Pay Dirt Read online

  “How?” I mumbled, my voice fading. “Where?”

  “Ursula mentioned him.”

  I realized my eyes had slid closed, and I couldn’t open them again. The truncheon slipped from my hand, and I let the rat cage fall away from me. My brain was swimming in a pot of water, and someone was turning up the heat.

  “Who…who’s Ursula?”

  Footsteps crunched across the floor, and I heard the rat squeaking as Isidora picked it up.

  “If you wake up,” she said, “come find me. Then maybe I’ll tell you.”

  My tongue seemed to fill my mouth. I struggled to make it work. “Where?”

  “If you can’t figure that out yourself, you’re no use to me.”

  Then she kicked me in the head, and all the spiders crawling around the inside of my skull went crazy.

  5

  “Here comes another one,” Holden said.

  I paused with my hand in the bag of popcorn and glanced around at the people streaming past. The festival crowds had thinned out in the last couple of hours. Earlier, it had mostly been young families moving about, the kids begging for sugar and trying to con their parents into letting them into the haunted house. Now that the sun had set, the crowd mostly consisted of roving hordes of teenagers with a few older people interspersed. I scanned the crowd, trying to pick who Holden was talking about.

  “Shit, Ozzy, I didn’t mean for you to start gawking,” Holden’s voice buzzed in my ear. “You want to give the game away?”

  I brought my hand out of the popcorn bag with my middle finger extended. Holden laughed through my earpiece.

  “Yeah, fuck you too, buddy,” he said, his voice crackling through the earpiece. “Big guy in the white shirt. That’s our mark.”

  Stuffing some popcorn in my mouth, I leaned back on the bench and cast my eyes around, trying to be subtle to please Holden. As if I gave a damn what he thought anyway.

  What a waste of a day. Lost Falls’ annual Witches’ Night Festival was about the only thing in this dead-end town that didn’t completely suck, and I’d had to waste it playing bodyguard for Holden while he practiced pickpocketing loose change from gullible tourists.

  I watched with envy as a group of drunk kids only a couple years older than me staggered past, laughing and fighting over the huge stuffed ogre they’d won on some game. One of the girls was particularly cute, cute enough that I seriously considered ditching Holden to see if I could get her number.

  But then I saw him. The guy Holden was yapping about. He appeared over the cute girl’s right shoulder, a great shiny dome of a head blotting out the sky behind. He was a big guy, bigger than me, and even as a sixteen-year-old I was bigger than most men. His shirt strained to contain a stomach that was too big for it. He wore a satchel over his shoulder and he was carrying a half-empty cup of soda. Beady, watchful eyes roamed the stalls that crowded the riverfront boardwalk.

  “This guy? You sure?” I muttered into the hands-free microphone that was connected to the cell phone in my pocket. Holden had insisted we buy the hands-free sets with the proceeds of our last petty theft: breaking into the local strip club after hours and swiping the cash box from the manager’s office. I would rather have spent the money on beer, but Holden had a knack for getting his way.

  “You chicken?” came Holden’s reply through the earpiece.

  “Eat me. He doesn’t look stupid enough to be carrying much cash.”

  “We’re not going for his cash. Watch this.”

  The big man paused briefly at a stall selling silver talismans. He reached up and touched one that was dangling at eye level, inspecting it carefully. He didn’t seem particularly impressed by it. With a small smirk, he released it and started to move on.

  “You don’t believe in any of this, do you?” Holden said to the bald man.

  The bald man stopped and turned.Holden stood beside him at the stall, also examining the trinkets. He was a scrawny little bastard, a head shorter than me even though he was nearly a year older. His face was narrow and angular, with a permanent expression of vague amusement. Tonight he was wearing a woolen beanie to conceal the earpiece tucked into his ear, but his red hair still peeked out above his forehead.

  He smiled up at the big man. From where I was sitting, a little way down and across the boardwalk, I couldn’t see the man’s expression.

  “Excuse me?”

