Hell's Horizon by Darren Shan Page B

way over and back unless he’d been paid in advance. But I have a soft spot for cocky runts, having been one myself. I tossed a balled-up note that he caught in midair. Leaped back on his board and disappeared. Didn’t occur to him to thank me.
    I climbed the creaking stairs to the fourth and found Fabio in a chair outside the apartment, sipping a beer, waiting patiently. Fabio was the city’s oldest pimp, a hundred and three if rumors were to be believed. He’d been a big shot once, long before The Cardinal came to power, but these days he eked out a meager living from a handful of aging ladies of the night. He called them his retirement posse.
    “Morning, Algeria,” he greeted me in his slow drawl.
    I took his wrinkly, age-spotted hand and shook it gently. He’d been good to me when I was growing up. Running errands for him had kept me in pocket money and he’d watched out for me when my mother died.
    “How’re the hands?” he asked, turning them over to examine my palms.
    “Haven’t used them a lot lately,” I sighed. “Not since you last called me out. The drink put paid to that.”
    “You’re off it now though, ain’t you?”
    “Trying.”
    Fabio stroked the smooth palms. “Reckon you can still work the magic?”
    “I’ll try,” I said, “but I can’t promise.”
    “That’ll do for me.” He stood and pushed through the open door. A large black woman was on the floor of the tiny but tidy living room, playing with a boy no more than six or seven years old. She looked up at me and smiled.
    “Algeria, this is Florence,” Fabio introduced us. “Flo, this is Al Jeery, the guy I was telling you about.”
    “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Jeery.” She had a warm voice.
    “Same here, ma’am,” I replied, then cocked an eyebrow at Fabio. “Her or the kid?”
    “The kid. Father’s doing fifteen—killed a guy in a brawl. Used to be pretty free with his belt when he was around. Maybe worse, but we ain’t sure about that. Kid’s been having nightmares for months. Flo’s tried explaining that he don’t have nothing to fear, the bastard’s locked up and won’t be coming back, but it ain’t helped. He’s a bright kid but falling to pieces. Barely sleeps, tired all day, gets into fights. She had to take him out of school.”
    “He should see a psychiatrist,” I said.
    “Look around,” Fabio snapped. “This look like the Skylight? Flo’s one of my girls but she’s barely working—spends all her time fussing over the kid. She can’t afford no goddamn psychiatrist.”
    “Is that why you’re helping her, because she’s not earning for you?”
    He snickered. “You know me inside out, Algeria. But that don’t change the facts—this kid needs help, and it’s you or it’s nothing.”
    Fabio knew I was a sucker for a lost cause. This wasn’t the first time he’d tugged at my heartstrings to manipulate me, but I never could bring myself to hate him for it.
    “I’ll give it a go,” I sighed, removing my jacket. “But if he resists, or it doesn’t work first time, I won’t push.”
    “It’ll work,” Fabio assured me, then nodded at Flo to stand.
    “What’s your son’s name?” I asked.
    “Drake.” She was nervous. “You won’t hurt him, will you?”
    I smiled at her. “No. Fabio’s explained what I do?”
    “Kind of.”
    “There’s no risk involved. It works or it doesn’t. Worst case, Drake goes on like he is. Do you have a pack of cards?” She handed them over. She’d been holding them since before I came and they were warm from the heat of her hands.
    I knelt and waited for the kid to look up and catch my eye. When he did I smiled. “Hi, Drake. My name’s Al. I’m a friend of your mother’s.”
    He studied me suspiciously. “Are you gonna take me away?” He had a thin, reedy voice.
    “Why do you think that?”
    “My daddy said if I wasn’t good, a man would come and take me away.”
    “But you’ve been good, haven’t you?”
    “I been kicked out