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“Send them my way. How soon do you need it?”
“I’ll pay the rush fee.”
The doc’s rush fee is triple her actual fee, on top, so she knows this is serious. But Malia’s prescription has been driving me crazy, and I’ve been unable to get anywhere with it. There’s only one licensed dispensary and that’s on the mainland, attached to the facility where she was admitted. The drugs she’s on aren’t in either database of known medicines for humans or supernaturals, so it’s proving impossible to source a list of the ingredients too.
Hopefully the doc, with her extensive medical knowledge and underground connections to just about everything in both worlds, will be able to help.
“You owe me, big.”
“Noted. I’ll be going now. Looks like you have actual…ahhh customers.” I glance out of the window where a family of four dressed for camping are approaching.
She nods at me, flips me the bird and then fixes what I can only assume is her best customer service smile onto her face. It sucks, but at least she’s trying.
Down in the basement, the place is more packed than I’ve ever seen it. I don’t make it a habit to come here, but I’ve been a time or two. Usually to collect Bhodi’s beat down ass when he flips and loses his shit.
Not tonight though. I can tell from the roar of the crowd that Bhodi has everyone riled up; he’s putting on a show for them, whether he knows it or not. He’s probably so lost inside his head that he’s oblivious to anything – even the body count he’s racking up.
I should have fought the prof harder when I delved into Malia’s past and discovered her secrets. He felt the information wasn’t worth sharing with the others, wasn’t relevant to our mission, but I disagreed. I should have argued with him more.
What Malia went through with her family is unthinkable, even when compared to the harsh reality of how some supes raise their young. I’ve never seen anything like it.
Reading her file was a special kind of hell. I can only imagine what Bhodi is seeing with every punch. The photos in her medical records – even the sealed ones – were brutal. Enough to give psychopaths nightmares. Even through the crowd I can see it in his eyes; he’s not present. He’s lost in the bloodlust. Reaping revenge on Malia’s behalf on the only target he knows.
One final punch has his latest opponent hitting the concrete floor and not getting up. Bhodi is screaming in his face but I can’t hear his words over the frenzied braying of the crowd. All I know is, it’s time to get Bhodi out of here before we’re covering up another murder.
I elbow my way through to many grunts and protests which die on their lips when those that know us see who it is trying to get past. Those that don’t soon fall into line as the crowd hushes.
“Bho!” I call as soon as I reach the bent diamond mesh that forms the doc’s ‘cage’. “Bho, man, come on. You’re done.”
“I’m not fucking done. Not by a long shot.”
“He’s done, Bhodi,” I snap sharply. “He’s fucking out of it, and even the doc will be lucky to bring him back. Which you’re covering the cost of by the way.”
“Fuck off. Go home.”
“Not without you.”
“I’m fighting.”
“You’re killing innocent people. They didn’t hurt her, but what you’re doing here could. Besides, there’s no one left to fight. No one else has a death wish tonight, man.”
He glowers at me, blood and sweat dripping down his face, which is an absolute mess. That’s probably nothing compared to the body count he’s left in his wake tonight.
“Come on,” I urge him. “Let’s get out of here before the police come asking questions.”
This sways him. He knows we’re supposed to be keeping a low profile with the human police sniffing around looking for leads in the latest murder.
“Fine,” he spits, kicking his victim in the side as he steps over him. The crowd cheer once more but Bhodi ignores them like everyone in the room is beneath him. I slap him on the back as he passes me and then follow him out of the underground fight club the back way. The last thing the doc will appreciate right now is the state of Bhodi in front of her real patrons.
Once the fresh air hits and we’ve walked the short distance to where Bhodi parked his bike, he whirls on me. Anguish lines his face and his eyes look tormented.
“Look, Bho—” I begin, trying to settle him down.
“You don’t get it.” He shakes his head frantically.
“I do—”
“You don’t!” he yells, pacing with his fists still ready to fight.
