The safehouse’s garage wasn’t hard to find, and we hadn’t stepped more than a couple of feet inside before Marko and Aria both froze in place, staring.

  “Wow,” Marko said.

  The Bentley was in here, just like Kaius had said, and so were a pair of motorcycles and a burgundy Porsche 911. Aria walked toward the Porsche like she was in a trance and ran a hand along the top of the car.

  “Shiny,” she said.

  “It’s very pretty,” Marko agreed. “Let’s take the Bentley.”

  “But-“ Aria started.

  “The Bentley will be more comfortable for passengers, and I know you want to drive. You can play with the Porsche later.”

  “Ugh, fine, dad,” Aria said, and flopped into the Bentley.

  “I’m not that much older than you,” Marko said, getting in the passenger side.

  “Your sense of fun is ancient,” Aria told him.

  She started up the Bentley and the garage door immediately opened.

  “That’s kind of neat,” I said.

  Aria turned on the sound system and went through a half dozen stations and at least three different heavy metal albums before giving up and turning it back off.

  “Did that just say it was changing CDs?” I said.

  “Who the fuck still uses CDs?” Aria said.

  “Tolun, apparently,” Marko said. “Who knows. He’s a teenager. Maybe it’s a retro thing.”

  “It has a USB port, but it’s USB-A,” Aria said, messing with the panel. “That’s an aux port and here’s an option for something called Bluetusk. Is that some kind of typo?”

  Marko rummaged around in the glovebox for a minute and pulled out the owner’s guide.

  “Bentley Continental GT 2005,” he said, reading the front. He flipped through a few pages. “It has Bluetusk in the features. Probably the same thing as Bluetooth.”

  “It’s in amazing condition for a car over twenty years old,” I said.

  “Rich people,” Aria said, pulling out of the garage. “Their shit always lasts longer.”

  “Maybe I can find something to listen to on this thing,” Marko said, pulling out the BlackBerry. He jabbed at it a few times. “Or not. That boy has truly horrendous taste in music. It does have Pandora though.”

  I looked out the window as we pulled away from the safehouse. The sky was solid gray without even a hint of the sun. A pair of Hunt guards stood to one side of the drive watching us leave. I waved. They did not wave back. Music started and I recognized the band as Nine Inch Nails but didn’t know the song.

  “Classic,” Aria said. “Not as good as his 90s shit, but solid.”

  “You know where you’re going?” Marko said.

  “North-ish. This thing has GPS, but I don’t exactly have an address.”

  We rolled along for several minutes, listening to the music. I looked out at the strange place we found ourselves in and thought the similarities were nearly as jarring as the differences. A bus with an ad for some insurance company trundled by, but at least half the faces in the windows weren’t human. A taxi passed us and I spotted a fane hula girl on the dash.

  I kept an eye on my mini-map, watching for any dots that weren’t a friendly green, and noticed something different after we’d traveled a few blocks. One of the buildings had a dollar sign symbol over the top of it. I hovered over the symbol, and it read Merchant.

  “Pull over,” I said, pointing. “That building is marked.”

  “I see it,” Aria said.

  She pulled into the parking lot in front of the building and eased the car into a space. The building looked like it might have been a convenience store at one point, but the sign read Pop Pop’s Pawnshop. It had bars over the windows, and I could see a rolled-up security gate that blocked the door at night. A red neon open sign flashed in the window.

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  “You two seen anything like this before?” I said.

  “Nothing,” Mark said. “Let’s have a look.”

  The door had a bell that jingled when we opened it, and I was instantly hit with the smell of someone else’s used stuff. It was that dusty, musty, almost mildewy scent that you find in any flea market or second-hand store. The place was filled with shelves and glass-fronted cases all crammed full of odds and ends. I saw jewelry, baseball cards, vinyl albums, pedal sewing machines, and a pile of old gaming consoles.

  We squeezed past a display showing off a mix of golf clubs, tennis rackets, baseball bats, and a paddle thing I thought might be a cricket bat, to approach the counter and cash register. An old, brown-skinned man with a well-maintained white afro and round specs sat behind the counter. He had on a white button-up shirt with blue suspenders and a matching bow tie.

  “Morning,” he said.

  Aria started to open her mouth, but Marko blatantly elbowed her in the ribs and drew attention to himself.

  “We were hoping to sell some things,” Marko said.

  “You picked the right place,” the man said. “Call me Pops. Whatcha got?”

