Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

  Between the Devil

  and the

  Deep Blue Sea

  by

  J.L. Murray

  Copyright © 2012 by J.L. Murray

  All Rights Reserved.

  Kindle Edition published by Hellzapoppin Press, Honolulu Hawai'i.

  Cover art by Ronnell D. Porter

  http://www.wix.com/ronnelldporter/design

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Beda ne prikhodit odna.

  (Trouble never comes alone.)

  —Nazar Polzin

  Chapter One

  It’s not like the movies, where they don’t know they’re dead. They don’t often haunt people or places for revenge, and as far as I know they don’t befriend lonely children. Usually. If you could see them, you might not even know them from some of the living. Empty-eyed and looking around at the world like they can’t believe it’s all still there and going on without them. Or maybe they’re seeing it for the first time. This city is full of ghosts. I can see them all. Lucky me.

  They don’t flush in the heat of summer, or run for cover in a rainstorm. They don’t smile or frown, and they don’t have a smell. There’s no rush of air when they walk past you. And they’re everywhere. After a time, I could tell them by sight, in an instant. I try to help them when I can. But I have a rule. Living trump the dead. Always. And Sofi was still alive. At least for now.

  It wasn’t that late, but it had been a hard winter. I watched my breath swirl out of my mouth and dissipate in the air as I walked briskly through it. Even most of the prostitutes and drug dealers had gone in for the night. I’d seen a few hardy girls, shivering in short skirts and thin, fur-collared jackets. They shied away when they saw me coming. If they didn’t know me, they usually knew of me. And if they didn’t, it didn’t take long before they learned I liked to be left alone. The cops had taken most of my guns when they put me on the Registry, but I still had a little Beretta Tomcat I kept close to me. Not my favorite, but it was the only one the police didn’t find. No one ever suspected the Bible these days, and they didn’t suspect mine, which looked like an old family Bible but was hollowed out in the middle. More than enough room for a gun and a whole lot of bullets.

  I pulled my collar up as it started to drizzle. Drops of water like newly frozen ice ran down my neck. I stopped and looked around. I knew this neighborhood. I used to come here as a girl with my father. I was a long way from my apartment, but that suited me. It was hard to be there without Sofi. It seemed hollow without her. At least she was warm at the hospital. I heard the deep horns of boats on the river.

  Warehouses lined the streets, corrugated tin and drab painted wood as far as I could see. I lowered my head, keeping my eyes on my boots so I didn’t have to look into the empty eyes of the rough-looking men that any Normal would swear were not even there.

  The drizzle was turning into something more sinister. Big slushy drops fell from the sky, splashing a rhythm on the tin rooftops. I felt my hair getting heavy and I was shivering. I was pretty sure no cabs would come into this neighborhood, even if I had cash for the fare.

  I felt the cold rain soaking my clothes, and my hair slapped against my face. I was chilled to the bone. This was going to be a terrible walk home. I started to turn, but a red glow caught my eyes. I looked and saw something absolutely, thoroughly out of place. It was also the most welcome thing I had ever seen.

  In between two rusty abandoned warehouses, as if it had pushed its way in like an extra tooth, was what appeared to be a bar. Flashing red neon across the width of the neat little brick building read The Deep Blue Sea.

  "Where the hell did that come from?" I couldn’t remember anything like it from when I was a kid, and it seemed incredibly out of place. I couldn’t even imagine how they would drum up enough business around here to even stay open. The only regulars they would get would be types like my father. Criminal types. The kind of men that visited deserted warehouses in the middle of the night. What was a bar doing there?

  I didn’t care. I ran across the street, putting my arms over my head to try to shield myself from the freezing torrent.

  If I were less experienced with my ability, I might say that it wasn’t a building at all, but the ghost of a building. It looked like something from fifty years ago, the kind of bar frequented by cops and firemen. Or some other previously-upstanding occupation, before all the New Government bullshit. But now it just looked odd. It was from a time that had more than passed, it had practically been forgotten.

