18A, Dax Giambi Point of view:
Bayou 20 miles outside of the city…
A small sedan makes its way down the dirt road, dirty water from the swamp is on either side of the road. The sedan comes to a stop in front of an old service station.
A man in a suit steps out of the passenger door to the Cadillac, he opens the right rear door, a short plump man steps out of the vehicle. Leaving his lackies by the car the short man waggles up the path towards the door.
A person with fire red hair waits at the entrance of the station he speaks as the man makes his way towards him.
“Giambi, what brings you all the way out here?”
The man stops short of the entrance and flashes a forced smile, he takes a cloth handkerchief from his suit pocket and wipes his sweat soaked face.
“McFarlane... I bring you something lucrative, perhaps we can speak inside?”
“Come on inside, I have some nuts on the boil, can I get you a cup?”
Inside the station is depressing, sparse items are for sale on the shelf. The items are of low quality. Giambi steps over old wet newspapers on the floor, at one time he assumed the papers were placed on the floor to soak up spill.
“No nuts for me Danny this won’t take long.” Says Giambi.
Looking at Danny, he is six and a half feet tall, he has fair skin and looks as if he spent his entire life in the bayou. He speaks with in ignorant tone, despite his simple personality; Danny is a calculated man of extreme violence.
“Alright suit yourself, what is this lucrative opportunity you speak of?”
Giambi takes a chair from nearby and takes a seat, the short walk from the car to the station had taken a lot out of him.
“We have a job for you this one comes right from the old man.”
Giambi reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls a thick white envelope bursting at the seams. Giambi tosses the envelop to Danny, the dense stack of cash is caught one handed.
“The last time you paid me this much cash up front, I believe you had me kidnap that strip club owners daughter. I hope I don’t have to go all the way to Dallas for this?”
Giambi nodded his head at the recollection of Jack Ruby.
“I am sorry Danny if you were looking for easy money this isn’t it... I assure you this job will be just as difficult as whacking a man in protective custody.”
“If I could twist Ruby’s arm enough to pop Oswald, I think I can handle whoever this is. Who’s the guy?”
Giambi takes a page from his pocket; the page features a photograph. The pages seems like it was torn from a college year book. Giambi hands the page to Danny, who looks at a photo at the center of the page. The photo is in black and white. Wearing a college sweater is a young man, hanging on his arm is a pretty looking girl with dark hair.
“Where can I find him, or is it her?”
“Your target is the boy; he is a member of the Breeze Street Crew.”
“What did he do to piss y’all off?”
“We have had our eyes on his crew for a while, then they crossed the line, they hit a shipment of microwaves on the Mississippi, we had claim to 100 of them this kid planned the heist. We told them to pay and hand him over they refused. They have been hiding him in the Quarter on somewhere on Breeze Street.”
Something in Danny’s mind clicked.
“Wait that is Chris Dellara’s crew ain’t it?”
Giambi nods his head. Danny tosses the money back to Giambi; the dense cash is caught.
“You must take me for a simpleton. I have no wish to cross paths with the Pale Death...”
“Your half Lorrent aren’t you? I wouldn’t think one of the McFarland’s would be afraid of Lucifer?” Mocks Giambi.
“I would be a fool if I didn’t fear him, he and I are both demons true, but he is a different caliber than my clan... The Pale Death has a higher body count than the Grim Reaper himself, if I do this you are going to have to give me at least four times the amount in that envelope. I will need one more thing as well to get this job done.”
“An Albino Child.”
“You will have both, be warned you will need to be prepared to take out more than just this kid. We originally gave this job to the Deluca brothers. This Bruce McKean killed Sal, the Deluca’s were fools to go right at him. Do not make the same mistake of underestimating him. I will have the rest of the cash and a child dropped off here tonight no later 8pm. Now do you know how rare these children are? To find them is near impossible, we have blood in ample supply if would rather we bring that-“
Danny cuts him off.
“I will need to use the entire kid for the ritual, in exchange I can give you one of my pets?”
Giambi rubs his chin.
“That’s interesting but we don’t want something we can’t control…”
“No worries I have a dozen control bracelets to go with him, why don’t you take a look he is just in the garage...”
Danny leads Giambi through a door near the counter that he leaned on. Inside there is an empty room, but in the center of the floor curled up is a nasty hairy creature with hind legs. It had claws six inches long. The creature is asleep and shows no sign of waking.
“Now they are annoying because they talk a little bit, and they are vicious as hell, but as long as you and the handlers wear these bracelets you will be able to issue it orders.”
Danny had picked up a wooden box with a dozen, wooden bead bracelets. Giambi takes the box in his hands.
“How is this thing against Lorrents?”
“Well originally these things run around on their own, but my daddy learned from some dog god how to control them. Those claws aren’t for show they physically rip the souls out of humans, it also has a long-range attack that could burn that Lucifer to the ground. I would use him to kill that kid, but it would be hard to be inconspicuous with a seven-foot monster running loose in the quarter. I believe this is a fair trade, in fact I think it warrants a second child. what do you think?”
Giambi takes a bracelet from the box and pockets it.
