Burning Midnight (12 page)

Sully stopped talking as they drove over the culvert on Germond Road, wondering if Dom was reminded of the Cherry Red each time he went over the culvert the way Sully was. Probably not. He hadn't even been there when Sully found it.

With the culvert in the rearview mirror, Sully continued. “I just wonder sometimes if we'd be better off going back to the suburbs, where we've had more luck. I mean, we're climbing those fire escapes in the freezing cold, at
night,
and I doubt we're making a dollar an hour.”

Dom shrugged. “So tell her you want to bag the towers and focus on the suburbs.”

“I guess. She's going to be disappointed, though. She's convinced there's a big score in one of those tanks.” They pulled into the Garden Apartments parking lot, bounced over a series of deep potholes. “I'm afraid she'll stick with the water towers and just replace me.”

“Got it. And she's your edge. She has all the hunting expertise.”

“Plus, I'd miss her.”

Dom pointed at him. “Ah, now the truth comes out. So how's it going on that front? Any sharing of bodily warmth on those cold roofs?” He waggled his dark eyebrows.

“It's not going to happen, I keep telling you.”

Dom pulled into a spot in front of Sully's building. “Would you like it to? If she was interested?”

A month ago, Sully would have said no. “As miserable as this project has been, I don't know what I'm going to do when I don't get to see her every day.”

“Sounds like you really like her.”

Sully put off answering until they climbed out of Dom's Toyota.

“Remember when I was hooked on Laurie?”

Dom laughed. “Like I could forget. All you talked about for months was Laurie, Laurie, Laurie. When you guys broke up I just about had to force-feed you, because you wouldn't eat.”

“Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure I like Hunter more than I liked Laurie.” It felt good to admit it out loud.

Dom shook his head. “Man. In that case I sure hope she comes around to the Sullivan charm.”

It was pointless unless Hunter liked him, too, but Sully had trouble believing she was capable of harboring a secret crush, direct as she was. More likely she saw him as a clueless white boy who thought getting kicked in the ass by his father was the worst thing that could happen to someone.

Mom wasn't home from filling out applications for part-time jobs, so Sully let himself and Dom in. When they got to Sully's room, Dom eyed the two crates on the desk, which were filled with Sully's remaining inventory. “Whoa. That's all that's left?”

“That's it.” Eleven rarity ones, one rarity two. It hurt to look at them.

While Dom dropped onto Sully's bed, Sully pulled a chair to his computer desk. He might as well get this over with.

“Like I said, I've got nine hundred bucks in the bank,” Dom said. “I'm happy to lend it to you so you don't have to do this.”

“Thanks. I may take you up on the offer, but I'll leave it as a last resort.” Sully listed two Baby Blues (tolerance to heat) as a set for ninety-five dollars. There was a bitter, tinny taste in his mouth. He actually felt a little queasy. A pair of Baby Blues sold for one twenty-five at the flea market.

There would be no more flea market after this. He hated to think he'd never set up his table again. A chapter of his life was over.

But it had gotten embarrassing to stand behind that mostly bare table, empty boxes set on it in a pathetic attempt to make it look like he had more merchandise than he did. Sully had been going mostly to buy, but there hadn't been many sellers in the past few weeks. January was a slow month.

At least he wouldn't have to see Neal's and Samantha's faces ever again. They'd kept their distance, mostly looking right through Sully like he wasn't even there. No more offers of sandwiches from Samantha, no more sage wisdom from Neal.

Sully listed every sphere except one Army Green, the commonest of the commons. He'd keep that one as a souvenir of his flea market days, unless things got really bad.

A taxi driver leaned on his horn, then pulled around an elderly couple creeping along Twenty-Second Street in a shiny Hyundai Sonata, the old man's nose almost touching the steering wheel.

Sully returned to watching his feet, chin tucked against the cold. His right Reebok swung into view, wrapped with black masking tape. His left one was beginning to split at the toe and would require taping soon.

Hunter led him into a narrow alley squeezed between two tenements, a green fire escape linking the two buildings.

“Hey, look at that. We won't have to jump across,” Sully said.

Hunter reached up, pulled down the ladder. “You want to go first?”

“Sure.” Sully gripped the rungs, looked up. It was a short one, probably seven stories. If they finished searching every water tower in New York, Sully was confident he would be able to glance at a building and know exactly how many floors it was. But they weren't going to finish. He took a deep breath and, as he climbed, began the little speech he'd prepared.

“Have you thought about whether we'd be better off hunting in the suburbs? Now that I'm not going to the flea market anymore, we could switch to weekends.”

He glanced back. Hunter had stopped climbing. She was staring up at him, openmouthed.

“You quitting on me, Yonkers?” Sully'd been afraid she'd be disappointed, but she sounded worse than disappointed. She sounded defeated.

