80 Proof Hex_Deckland Cain 2

by D Michael Bartsch

  Walking down the hallway, I got to Jerry’s door. I took a deep breath, staring hard at the peeling paint.

  “I’m not going to kill him,” I said to myself. “But so help me God, if he says one thing, I will beat him to within an inch of his life.”

  I rapped my knuckles against the door, three quick taps. I’d wanted to use the meaty part of my fist and really lay into the thing, but I restrained myself. “See Carl, I can be civil. Judgmental bastard.”

  I heard footsteps walking down the hallway. Taking a deep breath, I relaxed some of the tension from my shoulders.

  “Breathe,” I said. “You are just a friendly neighbor here to work out a misunderstanding like a grown adult, with your words. You can do this.”

  The chain slid, and the deadbolt snapped. I took one last breath, thinking all my happy thoughts. The door opened, and I let out a hiss of air in surprise. A chill shot across my skin, raising goosebumps all along my arms.

  Prufrock’s slender frame filled the doorway as he stepped out, looking down the hallway.

  “Good evening Mr. Cain. Please, come in. We have a good deal to discuss, and I’m afraid time is running rather short.”

  20

  I stood dumbfounded as Prufrock made a show of checking a watch that looked like it cost more than the entire apartment building we were standing in. He was wearing a black suit and white silk shirt, unbutton a third of the way down to display manly chest hair and a helluva tan. He had his standard issue five o’clock shadow, groomed to perfection. The smarmy asshole also wore rose-tinted sunglasses, inside an apartment, at night.

  “You?”

  It was all I could manage to get out.

  “Please, Mr. Cain, will you come inside. We do have a great deal to discuss, and the matters are a little sensitive for the hallway.” Stepping back into the apartment, he made a show of gesturing me in. “Please. I have a rare vintage that I think you’ll find particularly enticing.”

  Moving on autopilot, I left the hallway and entered the apartment. It was identical to my own. Half in a daze, I walked down the small hall, moving by the closed doors that I assumed led to the bedroom and bathroom. The living room was set up with a little table and two chairs covered in old, red leather. Both of them looked too big to fit through the doorway, and I spent an irrational moment wondering if someone had brought them through the window with a crane. They seemed too big for that too. They must have put them together inside the apartment.

  There was nothing else in the apartment except for the looming mountain of a man standing in the far corner. He was dressed in the same cheap black suit he’d worn every time I’d seen him. He also had a giant bulge in his coat that had to be some sort of sub gun. With his blonde hair and thick square jaw, I took him for the Eurotrash terrorist type. That meant he probably had some kind of suppressed MP5K. If it were me, I’d have some heavy grain, subsonic ammo. All anyone would hear is the muffled sound of the action cycling.

  “Sit.” Said, Prufrock from behind me.

  Dropping into one of the chairs, I looked back at the man as he unbuttoned the top button of his jacket and sat down smoothly into the chair.

  “Were you sitting down before I knocked?” I asked.

  Prufrock cocked his head just a fraction of an inch, confused. “Why, yes I was.”

  “So you stood up, buttoning that button, knowing you were going to unbutton it like thirty seconds later.”

  Prufrock smiled. “Please, Mr. Cain. What am I, a farmer?”

  Staring across at him, I couldn’t help but think about the last time I’d run into him. When Moloch had tried to open up a portal to Hell to bring through a Demon Horde and enslave the Earth, Prufrock had been the one who’d sent me down the rabbit hole of stopping him. He’d been pulling the strings, all the while pretending to be some sort of Demon’s lackey or middleman. The truth was, Prufrock was the biggest mystery man I’ve ever met, and that’s saying something. I had no idea who he was, but he had the main line down to Hell, his finger seemed to be on the pulse of all the goings-on down there. That meant that he was either a powerful Warlock, or he had one on retainer.

  He was also the only reason I was still alive. His guys had pulled me out of the cemetery before the Venatori arrived. I’d been unconscious and bleeding out by the time I’d stopped Moloch. Prufrock’s boys brought me out, and he’d paid someone to stitch me up. They’d done a damn excellent job too. The tiny hint of a scar on my back was proof of the skill of whoever he’d brought in to do the sewing.

