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Authors: Marianne de Pierres

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BOOK: Nylon Angel
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That pattern changed as we continued, until the circular altered in favour of rows. Rows and rows of tiny apartments stacked on each other like a kid’s building blocks.
Tower Town.
‘Oya?’ The man who bought the tortillas approached me and bowed slightly. ‘We go no further.’
We faced each other under the twisted remnants of a fire escape. I nodded and looked around for a sign of the customary tollbooth. How much was this going to cost me? ‘Thank you. Tell Pas I won’t forget.’
The two carrying Sto let go of him. He fell at my feet, pale and sweating. I’d need to get him some clean water. Being a country boy, his immunity wasn’t likely to hold up to the slum food he’d eaten.
As the Muenos faded away like they’d never existed, I took stock. How to find Dark when Sto wasn’t likely to move another step? I sighed at his quaking exhaustion, and hoped he’d pick up a bit or I’d have some explaining to do.
The image of the big hick dressed in leathers brought a smile to my lips. Not much else had lately.
Almost immediately a blotchy-skinned dealer with sharp features and dramatically moulded hair approached us to peddle. ‘You two look in bad shape. I got stim, lark. You pay. You say.’
His face was piebald, not typical Mueno, and his boots screamed
different
. Iridescent pink, thigh-length and high-heeled. Muenos went for jackboots. I wondered what he was doing so far from Plastique.
‘How much for stim?’ I knew Sto’s body wouldn’t handle it right now. Most likely give him a heart attack. Ordinarily that would be OK - revival is pretty standard stuff - but I had no money and no resuscitation kit.
No. The stim was for me.
‘Three hundred.’
‘Three hundred!’ I was tired, not stupid. ‘Fifty and throw in some ’lytes.’
He curled the corner of his brown and white lip. ‘You know your stuff. Where you from?’ The question came as he handed me a package and a derm written on in universal, labelled ‘electrolytes’.
I squeezed a little from the derm on to my finger and tasted it. It passed the test so I jabbed it into Sto’s arm. Then I unwrapped the package.
The dealer leaned across me and peeled off a thin patch from the wrapping with two shiny, needlepoint fingernail implants. I imagined they came in handy in his profession. I’d seen others with them; they were usually blades though.
He gave me a confident grin that left me wary. ‘I tell you what. Since you’re a long way from home, I’ll let you taste the wares before you pay. Can’t be fairer than that, now, can I?’ He stabbed the patch on to my arm with a needle nail, quicker than I could see.
The rush hit me instantaneously and I knocked him metres on sheer reflex.
Then a moment later I realised the truth. The rush was all me. Instinct. The patch was a sedative. I went from hyped to woozy in the space of a couple of minutes. I pivoted clumsily toward Sto and tried to explain, but my tongue had swollen in my mouth.
Sto crawled forward to break my fall.
At least the dealer hadn’t gotten up
, I thought. As I went down, I saw the Gas-gas parked across the pavement.
CHAPTER EIGHT
T
he Angel plummeted through my veins slashing away traces of sedatives with the sweep of its heavy, golden-red wings. It seemed furious at the unwanted chemical invasion. I waited for it to pass close to my retina, struggling to see its face, to know it . . .
Voices cut in.
‘Is she dead?’
‘No, but I gave her a maxi dose. She’ll be out for a while longer yet. I know what I’m doing, you know.’
‘What about Sto?’
‘The ’lytes she gave him helped. His strength is improving. But his feet . . . ugh.’
‘Ugh?’
‘Third-degree burns, blisters. Infected. It looks like he even puked on them.’
I listened intently, gradually separating the images of the Angel from the conversation. My head was mussed but my body felt alive,
wired
by the Angel’s touch. Craving more.
After a while I recognised one of the two voices. The lark dealer was one. And the other was familiar . . . but somehow different. I kept my breathing light and even, and listened a bit longer.
The dealer continued, ‘I’ve cleaned them up but he won’t be able to walk for a few days. And my head has felt better.’
I clobbered him
, I thought with satisfaction.
‘Keep him comfortable and out of sight, Styro. The last few weeks have been hard on him.’
‘Sure. But what about
her
? What happens when she comes round?’
‘I find out what deal she’s cut with Lang. It could affect our plans.’
