“We take out these place one-by-one,” Danny said, shrugging. “It’s the only thing we can do. We got a lot of numbers still and I believe they’re still bigger than what the Carrion Crew’s got.”
“Alright, then let’s begin,” I said. “Let’s take these fuckers out!”
PART 2
The
(Un)Fortunate Four
EIGHT
~MIA~
I’d been here before.
I wasn’t sure how or where—I thought I would remember being trapped in a hell like this!—but it was too familiar to not be the first time. Not that it being familiar made it any better. In fact, it made it much, much worse.
I was trapped. It was dark, uncomfortably warm, and there was a smell. The smell, like me, was trapped. It hung somewhere between sweet and sour; reminding me all at once of thawing meat, fresh mulch under a hot sun, and something earthy, ancient. A deep part of my brain chanted that it was the oldest smell in existence, and another part, deeper still, assured me that I’d one day come to contribute to it.
I knew that smell. I knew it the same way I knew I was on the first step of a twelve-step staircase that led down into deeper darkness; the same way I knew that the surface my hands pounded against was a door that should lead to freedom. And I knew that that door—that freedom—was closed and that it would never be opened; that freedom had been stolen from me. And my brother, Mack—though he was only Malcolm in that moment—was the thief.
I knew all of these things with such a startling certainty that I also knew I must have been here before. But, for the life of me, I didn’t know how that was possible.
Trapped. I was trapped in a dark, horrible, smelly place.
Whimpering, knowing what awaited me down in those warm, smelly depths but also knowing it was all my life amounted to, I turned away from the door and started down the steps.
One…
Two…
Three…
Four…
Five…
Six…
Only halfway down the stairs to my new world and the voice had gone and summed it all up perfectly. A horrible, nearly precognitive fear took hold of me and I had to take hold of the rough, splintery railing to keep from toppling down the rest of the steps.
Seven…
Eight…
My hand traveled along the railing. As the eighth step became the ninth, it went from rough and splintery to smooth and tacky. It was unnerving, and while my eyes had come to adjust enough for me to investigate the spot where my hand lay I knew not to. Keeping my gaze trained on the darkness ahead, I removed my hand from the surface. I knew it would be better to fall the rest of the way into that black abyss than to let my hand spend one more second on that railing a moment longer.
I thought of my father’s paint cans. I thought of old Band-Aids. And then I thought I might turn around and try for the door again; thought that maybe Malcolm had let go and I might escape from this (life) place he’d trapped me inside.
Then something at the bottom of the stairs, something waiting in the darkness, said, “You a whore or not?”
And suddenly, just like I knew everything else, I knew there was no turning back. There was no escape from this (life) place.
I cursed Malcolm’s name—curiously calling him “Mack”—and continued down the stairs.
Nine…
Ten…
Eleven…
The hot, reeking stench seemed to reach out like a living thing and grab me as my foot fell on the second-to-last step.
Getting it, I took another step—Twelve—and finally dared to take another step into the darkness, away from the stairs.
Here it was dark. Here I had to look with my hands. My mouth was filled with the taste of latex. My vagina and my anus hurt. I was crying. And, all the while, I searched on with my hands, looking for something or somebody that might help me get out of this (life) place.
“You got me?” the voice called out, seeming to offer itself to me.
And then my hands fell upon the soft, stinking mass of a long-forgotten corpse. Gasping at the fresh wave of rot that assaulted my nostrils, I blinked at a sudden wave of clarity—light!—that illuminated my freshly discovered treasure.
And there, before me, I saw myself. I stared back, naked and dead and rotting—my legs splayed and my body showing signs of recent use—and I held my arms open as a lover might when awaiting an embrace.
“You got me,” Dead-Mia moaned up at me, triumphant and elated.
“You a whore or not?” the other voice called out from an unseen corner.
