Cameron Haley - Mob rules

I picked up the shotgun, pumped a shell into the chamber and dropped the wallflower, then I walked toward the clearing along the new path that had been cleared through the middle of the junk pile. There were screams and moans from buried survivors, but I tried not to hear them.

I wasn't sure if the gangbangers with the AKs had seen enough or if they would open fire, so I spun up another defensive shield. I needn't have bothered, because Moon Dog had seized on these new developments as an opportunity to get involved in the fight.

I couldn't see much through the enormous dust cloud that had enveloped the area, but I heard a snarl and a choked scream when the werewolf appeared on the roof. One of the thugs managed to crawl over the edge, drop to the ground and scramble away while Moonie was tearing the other one's throat out.

When I got to the edge of the clearing, the dust cleared well enough for me to see through the haze to the other side. Another dozen or so thugs had left cover and moved into position on either side of the clearing. I noticed they got well clear of the junk piles, but I didn't think I could handle enough juice to spin the spell again anyway.

The door of the low building opened and Terrence Cole stepped out. He raised his left hand and spread the fingers wide, like a starfish on the move. His other hand was gripping an M-16 with a grenade launcher slung under the barrel.

"Enough," he said, and his voice was deep and smooth. "Let's cool this shit out before any more brothers get themselves killed."

I saw Moon Dog creeping to the edge of the building above him, but I gave my head a little shake and he backed off.

"I thought we already cooled this shit out, Terrence. In case I wasn't specific enough, that means you and your fucking gangbangers don't go shock and awe on me."

"I know what you came here to do. I'm just here to tell you it's not going to happen. Not here, not today."

"You're protecting that cocksucker?"

Terrence shrugged. "It is what it is, Domino. It comes down from Papa Danwe, and I do what I'm supposed to do. This here's a line I can't cross, even if I wanted to."

"Fuck your line, Terrence. I came to talk and you tried to dust me."

Terrence shook his head. "That was righteous, Domino, if a bit excessive. This is my ground. You come up in here heavy. I got a right to do it that way."

"Yeah, maybe, and now you have a dozen gangbangers you have to dig out. Some of them might even be alive."

Terrence shrugged. "You know I didn't see it going that way. It was a nice trick with that repulsion spell. You must have had to flow a lot of juice, though, must have been hard to pull it on my turf. You can't be feeling too good right now."

Terrence was right-my vampire-hunting expedition was over. I'd flowed too much juice and I was just about done, not to mention I'd almost had an arm cooked. I probably had enough left if it was just the thugs, but there was no way I could handle Terrence at the same time. I didn't really know what he could do, but he had the same job description as me so I could make a close enough guess. I also liked him for the napalm spell that almost cooked me.

The clincher, though, was that Terrence was also right about the political situation. The ambush had been excessive, but warranted, even considering our little agreement. I'd come onto another outfit's territory with the idea of killing somebody under their protection. It didn't really matter that I had a legitimate beef with the vampire.

As it stood, I was probably okay, too. They'd attacked me without warning and I'd defended myself. I probably hadn't gone too far to restore the fucking peace with Terrence-what there was of it. But now that I'd been given the opportunity to walk away, I'd have to take it.

"I'm going to have to stake him, Terrence."

"I understand that. It just can't happen here."

I let him think I was mulling it over and then nodded. "I guess I can see that."

"We can still hold it together, Domino. Like I told you before, some of this shit's already in motion, ain't nothing I can do about it. But it doesn't have to go any further than that. Doesn't have to be any war."

"Let's keep it that way. You take care of your business and I'll take care of mine."

"Always, Domino," he said, and he smiled a wide smile.

I turned around and walked away. When I reached the edge of the clearing I stopped and turned back halfway. I gestured at the wreckage.

"Sorry about your boys, Terrence. I hope everyone's okay." I tried to make my smile as wide as his.

On the way back to Santa Monica, my juice buzz warred with the adrenaline crash. My vision was almost painfully sharp and the wind whipping through the open car roared in my ears like storm surge. My skin felt tight and itched, and I could feel my hair growing. At the same time, the burn I'd felt when I cast the repulsion spell had softened to a warm, euphoric afterglow that was making me wet. In short, I was fucked up.

Most of the time, flowing juice doesn't have that kind of effect. I might get a pleasant tingle, just enough to look forward to the next time, but I'd flowed too much at the junkyard. When Rashan had brought me into the outfit, he'd warned me that juice can be addictive. I'd seen enough crack-heads and junkies in the neighborhood to take him seriously, and I always tried to pull my juice in small doses. Most of the everyday spells I used-like the traffic and parking spells-were just like that. A heroin addict would call them bumps or taps.

For larger spells, I had my little rituals, and I had Mr. Clean to take some of the juice. The spell talismans were handy, too. Not only did they allow me to trigger an effect more quickly, but I was also able to charge them with a little juice at a time.

At the junkyard, I'd been rushing, hard. I'd flowed enough juice to toss around a couple tons of scrap metal like LEGOs. The gangbangers had been trying to kill me and I did what I had to do. Some of them were dead-probably all of them-but I wasn't planning to stop by their funerals or anything. Bad guys die. Someday I'd be on the wrong end. And goddamn that juice had felt good. Even the burn had been a good pain; the kind of pain you get from doing something your body needs but doesn't like.

I threw my head back and let the wind thunder over my face, and laughed. Outside of the bosses, there probably weren't five gangsters in L.A. who could have handled that much juice. Terrence probably couldn't. Fuck him-he was pretty good, but I doubted he could've moved that pile.

"I am a fucking monster!" I yelled, and laughed again.

Moon Dog whined and stared at me with those fucked-up yellow eyes. He'd been lying on the passenger seat with his muzzle tucked between his paws all the way from the salvage yard.

I looked over at him. "What? Look, Moonie, you don't got to worry about those fucking guys. I'll set you up, you can lay low for a few days if you want, but no one's going to fuck with you. Not after that, they ain't gonna fuck with you." What I meant was they wouldn't fuck with me.

Moon Dog just whined again and dropped his nose to his paws.

When we got back to the pier, I waited outside the building while Moonie changed back. When he came outside, he was trying to wipe away the blood matted in his beard with a dirty rag. For whatever reason, I hadn't even noticed the blood on the werewolf's muzzle.

I pulled out my roll and peeled off five bills. "Moonie, thanks for helping me out back there. You didn't have to get involved, and I want you to know I appreciate it." Moon Dog grimaced and took the money like it was a job application.

"That was fucked up, Domino."

"Fuck those guys, Moonie. I went out to talk and they tried to put me in the ground."

Moon Dog didn't seem to want to look at me. He was quiet for a minute. "I did a lot of fucked-up shit in the Nam," he said finally. "Had to, or thought I did. I didn't have to like it, though. Thing is, some guys did." He looked at me then-more like squinted at me.