Trace, Chapters 10, 11, and 12

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TEN

The tattoo Noel had cut into his back stayed on his skin until the second night, when it ran off him in his sleep. Colin thought perhaps it had stayed so long because he was less powerful than he had been -- older, reaccustomed to the outside, and certainly here with ulterior motives. But the tattoo did vanish, and with it the raw half-healed skin, and on that third day he heard whispers of power in his ears.

"Hey," he said to Laney, who was playing backgammon with Noel on a cheap board covered in plastic tiles, probably a gift from someone on the outside, traded to Noel for a tattoo. "Look me in the eye."

"What for?" Laney asked, not looking up.

"I'll tell your fortune," Colin told him. One of the inmates watching the game elbowed Laney, friendly-like, with a wary glance at Colin.

"Man, it's my turn," Laney said. "Stop distracting me."

"Do it," Gutierrez told him, from the end of the table. He was bullshitting with some of the Latinos, friendly but wary La Mugre members who tolerated white boys for Gutierrez's sake, but Colin knew he was also watching everything that was going on. Laney groaned and made his move, then looked up quickly at Colin and back down.

"Happy now?"

"Aw, come on, Laney," Colin said. "Noel won't cheat."

Gutierrez slid over and put his hand on the board, covering the middle of it. Laney sat back and lifted his chin, annoyed. Colin caught his gaze and held it. Laney had dark hazel eyes, and like Natell's they were a little too old for the rest of his face. The others fell silent -- even the men arguing good-naturedly at the end of the table.

"Your girlfriend, Laetita," Colin said.

"Aw, fuck, you knew about her," Laney said.

"She's pregnant."

"Yeah, so? That's why I boosted the car, that ain't news. Natell probably told you."

Colin grinned. "It's a boy. You'll be out in time to take him to kindergarten."

Laney scowled. "Ain't no way you could know that, nobody knows yet."

"It's a boy," Colin said confidently. "And Laetita found the letter."

Laney went tense all over. "What letter?"

"You know what letter, Laney," Colin said. "It's fine. Ask her about it next time she visits."

He turned away from Laney before he could ask anything else. "Gutierrez, you up?"

Gutierrez shook his head. "Don't need to see the future."

"Noel?"

"I know mine," Noel said absently.

"How 'bout me?" asked one of the inmates who'd been watching the backgammon game.

"Step into my office," Colin said, gesturing to the bench he was sitting on. He lifted a leg over so that he was straddling it; when the other man sat, facing him, he looked into his eyes calmly.

"You're up for parole in a couple of months?" he asked. The man nodded without breaking his stare. "You won't get it."

"No?" the man asked, frowning.

"Sorry."

"You sure?"

"They're hardasses," Colin said with a shrug. "I can't fix it, I just tell it."

"My mama's -- "

"Sick, I know," Colin said. "It's okay, she'll get through it. Hey, listen," he added, as the man withdrew a little. "The future's not set in stone. Keep your nose clean, who knows, right?"

The man glanced at Gutierrez for confirmation. Gutierrez shrugged too.

"He's the fortuneteller," he said. "God ain't talking to me about you, Petral."

"You seriously tell fortunes?" Laney asked, as Petral walked away and the others all murmured and argued about who would be next.

"It's a novelty," Colin said in a low voice, shrugging. "What, you're going to believe in the Darkman and Guye but not in fortunetelling?" he added with a wink.

"You see a lot?" Laney pressed.

"I see enough," Colin said, leaning forward under the pretense of examining the backgammon board. "This is prison, man, it's not like you get a lot of variety."

"People get out," Laney said. "Guys get in fights, they get sent to Seg -- "

"Yeah, but I'm not in the business of little stories," Colin told him. "You know what I see? Death in the infirmary. Or on the yard. Guys get out, they get menial jobs because that's all they can get. Or no job, and they go back to what they know -- and they die in a prison infirmary, or on the yard."

"He told my fortune once," Noel said, toying with one of the tiles. He set it on its edge and spun it, eyes lowered. "He told me I had to come to Jesus."

"I said you were going to hell," Colin said. "There's a difference."

"So I got me a penance," Noel continued, ignoring him. "I ain't going to hell now. These other guys -- most of them, not so lucky, you know?"

"Hey," a burly inmate said, tapping Colin on the shoulder. One of the Italians, Colin thought. "You want a look?"

Colin gave him a bright, entirely false smile. "I'd like nothing better."

He spent the morning reading fortunes, telling and warning, sometimes lying with flair if the future he saw was too grim and the man whose eyes he looked into wasn't the sort of man who would accept it. He shuffled cards, watched the backgammon game, joked, laughed, bartered for favors, looked people in the eye. It was -- good, for the most part. As good as it could be, anyway. Prison might be a hell of a sort, but there were small pleasures even in hell.

He didn't see Joseph anywhere, but just before lunchtime a certain man he'd been waiting for sidled up to him and offered a candy bar silently as payment. Colin waved it aside.

"You have something else I want, Aaron," he said, and the little man with the candy bar frowned for a second before smiling agreeably, posture changing -- the tilt of his hips, the set of his shoulders. Colin shook his head again. "Not that."

"What then?" Aaron asked.

"Sit," Colin said, gesturing at the bench. He looked down, so that Aaron wouldn't think he was trying to trick him, shuffling a deck of cards. "If I remember, you used to be someone who followed the guards."

Aaron nodded.

"Who you with? Bloods? Muslims?"

"Bloods," Aaron said carelessly. Colin raised an eyebrow without looking up.

"Why'd they keep you?"

"Oh -- not like Laney?" Aaron asked. "I got uses. So. You need information?"

"I need a lot of information," Colin said. "Time was I knew everything that moved in this prison."

"You went out," Aaron said.

"Yep. So now I need your help. I need to know where the guards go, what they do. Who works where. And I need you to shut the hell up about it to anyone outside of you and me, you understand?" Colin said. He cut the deck one-handed and reassembled it. "You don't tell anyone the questions I ask you."

Aaron shrugged. "Easy enough. Don't nobody care."

"Tell me where they go when they get off shift."

"Locker room, most of them," Aaron said.

"The ones that don't?"

"Parking lot? Mostly."

Colin tilted his head and looked up, keeping his eyes carefully off Aaron's. "What about the warden. They report there? Anyone go there regularly?"

Aaron frowned and shook his head. "No. Don't need to."

"And the warden? When he arrives in the morning, where does he go?"

"His office."

"He stays there all day? Does he ever go to the loading dock? Does he meet with anyone?"

"No," Aaron said. Colin could see his curiosity almost getting the better of him; good. He'd keep a close watch on the guards, wondering what it was Colin wanted from them.

"Fair payment?" Aaron asked, and Colin nodded, lifting his eyes. Aaron was not destined to spend much longer in Railburg, though it was difficult to tell whether he was leaving in an ambulance or a body bag. Colin chewed on his lip.

"Watch your back," he said finally. "Get a transfer somewhere."

Aaron's expression barely changed, but fear radiated off him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Get out of Railburg."

"Why?" Aaron asked.

"Can't say," Colin said. "I don't know. Hey, I'll need you again," he added, as Aaron stood to hurry away. "Come see me when you know more."