“
No.
I'm just wondering if we should change our game plan.”

Hunter set her pack on the stairs, pulled out her notebook. “I've been working this out for five years. No one's searched these towers. If they had, we wouldn't be pulling commons out of them. This is our best chance of making a big hit, and that's what we want, isn't it? A seven. An eight.”

Sully stared at his taped sneakers. Yes, he wanted to find an eight, but right now he'd settle for a steady supply of ones and twos, maybe the occasional three. He didn't want to quit on Hunter, and hated the thought of not seeing her anymore, but he had to start making some money. At the rate they were going, he'd be better off working at Price Chopper. Dom could put in a word for him with the manager.

“Come on, Yonkers. Don't give up.”

A blast of freezing wind cut Sully right to the bone. He wanted to say yes. He
always
wanted to say yes to Hunter, but he couldn't afford to dream about the big score anymore.

“If we don't find something decent soon, one way or another I'm going to have to give up. I have to bring in some money.” He'd stick it out till the end of the week, he decided. He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud, though.

Hunter gave him a sad smile. “I hear you.” She slipped past him, continued up the stairs.

There was only one water tower. They swung the hatch open with well-practiced movements, then Sully climbed back down while Hunter took a swim. She didn't have to come up for air, thanks to the Roses he'd bought her.

Five minutes later they moved on, to water tower number 459.

Sully squeezed his hands in his armpits, trying to infuse extra warmth into them as he heard Hunter surface inside tank number 463. Her dripping-wet head poked out through the hatch. She gripped the edge awkwardly, because she was holding something. Something round.

Sully rushed to the base of the tower, the cold forgotten. “What is it?”

Hunter flipped the object to the roof. It landed at Sully's feet.

A doll's head, black with mold.

“I almost had a heart attack when I saw it.” Hunter jumped the last three feet. “It just had to be something round, and the right size.” She swept her dripping braids back, her jaw quivering from the icy water.

Sully nudged the head with his foot; it rolled half a turn, stopped faceup. “What do you think our odds are, really?”

Hunter closed her eyes and smiled. “I'm not much of an odds person. I just follow my gut.” She headed for the fire escape. The next roof over was blessedly too far to jump.

When they reached the roof that was home to water tower number 465, Sully pulled his phone out and checked the time. It was after ten. By silent assent they were pulling a marathon session. Sully needed to call his mom again and tell her he was getting home later than he'd thought.

They didn't talk as he helped Hunter open the hatch. She was all business now, and maybe that was for the best. He wondered if he'd still see her if he quit the project.
When
he quit the project. A sting of sadness hit him at the thought of not seeing her.

He was still a little angry about the Hot Pink debacle. She hadn't apologized, unless she thought
I guess I believe you
was an apology. She could be a real pain in the ass, stubborn beyond belief. Yet he'd never felt so energized, had never laughed as hard as he did with her.

I'm not girlfriend material,
she had said in that strange and magical water tower bar. She wasn't, really; yet Sully felt like he was floating when he was around her. He was fascinated by her, by the layers of her—the hard shell, the dreamer beneath who wanted to take on the world and show it she was someone to be reckoned with.

Inside the tank, Hunter screamed.

“Hunter?”
He leaped for the ladder, climbed so fast his foot missed a rung and he clipped his chin hard on a higher rung.

Hunter screamed again—a full-throated cry, as if something in the tank had its jaws around her leg and was pulling her down. Sully looked up, saw her pulling herself through the hatch, her eyes wide with shock, her jaw working soundlessly.

She was clutching something. Something round, bright, and golden. It was like a sphere, but too big, and not the right color, because there were no Golds. There were no Golds.

Hunter perched at the top of the ladder and stared at the thing in her hand, her chest rising and falling, her breath coming in gasps. She looked down at Sully.

“It's real?” he asked, pleading. “Please say it's real.”

Hunter nodded. “Is this really happening? I'm so afraid I'm dreaming. If this is a dream and I wake up…”

“Can I see it?” Sully asked. “I need to touch it so I know it's real.” A new color. Oversized, like the Midnight Blue.

Hunter climbed down the ladder with one hand, releasing one rung and quickly snatching the next. When she reached the roof, she held out the Gold with both hands, clutching it tightly so Sully could touch it but not take it from her.

Sully pulled off his glove and ran his fingers over the Gold's surface. It was smooth and hard. Ice-cold. It was a sphere. No doubt about it.

This time they weren't going to screw up.

“We have to take it right to a safe-deposit box.” Sully's lips felt numb. “We don't take it out again until we've been paid.”

Hunter pulled it away. “You said
I
could keep it. You said you'd trust me.”

“You can keep the key—the only key. But it needs to be locked away where no one can get it.”

