I stripped the scrubs off in the cab and bundled them up to stuff in the bag, along with Shilo's red Gentern mask. The sky had opened up again, and Shilo was starting to shiver in her thin cotton uniform.
"Don't worry, kid," I said. "It's a short walk from the corner of Bleak to where we're heading."
"Where's that?" she asked. Her eyes were darting from the windows to the mirrors, searching for any sign of the Bug.
"We're looking for a place to lie low," I replied. "Amber knows all my squats, which means her employees know, too."
"Why don't we just find a hotel? I have the money to pay for a room."
"Your bank account can be traced," I explained. "We need to stick with the money we have on us, and what I can get for the Z I stole, which, to be honest, won't be as much as I'd like."
"Why not?" she asked. "It's still Zydrate, right?"
"Well, yeah," I sighed. "Thing is, the stuff I harvest is the purified concentrate of what the surgeons use. That's why there's such a demand for what I sell."
"I see." She mulled that over. "Do you think we'll have to be in hiding long?"
"I don't know, kid," I said honestly. "I'm not so sure anymore that the Genecops can handle him."
"It sounds different when you say that now."
"When I say what?"
"Kid," she said. "You say it differently than before."
"I can't imagine why," I said wryly, touching her cheek. She turned her head slightly and wrapped her red lips around the tip of my finger, nibbling gently. My eyes glazed over, and she laughed. The cab came to a halt, and she tugged at my sleeve.
"Let's go find a place to spend the night," she said, cocking an eyebrow suggestively.
We walked a few blocks before I found the place I was looking for. The narrow, suspiciously thick metal door was deeply recessed and mostly hidden from view, and Shilo hesitated as I pushed it open. The smell of strong coffee, incense, and something sweeter washed over us. I hustled her inside and shut the door quickly.
The coffee shop was long and extremely narrow, with small tabled set along one wall, the counter opposite. At the far end, past both, was a single beautifully carved wood door. The heavily armed barista looked up from his spot near the register, and eyed us warily, before nodding to me.
"You know the rules, Graverobber," he rumbled. I crossed my heart.
"No poaching customers, no selling in your house. Come on, when have I ever broken my word?"
"Just sayin'," he replied, running a cloth lovingly over the flashgun laid across the counter. Nasty things, those. They'll leave a smoking hole the size of a giant's fist in a person. "Came across a colleague of yours poaching the other day. I'm told he'll make a full recovery. Eventually."
"Point taken," I conceded. "Is Marco around?"
"Downstairs," he said. "You buyin' anything?"
"Yeah, straight black for me," i replied. "Kid, what do you want? Oh. Hell."
Shilo stood beside me, swaying gently, a serene smile on her face. Her fingers were starting to twitch.
"It smells so nice in here!" she said happily. I looked back at the barista, who snickered.
"Big crowd right now," he explained. "People wanting out of the weather. I guess the smoke wafting up is heavier than usual."
"Large espresso with cream, then," I sighed. "I hope you have a paper and pen ready."
"Yeah, got tired of people carving up my tables."
I sat Shilo at a table near the back, and handed her the paper and pen.
"I'll be right back," I said. "Don't move. Just drink your coffee and draw. The SynOp will wear off soon."
The barista brought over her coffee and a few cookies.
"I'll keep an eye on her," he promised. "Is that Shilo Wallace?"
"Yeah, that's her."
"Hell of a thing, that opera," he said simply, and went back to fondling his gun.
Beyond the carved door was a steep metal staircase leading down into a subterranean den. SynOp smoke-filled the air with the scent of burning spices, and i tried to take shallow breaths. SynOp was never my thing, but like the barista said, joints like this were a good place to wile away a cold and dreary day, and I had built up a certain tolerance over the years. Nevertheless, I couldn't afford any dull edges until Shilo was safe.
The SynOp den was simply furnished; just masses of cushions, rugs, and low tables cluttered with smoking braziers and art supplies. SynOp, an early attempt by Geneco to create a synthetic opioid painkiller, had the effect of making it's users both relaxed and restless at the same time, hence the drawing implements. Some dens provided wood carving stuff, but I found mind altering substances and sharp objects a bad combination.
I found Marco hunched over a table near the stairs, focused intently on the drawing he was working on. Blind Mag in her famous Chromaggia costume, her head thrown back, lips parted in song. Her eyes were closed.
"Doesn't seem right to draw her eyes anymore," Marco murmured. "She plucked them out herself, didn't she?"