  As I got close, the place seemed to shimmer a little, but it could have been the neon in my eyes. I got to the door and it seemed real. Solid and cool to the touch. There were no windows, nor any cars parked in front. A tattered cardboard sign hanging on a rusty nail read OPEN, Come On In! I pushed on the door and it creaked like a wounded animal. It was dimly lit, but seemed to be open, just as advertised. I walked through the door.

  The Deep Blue Sea was, to all appearances, just an old sleazy bar. The scuffed-up floor was littered with cigarette butts and peanut shells, and the dim lighting couldn’t hide the suspiciously dark stains on the lone pool table. But it was warm and dry, and for that it might as well have been Heaven. I approached the bar at the back, the scratches, dents and gashes in the wood obvious from halfway across the room, but more garish the closer I got. The stools were once red vinyl and chrome, but the silver had turned to rust, and the padded vinyl was crackly with age and coming apart. I gingerly sat down, sloshing as I did so. I’d have a drink, maybe wait out the rain, and then go home. As far as I could see I was the only patron here.

  The bartender got slowly off her stool at the end of the bar and, moving stiffly, set her burning cigarette in the ashtray. Her spine was bent and she looked like her bones were frail. She tottered over with an irritated sigh and glared at me through thick spectacles.

  "Well?" she rasped.

  I raised my eyebrows. "Well, what?" I said.

  "Well, what do you want?"

  I dug in my pocket. I fished out two soggy dollar bills, two quarters, a dime and three pennies. I dropped the money on the bar. "Can I get a whiskey with this much?" I said. I smiled apologetically, something that didn’t come naturally to me.

  The bartender rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she said. "One on the house."

  "Thanks."

  She turned to grab the cheap plastic bottle behind her. "So what is this place?" I said. "I’ve never noticed it before."

  She turned back around and reached slowly for a small glass. She looked at me again with those raptor eyes. "Can’t you read?" she said. "Deep Blue Sea."

  "Yeah," I said. "But has it been here long? I used to come here all the time with my dad when I was little, and I don’t remember this place."

  She set the drink in front of me. It was on the rocks. Maybe the cheap stuff went down easier when it was cold. She narrowed her eyes again. "You gotta be kidding me," she said. "Why the hell would your dad bring you to this neighborhood? Was he some kind of gangster or something?" She barked a harsh laugh.

  I looked at her. "Something like that,"
I said.

  She shrugged. "Sorry. You don’t look the type is all. This place has always been around."

  "So it’s been here for a long time?"

  "No," she said, clearly annoyed again. "I mean the Deep Blue Sea is always somewhere. Not always in this place, but somewhere." She turned her back to me and hobbled back to her stool. She picked up her burning cigarette and took a deep drag.

  "Some storm," said a deep voice next to me. "Came right out of nowhere." I jumped and turned around. A man was sitting on the stool next to me, complete with a pinstriped suit. He smiled at me, flashing teeth that were too white and too many.

  "Where the hell did you come from?" I said. I was pretty sure I would hear the caterwauling of the hinges if someone came in the door, and as far as I could tell there were no restrooms in the place, which was another oddity for a bar.

  He shrugged, still smiling. "No matter. Don’t drink that, let me get you something that won’t eat through your stomach."

  "It’s fine," I said. "Don’t bother."

  "Nonsense," he said, gesturing to Janis. "Don’t worry, I’m completely harmless."

  "I’m not," I said. "Harmless, I mean."

  "Which is exactly why I want to speak with you," he said. The smile was gone, replaced by a solemn expression. When he wasn’t smiling idiotically, he was kind of handsome. His eyes, I wasn’t sure what color they were, but I felt as though they could burn right through me if I let them. I looked down at my cheap whiskey and wrapped my fingers around it. I raised it to take a drink.

  "Come now, Niki," he said in a low voice. "I know you’d prefer a Jameson, wouldn’t you? No ice, I believe."

