"I thought you wanted to quit?"
Dismas jerked and cursed when the cigarette he was about to roll slipped through his fingers, spilling brown tobacco leaves into his lap.
"Shite!" He turned to glower at the woman who smirked at him from behind a glass full of what Dismas hoped was wine, and not blood. With Audrey, you could never be sure. "What's wrong with ya?"
Audrey shrugged and sashayed over to kiss his cheek in welcome. Dismas got a whiff of the heady perfume that surrounded her like a cocoon, the effect of which was only slightly spoiled by the alcohol on her breath. Audrey then gracefully sank down onto the seat his feet had been up on just a moment before.
"I thought you were on a date tonight," Dismas asked, eying the blonde's high heeled boots which reached just above her knees, and her form-fitting dress. With her nails painted black and dark red lipstick, she looked like she had stepped out of one of those old spy movies; the ones where all the men wore coats and hats, and the women were as likely to seduce the protagonist as they were to poison him. He liked Audrey, she was one of his closest friends – not that he had many of those – and he enjoyed working with her, but that did nothing about the fact that she was batshit crazy.
"I was," Audrey confirmed, brushing the matter aside with a wave of her hand as if it were no more than an annoying fly. She swirled her drink around before taking a dainty sip. She must have brought the wine herself. With the exception of beer, Boudica would never touch anything under forty percent.
"You were what?" the woman in question asked, coming in just in time to overhear the last part.
"On a date, darling," Audrey replied, and fished a pack of thin cigarettes out of her purse. The smokes were more expensive than the ones Dismas could afford, which did not stop Audrey from making pleading eyes until, with a sigh, he tossed over his lighter. "I'm sure you remember what that is like."
"Barely," Boudica replied drily, and Dismas watched his two best friends exchange kisses in greeting.
They couldn't be more different in appearance, the dame fatale and the rocker girl who repaired cars for a living. Just like Audrey, Boudica was tall, but unlike her, she was also muscular and wore leathers and tattoos instead of silk and jewellery. Boudica owned a garage where she ran a small business of repairing and selling cars, and in the evening when all the work was done, it was open to friends. It was and a good place if you wanted a drink or a chat, and she let Dismas borrow her tools whenever he needed to fix his bike.
She had a boyfriend whom Dismas had not seen around today. Secretly he was glad, because there was something about Tardif that had Dismas convinced that he was a serial killer.
"How is my favourite grave robber?" Boudica asked, grabbing herself a bottle of beer that she deftly opened with a screwdriver, before plopping into the beat-up leather couch and putting her boots up on the table.
"I'm an archaeologist!" Audrey protested in fake, albeit perfectly credible outrage. She tilted back her head and released a plume of aromatic blue smoke towards the ceiling, her posture somehow even less ladylike than that of her friends.
"What's the difference?" Boudica asked, taking a healthy swig right from the bottle.
"The difference between archaeology and grave robbing," Dismas explained before Audrey could, "Is that they need to be stiff for more 'n a few centuries –then if you dig them up, it's considered scientific excavation."
"So which one's your job and which one's your hobby, now?" Boudica asked Audey with a grin.
"Judging by what pays better... ," the blonde snorted, then suddenly shot upright, one hand disappearing inside her purse. With a cry of victory she held up a small item so that it could catch the light of the naked bulb overhead. "Look!"
"What's that?" Boudica asked, leaning closer to have a better look.
Dismas recognized the trinket in Audrey's palm as one they had collected on their latest stint. It was a ring in the form of a raven. The corvid carried a crest that depicted a tower on a field of red and gold. A fine piece of craftsmanship, but way too ornate and old-fashioned for his taste. No wonder Audrey loved it though. She collected mementos of her midnight outings like saner people might collect stamps or cards of their favourite sports team.
"Gotta do some research on who this crest originally belonged to," Audrey said, fondly looking at the ring before trying it on. "Think they'd want it back?" she asked with a cheeky grin, holding out her hand for all to admire.
"No," Dismas immediately threw in. "It's ugly."
Boudica laughed as Audrey pouted, pocketing her little treasure again. "What did the Chief ever do to you anyway?" she wanted to know.
"He took my money," Audrey hissed, her painted eyes narrowing dangerously.
"Don't you mean your ex-husband's money?" Dismas asked. Audrey's husband had been some business mogul, a CEO of one syndicate or another. Like all of them he'd been running a crooked shop – unlike all of them he'd been caught. Dismas had seen the bloke only once, and frankly he was glad he wasn't going to do so again. Someone in prison had seen to that.
"We had a deal!" Audrey fumed. "I was going to file for a fault divorce, which meant I was due most of our martial property and alimony! Of course, no one told me that I would only get what was left after the fiscal authorities confiscated every last penny."