  “How’d you find me?” I asked.

  Prufrock was not the man to lose your cool around. I needed to play this perfectly, or the bastard would roast me alive.

  He smiled. “Would you like a drink?” He asked, gesturing to a bottle on the table. “It’s a Macallan Lalique VI. Sixty-five-year-old single malt scotch. Forty-thousand dollars a bottle. I know Mr. Rodriguez has suggested you refrain, but it would pain me if you did not partake.”

  My mouth watered as I looked at the amber liquid. I’m also pretty sure I got half a hard-on at the thought of a sixty-five-year-old scotch. God knows I could have used a drink.

  I tore my eyes away from the bottle, swallowing drool. “How’d you find me?” I asked again.

  “Straight to business then.” He said, reaching over and pouring two fingers of scotch into one of the two glasses. “It was less finding so much as never losing.” He said, taking a sip from the glass.

  He smiled, having the nerve to look like he was enjoying his drink. I decided to take another route. It was time to see if I could knock him off his game a little.

  “Nice place you got here,” I said. “Though I’m a little worried you aren’t being super responsible with your money. Maybe if you spent a little less on booze and watches, you could afford yourself a nice place outside of the city. You know, get a little land. Raise chickens and horses or something. I hear goats are all the rage. You could keep the suit on though. Show all those other farmers how much better you are than them.”

  Prufrock took another sip. “Fear not, Mr. Cain. I am not the tenant of this, place.” He said the last word with more disdain than should have been possible for a human.

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to have this suit burned after I leave. No, the current tenant was more than willing to let us stay here temporarily. Well, I should say he was more than willing after a fashion.”

  “What did you do to him?” I asked.

  The words came out before I even really thought about it. What did I care if they killed Jerry? I’d come down here to do it myself. It was less of a love of my fellow man and more of my general hatred for Prufrock that did it. Then again, how long had they been here? Maybe I’d been yelling at Prufrock the whole time.

  “He’s safe. Secure, but safe. He’ll be released just as soon as we conclude our discussion. You have my word on it.”

  I wanted to balk, but as far as I could tell, if Prufrock made you a promise, he kept it.

  “You said you had something to talk about? Let’s get to it. I’m not made of time you know, lots to do. Places to go, people to see. You understand.”

  I made a show of checking my wrist as if I were wearing a watch.

  “Ah yes, your situation with Mr. Dunn and his pack. Or perhaps it’s your business with Mr. McQuillen you are referring to. Maybe the boy, Charlie right?”

  My stomach dropped, and I was barely able to keep myself from heaving. Luckily, I was able to keep it off my face. I looked at his dark eyes.

  “You know me,” I said. “I liked to have a lot of irons in the fire. Idle hands, idle thoughts. You know how it is.”

  Prufrock gave me one of the wolfish grins that I’d always thought meant he wanted to chew my face off. His too white teeth were straighter than nature should have been capable of producing. The guy must have had a helluva dentist.

  “Last year, I provided a service to you in exchange for a favor, of my choosing.”

  I knew when I’d made that
deal it was going to come back to haunt me. Of course, if I hadn’t of made the deal, Carl and I would both be dead.

  “I vaguely remember,” I said.

  Another smile, this one looking almost forced. “I’m afraid that I find myself in a position to call in that favor. Trust me when I tell you, it brings me no pleasure. I had hoped to use it on something more than what I intend to ask.”

  I leaned back in my chair, pushing against the back to move the thing. It scrapped on the hardwood with an awful screeching sound with every inch it slid. I refused to flinch and kept pushing until it was far enough back for me to prop up my feet.

  “What can I do for you?” I asked.

  I needed the distraction. I had to keep the calm, cool, collected vibe going on. Prufrock wasn’t the type of guy you wanted to let see you sweat. He reminded me a little of Mr. White in that.

  “It involves your business with Mr. McQuillen. I find myself in need of a man with your particular skill set.”