  I pulled the ninjatō out of my inventory and put it on the counter. Marko produced the Knockout Knuckle Dusters and a couple watches. Aria set down four ?korpion machine pistols and a gold ring. Pops looked over our offerings without batting an eye. He picked up one of the ?korpions and examined it.

  “Where’s the clip?” he said.

  “Oh yeah,” Aria said, and put four empty clips on the counter.

  Pops pulled out a small notebook and pencil, a magifone, and a calculator and began to jot down notes.

  “Have a look around, this’ll be a minute,” he said.

  “You two go ahead,” Marko said.

  Pops coughed out a dry little chuckle.

  “Don’t trust me? That’s all right. You do you.”

  Aria and I wandered off, looking at what Pops had to offer. The old man had a display case full of knives, but they were all trash. We strolled past a rack of shoes and boots, and Aria stopped to look. She pointed at a pair of tall, chunky, black leather boots with platform soles, and two rows of spikes running down the front.

  “Oh. My. God.” she said.

  She picked one up and looked at it closer, then held it out to me.

  “Check it,” she said.

  I examined the boot.

  Stompy Boots

  Foot protection and ass kicking in one package. +10% Physical Resistance.

  The wearer is immune to knockdown effects. The wearer gains the Punt ability.

  Ability: Punt

  On landing a successful kick attack, your target is knocked back in a straight line

  for (Strength x2) feet minus the target’s (Agility). Has a 30 second cooldown.

  The price tag said 1000 credits.

  “Those are great,” I said, handing it back to her.

  She stepped closer to me, clutching the boot to her chest.

  “I must have them,” she said, eyes wide. “Do you understand? I must. Have them.”

  She stepped closer with each word and soon I was backing away from her.

  “It’s your money,” I said, feeling like I sometimes did when a strange dog approached me. “If they fit, buy them.”

  She sat down right there on the floor and pulled off a Doc Marten. She had to roll up a pant leg to get the new boot on, and I saw she had a tattoo of flying bats wrapped around her left calf, partially hidden under a long sock. She slid the boot on and tied it.

  “Help me up,” she said, holding out a hand.

  I pulled her up and, with one hand on my shoulder, she took a wobbly step forward. Aria turned to me and smiled so wide I thought she might hurt something. Then, without another word, she grabbed her discarded Doc Marten, the other boot, and marched crookedly toward the cash register.

  I didn’t follow her, not because I was afraid of her, nope, I just wanted to look around some more. The store had a few swords hanging on the walls, but they were all clearly decorative. I was about to give up on finding anything useful when I saw a dusty kanabō standing in a corner. It was a four-foot-long oaken club that got wider toward the end. The weapon had iron studs running up the length of its octagonal sides, and an iron cap on the end. I picked it up and could tell it was supposed to be heavy, but it just had a solid heft with my current Strength. I examined it.

  Kanabō of the Void +2

  This weapon only exists when you reach out and will it into your hand.

  Improved accuracy and damage. Note: If you are disarmed or intentionally drop this weapon it

  cannot be recalled until you physically touch it. Note: This weapon does not count as equipped.

  I knew that Aria had a weapon of the Void as well, so they must be fairly common. The price tag on this one said 300 credits, which seemed like a bargain to me. It wasn’t my sort of weapon, but it looked like something a person with large, clawed hands might be able to use. I carried it toward the front and had almost reached the register when I got a new message.

  Achievement Unlocked: Garage Sale!

  You sold a junk item! No refunds!

  I scooched past an ornamental set of plate armor and saw Aria handing Pops some credits. She already had her new boots on, the Doc Marten’s tied together and hanging over her shoulder. Marko saw me and waved me over. He handed me a 100 credit chip, looking disgruntled.

  “That’s the best I could do,” he said. “Old man is tough.” He looked at the kanabō in my hand. “You find something?”

  “I thought you might like it,” I said, offering him the weapon. “You could use it no matter the, uh, situation.”

  He took the kanabō and looked it over.

  “Eh, I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never used a weapon.”

  “Can you swing a baseball bat? Then you can use this. I’ll teach you. We have that dojo back at the safehouse.”

  He looked at the price tag.

  “That’s not bad,” he said. “You really think I could use this?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He turned back to Pops, who’d been watching our exchange.

  “Here you go, Pops,” Marko said, and handed the old man three 100 credit chips.

  “Good doing business with you,” Pops said, grinning. “Ya’ll come back now.”