Ebony Fight (The Guard Duet Book 2) (6 page)

EIGHT

Sli was more than stunned when she stepped through a white door and found herself standing in a meadow. Summer green fields provided enough space for rows upon rows of seating that stretched out seemingly endless to both sides of a centre aisle. They were filled with people of all ages and walks of life. Their chatter a constant hum that reminded her of a bee hive.

At a clicking sound behind her, Sli whirled around. The door she had just walked through was gone. Only a sea of grass stirring gently in the breeze and more seated people remained. 

Right. An open-air administrative center. Well, that was new to say the least. Sli wouldn’t have thought them capable of coming up with something as original as this.

Out of habit her eyes searched for exits but found none. Hmm. At least none that were easily accessible, anyway.

“Number 85 725 in office 9,”a lifeless but definitely female voice announced out of nowhere.  Sli’s attention was drawn to a middle-aged man who got up from his spot among the people waiting.

Frowning, Sli took in the single row of offices spreading to the left and right as far as her eyes could see. Their high walls were made of glass that tempted people to spy but turned milky and gave nothing away when the cubicle was occupied. Behind the offices were two exits. Enormous in their dimensions, they commanded this in-between world; one reaching for the sky while the other disappeared into the ground. The huge gate on the left gleamed beautiful gold in the sunlight and guarded a staircase spiraling into the clouds. It was locked. The exit on the right, however, reminded her of the entrance to a fancy movie house; lush red carpet and golden railings illuminated by warm lights. A man and a woman, dressed in fancy clothes as beautiful as any Hollywood actors, moved to the popular music playing in the background. Their smiles invited you to join.

“Number 85 726 in office 4.”

This was definitely not what Sli had expected.

The voice rang out again, slightly piqued this time. “Please, take a number.”

Heads turned to glance at her, curiosity in some eyes and dread in others.

Sli’s gaze finally fell on the reception desk about ten yards away from her and found the origin of the voice. Enjoying the soft carpet of grass cushioning her sneakers, she walked up to the counter.

The woman behind it was in her late-forties, Sli guessed. Wearing a blouse that was a soft shade of pink which suited the band of pearls around her neck and half-moon glasses perched on the tip of her nose, she would have served as the perfect model of a clichéd librarian. A vigilant hawk.

“Hello.”

“Hello, young lady. Let’s open up a file for you, shall we?” A perfect, fake nail tapped against a small machine that was set on top of the counter.

Right.

Following the instructions, Sli put her thumb on the screen until a light flashed green, and spat out a piece of paper. Number #141 009.

At her raised eyebrow, the receptionist explained with a kind shrug, “Times change. Progress comes. We have quite a lot of people coming through here every day.”

A printer started, catching Sli’s attention and spurring the woman into action. “Oh. Just a second.”

With swift, efficient movements a file was prepared, marked with her name and the freshly printed papers fed into it. Automatic reflexes honed by years of the same routine - as were the speed reading eyes flying over the pages.

After her job was done, the receptionist looked up at Sli over the rim of her glasses. The frost in her glare made it all too clear that her attitude had changed. Sli had been measured, judged and found guilty. The woman’s voice was as sour as freshly pressed lemon juice. “You may take a seat.”

Raising an eyebrow at the woman who wasn’t even trying to hide her shameless nosiness, Sli turned away and shrugged her off. She was used to it after all.

Hearing an indignant puff coming from behind her, Sli shook her head and her mouth curved into the hint of a smile. Action and reaction, it was such a simple and predictable concept if you thought about it, and yet for some reason people were often surprised by the results.

“Number 85 727 in office 2.”

Knowing the voice blared out in quite regular intervals, Sli ordered herself to ignore it for now. She would be here for a while.

Sli searched the front rows for an empty spot. However, they were sparse. Then her gaze caught two women deep in conversation. It was obvious they had been strangers before sitting down and tried to keep the pretense of distance by leaving a chair empty between them, but by now their arms were draped over its back as they leaned towards each other.

Two flies with one stone, Sli guessed. A seat and a possibility to glean information. In her short life that was one of the easiest lessons learned. To get information you simply had to listen for it.

Sli approached, her steps softened by the lush carpet of green grass and unnoticed by the women.

“…did you end up here?”

The younger woman, probably in her late thirties, laughed. “Quite silly, actually. My husband and I wanted to spice up our sex life a little, you know.”

