Death Dealers

by M. G. Gallows

  Philip made a sign over his head that reminded me of the one Papa Williams had made. “The boys would have lost it if they’d found out. But I’m just glad Gran didn’t have to come home to a funeral. Thanks.”

  I shrugged. “I think I made it worse.”

  “That’s not true,” the old woman said. “Not all situations are clear from our perspective. But those with a loftier vintage can sometimes point us in the right direction, even if we don’t see it ourselves.”

  “This is my grandmother, Roseline,” Philip said.

  “Hello,” she said, smiling. She radiated a kind of comfort. Not magic, just the very human strength that comes from love. I could see how a group like the Mambas would do so much for her.

  “The whole sitch was sideways,” Philip said. “When I heard you got arrested, I thought my world was about to explode, and I didn’t see a way out of it. I had to do some praying, but eventually he showed me the way.”

  “He?”

  He smiled, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket to show a tattoo on his arm. The same veve I had painted to summon Baron Samedi.

  “My daughter never cared for it,” Philip’s grandmother said. I could make out a hint of Haitian in her accent. “But Philip here came to me for guidance before he enlisted.”

  “There ain’t no atheists in foxholes,” Philip agreed. “And hey, who better to pray to than the man who’ll dig your grave?”

  My mind drifted to Maman Brigitte’s words. “Small world,” I said.

  The grandmother frowned. Everything about her demeanor shifted, from a kind grandmother to a colder, business-like matron. “Is it true? Was the man who poisoned my grandson, who was killing my boys, was he Dinclinsin? The slave-driver? The Loa of Wrath, who keeps everything he can put in his pockets?”

  I shook my head. “He was just a bastard. Evil like you can’t imagine.”

  Philip nodded. “I hope when you put him down, you made him suffer for it.”

  I didn’t respond to that. Instead I asked, “What’s next for you?”

  He sighed. “Got a lot of shell-shocked boys still dealing with all the hits we took. I’m hoping with Josh on his feet, and this sitch dealt with, they’ll ease out again. But there’s turf to reclaim, respect to re-earn. Time will tell.”

  I nodded. Philip was a good sort for the leader of a street gang. But who the hell was I to judge?

  A question occurred to me, unbidden. “How’d Josh get his hands on the Stig?”

  Philip looked at his grandmother, who turned that stony gaze on him. “The truth? The Haitians were always bringing it into our turf. Just leaving it in plain sight. Waiting for people to find it and try it. I knew something was up with it, told my boys to flush any of it they found. But Josh...”

  “That boy,” Roseline sighed. “I told you not to leave that poison anywhere near him!”

  Philip bowed his head. “I know, Gram. If I’d have known he had it- I should have been watching him closer.”

  “Don’t be too hard on him, or yourself. I’ve seen families fall apart, squeezing too hard,” I said.

  Roseline smiled at me. “Very true, young man. But let’s go find Joshua before he gets in more trouble.”

  I shook Philip’s hand again. “Take care out there.”

  “You too.”

  “Thank you,” the woman said, holding my hands in hers. “Thank you for helping me and mine.”

  I gave her hand the gentlest of squeezes. “If you ever speak to Maman Brigitte, tell her ‘thank you’ for me.”

  She smiled, almost knowingly.

  I was allowed to leave the hospital the next day. They tried to prescribe me a king’s fortune in painkillers and antibiotics, but I was used to the pain by then, and only had enough insurance for one. Antibiotics it was. Either way, I’d be paying off my hospital stay for a while. Big pharma, they’re the real crooks. Real swell of Agni to skip the bill.

  I took a bus home. Between my jigsaw puzzle scars and my torn up clothes, I got plenty of stares, but the guy who stared hardest had inch-long fingernails. Weird is relative.

  Someone had replaced the front door of my home. It smelled like fresh paint, and it had a peephole. My key worked in the lock, so I swung it open. Inside, it smelled like coffee and frying eggs.

  Madelyn was working over my stove in her underwear.

  “Oh shit!” She was halfway into my bedroom by the time I noticed her. “You should have called!”

