Page 47 of Firefly

When he cleared the crowd, he moved faster, rushing out the back door and into the alley. Just twenty-three short blocks away, he stopped at the hidden door to another gambling den. New York City was full of them, and he had enough time for one more stop tonight.

He knocked three times, paused, knocked again, then knocked twice. The door slid open, and a large man appeared. “No.”

Simon’s smile fell. “What do you mean, no?”

“Boss says. No. You ain’t welcome here.”

“Come on. My money spends just as good as any other.”

“We wouldn’t know, would we? We never kept none of it.”

The door was slammed in his face before Simon could say more.

It was the third gambling den tonight that had refused him entrance. His luck was drying up. After several weeks, he had enough for Rebecca and Sarah to set themselves up somewhere. The month restriction Alexander had set had expired, and there was nothing keeping him in New York any longer.

Just one thing left to do.

He crossed the street and darted into the night, stopping on the doorstep of a brownstone when he reached Jersey City and knocked.

The door swung open as Thomas Green peered out into the darkness, fully dressed even at the late hour.

“Thomas,” he said, stepping past the man into his home.

“What brings you here tonight, Simon?” His clipped tone suggested he had been waiting for another caller.

“I can keep you safe from demons, Thomas, but the men you make deals with at an hour like this aren’t my area. I hope you’re not up to anything too nefarious tonight.”

Thomas shuffled behind him, muttering something under his breath about Simon being one of those nefarious men.

Sitting in the living room of the man’s cramped home, Simon eyed the dated furniture, wondering what the man spent his illicit money on.

“What can I do for you? I have other business.”

“To the point. It’s what I like about you, Thomas.” Despite the praise, Thomas frowned. “Right. I’m here because I need you to create two false identities for me. When it’s done, I’ll need your help to fill out paperwork for a rental property.”

“I’m an attorney, Simon, not a smuggler,” Thomas answered. “What makes you think I can procure false identities for you?”

“I know the kind of people you deal with, and I’m sure I'm not the first to make this request.”

A scowl crept onto Thomas’s face.

“Might I remind you, you owe me your life,” Simon continued, “and a person who goes back on that can’t expect to be saved from a demon twice.”

“Very well. I’ll need their photos and fifty dollars. Each.”

Simon nodded. “I’ll pay you when I pick them up. When will they be ready?”

“I need two months.”

“Not soon enough. Have them ready in two weeks.”

Thomas scoffed. “There is no way—”

Simon stood, letting some of the darkness he kept hidden from the world bleed onto his face as he crossed the room and pulled Thomas to his feet. The man wriggled in his iron grip.

He pressed his nose into the man’s face. “I may have saved you once, but if you aren’t useful to me, I’ll call them here to collect you myself.”

Thomas shuddered, knees buckling as he sagged in Simon’s hold.

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