Cameron Haley - Mob rules

"Fuck this, Honey." I looked down and saw I was sitting in a rough depression, like a small crater, that my body had eroded into the hard earth over the course of the training exercise. I wrapped my arms around my throbbing ribs and winced. "I think you're using some kind of secret fairy juju on me. This is bullshit."

"I am. I already told you, I am fairy juju."

"Well, it's no fair. I don't have to fight you, just Fred and the spirit."

"And what makes you think you can handle the spirit juju if you can't handle the piskie juju? It's not that different-it's all magic from the Beyond, just not from Avalon, where I come from."

"What's Avalon?"

"Faerie, the Otherworld, Anwnn, Tir na Nog-it has a lot of names. Avalon is the place where fairies were born and where we retreated as magic faded from Arcadia."

"And it's in the Beyond? That's why I can't see your glamour, just like I can't see the spirit's magic."

"Right."

"So the spirit can school me just like you can."

"If the spirit just wants to hit you, yeah, it can do that. Probably harder than I can. The vampire, too."

"Well, then, we have to keep trying. Let's go again."

"I don't know, Domino. You're not really getting any better at this. I think you only flinched that time because you knew what was coming."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I don't think I can train you. I'm hurting you, even though I'm trying not to."

"You're pulling your punches?"

"Of course. If I wasn't, I'd have killed you already."

"Well, that sucks. What am I going to do?"

"You could get a gun."

"What? I thought guns didn't work here. Nothing seems to work here."

"They don't, usually. Some events, though, usually murders and suicides, create echoes in this place of the weapons that were used."

"Okay, that works."

"Is your gun, the one at home…?"

I shook my head. "No, it's clean. I'll have to find one here."

"Most of the guns that become real in the Between are controlled by a spirit called the Burning Man."

"I thought that was some kind of party out in the desert."

"This guy's no party. He's a spirit from the Beyond, probably a lot like the one that's possessing Adan. He's very dangerous. He's the boss of a gang in this place and he's basically cornered the local weapons market."

"Can I deal with him?"

"I think so. He's a businessman, after all. But be very, very careful what you promise him, Domino."

I nodded.

"This isn't a very good solution. You're still really slow. I'm not sure you'll be able to see the vampire long enough to shoot him."

"I can handle Fred if I'm carrying."

"I'll help you. I'll try to keep him busy, give you time to get a clean shot."

"Thanks, Honey, but it could be dangerous. It will be dangerous."

"Warrior-princess."

"Oh, yeah. Okay, thanks. So where do I find this Burning Man?"

"I'll take you, but I don't want to go with you to see him. He doesn't like me. Plus, I need to visit my family and let them know where I am and that I'm okay."

"No problem. I guess I can buy a gun by myself."

We left the Coliseum and headed north on Vermont a short distance into the mist before the world shifted. We arrived at a run-down warehouse in Van Nuys that had probably been built sometime during the oil boom of the twenties. It seemed a little cliched that the arms dealer was shacked up in an old warehouse, but it also struck me as practical. Then, too, my gangster boss held court at a strip club, so who am I to cast stones at cliches?

I made arrangements to meet Honey at the condo after I'd done my business. She left, and I walked up to the office door of the warehouse. There was a guard out front, an Asian gangbanger who might have been eighteen when he died. He was holding a Kalashnikov.

"Hi," I said. "I'm Domino Riley. I need to do some business with your boss."

The kid's eyes moved down my body and got stuck somewhere around my waist.

I snapped my fingers. "Up here, Romeo. I'm in Shanar Rashan's outfit. I want to buy a gat."

He looked at me a moment longer and then jerked his head in the direction of the office door. I went in and found five ghosts sitting at a table playing seven-card stud. They looked up at me when I closed the door behind me and I repeated my business. There was a door leading into the warehouse and a stairway to a second-floor office.

One of the ghosts motioned me to a chair. He was a Mexican kid in a wife-beater and chinos. Just about every square inch of exposed skin was covered with gang and prison tats. I sat down and he went upstairs. A few minutes later, he returned and waved me up from the stairway. I squeezed past him and he followed me up the stairs. I really wished I'd put some sweats on over the shorts.

The Burning Man was seated behind a large banker's desk that might have been vintage but just looked worn-out. There was a chain-link cage behind him filled with boxes and crates. There were two padded chairs in front of the desk, one of which was occupied by a young woman. She was blonde and pretty, with the best skin you could get in a place where everything is yellow. She looked like a starlet from the black-and-white days, like an Ingrid Bergman type. She smiled at me and showed me a vampire's fangs.

The Burning Man was an Anglo, tall, black hair slicked back, dark eyes glittering at me under narrow eyebrows. He gestured to the remaining chair and I sat down.

"Welcome, Miss Riley," he said and offered his hand. I leaned up out of my chair and reached across the desk to take it. It started burning and I gave it back to him. The flames just licked at him at first, then they caught and began to devour his fine old suit.

"Pay no attention to the special effects, Miss Riley. I assure you it's quite beyond my control. A bit of a nuisance, really." The fire had eaten away his clothes and was working on his flesh, blackening it and peeling it away from his bones. I forced myself to watch. I gave a little nod to let him know it didn't bother me if it didn't bother him.

"Tell us what we can do for you, Miss Riley."

"I need a gun. I heard you were the man to see."

"I am," said the Burning Man. "I am, indeed. Well, I know of you and your outfit, of course. I know of your boss. I'm very pleased to have your business. What manner of firearm are you in the market for?"

I thought about it. "Something I can use in a tight spot, but with enough pop to leave an impression. A forty-five or a three-fifty-seven should fit."

The Burning Man smiled and Vampirella stifled a laugh. I stared hard at her but she didn't seem to mind.

"Weapons are a little different in this place from what you're used to, Miss Riley. They're not truly real, of course, in any physical sense, and so characteristics such as caliber and muzzle velocity are of little consequence here."

I looked at him like I look at Mr. Clean and waited for him to tell me something. It was a little disconcerting, because he wasn't much more than a smoking skeleton at this point.

He nodded. "Yes, you see, in the Between, a firearm's capabilities are more related to the…event responsible for its instantiation in this place." He stood up and opened the cage behind him. The fire was gone and he was clad in healthy flesh and well-tailored summer wool again. "In other words, Miss Riley, the size of the weapon doesn't matter here. It's what is done with it that counts."

"Well, like I told you, I need a handgun with some muscle."

"Indeed." The Burning Man nodded thoughtfully. "The best weapons are typically those used in mass murders and spree killings. Such weapons are regrettably rare, of course, and highly prized." He turned from the product he was considering and looked at me. "Do you mind if I ask about the nature of the job the weapon is intended for? You understand there is no law here and any information you provide is strictly confidential. My interest is motivated solely by my desire to provide the best possible service."