‘He’s dangerous, boss.’
‘There’s something else as well. Topaz is losing support. Rumours saying he’s dealing
mojo
. Sto said the Muenos are calling Parrish “Oya”.’
‘Oya?’
‘Oya is their female orisa - spirit power. They have a
long-tell
story.
Whoever the Feather Crown chooses will protect their futuretime
. Sto said a bunch of chicken feathers fell on to her head while they were trying to leave a Mueno’s place, sprayed blood on her. Now they want to follow her into a battle.’
Styro made a gargling noise. ‘They just might get what they want. Does she know who you are?’
‘Not yet.’
Dark! I knew the voice, not the tone. This tone was confident and sharp. Nothing like the slow-speaking giant I’d encountered in Hein’s.
Suckered. When would I ever learn?
‘The fewer people that know you’re back the better,’ said the dealer, Styro.
‘Sure. That’s why I let her take Sto. Thought she’d attract less attention than me.’ He sighed. ‘That was the plan anyway. Keep a check on Sto, will you? I’ll wait for a while. I want to be here when she comes round, otherwise someone might get killed.’
‘That girlie is out of control.’
Girlie!
I wished I’d tossed him further.
‘I wouldn’t call her that.’ Dark laughed. ‘At least not to her face.’
Styro shut the door on us and I lay there seething.
‘It’s all right, Parrish. You can sit up now.’
I opened an eyelid; the merest crack. Dark was seated on a chair about ten feet away, propped against the wall of a small room, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. His wired hand rested in his lap.
I thought about ignoring him, but cramping muscles urged me to move.
I swung my body up and my feet down, pivoting, so I faced in the opposite direction. Call it vanity but he’d scammed me and had me drugged; he sure wasn’t going to get first peek at me with queen-size narc hangover.
I scrubbed my face with my hands. ‘Hick trades leather disguise for casual gang leader look,’ I croaked nastily with a mouth like glue.
‘You’re the one who added two and two and came up with a minus, Parrish. I’m not a country boy, never have been.’
‘Sto?’ was all I managed in reply.
‘Fine. When his feet recover. You should have got him some boots, you know.’
‘
I should have got him some boots
. . .’ I spluttered, swivelling on the bed. ‘What do you think I’ve been doing for the last two days? Catching a few rays on Cable Beach?’
Dark laughed. ‘At least I got you to look at me.’
Well if that’s what he wanted . . . I stood and wobbled over to him, slapping my hands down on to his knees so his chair crashed to the floor. Then I eyeballed him, so closely our noses touched.
‘Is - this - better?’ I spat the words, hoping my breath was as bad as it tasted.
He put his hand up automatically for protection. There was no dumb look in those ’zine eyes. Just amusement. And a shadow of uncertainty.
I liked it when people weren’t sure how far they’d pushed me.
He took a deep breath and blew it out in my face. It was pleasant and musky. ‘Would you like to use the san unit? There’s one here. It’s a bit crude but . . .’
I stepped back and stood upright.
It’s one thing wishing your halitosis on someone. It’s another when they politely offer you the san to rectify the matter. My desire to wallop him in his clean-skinned mug escalated by the second, but I held on to it. First I needed some answers.
‘I’m fine the way I am. It helps keep assholes away.’
He nodded like he agreed with me. Then he shot me a piercing glance.
‘What deal has Lang offered you? I know you met him at Mondo’s. What does he want you to do? What’s Jamon got to do with it?’
I stared at him in astonishment. ‘Who
are
you? I’ve just spent two days lugging your sweet little buddy around The Tert, while you played me for a sucker. And you’re acting like
you’ve
got a right to ask
me
questions.’
He tapped the tip of one of his real fingers to his lips. In jeans and a crumpled T-shirt he looked like he’d been snipped clean from a centrefold. I could practically smell the aftershave. Stubble shadowed his ebony skull and I wondered what he’d look like with hair.
‘Did Stolowski tell you where he came from?’ he asked.
‘Yeah. Sure.
Him
I believe.’
‘Well believe this. I was there too. Press-ganged.’
‘And you think it was Lang or Jamon?’
