The Fired Gun

Chapter 1

“f**k! European cigs are the best!”

Dakota rolled his eyes as Gage sucked down two whole cigarettes-worth of ash and tar. “Don’t they cut it with sawdust? I thought I heard that.”

“s**t, I dunno.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s just ‘cause I’m hurtin’ so bad. I’d take anything. You could drop one in a puddle of piss, and if I had no other options, I’d probably smoke it once it dried out! I’m not exactly picky right now, I’ll tell ya that. Not one bit.”

Now that was desperation! Dakota couldn’t imagine being that addicted to chemicals, especially not ones that could kill him. He would hate not having control over his own life. “Lovely visual. Thanks.”

Gage grinned. “Well, you’re welcome.”

“I’m told the booze here is pretty good, too.”

“Oh yeah? But you don’t drink, do you? Not even a little?”

“No.”

“That’s a shame. They got some crazy concoctions back home. It’s touristy s**t, but they sure do sell a ton of it.” After a purposeful pause, “Isn’t there anything you do to have fun? Or is it all business, all the time?”

He resisted the urge to reply with “I kill people.” While it would bring Dakota a small amount of amusement from witnessing the look on Gage’s face, it probably wasn’t the best call to be frightening his new assistant. He would need him to trust him later, especially when he did actual killing. And he wasn’t some psychopath. Removing a threat felt good, but ending someone’s life? He was numb to it, not overjoyed.

Instead, “I find outlets, when I need them.” s*x was one of them, but he partook in it irregularly, usually through one-night stands. He cleared his throat. “So, which way to the safe house?”

“This is gonna be a long trip if you keep dodgin’ all my questions!” But when Dakota offered up no additional information, Gage sighed. “Should be about five blocks east of here.”

All over the world, in as many countries and major cities as possible, there were locales with tenuous connections to Adelaide Price. Though she rarely felt the need to explain herself or anything at all, Dakota gleaned from various side conversations that the safe houses—some of which were little more than an apartment or back room of some store—functioned as part of a grand network, designed to guard information about talismans and help users in a bind.

While every person who ran the houses knew what talismans were, a surprising amount did not own any. And most had inherited the information, sometimes across many generations. They had a duty, given to them by their parents or a friend or a mysterious distant family member whose estate had come to them young in life. They could provide shelter for the night, food, money occasionally, weapons, and of course, information. Most were young, barely into their twenties like Dakota, or elderly: eighties and nineties, and looking every year of it.

He strongly suspected that some of the homes were former residences of Adelaide—perhaps hundreds of years ago in some cases—properties she procured for the purpose, or favors called in with people from her past whom she’d helped.

The locations were all marked. Not by some secretive symbol, but incredibly common ones. Hiding in plain sight. In western countries, it was the image of a sun and moon, with faces, joined together. Popular among new-age types and Pagans. In the East, the pervasive yin and yang, which held a similar meaning of balance, was employed. There were a few others for South America and Africa. Common as the symbols were in decorations, the knowledge of their secondary use was clearly not enough to find the desired places. One had to know where they were already, or at least a narrower location. And once one got there, a series of steps were required in order to procure any aid.

Sometimes word preceded them. A brief call from Gage or someone in Adelaide’s group, to alert an agent as to their arrival, what would be needed, and why. That way, whoever manned the station would have ample time to prepare. But regardless, every interaction began with a simple exchange, in whatever language the participants shared.

“Your symbol is beautiful.”

“It means nothing,” the safe house owner would then reply.

“Beauty means everything.”

While Dakota was anything but multilingual, he’d memorized those words in two dozen languages, and kept a small book of notes to remember. Luckily, in this case, Gage’s decent understanding of French thanks to his place of birth should come in handy for further conversation.

The passwords would then be followed by a kiss to the hand. Though the travelers bore no markings, all members of the safe house network had their symbol engraved on a ring that they wore. Like subjects meeting their king or high-ranking clergy, visitors were expected to plant a kiss on the piece of jewelry to signify that they would be civil and obey whatever rules of the house that were in place. Somehow, Dakota had a hunch this was Adelaide’s idea.

After that, a small gift was given as a token of gratitude. Since these visits were often unplanned, it could be an offer to help out with some chores or whatever the needy talisman wielder could afford to part with. In their case, it was a box of fine chocolates and a ceramic Mardi Gras mask—for some loaner guns, an annotated map, two tall glasses of water, and a nice, long conversation about the problem at hand.

Gage mediated most of it, as the young woman who stood sentry at this old Parisian house only spoke minimal English. She seemed to like him, and they were friendly. Dakota imagined that she’d received many calls from Gage in the past, and perhaps she was happy to finally meet him in person. But Dakota spent very little time dwelling on this fact. All he cared about was getting what they needed and finishing the job. At the first chance he got, Dakota made sure the two departed quickly.