Aaron's face twisted uncertainly, but he gave a quick nod and then half-ran across the yard, back to the safety of his gang.

"What was that all about?" Gutierrez asked, when Aaron was gone.

"Needed information," Colin said with a shrug.

"Aaron follows the guards," Noel told Laney, who frowned.

"Follows 'em?" he asked.

"Sure. Can't look at the guards, right?" Noel asked, tucking a cigarette between his lips and lighting it. "It's against regs. So, you start to see 'em sidelong. Look at 'em out of the corner of your eye. Soon you just know where they are, don't have to look. Some folks, they know a lot more. Some folks need the guards more," he added, with a little chuckle, but he subsided when he saw Colin's glare. "Anyway. Aaron, he knows where they all is. Always."

Laney whistled low. "That's good mojo," he said. The other inmates around them nodded.

"Speaking of which, your guard's comin'," Noel said in a low voice to Colin, tilting his head sideways at the patrol alley. Colin couldn't see the entrance to the patrol alley from where he sat, but Noel could, and he must have been watching for him.

Colin started to turn, but he didn't anticipate the consciousness that struck him before he could: consciousness of Joseph, not just that he was nearby but where he was and how he moved. He felt for the other guards and didn't find them; just Joseph, stalking like a big cat into the sunlight, taking his bearings behind the chain-link fence.

This was new -- Colin had never felt the guards before like others did. He'd studied them long enough to know on instinct where they'd be, but that was only educated guessing.

He looked up to find Joseph with his actual eyes, and for a second he thought there was a trick of the light -- it was overcast out, and the indirect sunlight was occasionally causing little optical illusions here and there. He blinked, to be sure, but it was still there when he looked again.

The sun was striking Joseph full on, haloing his blond hair and throwing his sharp-featured face into shadow. But his eyes were visible and clear of the shade, even a little dull, plain and not as quick as usual. Instead, the shade was stretched out behind him, following him like a second shadow -- it was a second shadow. Joseph had two shadows, each moving along like a version of himself, one a little darker than the other.

Colin had never seen that before, and he'd seen a lot in Railburg. He had no idea what it meant. Only that Joseph had two shadows, and that was not ordinary. Not wrong or right yet, but --

"Head down, mijo," Gutierrez warned, ducking Colin's head for him before anyone could notice Colin staring so openly at a guard.

"New pig," Laney said.

"What's up with him?" another inmate asked. "Hey, Suicide, you know?"

"No," Colin lied. He could still feel Joseph on the edge of his consciousness, restless and curious. "No, I dunno about him. So," he added brightly, turning to Gutierrez in the hopes of changing the subject, "Galano. I am tasked with the burden of fucking some shit up."

"Hell, yeah," another inmate said. "I'm tired of rotten food."

"Everyone's tired of rotten food," Gutierrez said.

"The Italians definitely are. Maybe the other gangs got on them, Galano's an Italian name. So?" Colin prodded at Gutierrez. "Any ideas? He got a gang?"

"Galano's got mojo," someone announced. "Nobody touch him, man."

"Yeah?" Colin asked. "No gang? So why hasn't someone stomped him yet?"

"No, man, nobody touch him," the man said. "He's a fucking weasel. Can't get a hand on him, he just slips the fuck away. Don't need a gang."

"Anyone try?" Colin asked, turning to the little cluster of men around the table.

"I know a guy in his block who did," the inmate confirmed. "Went after him on the yard, Galano just -- " he waved his fingers. "Poof. Gone, man. Went after him in the shower, he turned into steam and ran away. Next day, the guy's teeth started falling out."

It wasn't exactly the news he wanted. Apparently a frontal assault was out, even if they could get into his cell block. Which was dubious -- and if Colin was caught, it'd wreck his chances of helping Joseph.

Gutierrez blew air through his lips. "I have a plan, maybe."

"Maybe?" Colin asked. Gutierrez looked around at the expectant faces, and Colin took the hint.

"Clear out, boys," Colin drawled. "Noel, Laney, you too."

The others melted away slowly, reluctantly; gossip was almost as good a commodity as food or cigarettes, and it was a contact sport with these guys. He watched Noel and Laney wander over to Rifkin's corner. In the back of his mind, Joseph was walking out of the patrol alley and into the overwarm break room.

"What're you thinking?" Colin asked, when he was reasonably sure they wouldn't be heard.

"Galano's got something wrong," Gutierrez said. He tilted his bald head. "What was he like outside?"

"Mean. Greedy. Smart," Colin said.

"I think there's something in him," Gutierrez said.

"Like a disease?"

"More like a demon. I think we should do an exorcism," Gutierrez said. "Or you could steal his soul."

"I don't know if he has one," Colin replied. He couldn't imagine himself drawing Galano, couldn't see his face clearly even if he wanted to do it from memory.

"You got a better idea?" Gutierrez challenged. Colin considered it.

"Maybe we think bigger," he said.

"Bigger than exorcism?" Gutierrez was skeptical.

"Bigger exorcism," Colin murmured. He was almost afraid to say the words aloud.

Gutierrez sat back, obviously turning it over in his mind. "Don't say it," he said finally. "Even just between us, if you put that in the air, Galano will hear it. Hell, the warden'll hear that."

"Think about it," Colin said.

"I am, and it's scaring the fuck out of me, Suicide."

"Me too. Let it go for now?" Colin suggested. "It'll take time, anyway."

"Fortunately," Gutierrez said drily, "I have plenty of that."

---

ELEVEN

That night, Colin went back to Noel's cell and sat down on his bunk, while Noel fiddled with pots of ink on the table across from him. They were quiet, not the important silence of the last time but just a comfortable peace, a little anticipatory. Noel glanced over his shoulder at Colin, a question in his gaze; Colin sat forward a little, clasping his hands between his knees.

"How do you feel about faces?" Colin asked.

Noel turned, long fingers toying anxiously with the hem of his shirt while he thought about it. Colin could see the hesitation; faces had a lot of nerve endings. On the other hand, the point was the pain, and Colin knew Noel liked to be challenged. So few inmates were willing to go there -- even here, the face was off-limits to most. And the men who would do that, the Aryans and the hardcore bangers and those who would probably not survive prison very long, they generally weren't the kind of men Noel wanted to touch, let alone draw blood from. Even penance had its limits.

Finally, Noel crossed the narrow space between them and bent over, cupping his palms around Colin's cheekbones, tipping his face up to examine it. Colin felt his thumbs smooth over the skin, testing its elasticity, finding the shape of the skull beneath -- the lantern jaw, the solid temples, the high brow.

"Sit back," Noel said. "Head against the cinderblock."

Colin slid back until his shoulders and head were supported by the cold concrete. Noel took up the needle and razor, sterilized black in the flame of an illegal candle. He set out a tray next to Colin's hip, little divots filled with an assortment of home-made pigments, artist's inks, and food dyes. He washed his hands, scrubbing thoroughly with lye soap -- not that it mattered, not with Colin -- but with other prisoners, whose tattoos would be permanent, it did matter. He knew Noel didn't like to break habit.

Colin closed his eyes as Noel straddled his thighs and swabbed his face clean. He could feel when Noel began to work -- both the rub of an inkstained thumb against his skin and the pressure of the pinpricks.