‘Three years in the Dead Heart. Friends I made there died next to me. At work, in their sleep, one or two, every day. It taught me some things. Like what’s important. Like how you need to look after your own. Before that I didn’t really understand.’ His expression seemed haunted. ‘Let’s just say Jamon Mondo and Io Lang don’t look after their own.’
‘Cryptic!’ I sniped.
Too cryptic for me
.
If Dark had scores to settle, then bully for him.
I just wanted to do my deal with Lang to get Jamon Mondo off my back. Then if the ’Terro hadn’t found me, I’d go pick a fight with a Prier, till it did. Maybe Bras was already dead. But something made me think she wasn’t. Either way a ’Terro was going to pay for using a helpless kid as a ratings hook.
‘So you’re from here. Before?’ I asked.
A smile touched his lips. ‘You mean, “before Parrish”?’
‘I guess. Whatever.’
He stood in one easy motion; not ungainly, the way he had at Hein’s and then at my place. An energy burned in him that I hadn’t seen before. At full height he had centimetres on me and a rangy, wide body. The Tert wasn’t built for people like us; he could easily have touched the ceiling. I heard the faint echo of Mei’s catcall as he’d stripped off his shirt.
OK, OK, so he was downright gorgeous. And not as naive as I thought.
That was good. He didn’t need my help and nor did Sto while he was with him. It made my life a lot simpler already. I could really hate people I didn’t owe or need to help.
‘I want to see Sto.’
He frowned at me. ‘Sto needs some rest.’
‘I kept my part of the deal and you lied through your pretty white teeth. Now I want to talk to Sto,
and then
I’m going.’
‘You’re not going to tell me what you’re doing for Lang?’
‘Hole in one, baby.’
He reached out and put his real hand on my arm. He might as well have jabbed me with an electric prodder. I jumped like a rabbit.
‘I’m sorry about misleading you, Parrish. But things moved quickly when I got back. You gave me a way to hide Sto, temporarily, while I sorted out biz. I’d heard you were smart and tough.’ He shrugged almost apologetically. ‘You sort of fell into my lap. It was perfect.’
I closed my hand on his wrist. His forearm was thick and strong and his skin was warm. His face wore an expression I recognised from his hick image of a few days ago, earnestness - the look that had suckered me totally.
Not this time.
‘I want to see Sto.’ I could feel my jaw set.
For one long moment I thought he was going to refuse. Then he prised my fingers from his arm, stood, and left the room.
I followed him out and into a long corridor. Light filtered down in chessboard squares from the high, barred windows. A warren of rooms led off the hallway. As we walked, the view from the high windows told me we were in one of the long rows of units that had been melded together like everything else in The Tert. My compass implant told me it was slightly north of where Styro had drugged me.
Eventually Dark stopped and entered a room. Inside, I was surprised to see an infirmary decked out with some quality med-tek. The interior walls had been knocked out and it stretched for a distance.
‘Nice place.’
‘Just the beginning,’ he said, vaguely.
Sto lay propped by pillows on a clean bed wearing shades. His feet were bandaged and a lump under the sheet indicated he wasn’t alone.
I marched over and ripped the shades off. ‘Feeling better?’
His face lit with a grin. ‘Parrish? You’re awake.’
‘Yeah. And pissed off,’ I confirmed.
With a tinge of embarrassment he slipped his hand under and tugged at the lump. ‘Parrish’s here.’
Mei stuck her head out and snuggled her pink hair under Sto’s armpit.
‘Hi!’ she said.
‘You little piece of—’
I lunged across the bed to strangle her, but she moved quicker than I anticipated, flicking a knife in my face.
The knife itself didn’t deter me; only the movement as Dark came into my peripheral vision. His arms hung loosely at his sides like he was ready to step in.
‘Don’t hurt her, Parrish,’ Sto pleaded. ‘She only did it to help me.’
I spared him a glance. ‘Talk. Quick.’
‘We grew up together on the edge of the three deserts. Her mum traded food and women to us dust farmers. We were - she was . . . my grrl. When I got co-opted to the Dead Heart, she ran away. Ended up here. She was helping me. I l-love her, Parrish. Please?’
Mei wrinkled her nose at his declaration, and I wondered how her version of the story would sound. Somehow I couldn’t see Mei as anyone’s grrl.
BOOK: Nylon Angel
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