* * * *

The serene forest, painted in a hundred shades of green, seemed to welcome the foreigners as they made the two-mile trek deep inside. Birds sang, squirrels played, and insects buzzed. Branches above them swayed and rustled in the sweet breeze, and Dakota allowed himself a few ounces of selfish enjoyment of the beautiful scenery. He breathed in deep and let the fresh air fill his lungs. This was no leisurely stroll, but for a few moments, he could pretend that he wanted to be here, that he was simply on a nature hike with a friend.

For his part, Gage seemed to love this locale. Born and raised in a city, accustomed to following orders and only leaving their compound to perform some sort of errand, he never got a chance to go places like this. And he couldn’t stop smiling. Those bright eyes of his were as wide as humanly possible, and he kept his chin pointed upward, like he’d never really seen so many trees in one place before.

Maybe he hadn’t. Dakota really didn’t know that much about his history. Whatever life he’d had prior to Adelaide, he didn’t discuss it. Even the slightest hint at it produced a grimace, which quickly lead to him changing the subject. And since Dakota didn’t talk about his mother or about Terrell, Gage had every right to hide, ignore, or obliterate his own past if he chose to do so. There could be no telling what demons populated that part of his history. Any number of things may be too painful or personal to share with what amounted to little more than a friendly acquaintance.

Perhaps, in time, they might grow closer with more of these trips, and both of them could open up. But as things stood now, on their first hunt together, they weren’t even acting as partners in crime. Gage was an untrained liability. Though Dakota tried not to focus on it, he knew he might have to watch him like a hawk in order to ensure his safety, all while accomplishing the mission at hand.

And he never had to work on so little information. In place of weeks of usual research and hard evidence, he had mostly hearsay and rumors, roughly torn from French news outlets and pieced together by less than reputable sources. The story was so sketchy and incomplete that he suspected it might even be two separate cases haphazardly stitched together along the common theme of talisman use. Two separate people could easily be using crystals at relatively the same time, he thought. France wasn’t a big country, but it could certainly hold two powerful people, especially if they had vastly different agendas.

Which, from the small amount of evidence gathered, could very well be the case. On one hand, they had a supped-up gardener who liked to grow pine trees in the middle of thoroughfares, rain forests on the inside of office buildings, and fruits and vegetables outside of homeless shelters. A well-meaning trickster with a bit more power than he or she knew what to do with. No death toll to speak of. A likely candidate for a rare reprieve. Dakota would simply take the talismans by force, give the person a stern warning, and depart—instead of his usual: personally handing down a death sentence to ensure the problem was completely neutralized.

But on the other hand, children were being abducted. Large quantities of them. They would simply disappear, often from their schools and babysitters. Mostly toddlers. None older than five or six. Dozens at a time. And worse yet, many were sick, terminally or chronically. Easy prey. Some were found, weeks later, on the edges of rural towns, miles from their homes, disoriented and “different.” When asked, all the ones that could recount what happened denied any abuse. But two things consistently entered their stories: they were taken to a forest by a person who touched them repeatedly, and that person wore glowing necklaces.

Dakota didn’t see how these cases could possibly be the same person. One sounded like a teenager playing pranks and the other like a pedophile. The only thing they had in common other than the magic necklaces was location. It seemed there was a loose pattern between the kidnappings and the sudden spurts of vegetation. Not a very good one, in Dakota’s opinion. But the French members of Adelaide’s network certainly thought it was, and they insisted it had to be the same person.

“It could always be two people who know each other,” Gage said absently, as though he’d read Dakota’s thoughts. He had a knack for guessing his state of mind. Or reading it on his face. “An abusive bastard maybe and some poor kid he’s got in tow.”

“Could be. But if you’re trying to control somebody, why would you give them any power at all? Even if you’ve brainwashed them beyond the point of no return, you wouldn’t give your victim something they could use against you. There’d be no reason to take that risk.” Even monsters didn’t like having to look over their shoulders all the time.

Gage’s face clouded, and a deep sort of ache flashed behind his eyes. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” After a long pause, where his whole posture changed, “So, if it’s two separate people, which one do you think we’re gonna find?”

Shrugging, “I hope it’s the pedo. Not gonna lie, I’d enjoy offing someone like that. And in a place like this, I doubt there would be many witnesses.”

“And if it’s the other one?” A hint of concern entered Gage’s voice.

“I’m not gonna kill him, if that’s what you’re worried about. Not if I don’t have to. When the target is gonna continue hurting people, or it’s the only way for me to get away, that’s when I take them out.”

