The Man Who Crossed Worlds (A Miles Franco Urban Fantasy) Read online

  Hey, I had to get my kicks somewhere.

  It must’ve been a couple of hours from dawn when I finally reached Desmond’s place. The complex was old—though not as old as my apartment—but it was sturdy, four adjoining orange brick buildings surrounded by a wall and a pedestrian gate alongside the main gate.

  There was no one around, and I didn’t want to attract more attention than I needed to, so I went round the back of the complex and clambered over the wall where it was lowest. Desmond’s apartment was on the second floor of the furthest building. A fire escape at the back was invitation enough for me, so I scaled the iron staircase as quietly as I could and stopped outside Desmond’s window.

  The curtains were closed, but there was enough of a crack that I could make out his bed and a bundle of blankets over what could have been people.

  A dog barked somewhere and I jerked around. Damn it, my nerves were getting to me. I consciously slowed my breathing to calm myself and tapped on the window.

  It took a few seconds of tapping before the figures under the blanket finally stirred; maybe they mistook it for the rain at first. There was a moment where the two of them appeared to be talking, then one got out of bed, pulled back the curtains, and opened the window.

  “Hi Des,” I said. “Hows it hanging?”

  Desmond rubbed his eyes and gave me a looking over. He was a tall guy, skinny, but with a pot belly starting to emerge. His hair was mussed from sleep, and the singlet and boxers he was wearing were crinkled. “Miles? What the hell, guy?”

  He stepped backward and held out a hand to help me through the window. The figure still in bed reached out and switched on the bedside lamp. I squinted against the sudden glare. I raised my hand in greeting. “Ignore me, Rob. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

  That was a cheap shot, but I thought I deserved one after all I’d been through. Desmond’s partner Rob had started going prematurely bald, so he’d shaved the rest of his head to hide it. He slipped on his glasses and scowled at me with the sort of look tigers give to their zookeepers.

  “Shit,” Desmond said, looking me up and down, “you’re covered in blood. What the hell kinda trouble you in this time? I thought you said on the phone you were blowing town for a while.”

  “Christ, I wish I had. I’m fucked. Royally fucked. I didn’t know where to go.” I ran a hand through my curls, trying to keep the fatigue from drowning me. “I’d kill for a coffee, though.”

  Desmond frowned and glanced over at Rob. “I don’t know if this is the best time...”

  Rob grunted and shook his head. “It’s fine.” He pushed himself up on his elbows and fixed me with a glare. “I’m awake now, he might as well stay.”

  Desmond raised his eyebrows and gave me a “whaddya gonna do?” look and led me out to the small dining room. He planted me in a chair at the table and set the water boiling for the coffees. “All I got is instant.”

  “I didn’t come here expecting a double frappa-latte with spiced cream and walnuts. As long as it’s black, bitter, and doesn’t taste too much like dirt, it’ll do the trick.”

  He rattled around getting mugs and spoons, all the while shooting me looks. “You really look like hell, you know that?”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” My head felt too heavy, so I propped it up on my arms. “I’m in deep, Des. I got conned into helping the cops deal with some drug importing racket. Only one of the bastards painted me into a frame. I shouldn’t even be here. It won’t be too long before they’re knocking on your door asking you where I am.”

  Desmond studied me, nodding slowly. He was a good guy, solid, dependable. He didn’t like the cops any more than I did.

  He used to be a Tunneler—still was, I guess, depending on how you defined it. We’d gone through training together, even worked a few gigs as partners.

  But he wasn’t actively Tunneling anymore. He’d been out of the game nearly five years, ever since the gangs stepped up their efforts and started more aggressive recruiting campaigns. He’d had another boyfriend at the time, another guy who’d been in our class. He and Desmond had some philosophical differences over whether it was right to take blood money from a gangster, and Desmond had decided there were better ways to make a living.

  He was smarter than me, always had been. He started playing responsible citizen a couple years back, starting some sort of half-assed neighborhood watch program in the area. He was such a goody-good he ended up funding it by opening a chain of computer stores that specialized in catering to the immigrant Vei. That was how he met Rob, I think; he was supposed to be some kind of computer whiz.

  Desmond parked a cup of blessedly hot coffee and some leftover Chinese food on the table in front of me, and I gave him the Cliff Notes version of my story. He listened, nodding away, putting in a couple of questions of his own to clarify. I’d been so long without sleep the story was starting to get muddled in my head, but the chow mein and coffee helped refresh me.

  He got a little sickly-looking when I told him about Spencer’s murder. He’d never been much good with that sort of stuff. But I guess I wasn’t either. I had to clutch my mug extra tight to hide my trembling hands when I told him about that bit.

  I finished about the time Rob wandered out, fully dressed. He took a mug of coffee from Desmond with a look of gratitude, then threw me an annoyed look before settling down at his computer on the other side of the room. I think Rob saw me as a bad influence on Desmond, which I suppose I was. He was an all right guy, Rob, just overprotective.

  “I don’t how you get into these scrapes,” Desmond said to me. “I told you years ago to quit Tunneling. It’s not the same city it was when we were in school.”

  I shrugged. Desmond had offered to go into business with me, but I’d turned him down. I couldn’t even turn on a computer, let alone sell one. But right then, it was starting to look like he had a point.

  “I did it for the freedom, always have, but now…”

  “Now there ain’t so much freedom in it.” Desmond tapped his chin with his thumb. “What’re you going to do?”

  “What can I do?” I took a long draw of coffee to buy myself time to think. It didn’t help. I could already feel the prison bars around me, keeping me in place. Even if I managed to stay out of the cops’ hands, it wouldn’t make a difference. Todd had stuck me in a box of my own making, a box inside my own head. I’d spend the rest of my life running, hoping the son of a bitch didn’t show up to put me in bracelets or make a new hole in my head.

  Desmond seemed to be reading my thoughts. “I can disappear you, guy. Get you out of town, or get you enough Kemia to get you to Heaven. No point staying here, not now.”

  It was tempting, I won’t deny that. Hell, it was exactly what I was planning to do less than two days ago. The cops had no jurisdiction in Heaven. I could be free there, physically at least. And maybe Todd wouldn’t bother coming for me. He seemed like a busy guy.

  Busy turning the city to ashes.

  “Fuck,” I said, putting my head in my hands. “I can’t.”

  “Miles—”

  “The girl I told you about on the phone, the one who’s started to Tunnel, it was her the gangsters used for their little experiment. You should’ve seen her. Christ, you should have seen her eyes.”

  My throat constricted, and I found I couldn’t speak any more. Desmond got up and put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s not your fault, guy.”

  I swallowed the lump and blinked a few times. “It’ll get worse. She won’t be the last one. They’re all going to suffer. This city is going drown in its own blood.”

  He frowned, but he nodded. “So what are you going to do?”

  I ran another hand through my damp hair. Telling the story had helped me get it straight in my head, imposed order on the chaotic couple of days.

  I held up two fingers and counted them off. “The way I see it, I’ve got two things I need to do if I want to get through this and be able to live with myself. I’ve got to fig
ure out a way to clear my name and pin Spencer’s murder back on Todd. And I need to stop Andrews and the other gangsters from tearing themselves and the city apart in their quest for revenge.”

  “Might be a bit late for that,” Rob said from across the room. He clicked open a news site on his computer and nodded toward the screen. “Cops had a gunfight with a bunch of gangsters in the inner city slums about an hour ago.”

  I bit my lip. “From what Tania said, Andrews and the others knew Davies was connected to Chroma. They must’ve gone looking for him.” My fist tightened around the coffee mug. “Jesus, they’re all moving too fast for me. The gangs are on edge. If Todd’s still planning on distributing Chroma in the next few hours, there’s going to be so much blood in the streets you won’t be able to leave your house in anything but gumboots.”

  “Want me to put some calls in?” Desmond asked. “It’s been a while, but maybe I can get the ear of someone close enough to Andrews to talk some sense into him.”

  I considered it for about half a second, then shook my head before I could think about it more. “Too dangerous. All you’ll do is bring the gangs’ attention down on you, and trust me, that’s not what you want.”

  I left off the other objection—he’d been off the streets way too long. The people he once knew weren’t the same people now. Even high-rolling Tunnelers like Shirley O’Neil had once been normal kids like us, before the gangs got their claws into them.

  “Fine. Where we going first?”

  I met his eyes, and shook my head slowly over my coffee. “There’s not going to be a ‘we’, Des. I’m not dragging you down into this with me. I shouldn’t have stayed this long.”

  “Don’t be an idiot, guy. I’ve pulled you out of so many holes I’m invested in you now. It’d just be a waste if I let you get yourself shot.”

  I took another drink and tried to keep from breaking down right there. He was right; I’d be face down in some ditch in Heaven a dozen times over if he hadn’t been there to save my ass. But I wasn’t going to let him eat lead because I’d chosen his window to knock on in the middle of the night.

  “All right, enough with the good guy act,” I said. “You’re making the rest of us look bad. Let me have a shower and a lend of a shirt, and you’ll be doing as much for me as anyone could.” I paused, considering, then held up a finger. “Also, you may find some dastardly fugitive has stolen your car.”

  He narrowed his eyes a little, studying me, but he nodded. “Okay, but I’m not just going to sit by and watch you get yourself shot. What’re you going to do next?”

  I swallowed the gritty dregs at the bottom of the coffee mug and stood up. “I think I need to pay Detective Reed a visit. If she’s not with Todd, maybe she’ll listen to what I have to say.”

  “And if she’s crooked?”

  I didn’t have an answer for that. I’d grown to trust her, but this whole betrayal thing had really set fire to that. If I came to her and she tried to kill me, well, I still had most of the bottle of Kemia I’d picked up at Spencer’s. I’d do what I had to.

  I turned to go down the hall, but Rob called my name. “You got an address for this detective of yours? I doubt it’ll be in the phone book.”

  “Uh-uh. Figured I’d ambush her outside the station after the sun comes up.”

  Rob gave me a look that told me plainly how big a moron I was. “She’ll spot you in five seconds. If you’re going to do this, then you may as well do it right.” He turned back to the computer and pulled up a black window. “Go have your shower. I’ll get your address for you.”

  After the sort of shit I’d been through in the last couple of days, having a hot shower felt like being kissed by angels, and by God they were great kissers.

  I cleaned away the layers of dried blood that’d built up over my skin, worked the aches out of my shoulders, and tried to ignore the way my entire body seemed to have turned a nasty shade of purple. I really needed to work on not getting the shit beat out of me.

  When I was feeling less like a death row inmate after a go in the electric chair, I got out and dried myself off with one of Desmond’s pristine white towels. I’m pretty sure it must have been made of baby’s hair, it was so soft. Desmond had hung a clean blue shirt on the door handle outside, and I slipped that on. It was a little long in the sleeves, and I felt guilty about wearing something that had been pressed so nicely. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d worn a shirt with an actual crease in it, at least one that had been intentional.

  Rob was waiting for me when I left the bathroom. He stood in the hall, arms folded across his chest, not quite looking me directly in the eye. “You’re not going to bring this back down on him, are you?”

  I saw that one coming. “No. He’s my friend. I don’t drag my friends into my messes. Well, I try not to anyway.”

  “If the cops come asking for you?”

  I shrugged. “Tell them what you have to. Tell them I came asking for help, and you sent me packing. Tell them I stole your car. Tell them whatever.”

  He nodded, chewing his lip, then handed me a slip of paper. “Here’s the address for the lady detective.”

  It was written in Rob’s untidy scrawl, but the address looked good. “How’d you get this?”

  “Bluegate PD’s network security is practically made of matchsticks and tissue paper.”

  “Well, thanks.”

  “I didn’t do it for—”

  “Yeah, yeah, gotcha.”

