E E Knight-Vampire Earth 05 by Valentine's Exile

Author:Valentine's Exile [Exile, Valentine's]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-10-12T16:47:56+00:00

"Admission is free," Rooster explained. "Some of the bookmakers own skyboxes. If you bet heavy with them you can sit up here."

Valentine caught motion in the upper deck, not sure of what he was seeing for a moment. Yes, that definitely was a woman's head of hair bobbing in an audience member's lap.

"I've heard of seat service, but that's taking it to a new level," Valentine said.

Rooster laughed. "Some of the cheaper gals work the BJ deck. They're supposed to be selling beer and peanuts and stuff too, but a lot just carry around a single packet or can. Lazy bitches."

"Outrageous," Valentine said. He looked up at the gridwork above. And froze.

The lighting gantries had Reapers in them.

Valentine counted three. One sat in a defunct scoreboard, occasionally peering from a hole like an owl. Another hung upside down from a lighting walkway, deep in shadow, neck gruesomely twisted so it could watch events below. A third perched in a high, dark corner.

"They always here?" Valentine asked. He didn't want to point, but Rooster was sharp enough to follow his eyes.

"Oh, yeah. That dark box, there and there; you have a couple more in each of those.

Memphis' own version of closed-circuit TV. They never bother anyone." He lowered his voice. "Sometimes a contestant gets badly hurt. The injuries end up being fatal."

"Then why do they fight?" Valentine asked.

"Look at Rod Lightning's finger back there. Nice little brass ring and a riverside house. He trains cage fighters now. Sight of beetles bother you?"

"Not unless they're looking at me," Valentine answered, honestly enough.

Moyo arrived with a small entourage of river and rail men. Valentine took an inconspicuous seat and watched events below. Something called a "bumfight" began, involving a half-dozen shambling, shabby-looking men clocking each other with two-by-fours. It ended with two still upright and the blood in the hexagon being scrubbed by washerwomen while a blond singer warbled from the stage near Moyo's box. He only had one brief conversation with Moyo.

"How do you like the Midway?" Moyo seemed positively bubbly; perhaps having another report over and done took a weight off—

"Better organized, and a lot less dangerous, than New Orleans," Valentine said.

"There's nothing on the Gulf Coast like this."

"You checked out the inventory yet?"

"I've got a couple more days in town still."

"Rooster can set the whole thing up. I'm going to be on my boat this weekend."

"I think he's got a handle on what I need," Valentine said.

There was topless Roller Derby on the wooden ring—a crowd favorite, judging from the cheers. The metronome motion of swinging breasts as the woman power-skated had a certain fascination, Valentine had to admit. Then an exhibition of flame dancing. The first Grogs Valentine had seen on the Midway spun great platters full of flaming kerosene on their outstretched arms and heads. They arranged it so the liquid fire sprinkled off the spinning dishes and they danced beneath the orange rain. Valentine found it enthralling and said so to Rooster.

"God, I hate those things," Rooster said, on his third drink.

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