Atomic Underworld: Part One Read Online Free Page B

handsome?”
    “Fine,
Maya, how are you?”
    Her
eyes widened. “Tavlin Two-Bit! Can it be? It’s been ages!” She gave him a big
hug and drew him aside, making him sit on an unoccupied sofa. She reclined next
to him. He could feel her thigh pressing into his own, and smell her heady,
cloying perfume, like some overripe orchid. “What brings you back Muscud-way?”
    “Boss
Vassas, he ...” Vassas had sworn him to silence on the subject of the strange
deaths. One reason Vassas had wanted an outsider on the case was because he
would be less likely to spread the news. “Well, he has work for me.”
    “Got
tired of the life above, huh? Well, I don’t miss it either. I mean, I miss the
shops, and the fine clothes, and how clean and nice everything is—but who needs
it? To be looked down on, treated like a plague victim ...”
    “I
know.” Mutants were contagious and thus ostracized in the world above, at least
in Ghenisa. There was more to it than that, of course. The long-ago wars over
the Resettling had left their mark, and there was the fact that Hissig, a proud
fishing port with a well-regarded processing industry, saw those infected by
the sea as a blemish.
    “I
was hoping Madam Saraja could give me a room for the night,” Tavlin said. “The
Wide-Mouth is full, and I’m supposed to lay low—no pun intended.”
    She
appeared surprised, then a pained look entered her eyes. “You didn’t hear?
Madam Saraja died a year ago.”
    “That’s
terrible. How?”
    “A
shooting. Two bravos from different gangs. She tried to stop it but got gunned
down. She lasted two weeks at the hospital, but you know the doctors down here,
and the supplies they have.”
    “Damn.”
    “Boss
Vassas is good at keeping order, but sometimes one of the smaller gangs gets
restless, and that just encourages the others. Then the Boss has to clamp down
hard—which is a good thing, I think.”
    “I
guess Madam Saraja would agree.”
    “Elana’s
our new madam.” She indicated a plump woman talking with one of the girls near
the dance floor. “Maybe she’ll give you a room.”
    “Thanks.”
    She
kissed his cheek, and he was careful not to wipe it in front of her; the
contagion was passed through bodily fluids. “Give me a call if you’re in the
mood for a tumble. For you, half price.”
    Before
she could leave, he grabbed her arm, and she looked back at him in surprise. He
gathered his courage and said, “Sophia. Where is Sophia?”
    She
shook her head. “This isn’t your night for good news, dear.”
    Something
balled in the pit of his stomach. His voice suddenly hoarse, he said, “She’s
not ... she didn’t ...”
    “No.
But she left Muscud when Saraja died.”
    The
fist balling in his stomach unclenched—somewhat. He still felt the ache were it
had been. “Where did she go?”
    “I
don’t remember. Still in the under-towns, I think. Maybe Netherlusk. Or Cor.
I’ll ask around.”
    She
squeezed his hand and rejoined the crowd, seeking out her next client. For a
while Tavlin stayed on the couch, taking it all in. The music seemed far away
now, as if a veil of cotton separated him from it. When a girl with a silver
platter bearing complimentary drinks passed by, he snatched one and downed a
long swallow without glancing twice at its contents. The whiskey burned his
throat, and his eyes watered. Healing waves of warmth traveled through him, and
he finished off the glass in another swallow.
    Thus
fortified, he made his way to the new madam, Elana, a big woman in a loose red
dress practically spilling out her voluminous breasts, which were only barely
contained, half tease, half threat. Her eyes were bulging and somewhat
fish-like, and her skin bore the faint suggestion of scales. Currently she was
whispering with a john, possibly negotiating the price for one of her girls. It
gave Tavlin time to study her, and he realized that he recognized her. Elana
had been one of the aging prostitutes under Madam Saraja, one of those