Which, as far as Dismas remembered, amounted to a quite sizable debt. "Why did ya trust the police anyway?"
"What else was I supposed to do?" Audrey fumed. " Did I know that pig was a mobster? Of course I did! Should I have gone to prison alongside him?"
Dismas shrugged. He did not blame Audrey, but he also did not pity her. After all, she had never lied about having married her ex only because of the money and social status it had given her. "Well, better luck with the next one."
"Oh, I don't want to remarry," Audrey declared proudly.
"You sure? Might be more money that way." Out of the corner of his eyes, Dismas caught Boudica shaking her head and running a finger over her throat.
Audrey smiled indulgently, but Dismas could see a spark in her eyes that confirmed he had overstepped some line. "And when will we finally get to meet Mr. Paixdecoeur?" Audrey asked in a voice as sweet as nightshade essence.
"Fuck off," Dismas grunted, regretting ever having told her his real name.
"Speaking of lovers, future and past," Boudica made an attempt to steer their talk to safer waters, "Have you seen or heard from Louet? He wanted to meet me, but didn't show up, and I haven't heard from him since. I think he said he had something for you, Audrey."
"Oh?" Audrey perked up, but Dismas wasn't paying attention to her.
It wasn't like Louet not to come to a meeting. He was one of the few people that could be really relied on. Dismas shifted, a spark of worry gnawing at him. He wasn't on the straight and narrow by any means, but he was a different man now than he had been during his time up North. Back then, he had lived for the thrill of life, the rush of a raid. But with the anger and vigour of youth spent, the lust for adventure abated, and recklessness gave way to caution.
Experience had taught Dismas him that banditry was going to lead him to an early roadside grave, and age made him value stability over a quick profit, even if it was in the form of shitty day labour. As far as he knew though, Louet was still involved with some of the local gangs, smuggling goods and information. Unlike Dismas, he still liked what he did, but then Louet had always believed himself invincible. It was part of what Dismas had loved so much about him.
The conversation turned away from Audrey's love affairs and filthy lucre and to more everyday things. Boudica suspected Bigby, an employee of hers who was responsible for the paperwork, and whom Dismas remembered as a morose gothic kid with lanky hair, to be smoking pot. As long as he stayed away from any real drugs she was willing to close an eye – the type of customers that she had certainly didn't care either.
Audrey in turn bitched about university life, about her colleagues, and how their funds for a project she had been applying for were being cut again. "I swear," she said, "Either they give me tenure, a raise, or the Dean's gonna have to buy himself a better car insurance. Again."
A feral grin suddenly lit up Boudica's face. "Well, Tardif and I were planning a trip to Fraehaven anyway."
Dismas was well aware of where Boudica's main income came from. A quick exchange of plates, some readjusting of the odometer and a paint job was all it took for a car to be ready to be sold to a new owner. Up North, if you knew the right people and diligently paid your bribes, this could even guarantee you a living. He himself had provided plenty of spare parts and even some of the vehicles for a share of the revenues.
Audrey elbowed Dismas in the side, jostling him out of his thoughts. "What do you think? A few more cars and you can forever say goodbye to that dratty motel and find yourself a proper place to stay in."
Dismas suppressed a flinch at Audrey's chosen topic instinctively hunching over. "I'm not in the market."
Audrey wasn't so easily dissuaded. "It doesn't hurt to look, you know? You might just find a place that you like."
"If I find a place I like, I'll let you know," Dismas retorted, annoyed with her relentlessness. Out of everything she could latch on to, why did she have to choose this? Why not his clothing, or his hairstyle? "Motel's gotta do for now. And it's cheaper than paying rent."
"It's filthy."
"Would you look at that," Dismas sneered. "The woman who digs up corpses for funzies is complaining about dirt. Ever considered I might like it filthy?"
He didn't. He loathed it; everything from the cold lamps with missing shades, over the flaking tapestries to the cheap furniture marred with burn holes like pockmarks. Dismas did not want to think about what manner of vermin lived in the cheerless grey carpets, where or who the stains on his bedding came from.
Audrey raised like a perfectly plucked brow as if she had read his mind on the matter, but she did not comment.
Of course Dismas would be delighted to leave that shithole. And when he felt bold and dared dream big, he even imagined what it would be like to have a real home. A nice, cozy place to call his own. But the truth was that unlike miss professor, he did not have a prestigious, decently paying job.
In fact, he did not have a regular job at all. He drifted between working at gas station a couple miles out of the city, selling cigs and wank mags to passing truckers, to being a burglar and car thief. Sometimes Jubert would let him work behind the bar, or as a bouncer on others, but nothing he had ever done would make the best impression on a CV.