  Holden jerked his head toward the silver talismans. “You don’t believe in it.”

  “Not really, no.” The man’s voice crackled through my headphones. He was a little hard to make out, since he was a few feet from Holden’s microphone. “I also don’t believe this town is full of witches and monsters. But I’m sure the stories are good for the local economy.”

  “Everyone’s gotta make a living,” Holden said. “Mind if I ask why you’re here, then?”

  “I do mind, actually. Enjoy your night.”

  The man turned to go, but Holden grabbed him by the arm to stop him. The man turned back, a scowl on his face.

  Holden’s other hand moved so quick I almost missed it. His fingers darted into the man’s pocket, relieving him of his keys. The man gave no sign that he noticed.

  I shook my head. One day Holden was going to push his luck too far, and I wouldn’t be there to save his ass. I grabbed another handful of popcorn and stood up.

  “Let go of me,” the man said.

  “I want to show you something,” Holden said. “Something I think might change your mind.”

  I wandered down the boardwalk, munching on popcorn. As I passed Holden, he put his hand behind his back. I took the keys from his hand and slid them into my pocket. I wandered on.

  “Not interested,” the man said.

  “Come on,” Holden said. “What have you got to lose?”

  I glanced back over my shoulder as I walked, catching glimpses of Holden and the man through the crowds. Holden was staring deeply into the man’s eyes. With a slow nod, the man seemed to relax.

  “All right. Fine. Let’s see what you’ve got, kid.”

  Holden let go of the man’s arm and pulled something from his pocket. It was a small talisman carved from petrified wood. It was hard to make out from where I was, but I’d seen it before. It was a grotesque looking carving, vaguely humanoid but with huge hands and lips and eyes. A leather cord passed through a hook drilled into the top of the talisman.

  Holden had swiped the talisman about a year ago from—of all places—a museum. It had been on a class trip, some pointless little outing to keep us occupied for the day. Holden didn’t usually come on the trips—he said it was because he didn’t want to waste his time, but I knew it was really because he could never get his dad to sign the permission slips. This time he’d managed it, though, so he came along to that shitty little museum.

  If you could even call it that. It wasn’t some big city museum, with a cafe and a gift shop and fancy exhibitions from overseas. This was a private museum—just a converted general store, really—owned by some old fart who could only get hard looking at rusted bits of old mining equipment. The only exhibit that was even vaguely interesting was a display of weird shit that old miners had dug out of the ground around Lost Falls. Strange bones, rocks that looked like Jesus, things like that. The usual Lost Falls bullshit. That was where Holden had found the wooden talisman. He’d taken a liking to it, so when the museum guy’s back was turned, Holden had grabbed it right out of the display of curios and stuck it in his pocket.

  On the bus ride home I’d asked him why he’d bothered to swipe it. I doubted it would be worth anything.

  “It’s going to be my good luck charm,” he’d told me. “It’ll keep me out of trouble.”

  “I keep you out of trouble,” I’d said.

  He’d just grinned. “Yeah, but I can’t fit you in my pocket, can I? Besides, I think this thing looks a bit like you.” He held it up, comparing us. “Definitely a family resemblance.”

  Now the bald man was looking at the tal
isman the same way I had: his face screwed up in a look of faint disgust.

  “What’s that supposed to be?” the man asked.

  “Magic,” Holden said.

  The man scoffed. “Like those talismans they’re selling over there?”

  “No. Those are cheap trinkets. This is the real deal.”

  I left the boardwalk, passing beneath the bell tower that was the center of the festival as I made my way to the parking lot. Even now, the lot was crammed full of cars.

  I spotted that group of drunk teenagers again, all of them piling into a scuffed white sedan. The cute girl was in the front passenger seat, smoking a cigarette. Her eyes met mine across the parking lot and she gave me a little half-smile. Then the driver gunned the engine and they went roaring out onto the road, the guys in the backseat hanging out the windows and shouting into the night.

  “Holden,” I muttered, “remind me again why we’re not just having fun tonight like everyone else our age.”

