“Stop that,” her companion snarled irritably and caught her wrist tightly in one scarred hand. “Don’t act like some stupid kid. Showing nerves is like a death sentence out here.” He released her hand roughly and leaned casually against the wall, putting his hands back in the pockets of tattered, blood-stained jeans. “He’ll be here. It’s his style to show up late. Throws the police off. Don’t worry about it.”

“Throws the police off him maybe. Throws them right onto us, if they’re expecting him to show up and we’re the only ones here. Gotta have something to show they were doing their job. Hauling us in on charges would probably make them feel pretty good about themselves.”

“Shut up. If you keep this up he’ll never show. You acting like a goth punk wannabe.”

“You speak about this guy like he’s a fucking God or something.”

“Around here Gouka’s more God than anything worshipped in those prissy churches and temples and mosques or whatever.”

“So worshipful, you want to fuck him bad or something?”

“Everyone wants to fuck Gouka if they have eyes in their head. Would you shut the hell up already?”

“Whatever, I don’t care how good the stuff he traffics is. I’m outta here.”

“Coward.”

“I’m not scared!”

“You’re practically pissing yourself, Michi.”

“I’m just cold,” she snarled up at him. “I don’t care if he’s selling stuff that’ll get me so high I think I’m in fucking heaven, it’s not worth hanging about in this crappy weather just to end up doing fifteen to twenty ‘cause they think we have some connection to Gouka.”

“Like this stuff’s cheap shit that’ll float you to heaven. This isn’t bright tunnel and choir of angels crap, little girl.” The voice came from the shadows, low and intense. The light from a passing car flickered briefly across the form, and a pair of intense red-brown eyes stared smugly from the darkness. “Don’t insult me by thinking I deal in that kind of happy magical pony shit. I mix my own and it doesn’t take you to fucking heaven. This stuff devours your soul in a raging inferno, you little wanna be goth whore. You want a piece of this, you better remember that, or you’d better remember that there’s stuff besides that spirit and ecstasy and starlight hippie shit that’ll send you to the afterlife.”

Michi’s eyes narrowed and she took a step back, right into the wall of the alley. “Fucking asshole.”

“Sorry about this . . . She’s no one, really, no reason to get pissed or anything, Gouka. Just one of those slutty vampire goth chicks. Looking for some fun and thrills and crap like that. You don’t worry about her. I slap her around a bit, and she’ll keep her mouth shut, even if she doesn’t want some hell.”

The shadows shifted slightly and Gouka stepped out, nodding coolly. Michi watched him, scowling slightly, from behind long, extended black lashes. For a bastard who was supposed to have drug lords and the heads of crime syndicates quivering in terror at the mention of his name on a dozen planets, he seemed damn short. He seemed damn young too, but most of those Jap types tended to look younger than they were. In the dark, his eyes had that eerie red glow people used to get in crappy shadowed photographs. He was dressed in a black leather jacket, with dark jeans, and some kind of red shirt under the jacket. Everything looked surprisingly neat, not at all what she’d expected from a trafficker. His hair was the only part of him that fit her mental image of a trafficker, badly in need of a trim, dark, messy, unkempt. She clamped her lips shut on another curse to spit in the cocky asshole’s face, and remained silent, just watching, and wondering how anyone could think every substance abuser and whore in the world could want to fuck something like this creepy, unimpressive Gouka.

Gouka shrugged dismissively, head tilted haughtily to one side, obviously not considering Michi’s insults to be anything important. “Whatever. You’re wanting the same as usual, I take it, Dray?”

“No . . . no . . . make it double.” His fingers spasmed lightly and he shoved them back into his pants pocket.

“Expensive. Think you can afford it? My prices have gone up lately.” Gouka spoke in a bored tone of voice, and one hand absently flicked an antique silver lighter off and on without any set pattern to the clicks.

“I thought . . . I thought we might make a deal, Gouka. I mean . . . I mean, I’m one of you’re most loyal customers.” Dray fidgeted and twitched, one leg trembling.

The lighter flicked on, then off, then on again. “I don’t make deals.” The lighter flicked off. “But, I may be willing to make an exception in this case.” The lighter flicked on, lighting the hope in Dray’s eyes. “I can let you have what you want for only three times what you usually pay me.” The lighter flicked off.

