Chapter 21 A PegTwo
A Peg or Two
A long dark echoing room sprang into sight when Jake flipped a switch, fluorescent bars buzzing to life.
Three stalls reached halfway across one short end of the rectangle, and the far wall shimmered strangely.
At first, she thought it was heat, like the ripples above concrete on a summer day, but it didn’t behave the way those mirages did.
She stared, trying to figure it out, and her eyes ached as if she’d been reading in low light.
“Our own private shooting range.” Did Jake sound anxious? He pointed at a series of cabinets ranged behind the stalls; through reinforced chicken wire embedded in glass doors she could see brutally efficient shapes, oiled metal gleaming. “Fully equipped and automated. Pretty neat, huh?”
“Wow.” Now she could see the pulley wires from each stall, just right for clipping a paper target to.
The shimmer over the back wall—was that to take care of ricochets?
Of course, if they could fight off those things and keep food warm without microwaves, magical bullet protection wasn’t so much of a stretch.
There were plastic bins for spent and ready-to-use ammunition, and two sets of orange ear protectors were neatly hung in each booth. It smelled like oil, male excitement, and burning metal, a tang she supposed was gunfire.
Any cop she’d ever dealt with, not to mention a good proportion of the male attorneys, would love this.
“You don’t like it?” Yes, Jake was definitely anxious. It did good things for him, got rid of the veneer of toxic confidence. Mika would have said gotta take him down a peg or two, until he’s reasonable.
God, she missed her bestie. Mika would definitely have some damn idea of how to handle this that wasn’t screaming or trying to pry a window open every time they left her alone for more than a few minutes.
Liv half-spun and put on her most ingratiating smile, the one she used on clients who just had to see Sal Kinnock without an appointment. “Can you teach me how to shoot?”
“What?” He looked like she’d just addressed him in some weird language only a handful of scholars could decipher, and cast a nervous glance at the cabinets as well. They were padlocked, but if she could just get him to open one, she might be in business. “Why?”
Even if the cupboards stayed locked, Liv could probably figure out a way to pry into their contents.
It would be easier if this guy would help, though.
There was another door between the glass-fronted cabinets, heavy dark metal, and it looked locked too.
Maybe that was where they kept the big stuff—rocket launchers?
Grenades? “Because if I’m going to hunt monsters, I’ll need it. ”
“Oh, man.” Jake found that very funny. At least, he laughed, and the sound echoed off hard edges, bare-swept floor, and scarred walls. “You won’t need a gun, Miz Stellack. You’ve got something deadlier. Or at least you’ll have it once you meet the Flame.”
“Who’s the Flame?” She was getting tired of cryptic answers that didn’t really give any new information. It would be great to get her hands on some artillery, if she didn’t blow her own foolish self up with it. “Is it another superhero monster hunter like you, or…?”
Jake’s face fell. “I really shouldn’t say anything.” He shifted uneasily, one boot’s sole squeaking against a mat, the kind grocery checkers stood on to relieve back pain during long shifts. “Come on, let’s get you back to the liraim.”
Oh, no you don’t. “Can’t I just hold one?
I always wanted to learn how to shoot.” It was what Mika, let alone her mother, would have called a complete goddamn lie, but if it got Liv a weapon ethical considerations were pretty secondary.
Her hands were cold, and she tried to look lonely and waifish, scrubbing her fingers together. “You can teach me.”
If that wouldn’t stroke a guy’s ego, she didn’t know what would.
“Are you kidding?” At least the blond looked powerfully tempted for about half a second before moving aside to block her view of the cabinets.
He was certainly big enough to eclipse a vista, and it was eerie how he could just decide to step quietly and even the mat underneath hushed its protest. “Father’d kill me. ”
That would certainly take care of one of my problems. Liv tried again, this time with even more soft innocence. “I don’t want to go back to the room.” She was all but cooing at him, and a swift flare of self-disgust was a spot of sour heat behind her breastbone. “Can we go somewhere else?”
“Library?” He took another gliding step, this one toward her. “Kitchen?”
She was backing up, she realized. The man was herding her again. “How about the kitchen?” She could even smell him, a faint thread of healthy, slightly oily maleness, without the chemical tang of aftershave or cologne.
Of course, they probably didn’t believe in nice-smelling stuff. Or deodorant. Maybe monster hunting deadened the nose.
Jake took another step forward. He’d driven her almost back to the door, and it didn’t look like he was even conscious of the fact. “You just can’t wait to get your hands on a weapon, huh.”
Damn it. Was the desire printed all over her face? “I just wanted to…” Abruptly, Liv was exhausted. At least now she knew where the guns were. Getting to them was a problem that could wait for a little bit. “No, you know what? Fine. Let’s go back to my cell.”
“The liraim.”
“Liraim,” she repeated, taking a last longing look at the cabinets and metal doors. The word wasn’t that hard to pronounce, and whatever language it was in, she had a sneaking suspicion it meant jail.
Just like everything else here.
Once they reached the suite she didn’t politely ask if he wanted to come in, just swept the door shut as she stepped through, wishing hopelessly for a lock on her side. She considered dragging a chair over, bracing its back under the knob, but that was useless too since the slab opened outward.
From the other side came a low, satisfied chuckle before breathless-quiet static folded against heavy wood. Maybe she hadn’t fooled him at all.
Still, she knew more than she had this morning. And when Erik came on duty, she might have another shot at getting to the weaponry.
All in all, Liv didn’t think she’d done too badly.