When he got too close to the eyes, or worked directly over the bone, Noel whimpered softly. Colin raised a hand and rested it on Noel's hip, steadying, hopefully anchoring. Some of it was concern, of course; he didn't like that Noel was in pain. But he also didn't want Noel to slip and accidentally stab him in the eye. When Noel started on the sensitive hollow just at the corner of his lip, Colin tightened his fingers a little.

"Your man in the guards, people talking about him," Noel rasped, obviously trying to push through the pain with words. "He's got two shadows. Ain't never seen nothing like that. Don't answer," he added, when Colin's lips almost parted to ask what the inmates thought. "They say he's a'right, for a guard. Don't bother nobody too much."

He sank the needle too deep momentarily and Colin felt it, not painful, just present; Noel leaned back and panted for a minute, trying to regain control.

"Sorry," Colin murmured, not moving more than his lips.

"Not your fault," Noel said. He leaned forward and began working again. Colin opened his eyes and watched Noel's as they swept over his face, focused on small patches of skin. He saw Noel's parole -- not as soon as Noel hoped, but sooner than he feared. He also saw a shadow falling over it, some undetermined other fate that might still snatch Noel away before he could leave Railburg. It was a shadow he saw a lot, in the eyes of the men on the yard.

Noel worked his way up Colin's temple on the other side of his face. "You can talk now," he said, as if he understood Colin wanted to. "Just don't make no faces."

"When you get out," Colin told him, after a few heartbeats, "you should look me up."

Noel laughed, then hitched a breath, flicking the edge of the razor through Colin's skin briefly. "That's what they all say, man."

"I mean it. I haven't got much, but I'm happy to help you out. I know people, I can set you up."

Noel paused and met his eyes, then went back to work. "You, set me up."

"Yeah. On the outside you could really -- " Colin stopped as Noel hissed, waited for him to breathe through it. "You could have a good studio outside. I'll be there when you get out, look me up."

"Nah, Suicide, you run around too much."

"Not anymore," Colin said. "I'll be in New York. You'll find me."

Noel was silent for a few minutes, examining Colin's face, not for hints of emotion or truth but just to see if his work was complete. Finally he leaned back and eased off the bed, staggering to the sink like a drunk, fetching up the little shaving mirror to toss it to Colin.

Colin studied himself in the mirror, resisting the urge to make faces. Beyond him he could see Noel wetting his hands, running them through his reddish hair.

The tattoo started in points on either side of his forehead, sweeping down over his temples in black and curling under his eyes, little red tendrils stretched across his cheekbones. They continued into curlicues down the sides of his face, terminating in tight black spirals at the corners of his mouth. The effect was a little like some kind of baroque decoration, and made him look like he was wearing his face as a mask, with something harder and infinitely more dangerous underneath.

"Thank you," he told Noel, easing off the bed, careful not to upset the ink pots.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," Noel rasped. Colin let himself out through the bars.

***

Colin decided to let the tattoo run off in the showers the next morning. He'd let the guys on the cell block see, then wash it clean and present a fresh, uninjured face to Railburg. Word would get around. These little displays of power were always useful; they posed no specific threat, but they reminded others that he had the mojo.

When he emerged from his cell, joining the shuffling line to the showers, the startled faces of the other inmates were vivid and satisfying. Here and there they murmured to each other, casting sidelong glances at him. He maintained an impassive expression, and saw Noel's proud look even though he seemed haggard, as if the pain had kept him awake.

Then Colin reached the door to the shower room, and saw Joseph keeping watch while a second Correctional Officer did random cavity searches (oh, the joys of prison life). Joseph saw him, too, let his eyes drift past him before they snapped back. One of the shadows jerked and flickered. His face would have been priceless on the outside, but the shadow in here was an unknown quantity. Colin didn't know what this Joseph, in his uniform and with his mace and baton on his belt, would do.

He kept his eyes down as he passed. Joseph didn't say anything. He could feel shock and turmoil as if it were his own, and anger as well; the rough-edged worry made him want to throw up. Joseph kept a lot more under the lid than even Colin had expected.

The showers came on and he lifted his face into the spray, sharply cold at first before the warm water kicked in. He could hear Noel's cry of pain as Colin rubbed his face, hands coming away covered in black and red ink. The water washed it down his arms in streams; black dribbled down his chest, streaking it gray before disappearing into the drain. He rubbed at the line of his jaw, the soft skin around his eyes, the sides of his face, until the water ran clean and no more ink splattered to the tile. If he glanced casually to the side he could see the lines of Noel's body straighten, his movements less hesitant without the pain.

When he walked back out, Joseph stared openly. Colin could feel him grow calmer -- though not by much -- and he smiled bitterly.

The guards never understood. They might ignore it, because they had to, but that didn't mean they understood it. Even Joseph couldn't understand.

***

Gutierrez had a call to the visitor's room that day, so Colin went looking for Noel and Laney after a hastily-eaten breakfast. Noel was with the Bloods, not Laney's former comrades but one of the other subdivisions, apparently consulting about a tattoo. Colin smiled, a little paternal -- if a white ex-Aryan was sitting with a handful of black men and taking no harm, then Noel would be all right. Nobody would let the best ink artist in the prison get his fingers broken by a bunch of hopped up thugs like the Brotherhood. Though the Aryans were also watching, and looking at Colin when they thought he wasn't looking at them.

Laney was sitting alone, toying with the cheap plastic checkers of the backgammon board. Colin slid onto the bench across from him and picked one up, flicking it back and forth between his hands, changing it -- red to white to red again.

"Tell me about Guye," Colin said. Laney's hand stopped the spinning checker piece, slapping it flat. Interesting. "Natell tells a lot of stories about the Darkman."

"Darkman's more important," Laney replied. "Guye, he sees you, what happens? Nothing. Darkman sees you, he could eat you."

"But you must know stories about Guye," Colin pressed, more interested in what Laney thought of him than anything else -- though no information was wasted, certainly not with the Darkman's riders at the gates. "Natell says the soldiers are gone from the city. If the Darkman's riders are here, where'd all Guye's soldiers go?"

Laney gave him a half-smile. "Bahamas? North pole? Fucked if I know. I don't see them around."

"You think they might come here, though?"

"I don't know, man. What's an angel want with prison?" he asked, looking down again. "Nobody here to save."

"There's you," Colin pointed out.

"I learned a long time ago I gotta save myself," Laney said. "I'm thinking maybe, when I get out, I'll enlist. Better than boosting cars, right?"

"They'd probably let you in," Colin said, rolling with the change of subject, knowing better than to push. "You graduate high school?"

"Chaplain's on me to get my GED. Fucking sucks," Laney added. "Pointless shit."

"Most of it," Colin agreed. He'd dropped out himself, tired of being spoon-fed knowledge he would never use and of the relentless insistence on respect for authority. He had a forged high school diploma somewhere. "Not a lot of use for guys like us, huh?"

"You think I'm like you, Suicide?" Laney asked, only a little disdainfully.

"We're both here, aren't we?" Colin waved a hand at the yard. "You want to stop ending up back here..."