Then, seeming ecstatic to answer the question, Dead-Mia leapt at me, grinning wide and exposing a length of latex still occupying the corner of her mouth. “I said ‘you got me?’, Mia!” she bellowed, taking hold of me and pulling me into her.
****
The thing I hated the most about recurring nightmares:
You could actually begin to get used to something so awful.
I didn’t like the idea of just bouncing back from the nightmare that had plagued me for so many years, and if somebody would’ve told me back when it had first started that such a thing would someday happen I’d likely think them disgusting.
I mean, on top of wondering how the hell they knew about my dreams.
In either case, there was a sort of nauseating moment of “Oh, good, still just a dream.” Then it was just a matter of shaking off the post-nightmare anxieties—reminding myself how to breathe, peeling myself off the sweat-soaked sheets, and waiting for my heartrate to return to something resembling normal—and, a cup of coffee later, I could almost forget that I’d had it in the first place. Almost.
But, then again, waking up to Jace had a funny way of numbing a lot of bad thoughts. Apparently, nightmares were among those.
Speaking of Jace…
“Promise you’ll be safe?” Jace said for the hundredth time as I finished getting dressed.
“I promise, okay?” I said, turning towards him. “We are meeting at the café down the street from here. What could happen?”
“In our world?” he challenged, his eyebrow raised quizzically and his mouth pulled downward in a frown. “I’d say it’s safe to say a lot could happen.”
“Okay, that’s fair,” I admitted, sighing. “But I won’t be alone, and we are just meeting at a café.”
“Okay,” he said, seeming to calm down and even smiling, reassured. “I’ll be at the shop, so if you need anything, just call, okay?” Jace said, his face still showing hints of worry.
“I will, I promise,” I said, leaning in and kissing him.
He kissed me back and before things got too carried away, I pulled back and made my way down the hall towards the elevator. I could tell he was watching me and as I pressed the call button to the elevator, I turned towards him once more. I frowned, seeing that he had followed me and was holding something out to me.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“A knife… just in case,” he said.
“A knife? I have the handgun Danny gave me, isn’t that enough?” I asked, glancing up at how concerned he was.
“Guns can attract attention, use this if you think you can handle it,” he said.
Should I cancel with Candy? I’d seen him this concerned only a handful of times and if Papa Raven’s numbers were growing, maybe it was better. Before I could change my mind, Jace had slid the pocket knife into my hand and pushed me onto the elevator as the doors opened.
“Try and have a good time,” Jace said, smiling.
“Alright, I will,” I said, smiling back. “I love you, Jace.”
“I love you, too,” he said.
As the elevator doors shut, I took a deep breath, working to calm down. I glanced down at the pocket knife still in my hand and moved my thumb, pressing the release on the blade and watched as the sharp blade swung out. I was surprised at how fast it was and nearly dropped it. Taking a deep breath, I slid the blade carefully back into place and on
ce I was sure it was secured, I slid it into my pocket.
“Well, Mia, you once hated the idea of carrying any kind of concealed weapons, now you’re toting a knife and a gun,” I whispered to myself. “Times have really changed…”
As the elevator doors opened, I stepped out, nodding to the attendant before making my way out onto the street. The day was beautiful. It was the last of summer and today was the first day I was actually noticing it. I smiled, excited that this heat would be ending and that fall would be coming. Fall was one of my favorite seasons and with it, Halloween came, one of my favorite holidays.
I continued to walk down the street, headed towards the café Candy and I had agreed to meet. As I walked, I began to feel like I was being followed and moved my hand towards my pocket, surprised to feel how comforted I felt just from having the knife on me. I made a quick motion, pretending that I needed to check my purse and saw three guys walking a few paces back. I narrowed my eyes, turning to the left and heading down a different side road. I cursed as I saw how quiet the street I’d turned onto was and wondered if the guys were still following. Deciding I didn’t want to be ambushed, I slid into a small opening between the buildings, only big enough for one person and waited.
