Page 23 of Gunslinger Girl
Selene removed one of the revolvers and held it gingerly. “Lovely.” She eyed Pity again and returned the gun to its holster. “Santino? This would be a good time to complete our other business, I think. The package, please.”
Confused, Pity waited for Selene to say something more to her, but the woman’s attention had shifted. Selene returned to her seat behind the desk. The guns sat on its edge, scant feet out of Pity’s reach. Beau, noticing her interest, cleared his throat. Pity stepped back another pace and risked a glance at Max. He reached out and gave her arm an encouraging squeeze.
At the container, Santino knelt down and tapped the control display. With a low hiss the top of the box cracked open. White smoke spilled out of it, crawling over the black stone floor like a fog. When Santino flipped the top open all the way, Pity recoiled in surprise.
Inside was a body.
It was a man, average-sized and rough-looking, with an untidy brown beard. His skin was pale and hung around his face.
What’s going on? Pity tried to telegraph the question to Max with a look, but he shook his head and put a finger to his lips.
Beau drew his gun again. Meanwhile, Santino pulled a med injector from his pocket and thrust it into the neck of the dead man, then backed away.
A heartbeat later, the eyes flipped open. The corpse sat up straight, a strangled cry ripping from its throat. As the sound died away, the man looked around wildly, shocked and uncomprehending… until he spotted Selene. With a lurch, he tried to stand, but his legs went out from under him and he plummeted to the floor, landing half in and half out of the box.
“Don’t try to run, Beeks,” said Santino. “Beau will shoot you if you do.” All the warmth in Santino’s voice was gone, and Pity hardly recognized it. “Get up. Slowly.”
Beeks looked around again, the hysteria in his face fading to a simpler terror. But he did as he was told. “Now, Miss Selene,” he croaked, limbs shaking, “I know what you’re—”
“Be. Quiet,” said Selene. “Do you know why you’re here, Beeks? Do you know why I had to send Santino halfway across this godforsaken continent to drag you back to Cessation? Hmm?”
Beeks shriveled. “Ye-yes, ma’am. I do.”
“Say it.”
His face drained of what little color it had. “I—I stole from you… ma’am.”
“Very good! And you know how I feel about people stealing from me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. “You—you can’t abide it.”
“No,” said Selene. “I can’t. That currency was supposed to go to our friends in the east to ensure a new port was built exactly where our friends in the south wanted it. As you might imagine, it took no small amount of work for me to smooth that situation over.”
Though her words were calm, Beeks collapsed to his knees, eyes wet and pleading. “Please forgive me, Miss Selene, please. I knew it was wrong—I did. I couldn’t help myself. I’m a weak-willed idiot. I’ll do anything, anything—”
“Get up.” She touched a hand to her brow. “I don’t like begging fools any more than I like thieving ones.”
He staggered back to his feet.
“Tell me something, Beeks.”
“Anything, ma’am.”
Selene’s eyes flicked to Pity, then back to the sniveling thief. “Am I correct in recalling that you know how to juggle?”
Beeks’s mouth opened and closed, but no answer issued forth.
“Halcyon,” Selene continued, “you remember Beeks juggling, don’t you?”
Halcyon nodded emphatically. “Why, of course! There was many an evening when his juggling garnered the rapt attention of our patrons downstairs! In fact, there was one time when he—”
“Thank you, Halcyon.” Miss Selene gestured to the bowl of glass globes. “You said you’d be willing to do anything to be forgiven. Would you juggle those for me?”
“For—for you, I—” He stared blankly. “Yes, yes of course.”
“Come take them, then.”
Beeks obeyed, gathering five of the glass globes into his trembling hands.
