Page 106 of Aftertaste

ON THE LANDING,he felt a rumble. Kostya stared down the steps, bracing himself for more ghosts, but instead, it was the kitchen crew—Rio and Big Mike and Miguel and Stephanie, Mica and Ale and Lin. They came rushing up the steps, armed with pots and pans, canisters of salt, wooden spoons tied into crosses with kitchen twine. They were coming to his defense—the loyalty hit Kostya right between the ribs—to fight for him.

He waved them back.

“No!” he shouted, shaking his head. “Go out the back. Through the subway! It’s okay. It’s—it’s me they want.”

Rio looked at him in horror. “Huesos, these are—these ain’t house spirits. You need an exorcist.”

Kostya shook his head, finally understanding.

“No. What I made them before—it wasn’t any good. They’re sending it back to the kitchen.”

“The fuck that mean?”

“It means they’re still hungry. And I gotta feed them.”

IN THE KITCHEN,illuminated by emergency lights, Konstantin wrenched open the windows to the 6.

“Go!” he told his staff. “There’s an exit on the platform. I’ll be right behind you.”

But then they heard footfalls, the angry stomp of expensive shoes, and Kostya looked up in time to see Viktor, purple with rage, descending the stairs.

“Where everybody going?” he barked, voice edged like a knife. “Dinner service still on.”

He was trailed by The Comrade, who limped down, bleeding at the knee, a gun very visible in the hand not gripping the handrail. Viktor was dabbing his face with one of the DUH dinner napkins, blood flowing freely from a cut on his cheekbone, another on his chin.

“What are youtalkingabout?” Kostya balked at him. “There is no service! There’s no restaurant, not after this! It’s done. It’s”—he couldn’t believe he was saying it—“it’s over.”

Viktor waved his bloody napkin in the air. “Get back to work!” He turned to the cooks. “All of you! We comping tonight’s dinner. Telling everybody it part of the show. Ghosts terrifying when they hungry. We must feed quickly! We already giving this story to customers.”

“No.” Kostya stood his ground. “There are angry spirits still up there. It’s dangerous. We’re not serving anyone else. We’re done.”

Viktor nodded at The Comrade, who aimed his pistol in Konstantin’s direction.

“Whoa!” Rio shouted, his hands thrown up.

“The fuck, man?” Big Mike was saying.

“Get back to work,” Viktor said again. “Everybody. Stations.”

Kostya could feel every set of eyes on him, waiting to see what he’d do. Adrenaline coursed through him, and hatred for Viktor, and anger at himself, the agony of knowing every moment wasted here was putting Maura in more danger, every subsequent second the one where she might finally leave him, leave this world.

“We’re done, Viktor,” he repeated. “I’m leaving.”

He turned back to the windows, toward the platform, was starting toward them when he heard it. The unmistakable click of a gun being cocked.

“Thinkverycarefully,” Viktor warned him.

Kostya turned back around, heat rising inside him, radiating.

“You wanna shoot me? Go ahead. Maybe then I can finally do some good.”

But before he could process what was happening, Rio stepped in front of him.

“And then you better shoot me, too, asshole.”

“And me.” Big Mike was nodding.

“All of us.” This from Mica, who looked like he was trying not to cry.

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