“My men will be by with the children and money. We will be bringing a truck for this thing, have it muzzled and bound for transport. Good day to you Danny, remember what I said about not underestimating him…
18B, Lucifer Point of View:
The trench coat hangs on his shoulders and flaps in the wind, Lucifer silently stalks along the sidewalk. He turns down Royal Street, he would leaving the French Quarter by this route. He walks with a sense of duty and purpose; he is indifferent to his task. Yet again he would be getting his hands dirty…
His sullen and purposeful strides end in front of a building three miles from the French Quarter. The building is a villa, Lucifer looks to his left and to his right, he sees a chain with a padlock wrapped around the double iron gates. The gates lead to the courtyard of the villa.
He approaches the gate, he is powerful, but these chains are thick, he takes the padlock between his gloved hands and pulls down on the lock… The lock pops off, silently Lucifer slips into the courtyard. The courtyard has a brand-new Cadillac parked near a set of stairs leading to the upper portion of the villa.
Lucifer pauses and sniffs the air; he listens closely and towards the back right of the building he hears two faint heartbeats. He can sense three other heartbeats on the bottom floor, with the heart beats proximity to the kitchen, Lucifer figured that those were the sleeping members of the staff.
He starts up the stairs, he is silent in his ascent, the iron steps could make noise. After Lucifer glides up the staircase, he looks at the door and he could rip it open, that could also make too much noise. He looks over at a large window, he sees a latch through the glass at the bottom right of the frame.
Lucifer pulls a small glass cutter from his pocket and fits the diamond point to the glass and cuts a hole large enough for his hand to slip through. He flicks the switch and slides the glass back, being as tall as he is, he just steps into the room. He leaves the window open to cut down on noise, Lucifer moves down the hallway. Inching closer to the target he could practically smell the musk under the man’s armpits.
Humans always had a pungent scent of musk; this smell is often masked by their deodorant, but Lucifer’s expert nose could tell regardless. This sense of smell is how he was able to sense the Dellmore boy the day Bruce made bones for the crew.
Entering the bedroom Lucifer drifts into the room leaving the door open, again he wants to be quiet. Stepping to the side he sees a large bed with its curtains drawn. Lucifer creeps over and pulls the linen hiding the bed away…
Looking down, there are two people sleeping. They lay curled up with one another, the girl has a smile on her face as she lays on the chest of her man, she is blissfully unaware of the danger in the room. The night holds no handicap for Lucifer he can see everything in the room. The girl is very pretty as far as human mates are concerned.
Under the woman is a large man, the woman closes her fingers on the man’s chest and grabs a fist full of chest hair, the unconscious grab of hair fails to wake either of them.
The man is Matthew Bonaguro, he sleeps on his back, opening and closing his mouth. When he opens his mouth, he admits a low volume snore, the snore escapes the corners of his mouth and fills the darkened room… Bonaguro is one of Marcello’s best earners, the enemy had no clue that Lucifer had been keeping tabs on them for years and knew their operation well.
Bonaguro is a Captain in the New Orleans Crime Family. He controls large swaths of the New Orleans neighborhoods; his enforcers often do the direct bidding for Marcello…
Lucifer silently draws his stainless steel 1911. He had the barrel fitted with a suppressor before he left the Quarter. The Pale Death extends his arm, he keeps his appendage straight, instead of nerves he feels his blood boiling, then as usual the fog begins to escape his pores, upon mixing with the atmosphere the fog is made thicker.
The fog is a side effect brought on by a stressful situation, he isn’t nervous, it is just what he does...
He has learned to control it and can even harness the trait to use on command, only there are times when, like now he is in such deep concentration that he can’t control the fog.
Lucifer squeezes his trigger twice…
The rounds rip from the barrel in a muffled click the sound is loud within the walls of the room. It should go unnoticed by the servants downstairs. The muzzle of his suppressor produces two bright flashes…
One of the rounds strike the woman in the black of the skull, from the distance the round passes right through her head as if it is a melon and hits Bonaguro in the chest. The second round pierces her shoulder hitting her heart from the back. The smile is still on her face when she died…
Bonaguro wakes with a painful start when he is hit in his chest! Opening his eyes, he disoriented for a moment and tries to push the dead weight girl off of him…
But then Bonaguro looks up helplessly into the eyes of his attacker and the white fog filling the room! He knew then the stories are true, and that Pale Death had come for him!
Lucifer smells urine beginning to soak the bed.
“I have money you can have it all!” Pleads the victim.
Lucifer didn’t answer, he squeezes the trigger once more…
The close distance and the angle of the round shatters Bonagoro’s head like it is a pumpkin. Fragments of his head splatter the head board…
As silently as Lucifer entered the villa, he is just as diligent in his exit. He builds up the fog at the gate of the villa and slips into the darkened alleyways of New Orleans.
He had to perform one more hit tonight and he was sure with the combination of the two, it would send a message to Marcello that this war is going to be costly…
As Lucifer travels down the alley he feels the weight of something heavy and dark descending onto him, almost like a powerful jinx! Then he felt something else! His stomach is turning in knots, his Huntington’s disease felt worse than ever before, normally he can ignore his fits.