  “It’s my house.” I sat on the couch and noted the nest of blankets and pillows she’d made for herself. “Where’d the door come from?”

  “Your landlord,” Madelyn said. “I told him I was watching the place while you were in the hospital.”

  “Did you meet him naked, too?”

  “Shut up!” She emerged from my room in one of my shirts. It hung down to her knees.

  “Making yourself at home, I see.”

  “Nice to see you too,” she replied. “You look like shit.”

  “You’re welcome. Where have you been?”

  “After that cute detective let me out of the hospital, they called my mom. I had to admit I was a junkie. She was bouncing off the walls. Tried to get me into a clinic, but I told her you were my therapist. So uh, do some reading on addiction treatment for when she stops by.”

  I exhaled. “Great.”

  “Then I went to the Gallows to let everyone know what had happened and get some things before I ghouled out again.” She loaded a plate with scrambled eggs and sat down. “You want an egg?”

  “I want to sleep. For a million years.”

  “Listen.” She stabbed at her eggs. “I wanted to say thanks. For saving my life.”

  “Which time?”

  “Every time. I mean… fuck. This is me, now. I still don’t know how I feel about that. But, after everything that happened? I’m glad I’m still here. If not technically alive. I mean it. Thank you.”

  “Glad I did. You saved the day.”

  She smiled. “Yeah, I guess I did, huh? How?”

  “Good question. Banshees come from a specific bloodline, you know. Old, old Irish.”

  “I’m a banshee?”

  “And a wight. And you were a zombie. We call it a hat trick in the biz.”

  She nibbled her eggs. “Banshee. Can I kill people with my scream?”

  I thought about Bettany. “Uh, maybe? Don’t go testing it around here, eh? I’ll see what I can learn.”

  “I should start a band. I’d make a killing.” She flinched. “Was that a bad joke?”

  “The worst. You’re terrible.”

  She threw a pillow at me. “You got some mail. And I listened to the messages on your machine.”

  “Do you want to borrow my wallet while you’re going through every facet of my private life?” I asked.

  “It could have been important,” she argued. “Don’t be such a prude. Some people hire house-sitters.”

  “The ones that don’t get paid are called ‘squatters’,” I muttered. “So lemme guess. Bills, bills, ‘you’re fired, Alex’.”

  “No,” Madelyn said. “Well, yes, to the first two. No-one called to fire you.”

  “Will miracles never cease?”

  “Oh, and this Indian guy showed up in an old taxi and dropped your gun off. I put it on your nightstand. And the cute detective called to say that you can get your truck from the impound lot on Riker’s Street.”

  “Great. Let me get a shower, and we’ll go get it. You can drive, right?”

  “Yes, duh.”

  I made a face at her. Then I showered, shaved—carefully around my stitches—and put on some fresh clothes. I felt almost normal again as I came out of the bathroom.

  “Have you seen my cell phone?” I asked. “I need to find out if I broke it on the boat.”

  When she didn’t answer, I went into the living room. Madelyn had backed into the kitchen with a scowl on her face. Jocelyn stood in the open doorway, dressed to the nines in an expensive ivory outfit. A
wedding band of diamonds and platinum had appeared on her finger.

  “Hi,” Jocelyn said. “Um, do you have a moment?”

  “Sure.” I grabbed the silver watch off my bed and put my shoes on.

  “Alex?” Madelyn asked.

  “It’ll be okay, kid. Eat your eggs.”

  I shut the front door and walked Jocelyn to her car. I could see Eddie inside, in a child’s seat.

  “I guess I have you to thank for not being executed,” I said.

  “I told you I would. Thank you, for not killing Jesse.”

  “I helped you get him,” I said. “Just like you made me.”

  She bowed her head. “I know. But Jesse was my responsibility. We both failed each other.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Away,” she said. “Far away from anyone he can hurt, even if he wakes up. What did you do to him?”

  I shrugged. “Hell is what you make of it.”

  She nodded. “Alex, I-”

  “Don’t,” I interrupted. “After all this? Don’t try to justify yourself to me.”