  I paused with the glass of shitty whiskey halfway to my lips. "You know a lot," I said without looking at him. "You stalking me or something? You don’t look like a cop." I tipped the drink back, letting it burn all the way down. He was right, it was horrible. Not at all how whiskey was supposed to taste. But I tried hard not to wince and set my glass back on the bar with a thunk.

  "I’m offended, Ms. Slobodian. I think you would know in a second if I worked for the police, especially after the lesson you learned last time. You suspected your last client, didn’t you? Pity. Put it out of your mind, though. I represent an organization that trumps all of the people that have been giving you so much trouble."

  I finally looked him over. I saw that his suit was tailored, expensive probably. His shoes shone, the dim lighting glinting vaguely off them. I could have used them to put on lipstick. If the bar seemed out of place in the neighborhood, this guy was practically an alien. "Organization?" I said. "I don’t know who you are, buddy, but if you really know so much about me, you’d know that’s the wrong thing to say." I put my arms in my jacket.

  "Ah, yes," he said, motioning to the bartender. "Your wayward father. He worked for a different sort of organization, I’m afraid. And I believe he’s paying for it now, is he not? Left you and your poor godmother in an awful spot. How is she, by the way? Sofi, I mean. Still in the hospital? Getting worse, I hear."

  I’d shrugged on my coat, and had been about to leave. I stopped to glare at him. "What is this, some kind of threat?" I said. I felt the Beretta in my coat pocket. Usually I kept it on my body, but walking around in the cold with my hands in my pockets, it was much more handy to just keep it in a pocket. I didn’t want to use it, but if this guy was threatening my family, I’d do what I had to do. No one threatened Sofi.

  The guy smiled his creepy smile again. "You misunderstand me, Niki. Please let go of that little thing in your pocket. You would only embarrass yourself. I’m what you might call imperturbable." I stared at the guy. I couldn’t tell if he was pulling my leg. Maybe it was true. There were weird rumors going around about magic these days. Rumors that weren’t entirely muddied with obvious government propaganda. I wasn’t sure if I believed in it all, but seeing as how I was an Abnormal, and I knew my power was real, it was possible some of the other stuff the politicians preached could have an ounce of truth. I took my hands out of my pockets and showed the guy they were empty.

  "Fine," I said. "Talk. What do you want?"

  "First, let me introduce myself," he said. "Call me Sam."

  "Sam what?" I said shaking his hand reluctantly.

  "Just Sam."

  "Doesn’t seem fair," I said. "You know all about me, and all I get is a first name."

  "It’s not necessary for our purposes for you to know about me," he said. "It actually might be to your benefit that you don’t know more than you need to." A loud clink startled me, and I looked to see Janis walking away, leaving behind a sizable glass of amber liquid. No ice. I picked it up and took a sip. It went down smooth and warm, just the way a whiskey should. It relaxed me a little, though not too much. I turned back to Sam.

  "Okay," I said. "So you work for some mysterious, powerful organization, you’ll only tell me your first name – and that might not even be your real first name – and you know all about me and my family. Does that catch us up?"

  "So far," said Sam.

  I took another slow drink, watching Sam all the time. He didn’t seem to blink. "So what is this?" I said. "What do you want?"

  "I hear you’re looking for work," he said.

  "Oh." I took a breath. "Shit." His smile faded and for the first time he looked at a loss. "You’re undercover, aren’t you?" I said quietly. I sat back. "No way. I am not falling for that again. I didn’t struggle all year to have you jackasses drag me through the courts again." My voice was rising. I couldn’t help it. I felt panicky, which was not usual for me. "What else do you want to take from me, anyway? I’m already on the Registry, I can’t work, I can’t take care of my sick Baba, all because of New Government bullshit and because Hugh Perry has a goddamn stick up his ass." I cupped my hands around my mouth and looked toward the ceiling. "Hear that officers? I, Niki Slobodian, am not working as that would violate Federal Law. Suck it!" I glared at Sam, hopping down from my stool. I slammed the rest of the Jameson and headed for the door.

