Okay...here's Ch 6 hot off the press. There's a few expletives in here, but nothing major. Anyway - since I just wrote it I need some serious critique on the flow and everything else. There's not really much of a prerequesite for understanding this chapter. This scene took the place of a brief cutscene in Ch 2 of the preview edition.
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GRAHAM
6
The story ran that night. A quick post on three blogs was all it took for the news to spread like wildfire. Now he was waiting for the checks to start rolling in. He had already sold the interview to The Evening Star. Page one, below the fold.
It was the perfect placement. The Star outdid itself today. Top of the fold was the beauty and the praise of the King himself. Below the fold was the ugliness and unholy prodigal daughter. The witch. Graham came up with the nickname all by himself. He smiled his crooked smile and flipped through the article.
He laughed as he read: it was a dark and stormy night in May when the Morgana cast her spell, sacrificing a small rat to seal the deal with the devil himself.
Graham had just finished reading his article when Mr. Johnson called.
“We expect your retraction of these lies by morning. You know the penalty if we don’t see the text box.”
Before Graham could reply, the phone went silent.
He opened the door and stepped into the darkened office. By now, most of the thirteen staffers had gone home from The Right to Know. He went down the steps from his office and opened the door into the chill night air.
“Walk with me a moment.” Raul Mijar had been waiting for him.
“Thought you were gone for the night.” Graham pulled his brown trench closed and gripped his briefcase with an ungloved hand. “Cold tonight. Make it quick.”
“I read your article.”
“And?”
“What’s the plan?” Raul’s voice dipped low, sinister.
“Our King won’t be in power much longer. The pictures leak tomorrow. Go home. It’s your article, your byline. Have fun with it.”
“By six, it will be done.”
“Make it three. Star needs to go to print at five. They’ve already guaranteed it above the fold. Make it good and the whole check is yours.”
“The whole check?”
“Did I stutter?” Graham turned east, away from Raul. He began to walk away.
“I’ll have it by noon. Do I get a bonus?”
“Don’t get greedy.” Graham continued eastbound and disappeared into the concrete jungle, leaving Raul on the steps of The Right to Know.
The air was crisp. Graham’s breath puffed out in tiny white wisps. He inhaled deeply the scent of death in the air as the leaves shuddered and shed the last of their leaves. The subway was only six blocks away, and the heat was a relief from the mid-Atlantic autumn.
It was late. And the scent of urine and booze was overwhelming. Three bums were passed out along the steps. One slept under the turnstile. Graham kicked him as he stepped past. The train was late, as usual.
This was the last train home. It was full of unwashed, unholy beasts. He found a seat next to one of the wretched, smelly things.
“You done wif that?”
Graham blinked, looked towards the mass of newspaper and dirty clothes huddled next to him. “Excuse me?”
“The blanket. You done?”
“.. .. What blanket?”
Instead of answering, Smelly grabbed the newspaper sitting next to Graham and wrapped it around himself. “Thank you” was all he said.
“What are you doing? Do you even know how to read?”
“Go fuck ya self. I’m tryin’ ta stay warm.”
“You haven’t answered my question.” Graham’s lips twisted up in a sneer.
“Ya. I ken read.”
“Maybe you should take a look at that before you piss all over it in your sleep.”
“Yeh.”
“I think you should read that.”
“Piss off.”
Graham stood up, his eyes growing dark. “Now, that wasn’t very nice. Was it?”
“Yeh. Well. Welcome to Lyton.”
“That, sir – is simply unacceptable. Must I teach you manners?”
“Yeh. I got manners. Please, shut the fuck up. Thank you.” Smelly rolled over then. He farted loudly once and belched before licking his lips. “Chocolate.”
“Do you believe in God, sir?”
“Yeh. I’m prayin’ to him right now. He ain’t listenin’.”
The lights above him flickered and went out briefly. And in the dark, Graham seemed to glow.
Smelly sat up and pulled the paper off of him as the lights came back on.
“I think you’ll find the information there – quite enlightening.”
The fire went out in Smelly’s eyes as he picked up the newspaper and turned to the interview. It took four stops before he finished.
“And?” Graham said slowly, staring at Smelly. Savoring his reaction.
“Them’s bad people.” Smelly scratched his head and skin flaked onto Graham’s coat. He plucked two hairs off his head and bowed in shame.
Graham opened his hand as the hairs fell into his palm.
“Please say, mister is we firing him? We get good people then. Nice people.”
“Soon.” Graham dropped the hairs into his pocket. “We need to tell good people about the bad people first.”
“I can help.” Smelly said matter-of-fact.
“And how would you do that?”
“I call my Angels. Angels fight Devils.”
“And Ninjas fight Pirates. She’s a witch. A bloody witch. A – heretic. For this, I require something a little more – substantial than your delusions.”
“Angels is real, sir.”
“What if – what if I told you I could talk to God?”
“Me ‘n’ god is friends. I talk wif him at night.”
“A different god. One that listens. One that – responds.”
“Is he – real?”
“All gods are real. Mine is fire and ice. And everything nice.”
The robot voice told them the train ride was almost over.
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