His friend stopped walking. Looking down at his shoes, “How do you draw the line?”

“Simple. I don’t kill innocent people.”

He flinched. “How do you decide that? Isn’t there a lot of gray area?”

Dakota halted his pace and turned to face him. He waited until Gage met his gaze before addressing the question. “Most of the time, I kill them,” he said bluntly. “Because if you’re using talismans to hurt people, you’re probably not innocent. And even if I take them away, if there’s a chance that person might just procure more, I make the call and stop them.” He would never, ever again let a powerful magic wielder go if he or she posed a threat. Prior consequences, as in the deaths of much of Terrell’s family, were more than worth the caution now.

“You make it sound like it’s easy—killing people.”

Well, wasn’t it? Maybe not the first time, even though he had the most reason then. But now? Dakota preferred killing to leaving a loose end, someone who could come after him and Kenna later on. And each life he took signified a step back from the brink of war. At first, he merely justified it like that, but after almost two years of playing assassin, he no longer needed to. He simply eliminated the target and moved on.

Dakota typically felt nothing during a kill, but on a few occasions, he actually liked it. He forced himself to shrug. “It’s my job. I’m numb to it. If you stay with me on these trips, you’re gonna see me kill people, I hope you know. You’ll be helping me do it. Are you okay with that?”

With a quick nod, Gage looked down at his feet once more. “Yeah, cher. I know.” He laughed out of discomfort. “I guess I’m just havin’ trouble picturin’ it. You, as a killer. If I didn’t know it as a fact, I never woulda guessed.”

“What, that I’m capable of it?”

“That it wouldn’t bother you.” He started walking again, picking his way down a small, overgrown path. Looking back up at him, Gage smiled. “It doesn’t change my opinion of you. You’re so warm to Kenna. I know you have that in you, too. It’s just really different from what Adelaide’s got you doin’.”

Dakota waited until he caught up with him before replying. “It can’t be helped.”

They walked in silence the rest of the way. When the two of them heard voices, they both produced their borrowed pistols and held them forward. Dakota counted down with his fingers and mouthed the words silently. When he reached the last number, he whispered “Go!” and they burst through the underbrush, hurrying toward a small cabin.

Before they could get anywhere near the front door, it quickly became apparent that a group of people sat outside in the grass, and they weren’t just talking. They were laughing. Genuine laughter coming from children’s voices.

Bewildered, Dakota stopped dead in his tracks and halted Gage by grabbing his shirt. Instead of running, the duo approached slowly until they turned the corner. There, seated in a circle, were seven children and an old woman. She wore two talismans openly and sat bent over a large storybook, her salt and pepper hair falling out of a loose bun. In French, she seemed to be reading the tale, using different voices for the characters.

The children were enthralled.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Dakota had filled his own head with a dozen possible horrors that they could’ve witnessed, including children being abused, r***d, or even killed. He’d prepared himself for the possibility of walking in on it mid-act, and having to deal with the aftermath. But at least on the surface, this didn’t seem anything like that. It looked like a school teacher reading to her young students on a field trip.

Still, his last target didn’t look all that threatening either, and he’d nearly bled to death because of her. These children were not with their parents, and for all he and Gage knew, the woman was working with the man who had abducted them.

At the risk of frightening the kids, he raised his gun at her and motioned for Gage to do the talking.

Before he could get a word out, her head shot up from the book. With a frightened expression, she began screaming in French.

“Uh…‘Who are you? What do you want?” Gage translated. “Please don’t harm me. Please don’t harm…the children.’”

He could see him tense up. Gage’s understanding of the language was somewhat limited, though he knew infinitely more than Dakota. The Louisiana Creole French he spoke would be difficult for this woman to understand, just as if he were from Haiti. Influences from other languages played a large role, and the culture that spoke his version differed wildly from the language’s European root. Immediately, fear of failure was clear on his face.

But to his credit, he tried anyway. “Umm, bon-bonjour, grandmere.” He gulped. In French, “We’re not going to hurt you. But we know about your necklaces. Your magical necklaces. You must give the crystals to us, or my friend will take them from you.”

He quickly translated for Dakota.

“What? No, I can’t give them away!”

Gage and the woman bantered back and forth for a while before he turned toward Dakota and motioned for him to put the gun down. “She says there’s no one else. It’s just her. And she says she’s only borrowin’ the kids, not to harm them, but to help them.”

He snorted. “How?!”

When Gage relayed the question, she responded emotionally.

He took a step back. His bright eyes studied the children at their feet. “Apparently, she has a talisman that heals people,” he said in a voice filled with wonder. “She says that’s what she’s doin’ here. Healin’ sick children.” He asked her a question in French to confirm. “Yes, and then she returns them to their families.”