  “What do you want with Al?” I asked.

  Prufrock took a sip from his glass. “Are you sure you don’t want any? I doubt Gerald will appreciate it the way you would. I’d hate for it to go to waste.”

  I ignore him, trying to keep focused. “What do you want with Al?”

  “I thought that was rather obvious. I need Mr. McQuillen to disappear, permanently.”

  I sat up. “You want me to whack a priest?”

  Prufrock tsked, setting his glass down. “I want you to kill a man, as you have done before and will no doubt do again. If anything, Mr. McQuillen should count himself lucky that you are the man I’m sending after him. He has meddled in my affairs and cost me a considerable amount of time and effort. The penalty for that transgression is usually much more personal than a simple bullet to the brain.”

  Something about the way he said “personal” meant torture.

  “What’d he do to you?”

  “Alas, I’m afraid that I cannot go into detail. However, let us just say that while I have been aware of Mr. McQuillen for some time, his interests did not directly interfere with my own until recently.”

  “What changed? Is this about the Rifts?”

  Prufrock sighed. “Mr. Cain. As I’ve said, I cannot go into detail. What you need to know is that McQuillen must die, as soon as possible. That is of utmost importance.”

  “Yea well that doesn’t exactly work for me,” I said. “Al is supposed to pay me a hundred grand after I help him. I need that money to get out of town and disappear.”

  Prufrock looked at me with his dark eyes the same way a man would look at something he was about to bid on at auction, weighing my value.

  “What is the extent of your agreement with Mr. McQuillen?” He asked. “I know he has given you at least some money. I assume since you haven’t left town, he didn’t pay you in full.”

  “Oh, now we can talk specifics?” I asked.

  “I said I could not give you details of my affairs. Your affairs are quite different. Now, do you want to play cute or do you want to see about finding a way for both of us to get what we want?”

  I sat there for a moment, thinking a half dozen smart ass comments. Prufrock raised an eyebrow and made a show of checking his actual watch the same way I’d checked my fake one.

  “Al’s studying Rifts. Says he’s found a way to predict him. So far, he’s been right twice. He offered to pay me hundred grand if I helped him locate three Rifts. I’m also there to close them or kill anything that comes out of them if necessary. I got twenty up front. We’ve already been to one. Two more and then I get the rest of my cash.”

  “I see.”

  Prufrock finished his glass of scotch and set it down on the table. He steepled his fingers, thinking. “I am not without sympathy for your situation. You’ve entered a financial arrangement with Mr. McQuillen, an exchange of goods and services. I need matters finished quickly. My ask of you would prevent the completion of your contract and in doing so, prevent your payment. However, I am of the opinion that our prior arrangement of exchange of services supersedes this particular agreement.”

  “Hey now!” I said, sitting up.

  Prufrock held up a hand. “Please Mr. Cain. While I believe that our agreement supersedes anything between you and McQullien, I’m not unreasonable.

  “If you kill Mr. McQuillen, I will match the payment he’s offered you, in full. If you kill him and he was stupid enough to have the money on him, I will still pay the full hundred thousand dollars. I’ll even throw in the bottle of Macallan, free of charge. I really would hate for Gerald to drink it. He is a disgusting excuse for a member of the human race, a wasted effort concerning creation. Then again, most of you are.”

  That was all a lot to take in. The part about Jerry made sense. I’d never met the guy. He was probably tied up in the bedroom. Served him right for being an asshole. Things were starting to get incredibly messy. Al was a priest on a mission from the Pope, and something he’d done had pissed off Prufrock. I liked the idea of someone screwing over the smug bastard. The thing was, I owed him, and I had a feeling that if I tried to sneak out of that deal, I’d live to regret it. The bastard was vicious enough to turn me over to the Venatori and send me back to the Void just to spite me.

  It also meant getting the possibility of getting two hundred grand instead of one. That would go a long way.

