The Artful (Shadows of the City) (29 page)

I turned around and saw Samsung swing Smith off his back, onto the ground with a bone crunching thud. Dazed, Smith looked up and muttered, “Damn!” before Samsung’s massive hands gripped his head and chin and twisted at an impossible angle. The snap of Smith’s neck seemed to silence the world, echoing over and over again, quieting the noise of the crowd. I knew I was screaming, but even that was lost to me. I dropped to my knees in agonizing shock. Eventually, the echoes subsided, only to be replaced by the beating of my heart.

I held the knife so tight my hand shook, but it wasn’t until the shaking reached my shoulder that I even remembered I still held it. I took one last look at Gia, who stood now leaning over the balcony in shock.
Screw you, now you care?
Samsung, still kneeling over Smith’s body, looked up at me; blood trickled down his lip, one eye was swollen shut, and a number of his piercings were ripped out.

I might have backed down, second guessed myself, or maybe even crumbled to the floor and given up out of sheer fear. But it was his smile that threw me over the edge, that arrogant sadistic smile. All the pain I had endured seemed to flee for one glorifying second, as if every fiber of my body decided to come together for one moment, for this mighty act of revenge.

I ran at Samsung, concealing the blade behind my back. I didn’t think it would work, but somehow he hadn’t noticed. The smirk on his face told me he expected a weak blow from a pathetic Manhattan downtowner. He was planning to take the blow, save himself the effort of dodging, maybe use my weight against me, grab my arm, and snap it. I could tell by the way his jaw muscles clenched―he was anticipating it. Only he didn’t expect me to miss his face altogether, nor did he expect the knife to run clean across his bruised throat.

I stood numb as warm blood squirted all over me. He held his neck, trying to keep his life from seeping through the wound. I wanted the gasping sound to stop, so I plunged the knife into his stomach and pushed him over. I didn’t look at his body, nor could I look at Smith. Instead, I stared up into Gia’s eyes. The world faded away, and all I could perceive of reality was her.

hat followed was a blur of forced movement, muffled voices, and an eerie stillness that enveloped my being. I no longer felt like myself, more like a passenger riding in a worn-out vehicle made of flesh. I was lost, set adrift in the middle of an ocean, only going where the current took me. I no longer had control of my life. They applauded me as I was led from the arena, countless hands patting my back in admiration and, perhaps, pity―I would never know. My surroundings blurred into a white-washed painting, where the colors bled, creating a chaotic mess.

I was moved to a sterile room, where people tried to fix my broken body. I don’t know how long I lay in bed, whether it was hours or days I didn’t care. I was lost in my own head. Dodger was sick and dying, if not dead already; Gia—Geanna… had betrayed me; and Smith had been murdered right in front of me. I had been powerless this whole time, only I was too foolish to notice. And now I had blood on my hands. I didn’t regret murdering Samsung, but I now understood the numb, desensitizing feeling Dodger felt after killing Adam. You see and hear about killings all the time. They romanticize it in stories, yet no one ever prepares you for the sick empty feeling that follows. I felt like my soul fled my body, leaving me an empty cage

Eventually, they cleaned me up, bandaged me, and gave me fresh clothes. After, I was brought to a large room. The outer wall was all windows, overlooking the arena below. I was just in time to see some men carrying out the lifeless bodies of some poor gladiators who would never fight again. I tried not to look at the way they tossed them about, handling them like rag dolls.

At the center of the room was a vast table surrounded by cushioned chairs. A candled chandelier hung over it, casting shadows and flickering light. My stomach growled at the food that covered the table end to end. A huge turkey that could feed a whole family was the centerpiece, with bowls of mashed potatoes, rice, corn, vegetables, and buns spread out around it, along with plates of hamburgers, steak, and chicken legs. There were plates set up all around the table, and two leather-clad women stood at either end, holding jugs of water and wine. They motioned for me to sit. I did so without question, letting the smell of warm food seduce my nostrils. A glass of water was poured and placed on my right, another glass filled with wine on my left, and a cloth napkin was placed in my lap.

“Ah, there he is!” Chrysler entered the room with a grand smile on his face, Gia close at his side. “Our impressive David, after a weekend of rest.”

“His name is Twist,” Gia said, sitting at one end of the table. She nodded at me with little friendliness.

“And the man he killed was named Samsung, yet I couldn’t help thinking of David and Goliath. Please tell me, my dear child, that you have kept up with your Bible studies.” He sat across from her at my left, flanked by two guards.

“Please, Daddy. What is the point? You know it’s all a bunch of nonsense. There’s no God here.”

“Nonsense, perhaps. But education, nonetheless. I would not have my daughter be ill learned―”

I was beyond annoyed with the way they spoke, as if I weren’t in the room, as if they weren’t the cause of Smith’s death. “Should I just leave you two at it?”

“Come now, no need to be grumpy,” Chrysler said. “This feast is in your honor. Perk up, buttercup!” His smile sickened me. I looked over to Gia, who avoided my gaze by looking down at her plate.

“And then what?” I asked. “You force me to fight another day, or kill me yourself?”

