogram there. “This one? What it say on the back, then?”

  Ben hesitated. He’d managed to stand up; Terrible strode over to him and knocked him back down. Fuck, he were pissed enough already, and he’d just started feeling a little better, and now there Ben was pissing him off again. He’d learned a long time ago that when he got mad while he was beating on people, it ain’t ended so good. But now he was. “Don’t fuckin lie to me, Ben. Gets me mad, people lie to me. You want me fuckin mad?”

  Ben shook his head, wiping at his mouth with shaking hands. “Nay, sorry, sorry, only I—weren’t thinkin, I weren’t, sorry.”

  Should he hit him again? He wanted to. Ben was lying, and—aye, an that’s why he had to. Let people get away with shit, and they’d try getting away with it again. They’d think he was an easy touch, that he ain’t could figure out that they was lying. He hit Ben again. “Think better. Said you could get me some knowledge on that robbery?”

  “Can—can try, I can. Bettin I can, I find somebody knows aught they can give me, I bet.”

  Terrible pretended to consider it, then nodded. “Aye, right then. On morrow, dig? On morrow I come back. You better fuckin be here, an you better fuckin have the knowledge. And Bump’s money.”

  Ben’s mouth fell open—as much as it could. “Thought I give you the knowledge, you take them watches, I ain’t got owes no more—”

  Terrible shook his head. “Still got owes. Have em on morrow, and the knowledge. Or I come find you. And then I be mad. Dig?”

  Ben nodded.

  Terrible reached out and patted Ben’s shoulder, harder than he had to. “On morrow, then.”

  He pocketed the watches and left, not looking back.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHESS ANSWERED HIS text fast, the text he sent almost the second he left Ben’s. “Yeah, come up.”

  He parked, ignoring the way his heart sped up, got out and went inside. Up the stairs, to stand outside her door for a second and feel, like he always felt, the little buzz. Came from them magic locks she had around the frame, maybe. Maybe just from knowing where he was and that in a second she’d open the door. He didn’t know. Just like a lot of other shit.

  The knob
turned almost as soon as his knock died. And there she stood, smiling at him like she meant it, in faded black jeans and a t-shirt the same color that showed all those magic tattoos she had on her arms, her pretty little feet with red toenails bare. It was like … like something inside him got cheered up, just seeing her smile at him. Like he relaxed. “Hey,” she said, already heading for the fridge. “Want a beer?”

  “Aye, thanks.” He watched her walk to get him the beer. Watched her bend over to grab it off the shelf. Then, feeling guilty, he turned away fast before she could catch him at it. “You right?”

  “Yeah, right up.” She handed him the beer—her fingers touched his—and wandered into her living room to sit on the lumpy brown couch. The TV was off, the stereo off; she’d been reading a book, and it sat pressed open next to her. She moved it so he could sit, too. “You? Everything okay?”

  He was careful not to sit too close. If he sat too close he might forget and touch her, like resting his hand on her knee or some shit. Hard to remember sometimes that she weren’t his, that just cause he wished she was and sometimes felt like she was, ain’t meant she was for real. “Aye.”

  She looked at him a little more closely. Her eyes under her heavy black Bettie Page bangs were clear, not glassy at all, so she’d been having a good day. “You sure?”

  Shit. He’d hoped to find a better way to introduce the subject, a smoother way. But if he wanted to find that he shouldn’t have come right over to hers so fast after leaving Ben. Words weren’t his strong suit; always felt like he ain’t knew enough of em, like he couldn’t get em to say what he wanted them to say. So he shoulda gone home, or stayed in the car til he’d thought of a good way to say it.

  But he hadn’t, cause knowing he was about to see her made it hard to think on shit like that anyway. When he was going to see Chess, all he could think about was Chess.

  But then, when he wasn’t going to see Chess, all he could think about was Chess, so …