  He heard me, I knew, but he wouldn’t be able to reply with the man standing right next to him.

  “The homunculus can see into your mind,” Holden said to the man. “I can show you, if you like.”

  “What is this, some kind of cold reading bullshit?”

  Holden didn’t reply. I didn’t know what his game was, but as long as he kept the man busy I was happy. I pulled the man’s keys out of my pocket and got a better look at them. There was a mini-flashlight on the keyring, along with half a dozen keys. The car key had a fob attached. I started walking through the parking lot, pressing the fob button and watching the surrounding cars.

  “The homunculus says you’re playing a dangerous game,” Holden said softly.

  “I’m sorry?” the man said.

  “It’s not me you need to apologize to.”

  I paused, pressing my finger to the earpiece. “What are you doing?” I hissed. “You’re going to piss him off. Just keep him distracted.” If the bald man told Holden to get lost, it wouldn’t be long until he found his keys missing.

  I quickened my pace through the parking lot, hammering the fob button.

  “You’ve been successful so far,” Holden said to the man. “You should quit while you’re ahead. But you won’t. Because every time you play the game, and every time you win, it just feels so damn good, doesn’t it? You get that little spike of satisfaction, knowing you’re smarter than everyone else.”

  “You need to get your crystal ball checked, kid. It’s faulty.”

  Holden continued as if he hadn’t heard. “But how long do you think it’ll be until you make a mistake? Everyone makes mistakes, don’t they? And when you slip, when you screw the wrong person, what do you think is going to happen?”

  I hammered the fob, and from across the parking lot came a bleep. I spun toward the sound and pressed the button again. The lights flashed on a silver BMW. I grinned.

  “Found the car,” I said. “Not bad, either. Think we should just steal it?”

  I hurried over and glanced around the lot. There were a few people heading back to their cars, but no one was looking in my direction. And hey, I had the keys, right? I wasn’t breaking in. I was just some kid who’d borrowed his dad’s car to get to the festival.

  My pulse quickening, I jumped into the front passenger seat and switched on the interior light. I popped open the glove compartment and started rummaging.

  “Listen,” the man said. “I don’t know what you think you know—”

  “Yes, you do,” Holden interrupted. “Or you would have left by now. The homunculus always reveals the truth.”

  I dug some documentation out of the glove compartment. “Here we go,” I said, finding a card with the owner’s insurance information. “Baldy’s name is Joseph Cox.”

  “I’m done with this,” the man said to Holden.

  “I’m trying to help you, Joseph,” Holden said.

  There was silence for a beat. “How do you know my name?”

  “You still don’t get it, do you?”

  “Oh, I get it all right. What’s your trick? Who told you my name?”

  Hell. We were running out of time.

  I tossed the documents back into the glove compartment and twisted around in my seat, searching for something worth swiping. I wasn’t going to waste time stealing the stereo, not when there were still people around. And despite what I’d said to Holden, I didn’t really want to steal the car. This car was nice enough to draw heat. Me and Holden, we didn’t mind scamming idiots or stealing cell phones, but we weren’t criminals, not really.

  The only thing on the back seat was a coat, but the pockets were empty. I popped open the trunk and jumped out of the car.

  On the other end of the phone line I could hear the man getting increasingly agitated. And Holden wasn’t helping things either.

  “You’ve had your fun, Joseph,” Holden was saying. “But it’s over now.”

  “What do you know? Who talked to you?”

  “You did, Joseph. You told the homunculus everything.”

  “You’re pushing him too far,” I hissed into the microphone. “Calm him down.”

  Holden ignored me, of course.

  Sighing, I threw open the trunk. I blinked, unsure at first what I was looking at. In the trunk of the car were two small metal lock boxes, along with a money belt and another small black bag. I picked up one of the lock boxes and shook it. Coins rattled inside. I put it down and grabbed the bag. As I unzipped it, I saw a wad of notes peeking out. My heart started hammering again.

