King Among the Dead - Lauren Gilley Page 0,72

men came around the bend in the path, walking shoulder-to-shoulder, which meant one of them had to walk along in the stunted, brown grass, dodging bits of fake hedge and a few flat grave markers. Frightened, Rose decided. They might have been afraid of the dealer they were meeting, or the rustling of the wind, or the gravestones around them. Or all three, she figured. These were nervy, big-eyed, drug-taking sorts. Young, gawky, with bad skin, and worse fashion sense.

The dealer lifted a hand, as if to flag them down. The three paused, conferred together, and then came toward the man in the trench coat.

One step forward when they reached him, chin kicked up, jaw set – eyes full of terror. The appointed leader. “Do you have it?” he asked, like a character out of a movie.

The dealer chuckled. “You ain’t trying to be subtle, huh? I might. Depends on what you’re looking for.”

The buyer – a kid, really – pressed his lips together, gaze darting across the headstones. Frustrated, freaked out, ready to flee. He’d come for his fix, though, and Rose didn’t think he’d leave without it.

“Come on, man.” He was starting to sweat, his forehead shiny, and he wiped his mouth with a shaking hand. “Over the phone you said–”

“Over the phone, I said there was a code word. You give me that, and we can start talking numbers.”

The kid’s eyes widened. Then he nodded and exhaled. “The code. Right, right. It’s…” He made a face. His brows jumped. “Calypso!” He dimmed. “Right?”

The dealer chuckled again. “Right. Come here.” He produced several small vials from the inside of his jacket, and the three buyers crowded close.

Rose glanced toward Beck again, and found him leaning forward, gaze intent, straining to listen. She didn’t think they were going to take out the buyers as well.

Didn’t think.

“…heavensent.”

She glanced back toward the action. The lead buyer held a vial up overhead, searching out the faint, ambient light from the lamps scattered across the cemetery. Rose wondered, briefly, if he would spot them in the tree, their faces pale inside the black of their hoods. But his gaze was fixed on whatever was inside the vial: heavensent, if the dealer was being honest. And why wouldn’t he be? That was Castor’s big money maker.

As she watched, the kid’s eyes widened, and his lips parted: he was enraptured. It was the sort of look someone would give a lover. A pale shade of the look Beck gave her when they were alone.

“That’s two bills for ten,” the dealer said, and the kid reacted with belated shock.

“What?” He gaped at the man. “That’s…that’s…” Made another face.

“Twenty bucks a pill,” one of his friends supplied.

“That’s a discount,” the dealer said. “Take it or leave it. If you argue, it’ll be four-hundred.”

The kid swore – but dug into his pocket and came out with a grubby wad of cash. He opened his jacket, zipped the vial away in a secure inner pocket, and the three of them fled like startled rabbits.

“Nice doing business with you,” the dealer called, smoothing and counting the bills.

She looked at Beck, who lifted a two-fingered wave, and then leaped.

Rose followed. She landed on the grass, in a ready crouch, hand finding her knife before she sprang upright.

Beck landed on the dealer’s back. The dealer yelled, and flailed, but it was no use. With a few brisk movements, Beck had him flat on his back, a foot at his throat, one of his meaty hands held in a pinching, disabling grip.

He bellowed in outrage, and reached for Beck’s ankle.

But Rose was at his side, her knife bared. “Shut up,” she told him, and he snapped his mouth closed.

Beck shifted his boot, smearing mud off the sole onto the man’s shirt. He titled his head, so his hood fell back a fraction. “Do you know who I am?” Rose thought the sudden burst of wind that swirled his coat around his legs added to the overall threat of the moment.

The dealer gaped at him a moment – and then his eyes widened. “Shit. Shit, you son of a–”

Beck pressed harder against his throat, and he cut off with a garbled croak. “If you know who I am, then you know that I don’t deal in empty threats.”

Beck’s book shifted when the dealer swallowed. Rose could see him debating, weighing his options. It wasn’t surprising that Beck had a reputation; she knew it was well-earned, and doubtless inspired fear in low-level hangers-on like this