But while, on closer inspection, the children did look somewhat ill, Dakota was not convinced. “Some of these kids have been missing for weeks.”

After more back and forth, “She says they all have terminal illnesses, and the talisman takes a long time to fix them all the way. She used to heal them in just a few minutes, but the cancer would come back. And, uh, she has nightmares about a little girl who died that way. So, now she takes them here. Feeds and cares for them. Heals them with a touch.” He asked her another question. When she answered, he turning back to Dakota, “To their arms, she says. She swears she would never hurt them.”

“And the plants?”

“I guess she bought the growin’ crystal from an antique dealer because it was like the one she already had. I think she thought it would also heal people. She didn’t understand at first how talismans worked and made mistakes, like with the highway. Now, she uses it to grow food and re-grow forests.”

Dakota sighed. What a mess. The frail old woman certainly seemed sincere, despite the language barrier. And if she was curing sick kids and growing trees, she wasn’t a wannabe soldier. She was a healer, a modern-day miracle worker. Someone to be valued and protected, not killed.

But he couldn’t go away empty-handed. Adelaide had been clear that the talismans should be retrieved.

When he looked at Gage, however, he couldn’t bring himself to request it. He had bent down to greet a small child, who tugged on his leg. He’d completely let his guard down. In any other scenario, Gage would be in danger right now. But Dakota went out on a limb and decided to trust that this woman was telling the truth.

And anyway, Adelaide and her colleagues had only identified the gardening necklace. If they knew a healing one existed, they never mentioned it to him. “Tell her she has to give up the one that grows plants. If she does, we’ll leave her alone, and we won’t tell anyone about the rest.” If the local authorities figured out the abductions, that would be her problem. When Gage shot him a defiant look, Dakota drove the point home: “Not even Adel.”

Fear flashed across Gage’s face as he realized that this would mean lying to his mentor. But he reluctantly agreed and told the old woman to hand over her other talisman. Practically in tears, she did so.

“Mèsi,” he stammered, slipping back into the Creole. “Uh, merci.”

They quickly left. When he could be sure the woman and her kidnapped patients couldn’t hear, Dakota broke their silence. “This is the first time since I started working for Adelaide that I have ever let a target keep both their life and one of their talismans. f**k, we should have taken it.”

“It was the right thing to do,” he replied meekly.

Even if Gage was correct—who would say no to curing sick kids?—Dakota could think of a thousand reasons why having a healing talisman would be better than not having one. Not the least of which included saving his skin whenever he got injured, along with protecting Kenna. “We’ll see.”

* * * *

A bottle of nice wine and word of their success bought them a free night at the safe house. But while Gage settled in early, worn out from all the hiking and traveling, Dakota couldn’t sleep. He was too wound up and needed some kind of release.

As he made to leave, though, Gage stopped him with a sleepy voice. “Goin’ out? You? Surely not to a bar.”

“No, uh—” He blushed. Snorting, “I, umm—Remember that kid who helped us hail a cab at the airport?”

With a yawn, Gage slowly sat up in bed. “Vaguely. Blond, right? Bilingual? Kinda cute?”

More than kinda. Doe eyes. Five-o’clock shadow. One-part innocence. One-part smolder. “Yeah. Well, he slipped me his number right before we left. I’m gonna go meet him.” And hopefully work out the day’s frustrations.

Gage let out a laugh. “s**t, so that’s how you do it! I knew there had to be somethin’ you use to unwind. And it’s apparently pretty boys you meet at airports.”

Scoffing, Dakota rolled his eyes. “It’s not really a habit.”

Sure, he’d had a handful of one-off connections over the last few months and even a brief fling with a nice fisherman from Algiers Point—which lasted about as long as Dakota could keep lying to the guy before the guilt got to be too much. Any time he really needed to scratch an itch, he would pick up somebody at a club or, on rare occasions like this one, simply accept an offer when one presented itself.

His selections proved a lot more discerning than his late high school days and the year after, and he was a thousand times more cautious about using protection. After all, hooking up with strangers could be dangerous enough, even without the threat of disease. Though Dakota killed people on a semi-regular basis, he couldn’t be too careful about these rendezvous. He had a kid who loved and relied on him. If anything happened to Dakota, what would Kenna do? Who would raise her? While she might be taken in by Adelaide and company, that was the last thing he wanted.

So, he had to be smart about it, taking as many precautions as possible. And generally, he was the most dangerous person in the room, and the only one armed with real weapons.

“You’re not gonna get any judgment outta me even if it is,” Gage said softly, laying back. “You should have fun.”

“See you in the morning.”