  “I was desperate. Walter thought getting involved was too risky, but when I learned he and Agni had set you against Jesse, I knew I had to get close to keep you from killing him.”

  “Wasn’t hard, was it?” I asked. “The right words, the right magic, and I’d go along with anything you said. I wouldn’t even know it.”

  She closed her eyes. A tear started down her cheek. “You know that my magic doesn’t work right if the person doesn’t want to do what I tell them. You wanted to help.”

  “You didn’t ask,” I said. She flinched away again. “You put a leash around my brain. Like your brother. You took what you wanted. And it worked. You got it all. Wealth, power. And blood. Don’t forget all the blood. Every life Jesse ruined? It’s on you, Jocelyn. Not that anyone will care what some lowlife has to say about it.”

  “I know,” she said. “I wanted to- I’m sorry.”

  I nodded. “Is that all?”

  She met my gaze. “I guess so.”

  We both hesitated. Heaven help me, I still wanted to reach out to her, despite everything she’d put me through. She wanted the same. To grab hold of my hand if I offered it, like I had at the restaurant.

  But why care about some nobody like me? She wasn’t on the Council yet, but she had more power than most Untold humans could ever dream of, and she’d never have to face the consequences of her actions, no matter how awful she claimed to feel about them.

  I stared into those beautiful, sad, lonely silver eyes, and I knew it hadn’t been worth it.

  I could only guess what her life was like. The life she and Jesse had before their powers developed. How early had Walter gotten his claws in her, grooming her to take her mentor’s place on the Council? Building a cage with her own ambitions? How long had it taken her to come to terms with what she was doing to her brother? To everyone else?

  In the end, she had all the power in the world, and it hadn’t earned her an ounce of freedom. Walter had woven the perfect trap for her, one that she would always lock herself in, for fear of losing everything.

  But maybe it wasn’t too late? Jesse would never forgive her, and her marriage was a farce, but she’d been testing the waters with me. Asking about dating and romance, seeing if I was the person who would look beyond the power and care about Jocelyn, the person. Then, no matter how hard life was in her tower, when the pain, guilt, and loneliness threatened to overwhelm her, she could reassure herself that I was on her side.

  She wanted what I wanted. A place to belong. I’d be her rock. She’d be my island.

  All I had to do was reach out.

  I took a step back.

  Jocelyn hugged her arms. When she opened her eyes, they were flat mirrors of cold silver. “Mind yourself out there, Mr. Fossor,” she said. “Your actions served the Society this time, but if—and when—you cross the line, there won’t be anyone to help you.”

  My scarred lips twitched as I tossed her the wristwatch. “Go tell your husband, he’s welcome for saving his worthless ass. And yours. And your son’s.”

  Jocelyn caught the watch and stared at it. Then she shook her head and dropped it on the dry grass. “He won’t miss it.”

  When she left I reclaimed the watch and went inside. Madelyn sat on the couch, with an untouched plate of scrambled eggs on her lap.

  “You knew?” I asked.

  “When she showed up that night, she started talking and you did everything she wanted. It was weird. You were like a robot.”

  “You didn’t think to say anything?”

  “I tried! But you weren’t listening.”

  “No. I guess I wasn’t.” I went into my room and closed the door, sat at my desk, and tried to bury my feelings in a mental graveyard.

  Since I had a wight for a roommate now, and no new gravedigging jobs, I visited the Gallows to grab some more rations. The atmosphere was quiet as I arrived, and I found the wights sitting in a circle of lawn chairs and stools near the kitchen.

  I was curious, but felt like an unwelcome eavesdropper, so I went to the freezers and bagged a few things. Deb and Jeb broke away from the circle to join me as the rest of the wights departed to their rooms.

  “What’s all that?” I asked.

  Jeb shrugged. “I thought it would help us to talk about what happened as a group. Each of us was treating our existence as a ‘me’ problem. Hearing about Madelyn’s perspective and sharing our own… it helped us bridge gaps we’d left between us. So we don’t feel so much like strangers around each other.”

  I glanced at him. “Dr. Jeb? Sounds like a great talk show.”

