THREE - Thorn

THREE

Thorn

The rain slaps my face and continues to beat against the city sidewalk, scattering used needles and smearing fresh feces. At least the deluge washes the blood off my neck and arms. It has been a rough night already, but I have another errand before we head to the nearest port to take control of a tech shipment that isn't mine.

Yet.

I maneuver silently down what was once a bustling avenue full of sparkle and light that now has turned to grim desolation. I pass street after street of scenes that belong in an apocalyptic movie, not in real life. Reaching the far end of the current block, I stop at a dirty orange tent, flap billowing in the storm. Before I can grasp the zipper, Justice is in front of me ripping it open, his garnet signet ring flashing in the night.

"I've got this," I mutter, crunching loudly on the burning mint in my mouth, hoping it deadens my taste buds long enough to navigate this night. I rarely let him accompany me, but my recent illness is making me slower, so I agreed. This time.

"So do I." He reaches in and yanks out two bodies. I would call them human, but it would not be an accurate description. They are two gaunt forms, bruised red and purple, covered in needle scars, open sores, and scabs. They're both male and could be anywhere from twenty to sixty years old.

One turns his head to the side and hacks wildly, shaking his skeleton-thin frame. Showing no mercy, Justice throws them up against the brick wall of a nearly vacant building. I hear a bone break. The first one somehow manages to shove back his greasy blond hair and glare. "Who the fuck are you, man?"

"I'm with him." Justice jerks his head toward me.

Both of the wraiths turn and then visibly shrink away upon seeing my face. Or maybe it's my eyes. I don't bother to conceal the hatred rippling through my bloodstream.

"You're Max and you're Joe. Right?" I ask, nothing but death in my tone.

Joe, his head shaved clean to show all of the mottled sores across his scalp, gulps and nods. "Yeah, man, that's us. Why? You need product?"

I lean in and regret it as the stench of their unwashed bodies envelops me. So far, the mint is working and I can't taste their words. "No."

Max tugs on his ear and blood flows down his arm. "We can get you girls, man. Is that what you want?" He sweeps a hand toward the many huddled tents across the street. "I can get you any age you want."

"That's what I've heard," I reply. Desolation pounds all around us. Every time I clean up a block, more human filth moves in. "I'm looking for your source."

"The kids are five tents over." Joe visibly relaxes and starts to twerk, even his eyelids twitching. The man's body needs a fix. "You got money?"

The mint continues to blister the back of my tongue. "I have a lot of money," I say, turning toward the tent. "How many kids do you have?"

"Right now, eight. Any age." Max sounds triumphant.

I smile and enjoy when he tries to step back. "I'm not asking you again. I want your source."

"Why?" He tries to sound tough but comes off as petulant. "I'll get you any age or sex you want."

I kick his knee and drop him to the pavement. Grabbing his greasy hair, I lean in while shoving my knife between his ribs. Low.

His eyes widen.

I pull out the blade and fresh blood covers my hand. "There's something you should know, Max," I say congenially.

"What?" He claps both hands over his rib cage as if to keep the warmth inside.

"I like killing people." I crouch so we're eye to eye. "A lot." I figure I should be honest with the guy since he's about to die. "You know why?"

Tears flow from his eyes and red snot drips from his nose. "Um, no?" He looks frantically around but Justice has his buddy against the building, and the smell of blood is thick in the air. "Why?" It's like he thinks he can appease me.

"I'm a sociopath. Maybe a psychopath. Or who knows? Just the fucked-up villain of the piece." I usually don't spend much time thinking about it.

He presses harder against his wound. "Please don't kill me."

"You're gonna die, Max. It's a fact." I study his breathing, which seems shallow. Maybe I nicked his lung. "But I can make it fast. Who's providing you with kids?"

"Why?" He coughs, his eyes wide in pain. "Why do you care?"

I stab him in the thigh, and he squeals like a pig. "Because I lead an organization, and if you're a member, you're protected. In other words, you're mine. Somebody made the colossal mistake of kidnapping and killing a little girl of one of my men." Right off the street. It used to be that if you were protected, everyone knew it. Not now. The criminals aren't in tune with the . . . well, criminals. "So I owe it to him to draw blood. I can't have my men thinking I don't have their backs, right?"

"I didn't kill no little girl," Max whines.

"I know." She fell out of the van during the initial chase and died. It has taken me two weeks to track this guy down, and he's not the one I want. "Give me the name, or I'll start cutting off body parts." I slice off his ear. "Oops. Started early."

He shrieks and plants one hand over the hole, probably to keep his tiny brain inside. "His name is Nelson. That's all I know. I give him whatever money or drugs I can get, and he hands over the kids. Most are homeless or came alone across the border and nobody knows they're here. Nobody's looking for them. Your little girl must've been a mistake."

I stand and smoothly kick him in the neck, making sure to dig in with my heel. The crunch is satisfying as his larynx collapses. His eyes widen with a flicker of terror, and a gasp of air somehow makes its way out of his mouth. He claws at his throat, trying to reestablish an airway that has crumpled. Gravity wins, as she always does, and he drops to his knees to drown in his own blood.

He is forgotten within seconds.

The crack of a neck breaking echoes to my left, as Justice becomes bored with his knife and finally takes care of the other pimp.

The wind shrieks through the night, spinning the rain end over end with the stench of waste. God, I hate it here.

Justice stares down the many rows of tents and makeshift cardboard boxes before stepping gingerly over another pile of shit. I look up at the tall building with its seventy percent vacancy. The first several floors used to carry high-end designer stores, while the upper ones were luxurious apartments. The more homeless on the streets, the quicker anybody who can flee San Francisco does.

"Is the building in foreclosure yet?" I ask, not feeling the rain or the wind, dressed as I am in clothes I'd never wear in public. Contrary to popular opinion, I do not hide out in my fortress. People just don't know who I am. Or if they do, they either forget rapidly or stop talking altogether.

"Couple more weeks." Justice looks down at his boots and sighs. "All I got is a name. Nelson," he says, his gaze scanning the area for threats.

"Me, too." I look around. "Do we know who put these homeless on this street?"

Justice snorts. "As far as I can tell, Beaumont is spreading the drugs."

Mathias Beaumont is an asshole, but I have to admire his business acumen. He floods the streets with drugs, turning the homeless into walking zombies who force property owners out of the city. Then he bribes or coerces local government into creating laws that allow the disaster to continue down the spiral to hell. When all the property falls into foreclosure, he buys it up cheap. How he plans to rid the city of the homeless after he owns all the property, I don't know yet. I can't imagine his plan is a pretty one.

For now, I offer more cash for the buildings than Mathias can.

Justice taps his phone and scrolls down. "Huh?" The strong mint that I've had in my mouth dissipates and his tone slides over my taste buds like good coffee. It is one of the reasons he's sometimes allowed close to me. He reads the screen of his phone, having already forgotten about the two dead bodies on the syringe-covered sidewalk. "There has been a development with Alana."

Hearing her name sends the fleeting taste of honey across my tongue. "What kind of development?" My voice goes hoarse.

Justice looks up, no expression on his face, but concern in his eyes. "I don't know. According to my source, something is going down with her in an hour. Something dangerous."

Everything inside me tightens and goes deadly still. "Move. Now."