  Desmond appeared at the end of the hall behind Rob. “There you are. Catch.” He tossed me his car keys. “I want to talk to you before you go.”

  Rob gave me one last look and moved aside. I followed Desmond back out into the dining room.

  “You sure you wanna do this?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “You positive you don’t want to quit town? Sounds like this whole thing’s gone to hell, man. Take the car and go lay low somewhere.”

  I got to admit, it was tempting, and it’s not like the thought hadn’t crossed my mind a hundred times in the last few hours, as much as I tried to suppress it. “Where would I go? I don’t know anyone outside of Bluegate.”

  “Isn’t your dad—”

  “No. I wouldn’t go to him even if I knew where he was. He’d sell me out before I could say ‘boo’.”

  Desmond nodded; he knew all about my relationship with my father. He shoved his hands in his pockets and met my eyes. “I could give you Anna’s address.”

  That was enough to knock me back. Anna. That bloody woman.

  I scowled. “You’ve been in contact with her?”

  He shrugged, and glanced away. “She emailed me a few months ago. Wanted to see how everyone was doing. She wanted to know how you’re doing, guy.”

  Goddamn it. That was just what I needed right now, a ghost from my past come back to rattle chains in my face.

  “Miles?” Desmond was watching me with concern in his eyes. I shook my head, ridding myself of all thoughts of Anna Goddamn Khubova. I couldn’t afford distractions. Not now.

  I pulled my damp jacket on, ignoring the way it clung to my new shirt. “If I get myself killed, tell her she can have my trumpet.”

  “She hated that thing.”

  “I know.”

  Desmond grinned and slapped me on the shoulder. “Need anything else before you go?”

  “You don’t happen to have a bullet-proof vest I can borrow?”

  “Sorry, pal.”

  I shrugged. “Never mind. Would’ve made things too boring anyway.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Desmond’s car was a blue convertible number, far too shiny to be driving around the darker streets of Bluegate. The rain was still coming down so I kept the top up and drove nice and slow. I stopped at an all-night service station and bought a Red Bull, then chugged it down as I drove.

  The address Rob had given me led me to an apartment building well inside the 23rd Street Bikers’ territory, not too far from the police statio
n. For some reason I’d expected Vivian to live somewhere prettied up and clean, maybe a house out in the suburbs with a front lawn and a white fence. It boded well that she lived in a building almost as run-down as mine. Honest cops don’t take home much money. Or maybe she just knew how to hide the wealth she’d accumulated.

  I did a drive-by of the building and kept my eyes peeled for surveillance teams. It looked clear; no one sitting in the parked cars lining the streets, and no one hiding in the shadows of street corners. I went on a little bit, parked the car around the corner, and made my way back to the apartment building.

  My heart was already upping its tempo by the time I reached the door on the ground floor. I popped my collar and glanced around, but the street was still deserted. It wasn’t light yet, but it wouldn’t be long before the early risers started leaving home to get to their shitty jobs. If Todd had his way, it wouldn’t be long before my face was plastered over the newspapers, and I didn’t want to be around when that happened.

  I tried the handle on the weathered door to the building. Locked. I glanced around again, pulled a coin and the bottle of Kemia from my pocket, and opened a Pin Hole. The air warped around the brass keyhole, and the lock clicked. I pushed open the door, slipped inside, and let the Pin Hole close.

  The lobby was designed in some kind of faux-Victorian aesthetic. I checked the mailboxes near the door and found Apartment 402 labeled “Reed”.

  I gave the stairs half a look then settled on the elevator with the old-fashioned sliding gate. I’d rather fall to my death in the rickety-looking machine than climb one more set of stairs.

  The elevator grunted and whirred to life and started its slow ascent. As it did, I considered my game plan. No matter whether Vivian was in on Todd’s schemes or not, she might not be happy to see me.

  With a bit of luck, she’d still be in bed and I could make sure she was unarmed before I talked to her. I didn’t want to eat a bullet because of a misunderstanding. I fingered the coins in my pocket and decided none of them were specific enough to be of any use.