She took a step away from him. “That's not what you said.”

This was nuts. All that mattered was that they keep the sphere safe. “What do you want to do with it, if we don't put it in a safe-deposit box?”

Her voice was low, almost threatening. “That's for me to decide.”

“Do you know how much this is
worth
? We're not talking about fourteen grand, we're talking
millions.
Fifty million.
More.
It's one of a kind. We might get—”

“I know what it's worth.”
She closed her eyes, calmed herself. “I'll take good care of it. You'll get your share when the time comes.” She looked at him, her eyes big, imploring. “You said you'd trust me.”

His father's voice boomed in the back of his head.
When fourteen grand is on the line, you have no friends. You trust no one.
Only, it wasn't fourteen grand anymore. It was millions. Sully couldn't believe it; he reached up and touched his face to make sure
he
wasn't dreaming. If they could keep from screwing this up, they would be rich.

He felt like the roof was tilting and he would be thrown right off. He bent his knees, drew closer to the ground, took deep breaths.

When the roof settled, he stood tall again. “All right. That's what I agreed to, so that's the deal.”

The lines on Hunter's forehead smoothed, her shoulders relaxed.

“If we fight, we're going to screw this up,” Sully said. “We're in this together. We're a team. I trust you.”

He offered Hunter his hand, and she grasped it, hard. She broke into a huge grin.

“We did it, Sully. We did it.”

Sully laughed. “We were hoping for an eight, and we pulled in a ten. An eleven.”

Hunter raised the Gold sphere to him, this time cupping it in her hand rather than clutching it, offering it to him. He took it, held it close to his face.

“I wonder what it does,” Hunter whispered.

It was twice as heavy as a normal sphere, the color bright and rich. “Maybe it does what most people think the Midnight Blue does. Protect you from disease, guarantee you a long life.”

Softly, Hunter said, “Maybe you can fly.”

Sully nodded, although he doubted it. The spheres worked within the bounds of what humans could already do or be. Humans could pump adrenaline. They could solve problems. They couldn't fly.

He handed the Gold back to Hunter.

She took it, then threw her arms around Sully and squeezed. Sully hugged her back, drinking in the feel of her, her wet braids against his palms, the heat of her face against his neck.

As Hunter's arms relaxed and fell away, Sully wanted to hang on.

“I should have believed you when you said you didn't take the Hot Pink.” She covered her eyes with one hand. “God, I'm so sorry.”

She lifted the Gold. “Thank you for trusting me, even though I didn't trust you.”

She knelt, slipped the Gold into her backpack.

“I'll be at your place by ten tomorrow,” Hunter said, speaking low so none of her dozens of roommates would overhear through the door. “Then we'll plan our next move.”

Sully was so excited and nervous he could barely stand still. “Are you sure you don't want to stay at my place? My mom wouldn't mind. I can text her.”

“I'll see you at ten.”

“But what if—”

“I'll see you at ten.”

Reluctantly, Sully nodded. “Okay.”

Hunter fished a key out of her pocket, unlocked the dead bolt. Her hand on the knob, she paused. “Do you want to sell it to Holliday?”

“No,” Sully said immediately. “Hell no. Anyone but him.” When this moment had been nothing but a dream, Sully had thought the dollar signs would outweigh his hatred of Holliday. To his surprise, they didn't.

“Good,” Hunter said. “I was hoping you'd say that.”

“Take care of it,” Sully whispered as Hunter's apartment door clicked shut. He felt incredibly uneasy. She was living in an apartment full of desperate strangers who couldn't afford even a one-room apartment of their own.

As soon as he was in his car, he texted Mom.

I know it's late, but you'll forgive me when you hear what we found. Home soon.

He'd texted her around nine, before they found the Gold, and she'd been pissed off that he was still out.

An answer came in about ten seconds.

It better be worth a million dollars! I am not happy.

That made Sully smile.
It is, Mom, it is.

He was tempted to call Dom, but it was almost midnight. Dom's dad would have a stroke. He'd call tomorrow.

In fact, he wanted Dom's help on this. Mandy's, too. He and Hunter needed people they could trust to help them figure out the best way to proceed.

He turned on the radio, jumped from station to station looking for something good. His victory drive required music.

He found an old Mumford and Sons tune, cranked it, and started dreaming about being rich.

If they sold the Gold for the fifty million Holliday had offered for a matching Midnight Blue (Sully figured fifty million was the minimum the Gold would bring), his cut was twenty million dollars.

Unbelievable.

The hell with rent—he and Mom could move out of their crappy apartment and buy a house. He could buy a new car. He could lay thousand-dollar bills on the counter at the Corvette dealership. He'd give a few million to Mom, a few hundred thousand to Dom.