At this he broke into a choking laughter. “Kill you? Are you kidding me? Not only did you save my daughter’s life, you escorted her safely home, and you proved your worth by slaying Samsung. He was becoming quite the pain, you know. I am in a great deal of debt to you.”

“So…”

“So, we eat! And, after, I will discuss what needs to be discussed.”

And eat we did. At first I tried a pathetic attempt of defiance by not indulging in their friendly dinner. But my stomach proved the victor, and I filled my plate. My mouth, however, seemed to have no appetite, my throat was dry, and I had to chew a number of times before I could swallow anything. Even then, I had to chase it down with a mouthful of water… which turned into wine. By my fifth cup of wine, my mind was clouded and my bad mood melted away to a stupor. I was unable to hide my scornful stares as I scrutinized Gia, watching every bite of food and sip of wine she took. She made sure not to catch my eyes, but was clearly uncomfortable around me. I didn’t care. Her father ate in silence, oblivious to the both of us.

The charade ended when he put down his fork with a loud clank. “Well, now, that was a pleasant meal.”

“Sure.” I blinked hard, trying to keep him in focus.

“Geanna tells me that something I chartered Smith to steal has gotten you and your friend in a great deal of trouble.”

“That depends on which friend you are talking about. Smith? Yeah, it got him killed, but I’m pretty sure that had a lot to do with you.”

He waved his hand dismissively, with a genuine smile. “Technicalities. Must we dwell in the past? I was referring to your other friend… his name escapes me.”

“Daddy, cut the crap, you know his name is Dodger.”

Chrysler slammed his hand on the table, rattling the glasses and silverware. I was startled and knocked my knife and spoon to the floor. “What have I told you about that language?”

“Eat me!” she yelled. “Would you drop the stupid act and get to the point already!”

“Geanna Lynn Chrysler, go to your room!”

“What? Are you kidding me? I haven’t lived here in ages!” Gia was furious. She looked about ready to launch across the table and wring her father’s neck. I bent down and picked up my spoon, carefully hiding the knife in my sock.

“Just get out of my sight, now!” he yelled.

She looked at me as if I were part of his demands; I shrugged and guzzled down what wine remained in my cup. She threw her napkin onto the table and marched out of the room, almost knocking over the poor serving girl in the process.

Chrysler rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. “That girl, sometimes I don’t know what to do with her. She takes after her mother, you know.”

“Dodger,” I said. “His name is Dodger, and he’s dying. Just Stan―well, Stan, that’s the guy’s name, he’s like Reynolds’ lieutenant or something―Stan blamed us for Smith stealing whatever it was he stole for you, injected Dodger with something, some kind of virus, said the only way he’d turn over the cure is if we bring back what Smith stole. We been looking for him ever since. Gia, after we rescued her from Randy, she was helping us… I guess she was using us, to get back home.”

“She is a resourceful girl. You do understand the deception?”

“The betrayal, you mean?”

“Well, look at it from her perspective. She was trapped and alone, being attacked by someone who was trusted by both of us. You two saved her, yes, but she basically went from the frying pan into the fire. Manhattan, the belly of the beast. She was behind enemy lines with no way of knowing how you would react if you knew her true identity.”

“She watched us search like mad for something you had.”

“She didn’t know I had anything. She wasn’t supposed to be in on the pickup. I can only imagine Randy talked her into tagging along.”

“What’s the point of all this?”

“The point? The point is repayment.” Chrysler looked over at one of his guards, nodding his head. The guard in turn pulled a small blue box from his pants pocket. It was the size of a pen case with a silver ring around its length. Chrysler took the box and looked at it longingly before handing it over to me. I hesitated, and then I took the box, inspecting it carefully. I was about to open it when Chrysler stopped me.

“There is a seal on the box. If you open it, it will be tampered with and therefore prove invalid. That is what Smith stole for me; in your hands is what you need to save your friend.”

“What is it?” I asked, while running my finger across the perforated seal of the silver ring.

“Emperor Reynolds is dying; this, of course, is a secret not many know. What he has is a virus, perhaps the same virus your friend has, but I wouldn’t test that theory on your own. And that right there,” he pointed to the box, which seemed to grow heavier in my hands, “is the only known cure. I won’t bore you with the specifics, but, needless to say, he would go to a great deal of trouble to get it back.”

“Why did you want it? You didn’t even open it.”

“Because I had no need for it. This was simply a move I had to make, to defeat an enemy. An assassination of the cleanest form, remove the cure and let his own body kill him.”

“So, why are you giving it to me? This seems bigger than me and Dodger. I don’t buy it.”

“Because, whatever you may think of me, I am a man of honor. You returned my daughter, and she is worth more to me than this feud with Reynolds. It is my desire to take Manhattan, clean it up, and rule both nations. But it isn’t worth the cost of my only child. Not only have you returned her to me, but you proved yourself to my people, so you deserve this reward. All I ask is this: return the cure and save your friend, then return and join my ranks. Geanna told me of your skills and bravery, and they were apparent in the arena. I can promise you a wonderful life here in Brooklyn. More than you would ever have otherwise.”