The Lostkind (12 page)

"Right. Check with Clarence when you leave." Wotcha told them. "Go on Vincent."

"Right, well... Monroe gave my friend a week to pay it back, then changed his mind and demanded it immediately. It looked like someone was putting the squeeze on him too. The police are looking, but he's disappeared. So I figured if the law can't trace him, maybe you can."

"Standard wage, standard reward." Wotcha put in. "Tecca?"

The boy stood and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. "Courtesy of the 10th Precinct." He reported. "This is Monroe's police sketch." The boy handed it around and they all looked at it.

"Tell your friends, report back in the usual way." Wotcha finished. "And stay off the river tonight. Cold snap may have broken, but it still ain't healthy out there. Goodnight folks."

Tecca pulled the door open and a train rolled by in the same moment. Everyone reared back from the invasion of noise until it passed, and began sneaking out.

Tecca returned to them and sat beside Wotcha. The boy kept staring at Vincent. He gave the boy his friendliest smile.

Tecca pulled a shoelace out of his pocket. "The kids wanted me to give you this."

"The kids?"

"The ones at the shelter." Tecca said, and he headed for the door, slipping out ahead of a train.

"Kids?" Wotcha asked with interest.

"There were some kids who refused to come into the Soup Kitchen." Vincent explained. "One of the people there told me that they don't dare accept charity. Most adults who try to help runaways put them in foster care."

"Foster Care is the reason most runaways prefer the streets." Wotcha said grimly.

Vincent shrugged. "So the next night I went back to the soup kitchen, left some food for them outside. It was gone when I left, didn't know if they got it or not."

Wotcha gestured at the shoelace. "Looks like they did."

Vincent went over closer to the light-bulb, and got a clearer look. It was a home-made charm bracelet. Bits and pieces threaded together. Wing-nuts, a bottle-cap, a paper clip, a tarnished dime with a hole punched through it... The shoelace was long enough to wear around his neck. Touched, Vincent put it on.

Tecca tilted his head, as though making a decision. "Yup. Wear it where they can see it at the Kitchen."

"I will." Vincent called after the boy; as he headed out into the Tunnel; leaving him alone with Wotcha.

"So." Vincent said finally. "What do I do now?"

"You go back to your life, and wait for me to call you." Wotcha said. "And don't get hit by a train on your way out."

~oo00oo~

Going home wasn't an option that appealed to him very much. Going to the office wasn't really an option, and Gill appreciated the concern, but hated the company. He was feeling foolish and embarrassed about what he'd done; and though Vincent was certain he wouldn't try again, the hospital had procedures to follow. Vincent was content to let the hospital staff talk to him for a while.

With a day off and his brain too jumpy to settle on any specific point, he decided to make a special effort with dinner, and stopped by a supermarket; but even that brought up thoughts of the Lostkind. Did they have their own stores? Did they only eat discarded food... Were there Gremlins in this store right now 'borrowing' canned goods?

"Hi there."

Vincent looked up, jarred out of his thoughts. A familiar looking woman had sidled her shopping cart up alongside his, keeping pace with him. She had frizzy brown hair that went past her shoulders, and wire-rim glasses. She was dressed in jeans and a plain black t-shirt, with worn runners on her feet. "You don't remember me." She said as a statement.

"I remember you were at the Kitchen last night, and I remember you burned your hand on the coffee urn."

"That was not a coffee urn, that was the anti-Christ." She said with great dignity, as she extended a hand. "We weren't introduced last night. Connie Harnell."

He shook her hand lightly. "Vincent McCall. Last night was your first time volunteering, wasn't it?"

"At the Soup Kitchen yes, but I work at the Free Clinic on Lilac Street all the time." Connie told him. "A few of the patients there mentioned the Kitchen, and I thought maybe you guys could use another hand."

"Always." Vincent said agreeably. There were millions of people in the city, and significantly fewer that volunteered to help out at free clinics and soup kitchens. Vincent held no grudge against anyone who chose not to make an effort, but held great respect for anyone that did. "You came at a great time. And for what it's worth, the regulars seemed to like you."

"They know me." Connie explained. "Like I said, they mentioned the Kitchen to me. So. Big date planned?"

Vincent looked back at his trolley. "No. Cooking is… sort of a hobby. One I take advantage of when I'm thinking about something."

Connie smiled. "Heh, me too. I'm a New Yorker, I live on take out and freezer meals. When I got something to think about, a really good home-made meal is my reward for thinking about it long enough."

Vincent laughed. "Yeah, me too."

Connie smiled and held out the produce in her hands. "Oranges?"

Vincent took one.

Connie hummed pleasantly as she took a deep breath of the fruit, inhaling the fragrance. "The best oranges in the world are the Sicilian Blood Oranges. They say there that the sun kisses the leaves to make flowers grow. You can smell the orange-blossoms for miles. It's a wonderful rich perfume. I remember I was there once on a trip with my brother. We rode on bicycles through the orchards at sunset. The bees and the butterflies would come to collect the pollen; and they'd keep pace with us as we rode through the orchard. I remember we set up camp at the base of the tallest tree there, and when the sun came up the next morning the tent was covered in orange-blossoms."

Her voice had taken a low musical quality, like she was telling him a great old folk tale. Vincent forgot for a moment that there was a supermarket around them; as though they were alone here.

Yasi came to mind then. Yasi was a magical being from an otherworldly place, but Connie seemed to make magic out of nothing, conjure it into being from the smallest of inspiration. It was charming, almost enchanting. "When were you there?"

"Sicily?" Connie seemed surprised. "Never."

"Never?" That surprised him. "If you don't mind my saying, you seem to have a deep spiritual connection to camping in a place you've never been to."