Within seconds the guys were walking by, a look of confusion on the three’s faces. After the third had moved away from my view, I slid out and stood behind the three. I wondered if I should make a run for it—felt that it was the wiser move, all things considered—but decided I wanted to know what they wanted.
Or maybe I felt like stirring up a little bit of trouble…
Damn! I thought, What has Jace done to me?
“Looking for someone?” I asked, making sure my voice was loud enough for them to hear.
The three stopped abruptly and turned, the one in the middle stepping forward as the other two stayed in place. The one in the middle was tall and lean, his blond hair cropped short to his skull. His green eyes seemed to scuttle over me and I fought the shiver that threatened to crawl up my spine at how disgusted I felt.
“Clever girl,” he said, snickering softly.
“Well? What can I do for you guys?” I asked, moving to fold my arms over my chest in an effort to look inconvenienced by them.
“Impatient, are we?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Wasn’t expecting this.”
“Well, you three were following me, weren’t you? So what do you want?” I said, narrowing my eyes.
One of the two from behind made a move to step forward, only to have them halted in mid-step as the first lifted his hand. Obviously, he was the one in charge, or, rather, the one with the greatest amount of pull within their limited group. I wondered just how much authority he had, toying with the idea that he might even be one of the head honchos involved with Papa Raven. I frowned, thinking that it might’ve been better if I had run instead of confronting the group.
“Just wanted to send a little message,” the blond said, casually shrugging a shoulder.
“Well, what message would that be,” I said, moving my hand once again towards my purse; towards my gun.
“Just to tell your little boyfriend and his flock to watch out,” he said, grinning a sick, oily smile at me. “Papa Raven is only beginning and he’s got plans.”
“A murder,” I said.
This seemed to startle the man, who blinked at the word and nearly withdrew a step.
In the back of my mind, I heard Candy’s voice say, “THAT’A GIRL!”
“A grouping of crows,” I clarified with a smirk. “They’re not called ‘flocks;’ they’re called ‘murders.’ Something to consider when you run back to the Carrion Crew. Oh, and while we’re on the subject of names and their meanings,” I chimed with a growing grin, “‘Carrion Crew’ basically means a pile of dead assholes.”
Once again the guy in back tried to advance on me and, once again, he was halted with nothing more than a raised hand.
“You gonna deliver the message or not, whore?” the blond demanded.
“Long as you tell your Papa Raven that Jace has plans of his own, too,” I shot back, narrowing my eyes as my hand reached the gun.
My hand found the grip and tightened around it before I drew enough of it from my purse for them to see that I had it. A moment of shared confusion passed, none of them seeming to connect the weapon with the owner; seeming frozen in disbelief that I’d even be capable of arming myself. Then, as realization dawned on them, they began to pale. The men frowned, stepping back at the sight of the weapon in my grip. I didn’t want to use it if I didn’t have to, but I wanted them to know that I wouldn’t be pushed around. I tried to calm my growing nerves, the sick image of my bloodied brother came to my mind and I quickly pushed it away.
“Alright, we aren’t going to hurt you. Just a simple message, if you could deliver it, we’ll be on our way,” the leader said, keeping his voice calm as he stepped away.
“Consider it sent. Now get out of here!” I said, stepping forward and even going so far as to draw the gun the rest of the way and level it in their direction.
With one final look from the leader, the three turned away. I waited until they were completely out of sight before putting the gun away. I took a deep breath, hating how scared I felt. Deciding I needed to see Jace, I turned back towards the condos to get to the car. I sent a quick text to Candy and then was off to Jace.
****
By the time I’d gotten to the shop, I’d been a wreck. Everything had suddenly came back to me and I had begun to freak out. Jace had run to me, wrapping his arms around me and helping to calm me down. After I had gotten done explaining what had happened, he sat with me in the office, silent for a moment.
“Calm down, Mia, it’ll be okay,” Jace said as he moved his arm around my shoulders. “If I showed you some photos, could you tell me if any of them were the guy you saw?”