"Yeah," Laney sighed and sat back, one hand still covering the backgammon piece. Colin flipped his midair -- white going up, red coming down. "Have to survive in here, first."

"Bloods'll more or less leave you alone, right?" Colin asked. Laney half-shrugged. "Crips probably will too if you're not banging for the Bloods. What're you worried about, La Mugre? The Italians? They don't care about you."

"Aryans do, though," Laney said. "One of 'em called me an uppity negro this morning. Making a white boy and a spic protect me, he said."

"We do have that problem to solve," Colin said, glancing sidelong at the gang of white men with shaved heads now circled in a tight knot, hands passing things back and forth. Must be drugs day for someone. "Knock one down, another one gets up."

"I can't hide behind you forever," Laney said. "Gutierrez won't shift his shit for me either."

"You shouldn't've thrown down with him," Colin said, though he got it -- in Laney's world, the good guys were a distant angel and a nonexistent God. Laney would naturally be angry that Gutierrez was siding with the absentee dad who abandoned him and the other kids to the Darkman's tender mercies.

"I keep thinking," Laney said, a dry smile on his face, "what if he really talks to God? What if God's here, in Railburg? Wonder what he's in for," he added, and laughed humorlessly.

It was kind of funny in a terrible way, God doing five to fifteen for felony. Child neglect, perhaps.

"What're we going to do about the Aryans?" Colin asked.

"You ain't gonna do shit. I gotta figure it out," Laney said. "Get some breathing room, I can make it happen. Just needed one goddamn day I wasn't getting my ass kicked."

"We aim to please," Colin drawled. He looked up and saw Gutierrez emerging from inside, a grin on his face. "Hey! Gutierrez!"

"Good morning," Gutierrez said, dropping down onto the bench next to Colin.

"How's Carmen?" Colin asked, pleased with Gutierrez's lit-up face.

"She's good, really good," Gutierrez replied. "She got promoted. Office Manager. Ooh, mijo, she looks sharp."

"That's great," Colin answered. "How's your kid?"

"Still growing like a weed. I'm very lucky, you know. Not many men in here still get to see their woman after fifteen years."

Colin nodded, though he didn't have a ready reply for it. Gutierrez looked over at him and frowned.

"Oh, man, no, I'm sorry -- " he started, and Colin waved it off.

"Some people can't wait," he said with a shrug. "Doesn't matter. I'm glad you get to see her."

"Hey, your woman ever visit you?" Gutierrez asked, turning to Laney, who looked surprised.

"Sure. She came a few times," Laney said. "Ain't cheap to get out here."

"That's the truth. Carmen, she doesn't like the train, either," Gutierrez continued. "She thinks, you know, she's making more money now, my boy's earning, maybe they'll buy a car. I think she should get a big old Buick or something. My boy says he wants a hybrid, one of these new electric cars. I asked him, does he know how to fix a hybrid? He said no, sir, so I said, stick with what you can fix. Hey," he added, leaning close to Colin. "Some time, you should come with me, Suicide. I want you to tell my boy's future."

"You sure about that?" Colin asked. "You might not like it."

"He's a good kid. You see something else, lie to me," Gutierrez said with a laugh.

"Speaking of kids," Colin added, glancing over Gutierrez's shoulder. Aaron, the nervous little man who followed the guards, was crossing the yard, obviously heading for them. On his way there, one of the Aryans stretched out a sinewy arm and shoved him. He stumbled, kept his eyes down, and hurried a little faster. "What the hell is this, high school?"

"Most of 'em wouldn't know," Gutierrez said, carefully not looking at the Aryans. Laney was deeply engrossed in his backgammon board. "When you're done with him, we should -- "

"I need to talk to you," Aaron said breathlessly, as he arrived. Colin nodded at Gutierrez, and Aaron turned sharply. "Sorry to interrupt."

Gutierrez waved it off. "Don't let it happen again."

"No, sure. I think I know what you're looking for," Aaron said to Colin. He glanced at Laney, obviously wondering if he should speak further.

"Gutierrez, you want a game?" Laney asked, tipping up the backgammon board.

"You can't play worth shit," Gutierrez said, but he turned on the bench to start helping him set it up. Colin grasped Aaron by the elbow and pulled him away, towards the cell block.

"That was fast," he said, crossing his arms and leaning on the stone of the outer wall.

"It's something I've been seeing a lot," Aaron said, talking fast. "I didn't think about it yesterday when you asked. The swing shift is acting weird."

"How so?" Colin asked, leaning in further. There was a guffaw from the Aryans; Colin ignored it.

"I thought -- the swing shift Captain has his own office, okay? But a couple of the guards keep going into the day shift's office. I thought maybe his was being cleaned or something, but he's still in there every day. Right after shift change, once he's gone, two or three guys go into the day shift office. Right before the end of their shift, too."

"You think they're, what, meeting?"

"I don't know," Aaron said. "They go down to the loading dock a lot. More guards than they need to have for deliveries."

Colin frowned. "Swing shift takes deliveries?"

"Sure -- laundry, commissary stuff, food deliveries. I wouldn't say anything, but you asked," Aaron said.

"Yeah," Colin said, turning this over in his mind. If the swing shift was taking deliveries, that could be how the money was coming in. Wouldn't take much to convince a prison laundry driver to haul a few unmarked bags on every trip. "Thanks, Aaron. Hey, are you getting shit from those guys?" he added, tipping his head a little at the Aryans.

Aaron gave him a small grin. "I always get shit. Everyone gets shit from them. Never amounts to anything. They know I'm in with the Bloods."

"All right. Thanks, man, I owe you. Cash in anytime," Colin said. He watched Aaron walk away, casually diverting around the Aryans, slinking along the line of the fence until he was safe again.

The question was, of course, how to get this information to Joseph; he'd been given a phone card and told to call in to the NYPD with any information, but he had to be subtle and there was usually a wait for the phones. It would keep, anyway. An operation this big didn't fold up overnight.

***

He got his opportunity earlier than he expected, just after lunch. The afternoon visitations were called, and he was so distracted watching Joseph's second shadow flick over the wall as he patrolled the dining hall that he almost didn't hear his own name. Joseph, carefully, didn't look up, but Colin felt a certain sense of satisfaction from him. Interesting.

After all, he didn't exactly have a network of friends on the outside who'd come visit him, and Grace was long gone. Still, it couldn't be a mistake, not with Joseph playing things that cool. So he went along, waiting on a bench in the anteroom, watching the other inmates come and go, wondering if the other side of the wall had another identical room for the visitors to wait in. Probably with nicer chairs.

He'd never thought much about it when Grace was visiting last time, too eager for their few stolen minutes where they could at least talk a little. She was good at making conversation out of nothing, just as good as he was; the visits were awkward and always undercut with something unsettling, but he liked to see her and to speak with her. Even after the last time they'd spoken, when he sort of knew it was done, he'd missed her.

When his name was called, he walked to one of the little cubicles with the double-paned glass and almost laughed. It was Analise, in one of her best executive suits, looking not a little bit out of place. Behind her, leaning against the wall, a tall woman watched with impassive eyes as Colin sat down. Lise's attention was all on him; her eyes didn't leave his face, studying it out, scanning it.