No law-abiding person was going to employ him, not for a wage he could live from. Dismas did not have citizenship, a passport or ID card. It said something about a person when getting fake documents was less of a hassle than getting the real deal.
He could probably get one made up North, but he wasn't going back up there. Dismas had been with the outfits for too long to return to the North, and he couldn't go further South if he didn't want to tangle with the Holy Church of Light.
So he squatted in-between, with no insurance, no prospect of pension, no access to healthcare – hell, even the card in his mobile was prepaid. Dismas might be blessed with the constitution of a horse, but what when he got older? He did not want to spend the rest of his life doing one miserable day job after another.
Most of the time he managed not to think about the future (or his lack of one) at all. He'd gotten very good at that.
Motels at least made things a tick easier. They never asked questions and they did not want to see identification papers, as long as you were good on cash.
Audrey knew of his position. It was a sore topic between them. He knew she meant well. It wasn't her intention to nag him about his way of living. Hell, she would probably give him the money he'd need to get an apartment. She had offered only once, but he had never asked.
There was a part inside Dismas that resisted the idea of accepting help. He loathed owing people. He had seen firsthand what a simple favour could lead to, and he had already done things for money he would regret to his dying day.
"Well, it's been nice to see you but we'll better get going," Audrey said and stood, stretching.
Dismas began to nod along, before the meaning of her words actually reached his brain.
"Where are you going?" Boudica asked and rose too.
Dismas would love to know as well. He didn't have to wait long to find out.
"Jubie's. Dismas promised me a night out. "
Dismas brows rose. He had done no such thing, yet Audrey had lied without so much as batting an eyelash.
"I wasn't aware you had planned on me taking you out for drinks," Dismas said once they had bid Boudica goodbye and had made their way outside.
Audrey shook her head and raised a hand to shush him. "I wanted to tell you first," she said, appearing to be in a hurry to get whatever it was that was bothering her out. "Thought you might appreciate it." She took a deep breath, then dropped the bomb. "The police got Louet."
"Fuckin' hell!" Dismas cursed through clenched teeth, trying to ignore the ice-cold fear that suddenly gripped him. "How do you know?"
"Para told me."
Para? Dismas was confused for a moment, before he realized that it had to be Audrey's lover. "Your girlfriend? She's in the police?"
"Forensics," Audrey corrected, one hand grabbing the lapel of his jacket. "You should leave, just for a few days."
"No way."
"If the police finds your whereabouts– "
Audrey did not have to finish. Dismas knew full well what awaited him, if law enforcement found him.
"Louet's not going to talk," he stated with as much conviction as he could muster. Perhaps it was naive of him to think so, after all, they weren't a team anymore. It was every man for himself, but he still needed to believe it, for the sake of having something, anything, to believe in.
"That's not what I've heard," Audrey said bitterly. "Of course, if he snitches on me, I'm going to have to kill him."
Dismas was shaking his head, trying to get his thoughts into some semblance of order. And then it hit him: Audrey knew someone on the inside.
"Why can't she get him out?" he enquired, drawing to a stop.
"Who?" Audrey blinked, confused.
"Para," Dismas clarified, "your – something."
"Oh, I don't know," Audrey sighed. "Maybe because there is a fundamental difference between passing on snippets of knowledge when we're in private and breaking out a wanted criminal straight out of high security ward which – wait for it – is located right under the station."
Dismas grunted and began to pace again.
"Why don't you break him out himself?" Audrey muttered. "Aren't you the man with the magic touch when it comes to security? Either they'll get you and you'll make things quicker for yourself, or they won't and you'll have what you wanted."
"What's gotten into you tonight?" Dismas paused long enough to get a good look at his friend.
"Oh, I don't know," Audrey snapped. "Maybe I don't want to see all my friends land in jail! You know," she began again, much calmer this time, "you can stay with me. Just for a while and then we'll – "
"Look, I – I gotta go, yeah?"
Occasionally, Dismas wondered if he was just too proud or too thick skulled. Would it really be so bad to bite the bullet and move in to Audrey's loft? He knew her well enough and she had more than enough space. But he could not in good conscience stay when every step he took over her polished hardwood floor made him feel like he was leaving a stain.
"Dismas –!"
"Love ya too, hun," Dismas said, hurriedly kissing Audrey's cheek. He heard her growl in frustration, saw her throw up her arms as if to say, 'I surrender'.
His heart was thundering in his chest and his keys jingled in his hand. Dismas had already broken every traffic regulation at least once, but never before in a single ride. If they had gotten Louet... Audrey was right about one thing; he needed to move.
Dismas accelerated, feeling the noose draw tighter.
He drew to a sudden halt a few blocks away from his motel. For a second he had the impression of having stepped into a discotheque. There were no sirens, but blue lights flashed everywhere and the parking lot was taken up by squad cars and people in uniforms.