  "Niki, don’t be ridiculous," said Sam, his voice as calm as ever. "I have nothing whatever to do with the police, nor any American government agency. Though they do quite respect me."

  "I’m not stupid," I said as I walked toward the door. "I know a setup when I see it." I walked past the pool table.

  "Niki, I am trying to offer you a job," Sam called, exasperation finally taking over. I turned around. He slid off his stool and smoothed the front of his jacket. He walked toward me.

  "Why?" I said. "So you can get me put away? Matching cells for father and daughter?"

  "Certainly not," he said, annoyed. "I would never do anything so crass."

  "Why should I believe you?" I said. He was standing in front of me now. He was tall and slim with broad shoulders.

  "Don’t tell me you don’t need the money," he said. "I know about your debts. All those hospital bills add up. How long will they keep treating Sofi after you can’t pay any more? I can pay you very well. Better than any case you’ve worked."

  "I don’t know how you know about me, buddy," I said, poking him hard in the chest. "But you stay away from me and my family. My debts are my own. None of your goddamn business." I headed toward the door, gritting my teeth, trying not to think about the fact that he was right.

  "I can get you off the Registry," Sam called.

  I stopped. I turned. "What?"

  "I have the power to get you off the Registry," he said. He wasn’t smiling, he’d gone back to solemn. After all, no one joked about the Registry any more. People barely dared to talk about it.

  I tried to laugh, but it came out as a strangled sort of cough. "Now I know you’re crazy," I said weakly. "No one gets off the Registry. No one ever has."

  "You’d be surprised."

  I just stood there stupidly, torn between leaving and staying, on the verge of anger and tears. I shook my head. "How?"

  "Please, Niki," Sam said. "Sit with me for ten minutes. If you don’t like what I ha
ve to say, you can go. Or we can do business. Either way, I’ll drive you home. You look exhausted."

  I hesitated. I looked from the door to Sam. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to be off the Registry, to work for money, to pay my bills. "Okay," I said. "Ten minutes."

  Chapter Two

  I woke before dawn the next morning. I said a little prayer as I flipped the switch on in the kitchen, and breathed out in relief as the light came on. They hadn’t cut off the power yet. They would by the end of the day, though. I made the coffee and went into my room to dress while it brewed. Pictures from the night before flashed through my mind. I shook my head. That was some dream. Mysterious guy in a suit, creepy bar, job offer to catch a wayward spirit from Hell.

  When I came back into the kitchen I saw the light blinking on the answering machine. Sofi and I had never quite made it to modern technology. We both agreed that if it still worked why bother. My only allowance had been an old second-hand cell phone that had been necessary for my job. I was on the last month of service. Though I wasn’t working, I still carried it around in case the hospital called. I pushed the button on the answering machine and listened.

  "Niki, it’s Karen," came a sickly sweet voice. I groaned. Karen was Sofi’s niece from Connecticut. "Sweetie, this is only the fourth time I’ve called. I really do need to be kept in the loop here. Please call me back when you get a chance. I’d hate to have to drive all the way down there."

  "That’s a chilling thought," I said out loud to the machine as it beeped. I poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. I loved early mornings. Even if I rarely was up this time of day, it was among my favorite things to be up before everyone else. The world seemed so still and quiet. I took a drink of coffee. Could be worse. Could be out of coffee.

  I heard the squeak of the mail slot followed by a heavy thud. I frowned. It was far too early for mail. I walked through the cluttered living room and picked a heavy manila envelope off the floor. I opened the door and stepped out into the hall. Not a sound, not a soul. I stepped back inside and bolted the door. I carried the bundle to the table and examined it. It was bulging with whatever it contained and had packing tape wrapped around it to keep it from falling apart. An envelope was attached outside the several layers of tape. There was no address, just Ms. Slobodian in ornate handwriting. I pulled off the envelope and opened it while walking back to the kitchen, extracting an oddly thick piece of paper with the same frilly handwriting. It read: