Blind God's Bluff: A Billy Fox Novel Page 13

  She laughed. “You’re sexy when you talk all rough and tough. No weapons in anyone’s hand, I promise. Just a couple friends standing by to make sure you don’t put me out of the tournament.” She hung up.

  I cracked open the door to the stairwell. No bullets blazed up at me, so I crept on down.

  By the time I got there, the door to a stockroom was open, and so was the one leading out into the public part of Rhonda’s store. I crossed the stockroom glancing this way and that, waiting for someone to pop out from behind the stacks of cardboard cartons. Nobody did. I started through the other door.

  That was when I realized it might have been a whole lot smarter to demand that Leticia send Vic up the stairs to me. But I was stressed, and that can screw with your judgment. Or maybe Leticia had slipped a little persuasive magic past my guard. Either way, it was too late now.

  The back of Rhonda’s store was an open area with long newspaper-covered tables where people could sit and do crafts. Painted plaster molds hung all around the walls. Most were religious—praying hands, Bibles open to the first verse of the Twenty-Third Psalm, the Virgin Mary—and painted sloppily in the bright crayon-box colors a little kid would pick. Rhonda made those herself while inhaling one Virginia Slim after another, trusting God to protect her from the Florida Clean Air Act. As a result, the smell in the air was a mix of cigarettes, paint, and potpourri.

  Rhonda was sitting in her usual spot. She didn’t look good. Pushing three hundred pounds, with a brassy, spiky, brittle dye job that was usually black at the roots, and paint stains all over her meaty hands and smock, she never did. But now she was trembling, and her round face was sweaty and green, like she might throw up. She looked at me like she wasn’t a hundred percent sure who I was.

  Raul was standing near her, and Leticia and two sopranos were along the walls. There could be a dozen more hiding in the aisles between the tall racks of arts-and-crafts supplies. I just had to hope not. Vic sat handcuffed to a wooden chair. Her face lit up when I came in.

  Leticia waved a hand at her. “You see, she’s all right.”

  “Get the cuffs off her,” I said, aiming the Smith and Wesson at Leticia. Then I noticed a faint whine in the air. Maybe something in the AC, or noise outside on the street.

  One of the sopranos pulled a key out of his pocket and dropped to one knee beside Vic. The whine kept whining.

  I glanced at Raul. “Pablo’s shot in the stomach. You should help him.”

  The eyes widened in Raul’s ugly, pimple-dotted face. He turned toward the stockroom door.

  “Please wait,” Leticia said. “I need you here just a tiny bit longer.”

  “Right,” said Raul. “Sorry.” He turned back around.

  “You can let him go,” I told Leticia. “I really don’t want to kill you.”

  She shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”

  I realized the soprano in charge of getting the cuffs off Vic was taking his time about it. I started to tell him to hurry up, and then, although that little background noise still seemed as faint as ever, it suddenly spooked me in a way it hadn’t before.

  I visualized the Thunderbird. The sound jumped, except that really, it had been loud all along. It was just that magic had kept me from hearing it that way.

  There was another soprano near me, and he was singing up a storm. I spotted him out of the corner of my eye at the same instant that I really heard him. I felt the charge of mojo in his voice, too, like an itch inside my ears.

  I guessed his song hadn’t made him extremely invisible. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have needed to creep up on my flank. But it got the job done. It got him close.

  When he popped into view, it startled me, and I may have hesitated for a split second before following through on Plan A. At any rate, by the time I fired, Leticia was already diving out of her chair onto the floor, and the love monkeys were scrambling to put themselves between her and me. I didn’t hit her or anyone.

  Vic screamed. Then Mr. Invisible grabbed my arm and jerked it sideways so the automatic wasn’t threatening anybody. I used the palm of my other hand to break his nose, then wrenched myself free.

  He took a swing at me, and I jumped out of range. And bumped into the wall. Something hard and heavy slammed down on my head, then crashed to pieces on the floor. It was a plaster Jesus. I’d jolted Him off his hook.

  And He’d gotten even by knocking me slow and stupid for a couple seconds. Seconds I didn’t have to spare. Before I could get my shit together, the sopranos were all over me, holding me while Raul hammered punches into my ribs and guts. He kept it up until Mr. Invisible twisted the Smith and Wesson out of my fingers.

  Then, standing up, Leticia said, “That’s enough. Search him.”

  Raul did, and even a hypnotized bulked-up gorilla couldn’t miss the Baby Glock when it was right there in my pocket. Both guns ended up on one of the tables beside a glass jar full of paintbrushes.

  “Good,” Leticia purred. “Now Billy and I can have a nice conversation. If you wouldn’t mind.” Raul stepped back to give her room, and she glided forward. Vic watched with her bruised face full of despair.

  Leticia got right up close to me. Close enough for me to smell her perfume and feel the cool brush of her breath. “I know I said I like it rough,” she said, “but actually shooting at me was a little much.” She smiled. “I guess we should have had a safe word.”

  By that time, the pain from the beating had faded a little, and I could wheeze out some words. “You win. I won’t go back to the hotel.”

  “Oh, of course you will,” she said. “But from now on, you’ll play to help me.”

  “Fine. Just don’t hurt Vic.”

  “Oh, Vic, Vic, Vic! I think you need a more positive motivation. I’d like for us to be partners and friends, not just for the length of the tournament but forever.”

  I realized she was talking about turning me into a slave.

  She laughed at whatever it was that came into my face. “I promise, you’ll like it, and we don’t even need another drop of your blood. There are better ways.”

  She shifted in even closer, so that the whole length of her body was touching mine, and moved a little to the side. She ran the tip of her tongue around the inside of my ear, then gently sucked and nibbled at the lobe. And my God, it felt good. It didn’t even matter that I’d just taken a beating, or that I understood she was trying to cripple my mind. I started drowning in it right away.

  The sopranos and Raul stared at us, fascinated, wanting what I was getting, but not pissed off about it. Apparently the hex they were under kept them from being—or at least acting—jealous, no matter what—or who—the boss lady did.

  Not that I was giving a lot of thought to their reaction. Like I said, what she was doing felt too good.

  In between licks and nips, she told me she loved me, and whispered all the dirty, wonderful things she wanted me to do to me, and for me to do to her. I could have it all, if only I’d love her back.

  A part of me was trying to. More than that, to adore her and go down on its knees to her like she really was some kind of goddess. I still knew she’d tried to drive me insane and kill me, that she was trying to break me now, but with every moment, it got tougher to remember what any of that meant or why it mattered.

  I called up the Thunderbird. I looked past Leticia to Vic’s raw, puffy tear-streaked face. Both things helped, but I was only putting off the inevitable. Leticia was still going to take control of me.

  We were just about there when I made the only move I could think of. I pictured the silver bird one last time. But instead of imagining it hanging like a shield between Leticia and me, I threw it on top of Rhonda.

  I figured Leticia’s mojo worked best on people who liked girls. And I’d always had a hunch that Rhonda fell in that category, but maybe not. Maybe she didn’t like anybody. Maybe she got off rolling around in money. At any rate, unlike the sopranos and Raul, she didn’t look like a happy slave. She looked like she was fi
ghting it, and maybe my power could help.

  It did. She screamed and jumped up out of her chair. Raul spun around in her direction. She grabbed a half-painted cherub, threw it, and clocked him right on the nose. He staggered back and clapped his hands over the damage. Those plaster molds were deadly.

  She scrambled around the end of a table and snatched up the Glock.

  By that time, everybody around me, Leticia included, was turning to see what was happening. The sopranos’ grips loosened as they tried to figure out how to hang on to me and put themselves between the pistol and the boss lady at the same time.

  I stamped on feet and kicked shins. I slammed in elbow strikes until nobody was holding on to me anymore. Then Mr. Invisible sucked in a breath and started to sing.

  I couldn’t let him throw any more magic. I lunged at him, tackled him, and dragged him down to the floor. I pounded him twice in the face with the bottom of my fist. Each time bounced the back of his head against the linoleum. The second one stunned him.