Connie pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "I like the idea of travel more than actually doing it… I like coffee. I like hot showers. I like soft pillows, and a comfy couch. So… Camping is something I like to tell stories about…"

"Without the hassle of actually going camping." Vincent finished for her, struggling to keep a lid on his smile.

Connie smiled impishly. "Best way to do it."

~oo00oo~

Wotcha had moved quickly, gathering her friends together. A few were Lostkind, most were just observant people she had met. They didn't know where she came from, and they didn't much care. She paid them either with cash or collateral, and she was good to them. It wasn't the first time she had asked them to find somebody, and it wasn't the first time they did so without knowing why.

Tecca returned to the Underground with a note, and for the second time in as many days, Yasi came up to the surface after dark.

Across the city the question was asked, and the description circulated. Monroe didn't know it, but all the hiding places were closed to him now. Every dark corner, every ‘no-tell-Motel' every bridge that could provide shelter, every train station with damaged security cameras, every hostel that accepted cash. They were all being watched by eyes that had nowhere else to be, and nothing else to do.

~oo00oo~

Yasi perched on the corner of the rooftop, looking at Vincent's apartment window. After a few moments of watching, the curtains were opened, and from the dark window, the lantern she'd left him started glowing on the inside windowsill.

Smiling a little, Yasi leaped out into the cooling air, landing neatly on top of a streetlight, landing on the narrow point and sliding down it like a fireman's pole, without wasting a single motion. Even at sunset; there was nobody looking her way. Her quicksilver catwalk took her across the street, toward Vincent's building before anyone noticed her.

~oo00oo~

"You decided to use the door this time?"

"Well, I figured since you went to the trouble of putting a light on in the window for me." She teased back, but she wasn't smiling.

"Are you mad?"

"Mad? No. Just wondering who
else
you drafted. If you're going to take on the Lostkind as a secret army of crime fighters, you'll need a uniform, a secret identity, a lair of some kind…"

"You
are
mad." Vincent bit his lip. "Can I bribe you with something? Chocolates? Flowers? I don't know, what works on women from the Underside?"

"Vincent, I'm glad to help, and I don't need a bribe." Yasi said. "You think I like people getting wiped out by Loan Sharks and con men? Of course not. I'll help however I can. But… if you do this, there's going to be a reckoning. What you're trying right now? It doesn't happen. There will be a price to pay, and I don't know what it'll be. Back out now, I go tell Keeper that you misunderstood what was allowed, I tell her I set you straight, and everything stays as it is. You keep going; it's up to her." She sat back, brought her knees up to perch on the chair. "So you tell me: You willing to see where this goes?"

Vincent bit his lip and thought about it for a long time. Yasi didn't run the world below, and he knew that. If his friendship with her and Wotcha was going to cause trouble, it would fall on them both to clean it up. Eventually he spoke. "I spent my whole life walking around with blinders on to people around me. I did it again with my best friend. If there's anything I can do to… make up for that; then I'll do it."

Yasi rose. "Then I'll get into it first thing tomorrow." She returned to the window. "Double-tall Mocha-swirl, with caramel shots and whipped cream."

"I'm sorry?"

"Flowers don't work, because it's not like we have sunny windowsills. Chocolates don't help because we sort of have to slip through cracks for a living. You want to grovel; you owe me a decadent beverage of some kind."

Vincent grinned. "I'll be right back."

"No you won't." Yasi said. "I'm coming with you."

~oo00oo~

One thing New York had no shortage of was coffee shops; and Vincent paid for them both.

"Let's go to the Bridge." Yasi said as they sipped their coffee.

"The Brooklyn Bridge?" Vincent repeated. "Why there?"

"You'll see."

Vincent shrugged; more pleased than he would admit to. "Well, I know a great place near there."

~oo00oo~

Their coffees were finished; and the sky was a brilliant orange by the time they reached the East River. Not wanting the moment to end, Vincent immediately bought them refills and pastries from a closer coffee chop, and they wandered to a park bench near the Brooklyn Bridge.

New York was lit up brilliantly before them. The skyline was one of the most famous in the world, and at that time of night, they had an unobstructed view, and privacy to enjoy it. The towers of the world's first mega-city were lit up with a million points of light, bathing them in a soft glow. The skyline in front of them; the orange sky slowly darkening in contrast.

"When I first moved to New York, I came here every day." Vincent said. "I was trying to get my head around the notion that I lived here now. I was a New Yorker… Well, Brooklyn. Until 9/11, it was my favorite place. After that, it just… I kept staring at the spot where they used to be."

"But you came back." She observed.

"I did." Vincent confirmed. "It's still my favorite place. I still see the whole city from here. I won't… I
can't
let one thing that upset me destroy the way I care about things that still remain."

"Amen to that."

For a long time, they sat silently. Vincent glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She wanted to say something, but she hesitated, unwilling to share it. He waited, letting her get used to the idea of opening up to him.

"We were scared that day too." Yasi said quietly at last. "Nobody spoke about it, but we all knew. I think, in a way, 9/11 was actually scarier for us than it was for you up above."

"How so?"

"Because you guys all knew that the way to get through it was to band together and support each other. The whole city united. We couldn't even risk coming up to help. We're always working to be invisible. Suddenly every corner was being watched."

Vincent nodded. "I did a little research after I met you. I spoke to some Urban Explorers, people who do stuff like climbing through forgotten tunnels and perching on rooftops all the time for fun? They've pulled back what they do. Someone calls in a trespasser to the police before 9/11, it wasn't a big deal; just kids having fun. After that day… a lot of folks would have been willing to shoot on sight; to say nothing of distracting police."