"Lise," Colin said with a broad smile. She gave him a searching look. "Good to see you, sweetheart."

"Wish I could say the same," she answered. Colin leaned forward.

"Bring me any treats?" he asked with a smile.

"You're in prison. Prisoners don't get treats," she told him, but she cracked a smile as she said it, teasing. Light. One little piece of light in Railburg.

"Aw, don't be a hardass," he moaned.

"Sorry," she said. "How are you?"

"Okay," he said, and then repeated himself because even he could hear the strain in his voice. "I'm okay. How're you?"

"I've had better weeks," she admitted. "J said I should come see you."

"Yeah?" he asked, sitting forward. She was still studying his face. Joseph had seen the tattoo and seen it disappear; he must have told her.

"I think he wanted me to check up on you. It's easier for us to talk," she said, which was true. She smiled a little. "It's pretty exciting."

"That fades," he told her drily. "So? How do I look?"

She dropped her eyes. "He's worried about you. He thought he saw -- "

"Look, it's fine," he said, putting a hand to his cheek, fingers drifting over it. "I told him he wouldn't understand."

"And me?" she asked. He frowned.

"I hope you never understand," he said quietly. She still didn't look up; her hands were twisting together, resting on the little ledge of table on the other side of the glass.

"He has two shadows," she blurted. "I know he -- I mean," she added, "I know we talked about -- about him before -- but it's gone now and there's this shadow in its place."

"I know," Colin said, trying to keep his voice low, calming. "I saw. Has it hurt you?"

She shook her head. "What is it?"

"I don't know. I don't think..." Colin chewed on his lip. "He's not that kind of man. I don't think it'll hurt you."

"I don't like it," she said.

"I don't either, but..." he shrugged. "We'll figure it out. Listen," he added, "Can you tell him something for me? Might make this go faster."

"What?" she asked.

Colin glanced sidelong at the guard, but he wasn't listening, busy watching some guy talking to his girlfriend a few chairs down.

"Tell him the Warden's not his guy," he said, so softly she craned her neck forward a little to hear. "Tell him it's the swing shift."

"The swing shift?" she asked, curious but still subdued.

"He'll understand," he said. She nodded.

"I'll give him your message," she said. "Are you okay?"

He gave her his broadest, most sincere grin. "I'm fine. Worry about him, he needs it more."

She nodded and glanced up at the guard, who was looking slightly impatient. "See you soon," she whispered, and left. Colin sat back for a second, exhaling, and then got up to clear the visiting booth for another inmate.

---

TWELVE

Dinner that night was almost completely inedible, though nobody realized it at first.

Colin was sure there would be a riot. Pizza, even shoddy cheap pizza prepared by the kitchen staff, was a rare treat. It seemed fine, too, until one of the inmates at the next table over made the mistake of looking at the crust. Thin black mold had spread across the underside, a little too furry to be char-marks, not quite thick enough to be noticeable. Colin swallowed, set his own slice down, and carefully slid some of the melted cheese off with his thumb. There was more of it growing between cheese and sauce.

He'd eaten worse, at various desperate times, and it probably wasn't going to kill anyone, but nobody was going to eat this bullshit and like it. Next to him, Laney looked sick; Noel hadn't even started eating yet, but he was staring at Colin's food with wide eyes.

Prisoners had rioted over badly-prepared meals before; food was one of the few legal pleasures they got. As satisfying as it might be to see a full-on insurrection in the ranks, he had no desire to be caught in that kind of violence. He saw Gutierrez sweeping the room, taking in the mood, and leaned forward.

"How fast can we get out?" Colin asked softly.

"If we go over the table behind me, take the west entrance, pretty fast," Gutierrez replied. "Your cell's closest."

"What's going on?" Laney asked.

"Might be a riot," Noel told him, hunching lower, picking out the least rotten-looking bits of the fruit salad they'd served with the moldy pizza.

"What do you think?" Gutierrez asked Colin.

The thing was, Colin couldn't feel the tension rising like he normally could when something bad was going to happen. Behind Gutierrez, he saw one guy lift up the cheese on his food and just scrape the sauce and mold to one side before he kept eating. The Italians were looking furious -- but they were eating, too.

"I don't know," he said, baffled.

"I got some ramen in my cell," Noel suggested.

"I got sandwich crackers. Peanut butter," Laney added, pulling them out of the roll of his sleeve, tucking a few stray cigarettes back in. He tore the package open and passed two to Gutierrez with a significant look at Colin, then handed one to Colin and one to Noel. The last two he crammed into his own mouth before the guy next to him could try to steal them. Colin did likewise. Noel and Gutierrez were already swallowing.

"There's something really fucking wrong here," Colin said to Gutierrez, glancing around at the dull-eyed men eating parts of moldless crust or scraping mold to one side.

"Galano," Noel shrugged. "We knew that."

"We'll figure it out," Colin said. "We're on it."

Laney glanced at Gutierrez.

"Better figure it out soon," he said, but he said it quietly enough that Gutierrez could at least pretend not to hear.

***

The food didn't get any better. A day and a half had passed and still most of the dining-hall fare needed to be inspected carefully, taken apart to find what few morsels would be edible. Noel was living on ramen noodles; Gutierrez had a good stash of food from Carmen, but Colin had very little and was bargaining hard, offering his services as a thief in return for snacks from the other prisoners. Laney, who had no social capital to cash in, negotiated food from the commissary with the last of his credit. Most of the other prisoners were doing likewise; the commissary itself was fast running out of supplies.

Colin didn't realize until that afternoon that he hadn't felt Joseph's presence since the night before. He was starving hungry and working hard to make sure he ate decently that day, but that was distraction only. He should know where Joseph was -- he'd become used to the low buzz of his presence in the background, to knowing when he walked out into the yard or patrolled at mealtime.

He stopped in the middle of dealing cards, shoulders stiff, head raised as if it would help him; Noel noticed his panic and went still as well. Colin reached for Joseph, hard, and got nothing in return. Noel put a hand on the small of his back, a question on his face.

He wasn't sure whether his panic triggered it or whether Joseph just had excellent timing, but before he could even move again he felt it -- Joseph was waking up, alone in the big bed in his and Lise's house, just barely conscious.

He must have changed to the swing shift. Colin exhaled, relieved, and ignored Laney's curious look and Noel's knowing one.

He spent the afternoon waiting for Joseph to arrive for his shift, impatient, anxious to see him and confirm he was fine. Gutierrez played cards with Noel and occasionally dealt Laney in; Colin passed the time doing cheap sleight-of-hand tricks to entertain a couple of inmates, until a beefy hand pushed one of them aside. A shaved head blotted out the sun.

The man was huge, and he had an iron cross on his scalp just behind his ear. Noel's work from way back, Colin thought idly, as the man elbowed Laney over and sat down across the table from Colin. Laney looked like he was going to shove back for a second, but Gutierrez put out a hand, stilling him.

"Parker," Colin said, still looking down at the backgammon checker he was flicking between his fingers.

"You want to look me in the eye?" Parker demanded. Colin raised his head a little, grinning. The other inmates were slowly drifting away with studied indolence, except for a few who were drawing closer, waiting for the fight to break out.