  I rolled over onto my hands and knees. The other sopranos were reaching into their pockets or inside their jackets. So was Raul. Screaming “Bitch!” over and over again, Rhonda shifted back and forth, trying for a clear shot at Leticia. Still using the love monkeys for cover, Leticia matched her step for step and stared in her direction. She was probably trying to recast the spell I’d broken.

  I jumped up and rushed Leticia. A soprano started to turn toward me. I straight-armed him and knocked him staggering, grabbed hold of Leticia, and kicked her feet out from underneath her. She fell down hard, and I dived on top of her.

  There was a broken, jagged-edged piece of Jesus lying right beside us. Maybe He was on my side after all. I snatched it up and put the sharp side against her throat. “Everybody stop!” I yelled.

  An instant later, the Glock banged. The round thumped into stuff on one of the shelves.

  “You too, Rhonda!” I snapped. “God damn it!”

  “Yes!” Leticia called. “Stop, please!” She squirmed and ground against me. It sent a thrill through me, but it wasn’t enough to start me slipping back under her control.

  “That’s enough!” I said. “Of all this shit. You tried, it didn’t work, now you’ve got to clean up your mess. First off, your people need to put their guns on the floor.”

  “Do it,” Leticia said, and her stooges obeyed.

  “Now,” I said, “get Vic out of the cuffs.”

  One of the sopranos took care of it. Eager to reach me but smart enough to stay out of arm’s reach of everybody else, Vic scurried along the wall.

  “Now,” I said, “release everybody from your power. Raul, Pablo, and your own guys, too.”

  Leticia scowled. It was the first expression I’d seen on her face that made her look like anything but a teasing nympho or a nympho who was worried I was sick. She was still gorgeous, but now, somehow, she reminded me of a dog if you were trying to take a bone away.

  “I’ll release the brothers,” she said. “The others are mine. And will still be mine, whether they carry my mark or not.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “but I bet they won’t have as much ‘positive motivation’ to protect you or screw with me.”

  “No one can tell a noble how to rule her own people!”

  It was pure instinct that made me do what I did next. I moved my chunk of Jesus from Leticia’s neck to her cheek. “Would your magic work even if you didn’t look like a movie star?” I asked.

  “All right!” she snarled. “I’ll do it.” She closed her eyes, then opened them again.

  The sopranos blinked like they were waking up from a dream. Blood running from his nose, Raul started toward Leticia and me.

  “Pablo,” I said.

  He stopped short. Then he turned and ran for the stockroom and the stairs beyond.

  I looked at Rhonda. “If Vic and I take off, will you be okay?”

  She smiled a nasty smile. “I’m the only one who’s still got a gun.” And it was a pretty good point even if she was a lousy shot.

  “And you and I are square?”

  “Yeah. The piteog with the fingernails brought the money.”

  “Then I’ll see you around.” I climbed off Leticia, and then Vic and I headed for the front door.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Vic and I caught a break when we came out of the crafts store. There was a cab just a few feet away dropping off a guy with a saxophone case in front of a pawnshop. I shouted, and Vic and I ran to catch it. The driver’s mouth tightened when he saw her bruises, and he started to shake his head. But I showed him my roll of bills, and then he let us get in. Money’s a wonderful thing.

  As the cab pulled away from the curb, I took my first good, close-up look at Vic’s face, and then I couldn’t blame the driver for thinking we were trouble. “Take us to where she can see a doctor,” I said.

  “I’m all right,” said Vic.

  “You’ve been beaten up,” I said, then hesitated. “But I guess I could try to take care of it.” Meaning that Red could.

  “What?”

  “I… have this trick I learned. It’s like the laying on of hands. But I’m not sure how much power I’ve got left.”

  She stared at me. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. But maybe the clinic is a good idea. For you. I saw how that man Raul hit you.”

  “Okay. We’ll both get checked out.”

  “And then go on to the police.”