  “I think it’s opened up a lot of doors between us,” Deb said. She patted Jeb on the shoulder. “He’s very talented as a counsellor.”

  He shrugged. “It was my focus in med school before… all this.”

  “We were isolating ourselves from one another, not just the surface. It was turning into resentment. I wish things hadn’t turned out like they had,” Deb said. Her lip quivered, and I saw a line of black form in her eyes.

  I bowed my head. “I crashed into your world like a bully. If I had just stayed away-”

  Deb stepped forward. “We’d still be living in squalor. Dreaming of a life we’d never have. I feel horrible for what became of Max, we all bear some of the burden for his decisions. But he chose to take that anger out on an innocent. If you had not been here, Alex, it would have been Ichiro, or Norton, who would have put him down. And Madelyn would have died. Being a wight is a bleak existence, but she is still here. That matters.”

  I forced myself to meet her eyes, and nodded. “I’ve been thinking about that. I think we’ve been squeezing them too hard, Deb.”

  “What do you mean?” Jeb asked.

  I put the bag on top of the freezer. “I mean, have you ever thought about going back to school, Jeb? Finishing your doctorate?”

  He smirked. “Sometimes. Doesn’t matter.”

  “Sure it does.”

  “Hey Jeb, you done with your pow-wow?” Donnie appeared from the side corridor. He met my gaze and froze. “Uh, nevermind.”

  “C’mere, Donnie,” I said. It wasn’t a command, but then most of the wights had taken to seeing it that way. “Have a seat.”

  All three wights obeyed, looking tense.

  “We haven’t been out,” Donnie said.

  “I know,” I said. I dug into my coat and brought out a bottle of chili-infused rum, which had been sitting in my fridge since my first, failed Loa summoning.

  I poured four glasses as I spoke. “I know I was hard on you. I don’t deny it. And I won’t stop being hard, because too many lives are at stake to leave it to chance.”

  Donnie frowned. “Easy for you to say, you don’t have a leash.”

  “Donnie-” Deb started.

  “It’s alright,” I told her. “But you’re wrong, Donnie. Last week I learned I’ve got a leash around my neck too. But I also realized that I
’ve been very, very blind about the world. We all suffered for it. Situations we should have prepared for, we weren’t. Trust we should have shown each other, we didn’t.”

  I pushed the drinks out in front of them. “Someone gave me the advice not to squander my potential, so I intend to stretch out a little. Improve myself. And you guys deserve the same.”

  Both men perked up. “Yeah? How?” Jeb asked.

  I shrugged. “Depends. You could finish school. Find different jobs than the ones I give you. Get a place that isn’t an old sewer. Maybe even try to reconnect with your families.” I looked at Deb. “Whatever’s reasonable. As long as you—as long as we—take it one step at a time, trust each other, and don’t put each other at risk...” I took a glass and toasted it. “What’s the point of living if you never leave your coffin?”

  Donnie took his drink, but hesitated. “I know what happened, happened. Had to happen. Max was my friend. But he didn’t get mean, he started mean. I thought letting him out more would help, but I think I just made it worse.” He shook his head and wiped a black tear from his eye.

  “Blame me, if you want,” I said.

  Donnie shook his head. “No, no. I’m tired of seeing it like that. I wish it hadn’t- that it didn’t happen the way it happened.”

  I sighed. “Me too.”

  Jeb toasted his glass. “Max.”

  We clinked glasses and drank.

  “Ugh,” Jeb said with a wince. “That burns like a motherfucker.”

  “Jebidiah Rainsford!” Deb admonished. She took a dainty sip from her shot glass. “Oh, tits! That’s hot as hell!”

  “Don’t you dare make this come out of my nose,” I told her.

  Donnie chuckled. “Pussies. You gotta learn how to live.”

  I poured him another. “Don’t we all.”

  Note from the Author:

  Alex’s tale is far from over. If you enjoyed this novel, I encourage you to leave a review on Amazon, and sign up for my newsletter right here. You’ll get updates on the next release, my other writing ventures, random foibles, and free short stories that will tie each book in the Alex Fossor series together.