"Not especially," Colin replied. Parker reached out and grabbed him by the chin, lifting his head further. Colin let him; Noel had gone tense and coiled, ready to spring, and Gutierrez was watching warily. "You won't like what you hear," Colin added.

"Have a look," Parker invited. Colin met his eyes and ignored everything he saw in them, concentrating instead on keeping his expression just on the dangerous side of impassive. They stared at each other for a few seconds before his jaw was released.

On the edge of his vision, Colin saw Gutierrez reaching for the thin, sharpened slip of metal he carried in the elastic of his underwear.

"I don't owe you anything," Colin said. "Pay up, and I'll tell you what I saw."

"You keep taking our toys," Parker said.

"I can't help it if you don't look after them," Colin replied. "Don't test my patience, Parker."

"I'm not afraid of you," Parker snarled.

"Remember McCall?" Colin asked. "I stole his soul. Right out of him," he said, snapping his fingers without looking away. He could feel Noel flinch. "You think it was coincidence Henrik and I disappeared at the same time? You should learn to be careful, Parker."

It was a bluff, mostly; Parker was a monster, a rapist and an extortionist, but he wasn't even close to what McCall had been. Colin wouldn't waste his ticket out of Railburg on a frightened idiot like Parker. He kept his stare cool and even.

Parker blinked first, even if he didn't look away when he spoke. "I ain't afraid of you," he repeated.

"You should be," Colin answered. "You should tell your new boss to leave us alone, or he'll get what Henrik got."

"Say what you see, you little punk-ass," Parker snapped.

"Well, that depends on you, doesn't it?" Colin replied calmly. "You walk away now, you might get parole in five, six years. You touch me again and I'll snap your hand off at the wrist. You still might get parole, but it's hard to get a job with a felony conviction and only five fingers."

He heard Noel make a small sound of surprise, but he doubted it was for him. Laney was breathing hard. Something was going on beyond his field of vision, beyond Parker's red-rimmed eyes, but at the moment looking away wasn't an option.

"Big talk," Parker sneered, but he was scared of something too. Colin didn't move as Parker slid off the bench, walking away with a swagger. He gave it a count of ten before he closed his eyes slowly.

"They're not going to let that go," he said. He expected a response of some sort, but when he opened his eyes Laney and Noel were both staring over his shoulder. Colin turned.

There was a man perched on the roof of the guard tower that overlooked two of the exercise yards. Colin wondered for a second how he'd managed to get over the fence and up to the roof before he realized the man wasn't in either an orange prison uniform or the black the guards wore.

He was on all fours, feet braced against the peaked top of the tower, his hands gripping the tar shingles lower down. He was wearing what looked like desert camo -- it blended in against the grey-and-white roof well enough that it had to be. His skin seemed brown beneath the heat shimmer off the tiles, but it was hard to tell.

"Is that you?" Noel asked softly. "Doing that, is that you?"

"I don't think so," Colin said. He scanned the guard tower and noticed a figure down below – a woman, standing at the base of the tower, hair pulled back from her face in the heat of the paved yard. He turned away quickly, back to Laney, about to ask if the man on the tower room was what he thought he was.

The question choked itself off in his throat. Laney's eyes were red, vivid luminous red, unblinking.

"Who is he?" Noel breathed, still staring at the tower.

"Who?" Gutierrez asked.

Colin glanced sharply at Gutierrez, who was following Noel's gaze, shading his eyes, perplexed. The man was right there -- not moving, but definitely visible.

"Don't you see that?" Colin gestured with his head. "On the roof of the guard tower."

"I don't see anything but you three staring at the guard tower like you want to get shot," Gutierrez replied.

"It's one of Guye's," Laney said. "It's one of the soldiers."

"That's good, isn't it?" Colin asked.

Laney blinked -- the red was already fading from his eyes. When Colin turned to look at the tower again, the soldier and woman were both gone.

"I don't like it," Laney said.

"But Guye -- "

"You ever been in a crossfire?" Laney asked, before Colin could finish. "I don't know about you but I don't want to be in the middle of no battlefield."

"Laney, you ever see one of those soldiers up close?" Colin asked. Laney, relaxing, gave him a shrug.

"Sure. Natell's brother, he went to Afghanistan. Night he died over there, we all saw him. Said he was gonna go join up Guye's army. Natell seen him a few times since."

"Who's Guye?" Noel asked. Colin shook his head.

"He's Laney's," he said, voice hardly above a whisper. "Don't ask, you don't want to be told."

"What the hell did you two bring with you to Railburg?" Gutierrez asked.

"I don't think it's us," Colin said.

"It's the way things are," Laney added. "I didn't bring Darkman's riders here. I just came with 'em."

"God doesn't have anything to do with Guye," Gutierrez said, frustration clouding his normally peaceful features. "You get them out of this prison, Suicide."

Colin shook his head. "I can't. Laney can, maybe. Laney, you see them coming over the wall, you better tell us."

"I see them coming over the wall, I'm getting my ass thrown in Seg where they can't do me no harm," Laney replied.

"Enough," Gutierrez said. "Enough. We have imaginary angels and real Aryans, and between the two the Aryans are probably going to try and kick our asses first. They're not going to leave you alone, Suicide."

"I'm not the problem. The Aryans want Laney. They'll take Noel back, too, if they can get him," Colin said, running a hand through his hair. "Shit, I'm starving."

"Come by tonight, you can have my last shrimp cuppa soup," Noel offered.

"Maybe dinner'll be okay," Laney said dubiously.

"I ain't sure I want to eat it even if it is," Noel said. "I think it's cursed. Otherwise why ain't anyone rioting?"

"What, you gonna riot?" Laney asked. Noel laughed.

"A riot of four, that'd be good," he said. "Nah, I ain't, I don't want a riot and you don't either, fresh meat. But it shoulda happened by now. Hey – Galano, what's he in for?"

"Burglary and fraud," Colin said promptly. "Like me."

"Just like you?" Gutierrez asked. There was a note in his voice Colin didn't like. "You helped put him away."

"Yep. When I testified at his trial I thought he was going to come over the defense table and strangle me."

"Lucky he hasn't seen you yet," Noel said.

"Yeah. Guess he thinks I stabbed him in the back."

"You pretty much did," Laney pointed out.

"Bullshit. It's not like I got into a job with him and then sold him out, I just gave the cops some tips. You rip people off, you risk getting caught. He knew that," Colin said. "I have zero sympathy for him and if you ever want to eat decent food again, you shouldn't either." He hesitated. "Tell you what, if they asked me again, I'd kill him before he got the chance to do what he did."

"What, did he corrupt your precious amante?" Gutierrez asked, with a hint of amusement.

Colin stifled the urge to say what Galano had done -- the murder he'd seen, and the murder he'd only heard about.

"He came close," he answered instead. Gutierrez stopped smiling. "I thought when they got him he might have an accident on the way to booking."

"So? Wouldn't be the first time," Gutierrez said. He sounded weary, like he knew just how often it happened.

"My amante's not like that. He wouldn't do that. It's the only time I ever thought, well, maybe he would," Colin said. "And yeah, maybe I shouldn't blame Galano for that, but I do. He poisons people. If I had to do it again, I'd handle it myself."