  “No. No police. You can’t tell anybody what happened to you.”

  “Billy, those people kidnapped me! On school property!” She was vice-principal at a middle school, and apparently, in her mind, getting snatched right off the playground or the parking lot somehow made it even worse.

  “I know,” I said, “but still.”

  “Is it because they have something on you? Because if you testify in a capital case, I’m sure no one will care.”

  I snorted. “Somebody still watches Law and Order.”

  “Don’t make fun of me! I’m trying to help us both!”

  “I know, and I wasn’t, really. It’s just… look, think about the really weird parts of what happened. Your mind may want to ignore them, but don’t let it.”

  She just sat for a few seconds, while the cab rolled out of Ybor and turned right on Nebraska Avenue. Then she murmured, “Shit.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  She laughed the way you do when it’s not really funny. “Not Law and Order. Buffy.”

  I’d never seen that show, but I was willing to take her word for it. “Pretty much. The world is full of monsters, and the number-one thing on their to-do list is making sure normal people don’t find out. They’ll come after you if you tell.”

  “And who’d believe me anyway?”

  “There’s that, too.”

  But she wasn’t ready to let it go. “Still, people were shooting guns. You said you shot somebody yourself. I’m sure the police showed up eventually.”

  “Maybe, but that doesn’t mean anybody got arrested.” The taxi pulled into the parking lot of a place called the Lane & Harvey Doctor’s Walk-In Clinic. I paid the driver, and Vic and I got out.

  It took us a few minutes to get checked in. She didn’t have her insurance card, and I didn’t have insurance. But cash took care of that, too.

  We filled out our paperwork, turned our clipboards back in to the front desk, and settled down in the waiting room with the rest of the walking wounded. The TV droned through a loop of info about cholesterol and fibromyalgia while children whined and fidgeted. A nurse bellowed a patient’s name every couple minutes.

  Eventually, Vic said, “Okay, monsters are real. Succubi and magic spells are real. What does it have to do with you?”

  I looked around. Our fellow patients were busy with their own conversations, their smartphone games, music, or videos, or their misery. So I explained, although for some reason, I downplayed A’marie’s part in the story.

  When I finished, Vic said, “You haven’
t changed.”

  “Did you catch the part about the magic powers?”

  “You haven’t. You’re just as reckless as ever.”

  “I didn’t know you’d get pulled in.”

  She glared at me. “And if it were just you who got hurt, that would make it all right?”

  “It would make it a risk worth taking.”

  “Well, you took it and you won. You got your money and cleared your debt. Now you should get away.”

  I sighed. My ribs gave me a twinge. “Probably.”

  She studied my face and found a tell. “But you won’t. You’re going back.”

  “Yes.”

  “For God’s sake, why?”

  That was when it hit me that we’d had this talk before, or versions of it anyway, and I’d long ago run out of ways to try to make her understand. Hell, maybe I didn’t even really understand. So I just said what I’d usually said near the end. “For the action.”

  “Of course,” she said in the scornful way that, at the very end, I’d come to know and hate. But a few seconds later, she surprised me. “I know you didn’t have to come after me.”

  “Sure I did. It was my fault you were in trouble.”

  “Not exactly. And I walked out on you. And I should have let you know about your dad.”

  I sighed. “He begged you not to.”

  “You understand, it wasn’t that I stopped caring about you. It’s just… that wasn’t the life we were supposed to have.”

  “Or who I said I was going to be.”

  “Yes,” she said, and then the nurse yelled her name. She smiled at me and squeezed my hand, then got up.

  And as I watched her walk away, something loosened up inside me. I’d known we were over, and thought I was okay with it. But now I really was.

  I got my turn next. I told my doctor I’d been in a car crash. She didn’t believe a word of it, but didn’t argue, either. She just X-rayed me, taped my ribs, and gave me some Tylenol 3’s.

  When I came back out into the waiting room, Vic was there ahead of me. I got the receptionist to call us another cab, and then we sat back down. The TV told me I should get a colonoscopy at age fifty, so that was something to look forward to.