  There was no way I could let Carl know though. The guy wouldn’t even let me drink in peace. If he knew I’d offed a holy man, it would be the end of that friendship, and I don’t exactly have a lot of friends. I can’t afford to lose any. I’d have to say a Hellion did it.

  Even as I sat there, staring at Prufrock and stewing about how shitty my life was, I knew I’d already made my decision. I’d put a bullet in the back of Al’s head, take the money, and run. He didn’t need to know it though.

  “How long have you been down here pounding on the walls?” I asked.

  Prufrock laughed. It was a rich, warm laugh that came from genuine surprise. “A week, sadly.”

  “And how did you know I would just start shooting through the floor at you? I’m a crazy man after all.”

  Prufrock waved a hand. “Mr. Rodriguez would not have let you simply shoot a stranger. Though I must admit, there were times when I wondered if I’d misjudged his power over your actions. I hope for the sake of our agreement, he does not have complete sway over you.”

  I gave him the finger. “How do I contact you once it’s done?” I asked.

  Prufrock held up a hand and used two fingers to wave the Mountain forward. The big guy walked across the floor nearly silent as a person could be, like a ninja the size of an elephant. He reached into his blazer and pulled out a cellphone.

  “Call the number saved into the address book when it’s done. No one will answer. You can leave a message if you like, I’ll know it’s you. You’ll receive a text message with an address and time for the exchange within three minutes of calling.”

  I took the phone, slipping it into my pocket.

  “Couldn’t we just write letters to each other in the paper or something? Maybe I could hang a lantern outside my window and put a red light in it when he’s dead.”

  Prufrock smiled, the way a tired father would at a kid who’d pushed him to the edge of exhaustion. “The phone call will suffice, Mr. Cain. However, should you feel the need to put a want ad in the paper, I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for it.”

  With that, he stood, buttoning the top button of his jacket like he wasn’t going just to undo it when he got in the car.

  “Please don’t put this off any longer than it must wait. I’m depending on you to do this for me, Mr. Cain. I take great displeasure in being disappointed.”

  Turning he started walking toward the door. He spoke without turning.

  “Take the bottle with you. I liked you better drunk.”

  I sat until I couldn’t hear footsteps in the hallway. They’d left the door open. I gave a slow one hundred count
before I got up. I looked at the bottle. I felt my hand starting to go toward it. I snatched it back like I’d been burned. Carl would kill me if he knew. Then again, I was about to go off a priest. I was probably going to need a drink after that.

  Grabbing the bottle, I left the apartment. I didn’t bother looking for Jerry. I had more important things to do, like figure out where I was going to hide a forty thousand dollar bottle of scotch.

  I was going to need a bigger bag of oatmeal.

  21

  I didn’t sleep well. Despite my calm and collected exterior, I tend to bottle up stress. When the lights go off, it eats at me. Alcohol is a great way to get the voices to shut the hell up. I had the bottle of Macallan poured out into several old kombucha bottles that Carl usually used to bottle up cold brew coffee. I stashed them in the back of the freezer behind a couple bags of frozen broccoli for a rainy day. I’m not sure why I didn’t get up and take a few slugs at any point during the night. I definitely could have used it. Nothing in my life could be going worse.

  Everything in my brain had been focused my awful situation. Prufrock wanted me to play hitman. There was a pack of Vampires with my name on their shit list. The Venatori was probably already in town and sniffing around. To top it all off, the Feds were involved, and I’d ended up between them and the Vampires they were hunting. I’d hardly noticed that Cat was gone when I’d walked back into the apartment. Carl had said he tried to get her to stay, but she bounced out not too long after I’d gone downstairs. I’d tried to be upset about it. She could lead them back to our apartment. I couldn’t find the energy though. There was too much else going on.

  Carl had known something was wrong as soon as I’d walked through the door. He’d wanted to talk about it, but I’d told him I needed to think over everything first. It wasn’t technically a lie, but you know, I had to think of a convincing lie about my visit with Jerry so Carl wouldn’t find out I was going to put a bullet in Alastair’s brain. I wasn’t even going to look him in the eyes. I was gonna wait for him to turn around and blow his brains out.