As he spoke, people began to drift towards the doors, anticipating the klaxon for dinner. Laney looked restless, and Noel watching the others warily.

"I need to make a call," Colin said. It would be better to try and get to a phone right before the meal; even if the food was terrible, there was a sort of intensity about meals now, trying to grab as much as possible so that there would be at least a little more of it that was edible. "Go on to dinner. I might be late coming in. Don't worry about saving me anything."

Laney shrugged and stood up to join the men heading for the doors, walking a little more confidently than he had a few days earlier. Noel followed him, avoiding a crowd of Aryans pushing through. Colin started for the far door that led to the little room where the pay phones were, but Gutierrez stopped him briefly with a hand on his chest.

"Galano isn't a burglar," he said quietly. "Not really. He might've been convicted as one, but that's not really why he's here. And he's not like you, Colin."

Colin just looked at him, inquisitive.

"Why'd you lie to those boys?" Gutierrez continued.

"It's not really -- "

"Don't bullshit me, I was bullshitting before you were born. Why'd you lie?"

Colin shrugged. "Lying's what I do."

"Are you scared of him?"

"A guy who rots food and turns into steam when you touch him? Fuck yes, I'm scared of him," Colin retorted.

"What did he do?" Gutierrez asked.

"He killed people. I can't prove it," Colin said. "I don't want to talk about it."

Gutierrez was quiet for a few seconds before he spoke again. "What did he do to you?" he asked finally.

"I need to make this call, Gutierrez," Colin said, and Gutierrez took his hand away.

"Be careful what lies you tell, mijo," he warned. Colin gave him a brief, cursory nod and jogged towards the phones.

The room was empty when he arrived. He punched in the calling-card numbers from memory, shifting his weight from foot to foot as the call went through.

"Special Dispatch," said a male voice down the line.

"This is 211634," Colin recited. "Please transfer to extension 2599."

"Hold for transfer," the disembodied voice said, and after a second there was a click as the call forwarded, then a ringtone.

"Hello," Joseph said, voice slightly crackly on the cellphone the department had given him for undercover work.

"It's me," Colin said.

"Hey, honey," Joseph answered, voice warming as if it were his wife on the phone. "Listen, I just went on shift, I can't really -- " he broke off without Colin saying anything, huffing out an annoyed sigh. "Okay, okay, hang on."

"Sorry," Colin said, hearing a door shut behind Joseph. "This was the only time I knew the phone room was going to be empty."

"You'll miss dinner," Joseph pointed out.

"Yeah, that's not really an issue, considering the food these days," Colin replied. "You're on swing shift?"

"Just started tonight. How'd you know?" Joseph asked.

"I hear things. Anything I can do to help?"

"Sure. Stay out of trouble, or get me more good tips like the ones you gave Lise. I've been hanging out after my shift ends, so I've got a few leads. I'm pretty sure the guy running things keeps a ledger. I can't see how he'd track everything without it. These are not the brightest bulbs, you know?"

"Oh, believe me, I know," Colin said.

"I think the money comes in with laundry deliveries. There are always one or two bags that don't look right."

"They pay out cash for the food that comes in?"

"Uh-huh, and other services," Joseph said. "Then I'm guessing there's a bank wire transfer from the prison accounts to a shell company supposedly providing the food -- "

"Which they already paid for in cash," Colin said. "Clever, and not overly complicated."

"But they have to be doing it with five or six different companies. There are a couple of different suppliers, and they have to have an inside guy in each supply company who takes the cash and converts it, so that's another cut out of the pie. They need some way to track it all. I'm hoping they keep good records, somewhere."

"Can you get a warrant?" Colin asked, swallowing the end of the word when he heard footsteps nearby.

"Sure, I can try. Might take a few days. You know where I should look?"

"Gotta go, sweetie," Colin said, turning to face the doorway. A guard was standing there, hand on his baton. "Dinner time. Check the office for those keys. Love you, bye."

"Colin, what do you -- " Joseph was saying, but Colin hung up and hurried out past the guard, getting an elbow in the middle of his back for his tardiness as he went.

Continue to 13, 14, and 15

Comments

[ceo-badwolfcorp.livejournal.com]

!!!

You wouldn't believe how badly I want a paper copy of this in my hands right now. (I know it totally defeats the point of extribulum and all, but paper books that I can carry around and accidentally drop in puddles are just better somehow.)

nice work, Sam. Can't wait to read the rest!

[copperbadge.livejournal.com]

I'm so glad it's coming together :)

I don't think hardcopy defeats the point of extribulum, really -- the whole point of the very first one I did, with Nameless, was to get it in shape for printing. I'm not against books, by any means. I can't wait to see this in hardcopy either :)

[kallaneboi.livejournal.com]

So far, this is way better than the first draft. I'm really enjoying it and I can't wait to find out who the woman is, although I'm already guessing.

[alexiel-neesan.livejournal.com]

I'm enjoying this a lot. A lot lot. It reads more smoothly, and it hints that this strange world you describe is bigger than just those words.
The only thing I have a bit of trouble with is the second chapter. It feels that there are repetitions of the same idea, that it doesn't flows as easily as the other parts.

[copperbadge.livejournal.com]

The second chapter is I think one of the most heavily restructured ones and gives a lot of the expos, so I can see how it might still need some kneading :) Thanks, I'll have a look at it.

[copperbadge.livejournal.com]

:D I can't get away from masks!

You know what's nice, food is such a basic thing and so intrinsic to our existence that it's REALLY EASY to make it gross. Just a little tweak here, some furry mold there...

Biting into a piece of bread and only then seeing the mold on it is such a terrible experience, omg.

[revieloutionne.livejournal.com]

It doesn't even have to be food gone bad, per se, just wrong. The *only* moment in all of Infinite Jest that I think succeeded at disgusting me at the level DFW intended was when he wrote about Don Gately boiling pasta for an hour.

(Which is, as it's a result of it just never having occurred to Don to check the box for instructions, a wonderful character moment, but OH MY GOD.)

[copperbadge.livejournal.com]

All I can think is, what happens to pasta when you boil it for an hour? If it wouldn't be so wasteful, I'd have to try it to find out.

[corbistheca.livejournal.com]

Oh, there it is. Hi, mask.

When Analise visits, is the guard on duty the "tall woman leaning against the wall" or the male guard referred to later in the scene? Or are there multiple guards watching? That bit confused me.

This part about the Aryan Brotherhood as an increasingly looming threat is a new through-line this draft, right? I don't remember it from before. But the fact that I can't recall with certainty whether it IS a new addition probably means it's fitting in pretty seamlessly....

~ c.

[copperbadge.livejournal.com]

Can't get away from the masks :D Though I don't think I changed the Aryan Brotherhood thing much -- perhaps it's just the tension builds in more linear fashion now.

Re the visit by Analise -- the woman is in addition to the guard, but you're not the only person who thought that was awkward. I'll clarify more.

[brosedshield.livejournal.com]

So, I’m loving this again, though it’s weird to be watching the third incarnation of a story unfold. Weird but good. I LOVE watching the details, tracing (hahaha) out ideas that were little flickers, KNOWING that things are different this time and being able to get my hands on them and think about what these early changes will mean for the future. Like the woman that keeps appearing for Colin :D Pretty sure I know who that is, but I also think it would be pretty subtle if I HADN’T read the thing before.