The fifty-something lady stiffened slightly at the word ‘sex’ and leaned in even closer, probably fearing being overheard.

“We wanted something new and exotic, and so we tried erotic asphyxiation. Unfortunately, my hubby forgot that I need at least a bit of breath left in me to say the safeword.”

“Oh my,” the lady gasped.

Sli gently cleared her throat.

Both women looked up. Their faces quickly changed from being annoyed at the interruption to one of disbelief. “Oh dear, aren’t you a bit young to be here?” The older one of the two peered over Sli’s shoulder before looking back at her. “Are you all alone?”

“May I sit?”

“Of course, dear.” The lady straightened. “You can call me Thea. What’s your name?”

“Sli.”

“Oh, now that’s a unique name.”

“Thank you.”

The woman on the left of her leaned forward. “I’m Melissa.”

Sli inclined her head in a polite greeting. “Hello.”

The women continued talking over Sli’s head in a whisper. As if Sli wouldn’t be able to hear that. Adults, typical. But then again, Sli didn’t really mind. She was sure that between the two of them, Thea and Melissa would give her all the information about this place she needed.

Melissa was still curious to hear the other side of the how-did-you-end-up-here stories. “So, how about you?”

“Nothing fancy, I’m afraid.” Thea shrugged next to her and chuckled. “My heart just stopped. One moment to the next.”

That made Sli’s senses perk up. Taking a closer look at the proper Thea, dressed in cream colored ironed slacks and a blue blouse, Sli had to wonder. Maybe this woman was more than the eyes saw. Quite often people who died this particular way had a debt to pay…to Hell. Could it be that Thea had agreed to a deal without even realizing it, like so many others do? Sli knew that some demons had perfected their act into a work of art; as smooth as silk, and their victim often didn’t realize that they had just damned their soul.

A loud
gong
, pulled Sli out of her musings.

“Uh-oh,” Thea said. “They called in the Arbitrator.”

“The Arbitrator?”

“Yes, he has the final say.” She went on, whispering in that particular manner that sought attention and was easily heard. “Seems the interviewer is undecided what to do with that poor guy.”

Out of nowhere a man suddenly appeared in front of the reception desk. Dressed in a black suit and crisp, white button-down, he looked very much like he belonged here. The receptionist didn’t blink an eye, but sat up even straighter – something Sli wouldn’t have thought possible. They exchanged a few words before she handed the man a file, which he only opened a hairbreadth before closing it again. Nodding his thanks sharply, the Arbitrator walked towards office number nine.

Melissa’s voice was caught between amusement and wariness. “He looks very…”

“Striking?”

“Uptight.”

“Oh,” Thea gasped, before shrugging it off and leaning in closer in conspiracy. Her voice lowered in hushed gossip. “Sally told me about him.” At her audience’s confused look, she added, “The receptionist. She said their boss upstairs was a bit disappointed in him for being implicated in a scandal involving an old co-worker and so he’s been stuck with this position ever since.”

Co-worker? Sli was certain that Lucifer wouldn’t like being referred to as such.

Thea went on, “He hasn’t gone on a holiday for ages, Sally said. Very diligent man. No vacations in years, can you believe-”

She was interrupted by a sudden bang as the door of office number nine burst open and hit the glass wall. A man ran out, his eyes wild and frantic in their search for an escape.

“What the heck?” Melissa exclaimed.

Seeing no better option, the man ran along the row of offices. Once he reached the last office on the horizon even Sli was stunned when he reappeared on the right.

Obviously, lost and confused at what had just happened, he stopped suddenly and looked around. His eyes were that of hunted prey; searching wildly, filled with utter panic and terror.

The couple that had guarded the entrance front of the movie house walked up to him.

The man begged, “No, you can’t send me there. I didn’t do anything.”

Ignoring his plea, they picked him up under his arms and dragged him to the red carpet. Tears ran down his face as he kicked and screamed.

Noticing movement out the corner of her eye, Sli turned her head slightly to see that the Arbitrator had come out of the office. As he watched the frantic man, Sli watched the Arbitrator.

Diligent, Thea had said. Yes, he certainly looked it, with an extra dose of strict. Although his eyes showed something akin to pity, he held himself straight, almost regal actually, obviously in the belief that justice had been served.

The Arbitrator moved his head abruptly and his gaze fixed Sli, unblinking. Even Melissa and Thea fell silent. When he moved once more towards the reception desk, Sli felt the women’s unease at being this close to the Arbitrator’s new object of attention. Like mice spotted in a corner of a kitchen, they stayed as still as possible.

Sli didn’t take her eyes off him.

This time no words were exchanged with the receptionist. Apparently they were not needed. Two sets of eyes now on her - one curious, the other judging - Sli watched as Sally handed over another file. The Arbitrator flicked through it, pausing here and there, before he turned to Sally and nodded.

“Number 141 009 in office 9.”

Protests started.

A look from the Arbitrator was all it took to make them die quickly as he entered office number nine once more.

“What did you do, girl?” Thea gasped in shock.

“You don’t want to know,” Sli answered calmly as she got up and walked away without so much as another glance at the women.

The glass walls turned a milky shade the moment the door closed behind her. The Arbitrator sat as straight as an arrow behind the most dominating piece of furniture in the room, a black desk. Nothing was out of place; files and documentation stacked in neat towers on the side.

Indicating the lonely chair in front of his bureaucratic throne, he invited, “Sit down, please.”

Sli did as he asked, knowing it would be polite.

“Okay, then.” His hands folded over her open file, the Arbitrator went on, “Tell me about yourself.”

III

PLAYING WITH FIRE

“In the end there doesn't have to be anyone who understands you.

There just has to be someone who wants to.”

- Robert Brault

NINE

Stone looked up when he heard Becca coming down the stairs. Still busy drying his hands on a towel, the first thing he noticed was her healthy glow and the fact that she was steady on her feet. Probably some witchy stuff’s doing, he guessed. A sacrifice or two and witches were good as new in no time.

“So, where are we headed?”

Becca stopped in her tracks, an odd expression on her face. “You did the dishes?”

Slightly caught off guard, his gaze returned to the empty sink. “Yeah. Why?”

He lived alone and was used to housework. Besides, Stone preferred his apartment neat; everything in place, with weapons hidden throughout and easily accessible in case an unexpected guest stopped by.

“Because.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and just stared at her, not in the mood to repeat himself.

“We’re going fishing,” she said.

“Fishing?” He looked her over, took in the dark green dress, short jacket and brown boots. It suited her, he admitted, but it didn’t strike him as the optimal attire for the kind of recreation she had in mind. Besides, didn’t she have more important things to do? The do-gooder stuff and all that?

“Fishing.”

The sly smile on her face made him wonder what exactly she was up to. It was all the explanation Stone got before she grabbed her keys and blew past him, out the back door. Although annoyed that he was left with no other option than to follow her like a dog, he felt a spark of curiosity.

Once outside, he took in the bright sunlight, then the big trees and shadows they cast. Optimal conditions for an attacker to lie in wait. Fortunately for him, with the course of events, he hadn’t needed to stalk her backyard but had been taken right into her home. A hint of a smirk on his lips, he turned and looked on. The witch’s house was simple and looked after. A fresh coat of paint wouldn’t be wasted, he thought.  His thoughts stopped in their tracks when he noticed the driveway and VW bus. Sky-blue on white. It may have suited her, but to him it was not practical or optimal, especially if the witch needed to lay low or escape. However, that was not really his concern.

Turning away, he followed her down a slight slope and along a dirt path leading them into what he assumed to be the bayou. Automatically his mind started drawing a map in his mind. Stone was used to being in control, but he knew that for this role he had to leave the reigns in her hands.

Suddenly the trees opened up, revealing an old wooden jetty stretching out onto the dark waters of the bayou. A putt-putt was tied to one of its posts and, following the witch’s lead, Stone climbed into the boat without a word.

Nature’s calm reigned around them, interrupted only by the rumble of the motor. Trees towered above them. Birds called out, the tall grass and leaves rustled. Now and then a fish would break the mirror-like surface, making Stone wonder what else was down there. Like silvery snakes, strips of water gleamed in the morning sun, and their shores were made of thick roots that reached into the water with veins of green. In case necessary, there were enough places to hide, and all provided by nature.

Stone slapped at his neck and looked at his hand. It came away sporting a dead mosquito bathing in what he guessed was a drop of his blood. Lovely.

The deeper they went the narrower and more overgrown the little waterways grew. The air became something primal; damp, warm earth mixing with the sweet scent of rotting plants. Trees reached out across the water with their bare arms covered in moss. Skeleton ghosts.

Time seemed to slip away out here in the bayou.

Hadn’t they passed this bend before? Stone’s gaze searched the surroundings and then rested on a dead tree standing like a silent guardian on the shore. He was sure he’d seen this one before. Where was the witch taking him? He didn’t like not knowing and struggled to keep up with the plotting map in his mind. Any other passenger would already have gotten lost in the green maze, but he wasn’t supposed to.
He
never got lost. Until today.

Stone shot Becca a glance. “I thought you wanted to go fishing?”

She grinned at him, her hand steady on the rudder, finding her way effortlessly. “Oh, believe me, we will. Arthur loves his fishing.”

Stone ducked a low branch but not in time to avoid feeling the moss brush over his head, raising goose bumps along his arms. A foreign feeling to him. Confused and trying to handle his growing unease, he asked, “Who’s Arthur?”

“A wise man.”

“A witch?”

“Yes, why? Do you have a problem with that?”

“No. It’s just…not exactly common.”

Becca snorted, an unladylike but honest sound. “Arthur is anything but.”

Another bend and suddenly the curtain of Spanish moss opened up in front of him. A ramshackle of a wooden cabin came into a view, sitting a little unstable at the edge of the water. A jetty ran along its right side, reaching out to the water like the arm of a man dying of thirst. A shape was sitting there.

He was probably about six foot tall but his frame was on the lean side. To Stone he didn’t pose much of a threat. Looking out onto the water, a rod in his hands and wearing the whole fishing regalia – green waders, khaki vest and a hat decorated with various lures.

The guy lifted a hand in greeting. Two vacant camping chairs waited next to his and Stone frowned.

“I thought you’d want to have a seat.” The man, Arthur he assumed, called out as they approached the jetty. His voice was gravely from age, and as Stone got a better look at him he guessed the man to be in his early eighties. The face was tanned and wrinkled from the sun, almost like leather, making the white stubble dusting his skin and bushy eyebrows stand out even more.

Becca brought them close to the jetty. With quick, efficient movements she tied the boat to it before climbing out. Stone followed suit, noticing that she had a certain spring to her step, as if dancing to her own music.

Becca leaned down and kissed Arthur’s cheek, a smile lighting up her entire face. “Good morning, Arthur.”

“It definitely is now. I was hoping you would drop by,” he answered with a flirtatious wink. “Lovely to see you, sweetheart.” The man’s bright blue gaze fell on Stone. “And you too, Stone.”

Could it be?

Either Becca had announced their visit or this guy was an oracle. Caught off guard once more, Stone tried for a quick recovery. “Morning, sir.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing under the rim of his hat. “Quite polite this one, huh?”

“He even made me breakfast and did the dishes afterwards,” Becca added in a whisper.

“Oh my.” Arthur’s laugh was deep and throaty. “Now, sit down you two before I get a cramp in my neck.”

Stone looked around. Even though they were deep in the bayou, he felt like a sitting duck on the jetty. The lush greenery provided plenty hiding places but the glittering sun on the water would make it harder for him to spot any attackers. He didn’t like this place. It was in the open without being in the open, and that had his senses on alert. However, Stone sat down without a word, choosing the chair on Arthur’s left.

Caught by surprise, he almost ended up falling through the bottom of the chair. The worn material was torn in the middle and the rip made Stone more than slightly uncomfortable as he tried to find an acceptable position.

Becca seemed content right where she was, lifting her head to the sun. “How long you’ve been at it, Arthur?”

“Watched the sunrise. You know how much I love watching the sunrise here.”

Thinking that if he could get the man to like him, his chances of gaining Becca’s trust would increase, Stone decided to try and make some nice conversation. “How many did you catch so far?”

The witch’s mouth widened in a smile and Stone took it as a good sign.

“None,” Arthur replied. “It’s not about the catch, son.”

Stone frowned at that. Why would the old man sit out here all day if he didn’t catch anything? What was the sense of it all?

He tried a different approach, wanting to satisfy his curiosity at the same time. “How did you escape Hell?”

“Same as you, I assume. On my feet.”

Beyond Arthur’s shoulder, Stone noticed Becca softly shaking her head at him. Touchy subject. He got it. He guessed that torturing the answers out of the guy would probably not work in his favor and so he simply let the matter go.

Arthur turned to Becca. “So, girl, now tell me what that Ivory Lillian is up to. I know she pulled you in, and I know why you agreed, of course.”

“She wants to change the rules. To give all a fair chance at Heaven. We just need Satan to agree to that.”

Arthur’s hand went to his left breast pocket and pulled out a packet of smokes. Lighting one, he tried to turn around as much as possible in his chair to grin at her. “As simple as that, hey?”

Becca burst out laughing and shrugged. “It’s a chance, Arthur. It’s better than nothing.”

“True.”

Stone’s senses perked up at the sound of an engine. Listening in to the witches’ conversation with only one ear, his gaze searched the bayou in the direction from where the hum was coming from. Soon enough a flat boat peeked through the maze of trees rooted in the water. A man and a boy occupied it. Stone tensed as the man’s arm moved, but then realized the guy was only waving in greeting. Just a man and his son enjoying a nice autumn day on the water.

Stone tried to relax and shifted in his chair.

“I’m proud of you, girl.  Escaping Hell, going after your own hopes and dreams. Looking after your brother like that.” Arthur coughed and then went on. “You’re fighting for what you want and for the ones you love.” He brought his smoke close to his face, stopped and then moved the cigarette to emphasize his words. “
That
takes more courage and will power than just swimming with the flow where you can use the swarm of other fish around you as an excuse.”

“Thank you, Arthur.”

The old man put his smoke between his lips and stood with a grunt. “Everyone should decide their own life.” After reeling his line in, he caught the hook in his right hand and sat back down. “We all have our stories and journeys to take. Sometimes we take a wrong turn, but that’s just part of it. It’s how things work.” He leaned down and opened a Tupperware box beside his chair. It was filled with a bit of dark earth and wriggling worms. Taking one out, the old man held it up for them to see as it writhed between his fingers. “This little guy here is way smaller than me. Smaller than my pinky even. And yet he tries his best to get away. To not let me decide his fate. That’s the difference.” Arthur took his time and focused on putting the worm on the hook.

He stood again and warned, “Duck.”

Becca obeyed immediately, and so did Stone the moment he saw the old man swing back his rod.

“Your life is not yours if you let others rule it.” Arthur turned to look at Stone, bright blue eyes piercing in their intensity. “Right?”

Stone could feel Becca’s eyes on him as well. He was used to pressure. However, it wasn’t very often that he didn’t know what to say, and so he answered with what the first thing that came to mind. “What if someone doesn’t realize that the life they are living is not their own? What if they’ve never known anything else?”

Arthur smiled. “Well, then these questions are a good first step of looking outside the box, aren’t they?”

Stone frowned at that. This day had definitely not gone the way he’d thought it would, and he found himself wondering whether Becca suspected him of being more than he’d said. Had visiting Arthur been a way to test him? If he wanted to succeed with his mission, he guessed he had to be more subtle.

After half an hour Becca decided it was time to head back. They got up and Stone’s behind couldn’t have been more grateful to finally be free of the snare passing as a chair. Becca hugged Arthur goodbye, a loving smile on her face.

“Do you need anything? Groceries or whatever?”

“I’m fine for now, girl. But I sure wouldn’t mind a kiss from a beautiful lady like you.”

Becca did as asked, smacking her lips loudly and making the old man chuckle.

“You blushing, Arthur?” Stone teased, surprising himself.

Arthur threw back his head and his deep, throaty laugh boomed over the water. He looked at Becca, motioning with his chin towards Stone. “That guy might just be a keeper.”

This time it was Becca’s turn to laugh. Just listening to it made Stone’s mouth want to curve slightly too. It seemed the old man liked him, so the morning hadn’t been quite as wasted as he’d thought.

Later, back in the boat and the glittering maze of the bayou, Stone watched Becca. She looked around, the light reflected from the water caressing her skin as she steered them easily through a narrow passage.

The conversation with the old man still played in his mind. Stone asked, “What happened to Arthur?”

“You mean his escape from Hell?”

“Yes.”

“It was a long time ago.” Her smile was soft yet sad. “He had a wife and a kid. When his demon lord found out that his oracle was planning to leave Hell behind, he called in his favorite assassin. Arthur came home one night to find his wife and six year-old daughter murdered. Slaughtered.” How deeply she felt for the people around her, Stone thought, as tears shone in her eyes. Becca shook her head. “They thought it would be enough to keep him under their thumb. The idiots didn’t understand that Arthur didn’t have anything left to lose.”