“Fuck! That’s over two thousand dollars!”

“If you don’t have it, there’s plenty of other buyers.” The lighter flicked on.

“No! No . . . “

Off. “I can sell you your usual stash. Only double what you usually pay, too. A sweet deal, you can ask anyone.”

Dray spasmed slightly and glanced down at Michi. “No, I want double.”

On. Red eyes glowed in the faint light. “Hell isn’t some touchy feely sex drug, Dray. You should know better.”

Michi glared. “Shut your fucking mouth, asshole. It’s none of your fucking business.”

Off. “Everything to do with hell is my business.”

Dray glared down at Michi and pinched the small of her back to silence her. “Fine. I’ll pay. I’ve got just enough to handle it, I think.”

On. Off. Then the lighter went back into the pocket of Gouka’s jacket. “I’m glad you haven’t gotten so clueless as to not keep up with prices, Dray.”

Dray grunted and pulled out a heavy wad of slightly crumpled, dirty bills, shoving them in Gouka’s direction with trembling hands.

Gouka thumbed through the bills swiftly, eyes narrowed as he examined them, then gave an approving nod. “Very good.” He slid the wad of money into the pocket with his lighter.

“Well?” Dray trembled. “Where’s the hell?”

“Of course.” Gouka bowed his head mockingly and withdrew a small, opaque plastic bag from the inside of his jacket, and tossed it to Dray.

Snatching it out of the air, Dray ripped the bag open, and surveyed the contents briefly, before shoving one hand in, emerging with a handful of glossy red pills. “Perfect,” he mumbled, and shoved them into his mouth at once, shutting his eyes and swallowing.

Michi frowned suspiciously, staring into the bag, then up at Dray, who was whimpering gently and twitching. “You look fucking stupid. And I’m willing to bet you ripped him off, too, you fucking asshole.” She spun around to spit curses at Gouka, but the trafficker had already left. “Fuck,” she snarled at nothing in particular and grabbed Dray’s arm, dragging him out of the alley before the hell started to work.

“Some things are just too easy.” Gouka stared meditatively at the ceiling. “There’s just no challenge to it anymore. You don’t have to work for anything. It’s just given to you without even asking.” Sighing quietly he pulled out a linen handkerchief and his lighter, flicking it on thoughtfully, watching the piece of cloth begin to smoke and burn. “Probably have to stop the hell thing for a while. Move onto something else. Too bad. Fun seeing those idiots paying me a fortune just so they can burn they nerves into nothing. But no one bothering to rise up and give me something to do on the side, gets pretty dull.” Clucking his tongue disapprovingly, he tossed the flaming handkerchief into a dumpster outside a bar he’d never really liked anyway.

“Talking to yourself is a sign of mental instability, little one.”

Gouka eyed the blaze that was starting in the dumpster and slowly spreading to the outside of the bar. “Not tonight, Michelle.”

“Not any night, Gouka.”

“Oh? Have I pissed you off again?” Gouka turned in surprise, red eyes wide, and clicked his lighter a bit before sliding it back into his pocket.

“You never stopped, Gouka.”

“Mm. How sad.” His eyes travelled over Michelle’s form, taking in the pale woman’s leather pants and long coat. “Nice outfit, not going to get you a trick though. You could have some horribly disfiguring scars under there, for all a trick knows. Although I suppose that might turn some of them on.” He yawned while the woman watched him with irritated eyes. “So if you don’t want some practice, what do you want, ma belle Michelle?”

“You to stop thinking you’re the hottest thing to set foot in this country in the past three thousand years might be nice. And setting stuff on fire.” She hugged herself, eyeing the merry blaze nearby. “It scares the tricks away.”

“I like it. It makes things more dangerous. Keeps things from getting dull. And it’s prettier than most of the whores in the city. Most of them.” He bowed his head down in acknowledgement of Michelle’s presence.

