“Oh, for crying out loud. Stop squirming. I already know what I need to know now, no thanks to you.”
His gulp could be heard above the normal night sounds.
Rolling her eyes, Gaby cut to the chase. “I was looking for a place to hole up when I heard a hooker fighting some guy. He’d tried to take the goods without paying, and she wasn’t happy about it.”
“Oh God.”
“I made him pay, that’s all.” Given her mood at the time, she’d reveled in the punishment more than she should have. The show had impressed the woman and later her friends, left them awed and feeling empowered. They saw her as their own superhero—and Gaby, in need of cover, hadn’t dissuaded them of that absurd notion.
To simplify all that, she said, “The woman appreciated my help.”
Mort’s incredulity hit her in waves. “I’ll just bet she did.”
“I don’t think anyone had defended her, in anything, for a very long time.”
“Which is probably why she’s making a living off the streets.” He gave her shoulder a brief squeeze. “Good for you, Gaby.”
Gaby well remembered the hooker’s esteem that prompted the offer of a place to rest up, and later an introduction to the rest of the girls who frequented that particular flophouse for prurient transactions.
Other offerings followed the initial gratefulness; fleshy proposals were proffered, some meant to show appreciation, some, oddly, from sincere interest. Most were in the way of a bartering tool for future services rendered.
Pity for the women, distracting concerns of her own, and a healthy interest in Luther, kept Gaby disinterested in anything physical with the women. They ribbed her, but respected her decision. Instead of sexual exchange, they’d worked out a deal that suited them alclass="underline" Gaby got her meager rent paid on the upstairs room, and she protected the girls whenever need be.
“Anyway,” she said, getting back on track, “I stick around and when they need me to, I protect them, or collect for them.”
“And in the process, learn a few things?”
“You could say that.” Giving unnecessary attention to her nails, Gaby asked, “So how’s your business been?” Mort’s apartment building abutted a comic store that sold underground graphic novels, some, like her work, in high demand. Mort had no idea that his business kept her in business, and supplied her meager livelihood.
He accepted the change of topic with a great show of relief. “Slower than usual. I’m waiting for a new Servant novel to bring in the customers. It’ll be here soon, I hope.”
New to the whole friendship, sharing, chatting business, Gaby searched for more conversation, but came up empty. “Anything else going on?”
His shoulder touched hers with fond camaraderie. “I have a girlfriend now. I’d love for you to meet her.”
Gaby’s jaw went slack. No words came to her. Mort and girlfriend were two concepts she’d never envisioned aligned together.
Her lack of response didn’t slow down Mort. “You might have met her,” he enthused. “She’s a detective who works with Luther, and she’s beautiful.”
Still blank brained, Gaby waited.
He filled the silence. “Her name is Ann Kennedy. I really care about her.”
“Ann Kennedy.” Oh yeah, she knew that name. She’d seen the woman with Luther, and she’d felt . . . jealousy. It sucked big-time, mostly because an emotion like that had no place in her brain, or in her life. She wasn’t a woman fashioned for consociation of any kind, but a romantic alliance was out of the question.
Being a paladin meant being alone.
Having Mort as a friend was risky enough.
Being more than a friend to Luther could risk it all.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Denying it didn’t remove the yearning.
“Yeah,” Mort said, “Luther knows her.”
“You said that.” Luther had claimed they were only friends. If the woman had an interest in Mort, then obviously an earthbound seraph like Luther wasn’t her speed.
Some things in this fucked-up world never made sense.
“She’s blonde,” Mort continued, “slim, big dark eyes . . .”
Fashioning a gun with her fingers, Gaby shot herself in the head.
Mort laughed. “Come on, Gaby. Is it really so odd for me to have a significant other?”
“Damn straight, it is. But, hey, I’m happy for you anyway.” Unfortunately, she’d have even more reason to avoid Mort if he had a damn female cop hanging around him. But looking at Mort, at the soft yellow aura drifting around him, assured her of his optimism for this new relationship. He was content, if still a little shy, and Gaby couldn’t bring herself to quell his happiness in any way.
When she kept her visits few and far between, he’d figure out the situation on his own.
Obtuse to the inner workings of her mind, Mort put his hands to his knees and turned to her with buoyant exuberance. “Maybe we can double date sometime.”
Gaby’s wide eyes zeroed in on him and she nearly choked. He had to be joking.
“You know,” Mort prompted, taking her expression for confusion. “You and Luther, and me and Ann . . .”
“Ain’t happening, Mort. Not ever.” Shoving to her feet, anxious to get away, Gaby said, “Look, I gotta go.” She needed to be by herself so she could digest all the frivolous changes pervading her structured and severe existence.
“Already?” He hovered close, as if by his mere proximity he could keep her there.
She stepped away from him—away from temptation. “Yeah. I just wanted to drop by to—”
His solemn gaze caught hers. “To tell me you thought I was dead?”
“Well . . . yeah.” Her brows beetled. “Usually word on the street is reliable, but I haven’t heard shit about you, so I had no reason to believe that you’d survived.”
He kicked at a small rock by his feet. “I’ve been busy with Ann, but we mostly stay in. I figured it was best to lie low for a while.”
“Lie low?”
He shrugged. “I wasn’t sure if anyone was looking for you or not. Other than Luther, I mean. He’s been going nuts looking for you.”
“Yeah?” Not that it mattered, but still . . .
“He’s grilled me a dozen times. That was bad enough—I didn’t need anyone else questioning me. I didn’t want to take a chance on screwing up our story or anything.”
A shifting shadow caught Gaby’s attention, and she looked across the street at an abandoned, tireless car in the unlit lot of a failed business. It looked as if it had been there some time. “Well, it’s old news now, and Luther already found me. If anyone else bothers you, send him my way.”
A faint shift in what should have been a stationary shadow made her eyes narrow. Someone lurked there. She sensed it.
Given she had no divine warnings raping her body, Gaby decided it wasn’t the worst of corruption, not the truest of evil.
Not the evil she hunted.
But all the same, she sensed a malicious cretin. Through the onerous years, Gaby had learned to trust her prescience, and knowing she was about to engage intoxicated her.
To protect Mort from any fallout, Gaby moved in front of him. “Stay back.”
With panic filling his voice, Mort asked, “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Don’t know yet.” Going still inside, collecting her sui generis abilities around her, Gaby stared across the way into the aphotic lot. She willed the vague shapes of re-fuse into recognizable forms. The car was a good distance from them, but after a time of concentration, Gaby picked out a hunkered, human form.
Before the thought had finished forming, she had her knife in her hand. “Something is about to happen, Mort.” Her heartbeat thickened with excitement. “Maybe you should go.”
He stunned her by saying, “Not on your life.”
Lacking time to argue, Gaby said, “Then stay the fuck out of my way. I’ll try not to hurt him, but he doesn’t share the same intent toward me, and this could get vicious.”
Moving the threat away from Mort the best she could, Gaby stepped out to the street just in time to meet the nigrescent apparition charging toward her. A macabre mask of sunken eyes and distorted, gaping mouth concealed the attacker’s face. Dark clothing obscured the body type.