“Y-yeah,” I said, hiccupping on the word as I fought to relax.
He nodded towards Danny, who picked up a stack of papers and brought them over. I watched as he fanned them out on the coffee table in front of me. I glanced down, seeing a lot of men working around construction. I glanced through them, not seeing the man who’d spoken to me.
Until the last photo…
On it were four men standing around Papa Raven, seeming to have some sort of discussion. I pointed to the blond and glanced back at the two. I wondered if this meant something more to them.
“This is the guy,” I said. “Do you think he’s important in some way?”
“Well, Papa Raven usually has people working directly under him, seconds-in-commands, if you will. T-Built was one of them. So, we are thinking with there being four new hideouts, that the fact that Papa Raven is seen here with these four… well, y’know.”
“Right! He definitely had the feel of a leader,” I said, remembering how the other two had acted around the guy.
“Alright, so we know now officially that all four of these are being run under supervision,” Jace said, nodding.
“So, what now?” I asked.
“We take them out, girlie,” Danny said, glancing over. “And we stick together when we do.”
NINE
~JACE~
As I stood with the other members of the Crow Gang in front of the first building that the Carrion Crew had claimed as their own, I tried to calm the rage I felt. They had followed Mia from our home, had sent her a warning, and, in doing so, had scared the hell out of her. Granted, from the sounds of things, she’d put quite a scare in them, as well, but I could hardly take any real comfort in that in the grand scheme of things.
But…
BUT!
“Not the dumbass way,” I could all-but hear Danny say to me.
I took a deep breath, knowing that anger wasn’t going to be solving anything right now. I glanced over, seeing that Erik, Marcus, and Luka were a part of the team along with five others. They waited for my order. I glanced over at where the first operation and sneered as I saw an old sign t
hat read ORPHANAGE hanging beside the building.
“That seems in poor taste,” one the guys said.
“I’d say so,” another agreed.
“Everyone’s armed, right? I don’t want to be in their and find out that one of us didn’t have their weapons ready,” I said. “I don’t want to go in their half-cocked.”
“We’re ready when you are, boss,” Erik said.
I smiled, glad to see that, among others, the three ex-Marines were with us, knowing their military experience would come in handy for all of us. I nodded to the group and, as one, we moved. Being the first to reach the door, I wasted no time in hauling back and slamming my foot into the door. Wood groaned as strained metal tore through it—Thank Christ for termites! my already-throbbing foot would have thought if it had a mind to do so—and the door swung open like a tranquilized animal; a single bent hinge acting as the last functioning leg keeping it from collapsing. Though the sound was nothing short of tremendous, none of my team wasted a moment with startled jumps or any sign of worry at being overheard. Like me, they likely all figured that we were expected, and, as such, there was no point in doing what my old man would have referred to as “pussy-footing.”
“Son,” he’d said to me on the night I’d gone to him to ask about proposing to Anne, “a woman’s like anything else in life, you can waste God-knows-how-long worrying about doing it wrong, or you can put all your fear aside and do what needs doing. Remember: no man ever accomplished a damn thing by pussy-footing around the problem.”
God damn, but I missed that man…
Especially considering that this was what his beloved Crow Gang had been reduced to since he’d been torn from the picture.
Realizing this, I discovered a fresh well of rage at Papa Raven and the Carrion Crew.
Good, I thought, stampeding past the threshold with my team. Little extra fuel to light this bonfire!
A moment’s glance let me spot a half-dozen men initially. The next moment added another five. The interior, though still obviously in the midst of renovations, appeared to be nothing more than a vast, open space. Though I could have been wrong, it looked as though somebody had just gone through the old building and started kicking out the walls that had once divided the giant space into smaller areas. Now it was just a big, dusty mess awkwardly filled with shipping crates and a few movers that still bore the name of an old shipping company.
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