“Gouka . . .” She sighed, casting her eyes down and slipping close to him. “I’m just worried about you . . . You think you’re untouchable, but all this stuff you do just makes the police more alert. And maybe the next one won’t let you buy him off with some good hell. When you’re young you always think you’re immortal. But you aren’t. There’s people on every corner who’d sell you out if they thought they could get away with it. Most of them know you’re too young to go to prison, so they think you’ll just be out on the street after they sell you out, and you’ll get revenge on them. You’ve built up a nasty reputation, dear.” She ran a hand down his chest, shaking her head. “But everything ages. In a few more years they’ll be able to lock you up but good, and then there won’t be as many people hesitating to send you in.”

Gouka laughed humourlessly, voice dry. “Michelle, are you worried about me?”

“Don’t be stupid, Gouka,” she hissed at him roughly.

“I can take care of myself, ma belle. There’s no reason to worry.”

“I don’t.” Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she pushed him away roughly.

“Oh fuck . . .” he sighed softly and collapsed, a small razor sharp knife thrust through his collarbone.

“I never want you to set foot in this house again! You’re a disgrace to everything this family has every been!”

“Fine! I don’t care! You’re all a bunch of fucking morons anyway! I don’t need you! I don’t need anybody!”

“Then get out of here! I never want to see you again! I never want to hear your thrice-damned name plaguing my ears!”

“Fine!! But you’ll never be rid of my name!! I’ll show you! I’ll drag your name through the mud, and tarnish it, and everyone you pass in the street will wonder if that has anything to do with you! Everyone will whisper behind your back! They’ll whisper and hiss and gossip and no one will respect you - ”

“Shut up!!! Get out now you little bastard!!!”

“Hey there, handsome. Looking for a good time?”

“Hell yeah . . .”

“So you a top or bottom?”

“Well . . . I’ve never really . . . Wait a minute! How old are you?”

“Not as old as some of those hags down the street.”

“Look . . . maybe this was a bad idea. I’m not some kind of perverted pedophile.”

“I’m older than I look.”

“You can’t be over twelve!”

“My soul’s older than that.”

“I’m not sitting here listening to this bullshit! Get out of my car, kid!”

“Don’t you want this?”

“No! Get that shirt back on!”

“Mmm . . . Me thinks he doth protest too much. Admit it. You’re burning up. You want to have me right now, in the back of this car, like some wild, passionate animal.”

“God . . .”

“You could be mine. Hardly cost you anything at all to be a God for a night.”

“I’m not going to do some kid - Mmmph! Mmm. Mmm . . . Oh yes . . .”

“Oh God . . .”

“I think I’ll call it hell.”

“What’s it do, Gouka? You actually tested it yourself?”

“Just the once, koibito.”

“And?”

“It’s like you’re being eaten inside by this burning hot white fire. Devours your veins, burns in your brain, makes you ache all over, like your body’s ripping itself apart . . .”

“Side affects?”

“Insensibility. Incoherent rambling. Nausea. Vomiting. Migraines.”

“Oh yeah, that sounds just wonderful, dear.”

“The masochists will love it. And it’s addictive as hell. There’s just the tiniest bit of chooch, heroine, and a twist of ecstasy. It goes bad with the chooch, that’s what makes it burn. And there’s only just enough to get it into their system. It’s mostly just sugar and baking soda. But there’s enough of those pop drugs to make them come begging for more. We’ll make a killing barely spending a thing.”

“Mmm. That’s why I love you Japs, you’re so fucking smart and sexy and the same time.”

“- on charges of arson, theft, assault, prostitution, and trafficking illegal substances.”

Gouka lifted his head, squinting blearily around him. Everything swam unsteadily in front of his eyes and he ached all over. He wondered if he’d taken hell by mistake.

“- remain silent. Everything you say can - ”

He took deep sniff, and inhaled the strong, astringent scent of overly-clean hospital. Nothing burnt. He wasn’t in here for overdosing on anything then.

“ - attorney - ”

Michelle. That fucking whore. Just for scaring away some worthless tricks . . .

“That’s enough, officer. The patient’s been seriously injured. You can read him his rights later. We’ll call you when he’s in a condition to receive visitors.”

Fast work, too, to get the cops in so damn fast. The bastards would probably be in there reading him his rights if she’d blown his brains out.

“Just lie back Mister Katsumura. You shouldn’t be awake yet. The doctors aren’t done with you. There’s still some more work to do.”

Something pressed gently into Gouka’s arm and he slumped back into the thin hospital pillow with relief, letting unconsciousness embrace him once again.