Out of This World (35 page)

“Marina,” I start, but I don't know what to say. A wave of emotion comes over me and I can't help myself. I pull her in and kiss her. She stiffens for the briefest moment, then she draws me closer, her lips parting, her tongue slipping slowly into my mouth.

It seems the most natural thing in the world for us to lie down on the blankets, the fire between us and where Des and Donalita are sleeping. My hand goes up under the back of her shirt and she arches toward me, pressing her hips against mine. A moment later and I've pulled her shirt over her head and she's lowering the zipper of my jeans.

I stop thinking of everything except for her.

J-Dog and I figured we'd have plenty of time to get organized if we got the boys out early, but even though we're downtown for seven a.m., the grounds are already crawling with people, most of them dorks. It's the antithesis of that old hippie Woodstock movie. There's this straight, pickle-up-the-ass vibe in the air, except for the odd Wildling or Ocean Aver.

We came in cars and we're all suited up in civvies—no gang colours, head scarves or banger gear, and definitely no weapons. Can't do much about the tats and shaved heads, though J-Dog's wearing a jaunty fedora that's pretty fly, even with that tat of a handgun on his neck. Most of us went for baseball caps. We've all got what look like Bluetooth phone earpieces, but they actually came our way courtesy of the Feds so that we can all communicate with one another.

Security looks good. I don't see any Secret Service, but then the congressman hasn't shown up yet, either. Right now there's men from the sheriff 's department, state troopers, our boys and maybe ten thousand crows. Okay, that's an exaggeration, but I can't look anywhere without seeing at least one.

Whatever. There are more than enough of us to handle the
thousand or so people here so far. But the rally doesn't start until noon, so who knows how many more are going to show up? Because, oh yeah, they're still arriving, by ones and twos and in larger groups—a steady stream filling a powder keg that could blow up in our faces in a second if someone lights the wrong fuse.

I can't help but wonder if that's what the congressman wants, because why else organize this rally against Wildlings? He's got to know how bad this can go. He just didn't plan on being the target. But I'll bet he's hoping for a mini riot, which'll give him the ammunition to push through his stinking legislation.

As the crowd thickens, it seems to get more evenly divided between pro and con. Some of the pro-Wildlings are easy to spot. They're wearing animal ears and tails and crap. Others carry signs. It reminds me of when Josh's friend Dillon killed himself and so many kids showed up at school wearing the same kind of stuff.

That, I now realize, was a more innocent time.

I get pings from actual Wildlings, too—more than I expected, to be honest. I figured the kids would be lying low. But I guess they're here for the same reason I'd be here if Auntie Min hadn't already asked me to do it: morbid curiosity. I'd want a peek at all the people who hate me that much. Know your enemy.

We've been walking a circuit, checking things out. There's already some tension between the pros and cons. Raised voices here, a push there, but the cops intervene quickly.

Our own boys are all in place. They're used to spotting people carrying weapons, so that's what they're focused on. People walk differently when they're armed. We don't have to worry about hidden snipers. The crows have that covered. As in every tree and rooftop with any kind of a sightline.

“It's coming up on eight,” J-Dog says.

I nod and turn on the FBI communicator in my ear like we'd arranged with Matteson. J-Dog and I move out toward the perimeter of the crowd where we can keep an eye on things, but be a little more discreet with communications.

“You with us, Washington?” Matteson's voice asks in my ear.

“We're here; all our boys are on it.”

“Crowd's antsy,” J-Dog adds.

“Already noted. Listen, Danny's got some information for you and the cousin bosses.”

“Shoot.”

Danny's voice comes on. “Two of the Secret Service detail are Wildlings.”

“Well, fuck,” J-Dog says. “Did you grab them?”

“And say what?” Matteson asks.

“This is messed up,” I say.

A new voice comes on. “What clan?” That's Lalo, Auntie Min's crow man head of security. His tone has a bit of a crow's rasp in it.

“I can't tell,” Danny says. “They're old-school cousins.”

“So?” J-Dog asks.

“They might be okay, might not,” Lalo says. “Some cousins are more sympathetic to Wildlings than others.”

“Unless they're being controlled,” I say. “Like the dogs.”

“True. But we've just heard that the binding on the canids has been broken, so they're no longer a threat.”

“So you're saying we can trust them now.”

Beside me J-Dog is shaking his head. I know exactly what he's thinking.
Like hell.

“Absolutely,” Lalo says. “The bad news is, the canids were able to tell us who's behind all of this. It's Nanuq.”

“Means nothing to me,” I say.

“He's Polar Bear Clan—old and powerful, with plenty of influence among the cousins. He's also very angry.”

“So put him down,” J-Dog says. “End of story.”

“We wouldn't do that,” Lalo tells us. “He has too much sway and he's more dangerous than Vincenzo ever was. Even if he were somehow killed, it would only bring more cousins over to his way of thinking: that Wildlings are a threat to the rest of us. Better to find a way to reason with him.”

“Look, if he's this big a problem, let
us
just take him down,” I say. “Then it'll be on us.”

“Easy, Washington,” Matteson warns. “We don't want a war here.”

“That's right,” Lalo says. “You're not even listening. And anyway, Nanuq's not going to set foot over here; he'd send someone else.”

Which makes me think of the dogs again. “So, this binding on the dogs—how did it get broken? Are you sure they're not a threat?”

“So we've been told. Apparently Marina was able to break it before—”

“Wait, homeboy,” I break in. “Did you say Marina? Is she okay? Is she back?”

“Yes, she's fine. She—”

“And you were planning to tell me this—
when
?”

There's a moment's silence, then Lalo says, his voice formal, “My apologies to you, Theodore Washington. I only just received
word of this myself, and my mind has been so preoccupied with security that I forgot the importance of this matter to you.”

I'm just starting to wonder if Auntie Min is playing me, when a crow swoops down out of the sky and drops something at my feet. I pick it up and see it's a piece of foolscap crumpled around a small stone. I open the paper and stretch it out so that I can read what it says:

Marina's with Josh and the others and she is safe. They will be with us soon
.

“You still there?” Lalo asks.

“Yeah. I just got a message from a crow about Marina.”

“Does it mention the canid clans?” Lalo asks.

“No. What about them?”

“All the clans in this area have sworn fealty to Marina.”

“Okay. So?”

“I hope this will not cause a problem for you, considering …”

He lets the words trail off, but I can finish the thought. Considering how the other Avers and I mowed down a bunch of them.

“Ladies, can we get back to the business at hand?” Matteson says. “Lalo, can your boys remove these Wildlings in the congressman's detail?”

“No. But I will send someone to see who they are. In the meantime, remain vigilant. If they aren't the threat, then it's still out there.”

“We're on it,” I say.

The crowd's at least doubled. J-Dog checks in with the boys. No one's seen anybody who looks like an obvious threat, but the growing tension hangs in the air like a thundercloud. The sheriff 's department and state police have men weaving in and
out among the people, making their presence known, and that's probably the only thing that's keeping this sick party in check. For now.

“You okay?” J-Dog asks.

“Sure. I'm good. We should probably split up, cover more ground that way. This place is getting nuts.”

“'Cause if you need to check in on your girl, we've got this.”

“I
said
I'm good.”

I'm lying. I feel like shit. What does it mean that the canids have all sworn this fealty thing to Marina—that they're her crew? And I know they're just waiting for today to be over to put the Ocean Avers in their sights, so what does that mean for Marina and me?

I realize that J-Dog's still standing beside me. I'm about to ask why, when I realize he's pissed off, and not at me. I turn to see what he's looking at, and here come Fat Boy Zaragoza and his lieutenant Chico Para sauntering through the crowd. This is not cool. They're in full gangbanger gear and I can tell by the way Para's walking that he's got a gun under that baggy T-shirt. A couple of state troopers are trailing along behind them.

I'm not surprised to see the Kings. Something this big hasn't happened in Santa Feliz for as long as I can remember. There's going to be all kinds of rubberneckers, checking it out. Why should the Riverside Kings be any different?

“Look at you boys, all cleaned up,” Fat Boy says when the pair reaches us. “You on your way to some country club?”

“Now's not a good time,” J-Dog manages to get out in a civil tone. I'm proud of him.

Fat Boy raises his eyebrows. “What? You haven't got the time to say hello to old friends?”

Everybody's got buttons. Between the Kings and the Avers, it doesn't have to be anything that's said, just the way it's said, the look in an eye, the way somebody's standing. It brings old drivebys and other hurts alive like they happened yesterday.

That's why J-Dog takes a step forward, only stopping when I put a hand on his arm.

“Back off,” I tell Fat Boy.

Fat Boy gives Chico a
can you believe this guy?
look.

“I wasn't talking to you,
ese
,” he tells me. “And backing off 's not something I do. Now you run along and let the men talk— you know,
mano a mano
, boss to boss.”

I feel J-Dog stiffen at my side. I don't think Fat Boy's actually here to cause us trouble. Being an asshole is just his habit. But diplomacy's not something J-Dog knows much about— especially when it comes to dealing with the Kings—and he's taken it about as far as he can. I figure we're just an eye blink from someone throwing a punch, so I step in between the two.

“We're here at the request of the Halcón Pueblo,” I tell Fat Boy, which is mostly true, since Tío Benardo was at the meeting last night.

Fat Boy's eyes narrow. “If you're bullshitting me …”

“Where's the percentage in that?” I say. “But if you want confirmation, see all those crows?”

Fat Boy looks around and nods. Hard to miss them since there are three or four on every tree, lamppost and roofline, with more winging in lazy circles directly above the crowd.

“Go ask one of them,” I say.

“Crows ain't hawks,
ese
. Those are just scavengers.”

“Ask them anyway.”

“You have a problem?” Matteson asks in my earpiece.

“Nothing we can't handle,” I tell him.

“Who you talking to?” Fat Boy wants to know.

“Nobody.”

Fat Boy gives me a thousand-yard stare, cold and hard, but hell, unless he gets Para to pull a gun, he can look at me all he wants.

“So you're telling me it's
los tíos
,” he finally says.

I nod.

“And they come to
your
crew?” he goes on, though what he's really asking is, why the Avers and not the Kings? “What are you supposed to do for them?”

“Keep the congressman from getting killed.”

“Shit, who cares if one more fat white dude dies?”

“
Los tíos
, apparently.”

“Wrap it up,” Matteson says in my ear. “The staties have just asked their captain permission to take the bunch of you in.”

“Okay,” I tell Fat Boy. “Here's the deal. You've got one second to walk away or I let those staties pull you in.”

I know he's been as aware of them as me and J-Dog.

“They've got dick-all to hold us on,” Fat Boy says.

“True. But if you fuck this up, you're going to find Josh waiting for you when you step outside state police headquarters. You remember Josh—you met him at the skatepark where
los tíos
told you to back the fuck off?”

I don't know that Josh would actually do it, but they don't know that he won't, and they know what he's capable of.