I knelt down beside him, waving the smoke away from my face.
"I need a favor," I said. "I need a place to hole up for a few days, someplace private and halfway decent. Any ideas?"
Marco added a few lines to his drawing, the merest suggestion of wings.
"Carline had a new place in the Garment District," he said. "Needlepoint Lane, above the dressmakers on the corner. I guess she's not going to need it anymore, right?"
I tucked a glass vial into his pocket as thanks, and made my way up to the shop.
Shilo was still sitting at the table, and I slid into the chair across from her. Her paper was filled with detailed sketches of insects, each one life-like in its precision.
"I've got us a place," I said.
"Good." Her coffee was gone, and her eyes were clear again. She looked up at me, troubled. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this. If you want to bail, I won't hold it against you. The Bug won't have any reason to go after you if I'm not around."
I reached over, and pulled her around the table and onto my lap.
"It's too late, kid," I said. "You got stuck with me the moment you saved my life. Besides," I continued with a smirk. "I finally got a hot chick with money, who's also sane. Think I'm going to screw that up?"
Shilo laughed, looking relieved. She ran her fingers through my hair, and I sighed with pleasure.
The small bells attached to the front door tinkled, and I looked up. Oh, shit.
In every man's life there is that one woman who embodies every mistake he's ever made. An outside observer might think Amber Sweet would be mine. No, oh no. I should be so lucky. Mandy was 5'6, 120 lbs of pure neurotic spite. Short, spiky blue hair and neon clothing made her a deceptively cute package, but buyer beware. A regular once told her the shade of lipstick she was wearing didn't suit her. She stole his credit cards, ordered the most twisted fetish mags she could find, and sent them not only to his wife, but to his office and his 80-year-old mother as well. Then, she set fire to his car.
And what did I do? Well, she was a long time customer and kind of a friend, so I gave her a vial of Zydrate in trade. Once. I still have scars. And when I rebuffed a second offer, well, lets just say hell hath no fury like a woman you seriously shouldn't have slept with. I was sleeping with one eye open and a knife in my hand for months.
Mandy saw me and Shilo as soon as she walked in, and her eyes flashed red, I swear. She sauntered over, and leaned against our table. Shilo, sensing the potential threat, watched her warily. Smart girl. Mandy licked her lips and grazed my leg with her knee.
"It's a cold day, Graverobber," she purred. "Aren't you going to warm me up?"
"Sure," I said. "I'm sure I can get Cuddles over there to fix you a cup extra hot."
Her eyes narrowed for a moment, then she slid down to her knees beside me.
"I'm sure you can find another way to make me hot," she said, as she ran a hand up my thigh.
Shilo's foot snapped out, hitting Mandy in the chest and sending her flying into the counter.
"Are you nearly finished with your drink?" she asked me calmly. I nodded, speechless. This wasn't going to end well.
Mandy sprang to her feet and grabbed Shilo by the hair, pulling her from my lap. Shilo reached up and pinched the skin under Mandy's arm, making her cry out in pain. She let go of Shilo's hair, and took a swing at her. Shilo ducked, and Mandy stumbled forward, into my lap. I looked up helplessly at the barista, who just shrugged as if to say Your problem, mate.
Mandy pushed off from my chest, cursing loudly. She took the heavy coffee mug from the table and swung it at Shilo's head. Shilo stepped to the side, and the mug sailed past to shatter against the far wall. Mandy rushed Shilo again, and this time I caught a glint of silver in Shilo's hand. An ugly gash appeared across Mandy's mouth, from upper lip to chin, and she staggered back, shocked. Shilo tossed a handful of napkins at her.
"Clean yourself up," she ordered. "Show some damn dignity."
Mandy pressed the napkins to her bleeding face, and glared hatefully at Shilo.
"I'll find you, bitch," she snarled, before storming into the den.
"Sorry about that," I said to the barista. He shrugged. He's seen worse.
"No worries," he replied. "Just out of curiosity, where did your girl manage to hide that scalpel?"
"You okay?" I asked Shilo as we hurried down the block. Shilo wiped futilely at the blood spatter on her white uniform.
"I'm fine," she grinned. "That's not the first fight I've been in this past year. You can explain what that was about when we get inside. Is it far?"
"Maybe fifteen minutes walk from here," I said. "Hopefully we can get there before the next fall of rain."
I adjusted my coat, then stopped dead. Not good.
"What is it?" Shilo asked, as I searched frantically through my pockets.
"The print out of the Bug's potential victims," I said. "It's gone."