“Sure.”
“I’ll see you later, then.”
He trotted into the darkness, melting into the gloom as if he had been born from it. I counted to six hundred in my head to give him a nice head start and strode to the Mole Hole.
Years ago someone had carved steps in the crater’s sides, turning it into a kind of amphitheater. I stepped over the rim and took the steps down to the bottom.
The six people watched me with unfriendly eyes. Four men and two women. The shorter woman and three of the men had the familiar Red Guard bearing: their clothes were neat, the men were clean-shaven, the woman’s pale brown hair was pulled back. The taller woman and a guy standing next to her looked like street thugs: dirty, mismatched clothes and a hungry, desperate look in their eyes. Probably brought in for numbers and muscle.
I walked toward them, Grendel trotting next to me. I was in no hurry. Two Red Guard veterans would be a lot to handle. They were in shape and had the proper training. Four Guards and two street thugs would be difficult. My best bet was to avoid a fight altogether. Sometimes if you demonstrate enough willingness to hurt someone, they decide it’s not worth it.
In the cage Saiman stirred.
About twenty yards from them an older, lean man barked, “Far enough.”
I looked up. Saiman’s eyes, cold like frosted ice, looked back at me. Hello, Ice Giant. Atlanta hasn’t been treating you so well, I see.
“Nice cage,” I said. “Must’ve set you back quite a bit.”
“Where is the money?” the older man asked.
The male thug swore. It sounded familiar. I racked my memory and ran across a petition I’d handled about a year ago, during my time with the Order. I’d met this lowlife before. He liked breaking into older people’s houses and beating them until they gave him their money.
“Hi, Frankie. Long time, no see. They let you out already?”
Frankie blinked.
“Your legs healed nicely,” I told him. “Can hardly tell they were broken. Move around for me. I want to see if you walk funny.”
Frankie stuck his arms up in the air. “I’m out.”
The older guy scowled at him. “You walk out, you lose the money, Frankie.”
“Don’t be a moron,” the dark-haired man behind him added.
Frankie pointed a grimy finger in his direction. “No. Fuck you and you.” He raised his hands. “I’m out. Come on, SG.”
The taller woman shrugged and followed him.
I smiled and watched the light from the fire play on my saber. “If anybody else would like to be excused, now is the time.”
The older man gave me his hard-core stare. He carried a tactical gladius in his hand, already out of the sheath, a simple, vicious weapon. Dark gray like a Teflon pan, it had a double-edged blade about sixteen inches long with a wide fuller running down its length and a plain wooden handle polished from extended use.
He surveyed me, then looked at Grendel. “What the hell is this?”
He had to be Tremblay. I matched his glare. “This is my attack poodle.”
“For real?” A short blond man behind him asked.
“Shut up, Darren,” Tremblay scowled at me. “You must think you’re some hot shit or something? I have scars older than you.”
It’s like that, huh. “So you must be easy to hit. Lucky for me.”
“You listen to me.” Tremblay pointed to Saiman in the cage. “One word from me and you’ll be picking up your friend’s brains from the bottom of that cage.”
I leaned forward slightly and pulled the lower lid of my left eye down.
“What the fuck?” the stocky, muscular woman behind Tremblay murmured. Not a melee fighter. She stood flat on her feet, planted like a tree, and carried no weapons.
“She’s asking you if you can see the care in her eye.” Saiman said helpfully.
“Cute,” Tremblay said. “You’ve just signed his death warrant and your own.”
I peered at him. “You sure you should be mouthing off, Tremblay? Because I’m not scared and your service record’s kind of spotty.”
“Do you have the money?” the tall dark-haired man asked, exasperation vibrating in his voice. A long slender sword hung from his waist. A katana user.
“Do you see the money? Do I look like somebody who would have that much money and be dumb enough to give it to you?”
The dark-haired man looked at Saiman. “What are you trying to pull?” He sounded indignant, like his feelings were hurt.
“I’m not trying to pull anything,” Saiman said. “In case your powers of observation failed you, I’ve spent the last few hours in this cage.”
I glanced up at Saiman. “Are you going to pay me to kill them?”