The Artful (Shadows of the City) by Wilbert Stanton Read Free Book Online Page A

point.
    “Hey, I’m no doser, asshole!” Dodger tried to struggle, but the Suits held him firmly in place, a child trapped in the arms of danger.
    “Oh, no need to struggle, this is nothing serious.” He turned to Dodger, holding the needle inches from his face. “Just a nasty little virus. Trust me, you won’t experience the slightest bit of pleasure from it.”
    “Shove it!”
    “Don’t do this!” I yelled. “We told you we would get what you wanted!”
    “Do I look stupid?” Just Stan asked.
    “Yes. Yes you do,” Dodger started. “Actually you look like a complete―”
    Just Stan cut Dodger off by slamming the needle into his arm, injecting all the fluid into his shoulder. One of the Suits held his hand over Dodger’s mouth, muffling his screams.
    I watched in horror as Dodger struggled. I tried to fight free from my captors to help him, but it was useless. Gia made an attempt at aiding him, but the guns kept her glued to her seat.
    “Oh, stop. Look at you three. It’s not the end of the world!” Just Stan took Dodger’s chin in his hand and pulled him close, whispering, “I bet you thought, you were smarter than me, huh?”
    After Dodger calmed down, he lay still, like a defeated child. Just Stan told his Suits to let him go. The fight had gone out of Dodge. He stared at Just Stan with only a hint of defiance.
    “Do you want to know what I gave you?”
    “It doesn’t matter,” Dodger moaned. “Because I’m going to kill you.”
    “Oh, don’t be dramatic. I gave you a little virus, it’s harmless now, but given some days, it’ll kill you. Don’t ask, I don’t cook these things up. All I know is my employers gave it to me, and they gave me a cure. Now I really would love to give it to you, I really would. So help me help you. Are we on the same page?”
    “If the page says ‘go to hell,’ then, yeah, sure―”
    “Dodger, shut up for once!” I yelled. “Fine, so let’s deal. You want what Smith stole. We bring you what Smith stole and you give us the cure. Easy, we’ll do it.”
    “So, the little guy gets it,” said Just Stan.
    “How do we know you’ll hold your end?” I asked.
    “You don’t,” Just Stan’s eyes were cold. “And, frankly, I don’t care. But it’s the only choice you have. He’s going to die. And it won’t be pretty either, so you can either sit around crying, waiting for his big exit, or you can attempt to save his life So what’s it going to be?”
    I could tell by the look on Dodger’s face that he was about to tell Just Stan to shove it where the sun don’t shine. So I made sure to speak first.
    “Fine! Deal!”



e understandably felt hopeless, evicted from our home, our last place of safe refuge taken from us, the people we helped protect turning their backs on us all because of Just Stan and his Suits. We solemnly marched through the station, heading topside. We were used to being on our own, but before we always had a safety net we could return to, it was a sense of security that came with having a home.
    Only we didn’t have the luxury of loving parents; instead we’d had the dictator-like zealot we called Preach. Like a true parent, he named us. Dodger and Twist were characters from a book he once loved. I’d never read it myself, but he said the names were fitting. What we knew about the streets we learned from him, what to look for and what to avoid. How to pick someone’s pocket without them giving a second thought, how to crack locks and sneak into towers, what meds were worth money and best to get dosed on. Most importantly he taught us how to speak properly, and to read and write so we could fit in among Tower Babies. He used to call us wolves in sheep’s clothing. In actuality, he’d been nothing less than an encyclopedia. Sure, his methods had been less than savory, but we had to live with the ages. Of course, these were things we had already been doing on our own. But he took our innate skills and polished them into