Lovely tightening of the exposition, and I’m excited about continuing! Don’t feel like much help with editing, but at the same time if there’s no problems I can talk about clearly enough to critique, that’s pretty sweet.

Oh! I also love Colin’s relationship with Analise and Joseph. Or rather, last time I didn’t really believe it but this time…yeah, and part of it are strong and deep as a river, and some are tenuous like a spider’s web and all very strange but human and driven and much enjoyable.

Also to be giving silly late comments. Turned out not to be a week where I felt like reading a prison epic…*sigh

[copperbadge.livejournal.com]

It's weird watching the comments to the third incarnation, too, believe me :D I'm so glad the threesome relationship is working better now...

[abraxas-life.livejournal.com]

Oh wow, this is soooooo freakin good, so good. Cannot wait to get my hands on the finished copy. This mysterious woman is creepin me the fuck out.

Though I still don't understand when and how Noel learned about Joseph?

[copperbadge.livejournal.com]

Ah god, I never fixed that, did I. *makes a LARGE NOTE to fix*

[eccentrikita.livejournal.com]

Pacing is still very on. Tension ratcheting up, mysteries piling on top of one another, stakes set... I'm actually getting very afraid for Colin's little prison family, this read-through. Laney and Gutierrez's "theological dispute" isn't bothering me this time around, either; usually arguments about religion in books are either so simplistic or so twisty that I just wind up pissed off and rolling my eyes. In this draft it's like all the players, all the mojo, all the different ways people have of seeing angels and demons, combined with the lack of traditional theological mythos (Jesus is a punk, Gutierrez don't speak to him! XD) have put the arguments about what's real and what's not, who protects you and who doesn't, in a place where they're both interesting and relevant. Good job!

...Although I may have started shipping Noel/Colin this chapter again. It's the hand Colin puts on his hip, I think. They're so physically, supportively, mutually intimate. It makes for a really interesting dynamic. I'm glad it's there, and I like the C/L/J enough this time around that I don't want them torn apart to explore the Noel stuff... but I am still a bit wistful that it won't ever be the center of the story.

Ch 10-12C

[aliannesecunda.livejournal.com]

Sorry for the long gap - hope these still will help. I've been in NYC for the past few days, seeing shows and going to pride (Total coincidence, I didn't realize it was this weekend till I got there!), and unlike you I can't type long things on the iphone interface (though I don't have an iPhone, just an iTouch). However, I did spend the bus ride reading Dead Isle. I had comments, wish I remembered them better!

Anyway.

Ten.
- I've always loved the phrase "whispers of power". The only thing that I'm wondering about is... well, it kind of feels like Colin is bragging or something when he says "I'll tell your fortune". More like "I want to prove I can do this, and prove it here in front of everyone". Is it a kind of building his cred back up thing?
- I like "the future's not set in stone" and then Noel saying how he changed his future, but it sounds flippant to me. I don't know if that's the intent, though.
- I like this placement, hearing about Aaron's guard mojo right before Colin feels Joseph. Is this new? It works well, feels tight. And is logical.
- End: Unsure what, exactly 'bigger exorcism' means, unless it's exorcise Galano from the prison. But I'm glad that they are talking about it now, and that Colin is asking others.

Eleven.
- The timeline seems clearer already, in terms of 'this hasn't actually been long at all, it's just been a lot of things happening'.
- Oh, thank you for this description of Noel's needles and inks. This helps a lot.
- Oh so other people (prisoners only? what about other guards? not just mojo?) *can* see the Shade-shadow, even if they don't know what it means.
- I like this baroque mask tattoo - it makes me want to draw it out, so I'm just wondering if you had a picture in mind while writing it? :)
- I'm glad you used asterick breaks here, and not chapter breaks, because for me it really links it as the same day.
- Does "Noel would be all right" mean "all right while Colin talks to Laney" or "all right once Colin leaves Railburg"?
- "Must be drugs day for someone." - this is grittier, and just adds another layer to prison life. Good.
- Timeline is so much clearer!!
- Ooh, Analise can see it too!
- End: I really felt like the timeline was cleaned up here - I did get the sense of a lot packed into one day, rather than individual events on different days. So well done.

Twelve.
- This version feels like it has more seeds of expecting a riot and does a better job of conveying their fear of a riot. I still want to see a discussion of how bad prison riots can get from someone not a prisoner - Joseph, maybe? - or a memory of a bad one - something so we have a comparison point, kind of.
- Aw, Laney gave Gutierrez two. Buying his way into good graces.
- "offering his services as a thief in return for snacks" - What does Colin steal in prison? Honest question - don't they know what they have and recoginize it if it goes missing and they see it on someone else?
- Ah. Parker. Nevermind! Unless Parker is referencing stealing Laney/Noel as a toy, which is what I thought, but coming so soon after my last question...
- Aw, haven't seen Grace in a while. Hi Grace! :) I'd forgotten about you.
- Cursed food. *shiver*
- End: It felt like a lot happened here, and I'm not quite sure what happened with the laundering money scheme, but I think that's just not my strong suit.

Now bedtime. :) More tomorrow! Is there a deadline you want these by?

Re: Ch 10-12C

[copperbadge.livejournal.com]

Sounds like you had fun in NYC! These are still well in time to be helpful, thank you :) No particular deadline, I'm going to be typesetting for at least another week or two.

Addressing the issues you've brought up, mostly just making tweaks, but to answer your question about Colin's "mask" tattoo, I was thinking primarily of Maori facial tattoos, but also sort of melding them with Venetian carnevale/masquerade masks:

http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/41575_39567146391_2956564_n.jpg
http://im.quirao2.com/qimage/p/moy300/p1/casanova-baroque-or-masque-venise-151.jpg

Regarding theft in prison -- most prison commodities are consumables. Food can be hidden in cells, and cigarettes are generic for the most part. Clothing and bedding can be generic, often, and bedding wouldn't necessarily be seen by other people, in single-man cells. I'll see if I can clarify that.

Re: Ch 10-12C

[coffeecocktails.livejournal.com]

Ha, that's so cool that you had imagined a Maori tattoo when you were writing this - I'm from New Zealand, and totally pictured a moko from your description, but thought it was probably just me. The power of such a tattoo - in terms of its meaning and the mana (status) it brings - would totally add to Colin's cred in prison, too.

All the research that has gone into this novel is pretty epic.

Re: Ch 10-12C

[copperbadge.livejournal.com]

I love research! It was a lot of fun studying what I had to study -- unsettling at times, but never uninteresting.

I've been fascinated with Maori facial tattoos since I saw this image (http://lh3.ggpht.com/-FEky7WorDv4/S7KwX1Q9AsI/AAAAAAAAAus/wSEniXSa1Gw/IMG_1381.JPG) in a textbook in high school. I imagine being from NZ you've seen it before, but in case not, the context is thus -- the "realistic" drawing at top is a 19th century portrait of Tupai Kupa, a Maori Chief, done by a European, and the drawing below that is a self-portrait he himself drew. It blows me away every time I see it.