  “Holden,” I said as I quickly started grabbing the boxes and bags, “we’ve hit the jackpot. I think this guy’s been swiping cash boxes from the stalls. I’m getting the hell out of here, and you should too. Meet you by the—”

  “What’s that?” Baldy said. “Is that an earpiece?” There was a crackling sound, and suddenly the man’s voice sounded much less muffled. “You little bastard.”

  “Hey, hands off!” Holden snapped. “That’s mine.”

  “Someone’s been talking to you. Who is this? When I find out who—”

  There was a thud, and the man cried out in pain.

  “Matchstick!” Holden yelled breathlessly into the phone. “Matchstick, you hear me!” I heard shoes thudding against the boardwalk and bystanders shouting with surprise.

  “Get back here!” the man roared.

  “Fuck!” I muttered, tearing the earphone from my ear. I shoved the lock boxes and bags into my backpack as I sprinted back toward the festival.

  It wasn’t hard to find them. I just followed the sound of footsteps hammering on the boardwalk. I spotted a glimpse of Holden’s back as he jumped down from the boardwalk, making for the riverside, where the festival lights didn’t quite reach. The man pounded along after him, blood streaked across his shiny dome.

  Holden threw a nervous glance back. Big mistake. He stood on an empty beer can that’d been tossed into the grass and his feet went out from under him. He slammed into the ground, slipping into the mud as he tried to get back up.

  And then the big man was on top of him. The guy had to weigh almost twice as much as Holden, and when he threw himself on top of my friend I thought I could hear all the air being expelled from Holden’s lungs.

  “Come here, you little shit.” The man rolled Holden over and grabbed him by the collar. “You think you can hit me and get away with it?”

  Baldy’s hand curled into a fist. He raised his arm.

  I swung my backpack at him with all my might. The weight of the cash-filled boxes cracked against the side of the man’s head, throwing him to the ground. I grabbed Holden and hauled him to his feet.

  “Can you run?” I asked.

  “I think so.”

  “Then run!”

  We tore out of there. The man shouted after us, but we were quick, and he was big and slow. We ran through the crowd, past the bell tower, out of the festival, out to safety.

  “Told you, didn’t I?” Holden panted as he ran.r />
  “What?”

  “Told you Baldy was a good mark.”

  “You nearly got the shit kicked out of you.”

  “But not quite.”

  “How did you know?” I said. “How did you know what he had in his car?”

  “Keen eyes, my friend. Keen eyes, and a keen mind.”

  I shook my head as we left the festival behind and ducked down a dark, quiet alleyway. We leaned against the wall, catching our breath.

  “So,” he said, “how much did we make?”

  I shook my head. “One day you’re going to do something stupid and I’m not going to be there to save you.”

  “Then I guess that’ll be the day my luck runs out.” He slapped my shoulder. “But that’s not tonight. Tonight, my friend, we drink like kings!”

  6

  When I woke up, the spiders crawling across my eyes had finally retreated to wherever they’d come from. My head, though, was a different story. Fire tore through every synapse. I remembered one time, when we were kids, Holden had dared me to snort a line of wasabi. This was similar, only much, much worse.

  I bent over the side of the bed, grabbed the bucket that was waiting for me, and threw up everything in my stomach. A few seconds passed. Then I retched again and threw up the few drops of stomach acid I hadn’t got out the first time.

  I spat out the taste of vomit, wiped my mouth, and lay back on the bed, groaning. A shaft of light pierced the curtains above my head, hitting me right in the eyes. It was like the wasabi all over again.

  The bedroom door creaked open and Early came in holding a tray with a pitcher of water and a couple of bowls. More light came flooding into the room through the open doorway.

  I hissed and threw the sheets over my head. “The door! Close the door!”

  “Morning,” Early said. I heard him put the tray down and push the door closed. Once the ambient light was down to a manageable level I poked my head above the blankets and squinted at him.

  “How—”

  “A young ghoul found you writhing around on the ground at the train graveyard. She found my number on your phone and called me. I brought you home.”