She thought back to what Malokin had wanted, how he'd introduced the other one, and shivered.
"I told you, it's safe here."
She nodded. Better to let him think she was scared of the fighting outside than what had really made her shudder.
A black Mercedes, with windows tinted so dark you couldn't see anything inside, whipped into the lot, parking twenty feet from the fight in progress, and in clear view of the gang. Cutty got out and paused to look at them, unconcerned for his safety, and then strolled into the shop.
He walked in, shaking his head in disgust as he did. "Bunch of amateurs. They don't even know how to throw a punch correctly." He looked at Faith. "You ready to go?"
She nodded and grabbed her purse from the back, all the time thinking of how odd this situation was and how weird the guys were.
Chapter Eight
It was her second night at Cutty's. She'd gone to the shop again that morning; the only difference this time was there was even less talking with Lars than yesterday. She knew there were two other tattoo artists as well but she hadn't met them yet. So she'd straightened up some more and tried to appear useful, even though she didn't feel like she was doing much of anything.
It was a relief when Cutty had pulled up to pick her up. There was a tension between Lars and her that didn't exist with Cutty or the other guys. She couldn't figure out if Lars wanted her in the shop or couldn't wait to get rid of her. When Lars looked at her, sometimes he seemed downright mad about something.
Cutty, on the other hand, was all smiles when he'd picked her up today and brought her back to his house. It might have had something to do with the list of supplies she'd given him. She'd offered to cook and these boys definitely liked to eat.
"You really didn't need to do this," Cutty said as he came to stand beside her. "But I do love chicken cutlets."
She smiled at him as she poured more breadcrumbs onto the plate. "I want to do this. You're letting me stay in your home while I have nowhere else to go. I need to do this."
Cutty startled her as he hopped up and sat on the counter next to where she was dipping the chicken cutlets into the egg batter.
He plucked a pretzel out of the open bag he'd carried with him. He popped one into his mouth and didn't wait to finish chewing before he started talking. "You know, once we figure this situation out, the whole Malokin mess and the world going crazy, all that crap, I can help you get settled somewhere."
The fork clanked onto the bowl where she dropped it. "You can?" He'd help her rebuild a life? She'd been worried about how she'd make all the connections she'd need, figuring it was better to take it day-by-day instead of dwelling and becoming overwhelmed.
"Don't get too excited. There are some drawbacks. It's not going to be like when you were human. You're going to have to move every so often. You can't plant roots down deep because we don't age. Stay in a place for more than a decade and people start wondering why you still look so damn good, although the invention of Botox has really helped out. Still, you can only milk that for so long. It's why we all move as a group, the guys I mean. It's nice having some kind of a family." He looked at her and smiled. "There aren't many of us. It would be nice to have someone else around. You get sick of the same faces after a while."
Should she play it safe and say, hey, that's great, or bring out the elephant? It took her less than a second to decide. "Aren't you a little worried that I'm a murdering psycho?"
He shrugged his shoulders as he popped another pretzel in his mouth. "I wasn't until you said that," he replied and then started laughing at his own joke.
"Your buddies seem a bit more worried than you are." She knew Lars didn't trust her and she wouldn't feel safe if she was alone in a room with Fate. Her connection to Malokin seemed to set him off worse than the rest.
He popped another pretzel in his mouth as if it were the most trivial thing in the world that the other guys thought she might be a super villain. "Don't worry about those jackasses. They'll figure it out eventually." It took her a second to decipher his words past the mouthful of pretzels.
"I'm not used to anyone thinking I'm the spawn of Satan but there's probably a learning curve to stuff like that."
He laughed, and looked at her like he was just starting to see her. "You're funny. Were you sarcastic when you were alive?"
"A bit but I tried to keep it toned down."
"Sarcasm is considered the lowest form of humor," he said in mock admonishment.
"Only people who suck at it say that. Everyone else laughs," she said. "So why are you so sure I'm not going to kill you in your sleep tonight or I haven't secretly poisoned the breadcrumbs?"
He smiled. "Do you really want to know?"
She smiled back. "Yes."
"Well, we told you about the agency that runs the Universe. There are all sorts of positions in the agency. There's Murphy's Law, Mother Earth, Cupid, every possible rumor or superstition you've ever heard of as a human, there's someone doing that job. They've got a leprechaun that controls the amount of four-leaf clovers, a Black Cat Lady who sends out cats before something bad happens. There's Fate who, if you can't guess, helps steer people in the right direction. It's all run and controlled by the agency, technically it's called Unknown Forces of the Universe but that's too much of a mouthful to say all the time."
"Who runs the agency?" she asked.
"Upper management. They're very reclusive and not usually seen. I've only met one myself and that wasn't until all this shit started happening.
"The guys and I all had jobs there before we quit. Now, there's a difference between quitting and retiring. Retiring is above board, everyone in the agency knows you're leaving. The higher ups make all the arrangements and you go on to another life and become a normal human afterward." Cutty made air quotes when he said normal. "Quitting is on the down low, not agency approved. We didn't know it was possible until Lars made the discovery. The thing none of us knew when we quit was whatever your job was before, you get to keep the perks."
"Did Malokin quit?" she asked, still having no real idea who he was.
"No. He's seems to have formed somewhat organically. We don't know where he came from, but just as everyone else seems to have inclinations towards certain positions, his gig seems to be straight up anger and hatred."
Faith flipped a cutlet as she let the knowledge of what that meant soak in. "You're saying that I was kidnapped by someone whose calling in life is getting people angry?"
"Yeah, pretty much." Cutty shrugged. "Everybody's got their thing."
"It's no wonder everyone is suspicious of me."
"It doesn't help that Malokin wanted you but I know you're cool because I used to be Sixth Sense."
"Really?" Faith dropped a couple of cutlets in the pan and turned to wait for more details.
Cutty continued, "When you'd get those strong gut feelings in your human life? Some of them were from me."
"Wow, that's pretty cool."
"I know." Cutty buffed his nails on his shirt.
"So you know, like on some other level then, that I'm not a bad person?"
He stopped eating his pretzels as if he had to impart some disappointing knowledge. "Well, no, not exactly. I didn't really get any feeling or knowledge about you. Like I try and explain to everyone, I'm not a hundred sense. I'm Sixth Sense, it's more of a fleeting type deal."
"Then you don't feel confident?"
"Oh, I do. I might not be getting an outright yes or no but I feel it in my gut and I'm never that wrong on anything."
"Yeah, I gotcha."
"Good. Because a lot of people want that hundred percent thing and it's just not practical all the time." His hands started waving around as if the pressure was too much.
"It's completely understandable." She grabbed the bag of pretzels he'd discarded on the counter in his state of agitation and put them back in his hand.
"Oh, thanks," he said, popped another pretzel and seemed to calm down as he chewed.
"So what was Lars?" she asked, trying to move the conversation away from anything upsetting for him.
"You'll have to ask him. Some positions are kind of personal." He waved a finger, circling her face. "We should take a picture of you."
"A picture?" Of all the things she was concerned with, pictures weren't on the top of her to do list.