Driven to his knees he blinks heavily; Lucifer pulls the wooden talisman from his neck and looks down. It was cracked someone had tried to put a curse on him…
Damn this fragile body, he always hated that his vessel became sick, of all the luck to find the one in a million fetus that had it.
He knew the Huntington’s would shorten his long life, but he had become used to it, it seems someone had accelerated his disease, he didn’t have to think hard about who would curse him. It felt like blood magic; Marcello must have his own supernatural forces mobilizing…
18C, Madame Bouquet Point of View:
Stepping out of her bed and breakfast Madame Bouquet walks down the stone path towards the front iron gate. She reaches through the bars of the fence and grabs the paper. The madame is in her forties and is a pretty woman with blonde hair, she had vein lines on her legs, it is that gross blue spider webbing middle-aged woman get in their joints. But her firm and ample jugs are more than enough to make the johns cum when no other girls were available.
You see Madame Bouquet ran one of the most exclusive brothels south of the Mason Dixon. All the wealthy men from, doctors, politicians to writers frequented this brothel.
Entering the foyer to her brothel, she comes across a man looking out the white curtains. In his hands is a massive looking weapon, it is known as BAR, or Browning Automatic Rifle. From his spot hidden behind the curtains he could spot anyone moving in on the house.
“Good morning Craig can I bring you some coffee?”
Craig nods his head and keeps scan for the front still looking out the window he rubs the sleep from his eyes, he had been on watch since 3 am.
“Yes Ma’am, I still have another two hours left on watch and I can barely keep my eyes open. May I please get it with a pinch of bourbon?”
The madame gives Craig a smile and says.
“You sure can, I have the girls making a fresh pot, I’ll have them bring you one.”
The madame walks through the house and enters her kitchen. Two of her girls are in the kitchen, one girl organizes a tray of food with a fresh pot of coffee, the other cleans the dishes in the sink.
“Madame Bouquet, how much longer are the Breeze Street boys gonna be here for?”
“Why are you not enjoying your paid vacation?”
“It’s not really vacation; you have been treating us like housekeepers.”
“Molly, you would had chores even if we had john’s coming in... I know for a fact you have been shaking down Dellara’s men so don’t act like you are unfulfilled.”
“I like having them here, that Vinny sure is a handsome one, and I got good look at our VIP, as the actress walked him up and down the stairs. He is the prettiest boy I have ever seen on the Quarter…”
“See Sandy has the right attitude.” Says Madame Bouquet
“I didn’t say I hated them, or they were ugly, I just want things to return to normal it’s been too quiet here.”
“A little quiet now and again is welcome, having a purse full of cash from Chris Dellara is a blessing. He is paying out the nose for that boy upstairs, so y’all better be as sweet as pie to his men! Molly I am gonna take this upstairs, bring Craig a cup of coffee with bourbon he is at the front door.”
The Madame lifts the tray and starts up the servants steps. She works her way through the halls, once stepping off the stairs.
Outside of the door to the VIP suite she sees a man with a crossword puzzle sitting at his post next to the door. Madame Bouquet stops at the door with her hands full Vinny offers assistance.
“Let me” Vinny knocks on the door.
On the other side of the door he hears a pair of high heels click off the wooden woodblock. Madame Bouquet smiles at the woman who answers the door. Unlike the first day when she arrived in a tattered blood-stained dress, today she is completely put together.
She wore an expensive looking cashmere sweater and clean jeans. This girl had a better figure than any of Bouquets girls, and she was prettier to boot. Bouquet could have made a fortune off this girl.
“Hello Sally, thank you.” Says Callie Bee.
She takes the tray from her hands. Her tone is pleasant and devoid of any resentment. That wasn’t the case the first day she arrived.
Callie Bee had just arrived at the brothel; her man had been led up the stairs by two of his men. Curious, Bouquet’s girls came downstairs to see who the VIP was. One of her girls named Lyla saw Bruce being led by.
“He’s really cute” She said aloud.
Callie Bee stops at the foot of the steps, she didn’t know which of the baker’s dozen said it, but she bares her fangs to all 13 women in the room.
“Listen to me you harlots! If you even step foot into his room I will have his men flog you in the streets!”
Back in the present Madame Bouquet hands over the tray to Callie Bee and asks her if she needed anything.
“Miss is there anything else we can get you?”
“He has sweet tooth, could perhaps someone could pick up some candy cigarettes?” Asks Callie Bee.
“I have a couple packs downstairs. I will send Craig upstairs with them when his watch is over.”
“Thank you” says Callie Bee.
18D, Callie Bee Point of View.
Bee closes the door and makes for the bed. The room is spotless, Bee can be a neat freak and with nothing to do she fills the time by cleaning. To her disgust while cleaning behind the furniture, she had found several crusty rags stuffed behind the bed, dresser and hidden under the bathroom sink.
Being in a house of ill-repute she knew exactly what filth these rags had contained. After that moment she couldn’t sit in the room without feeling like the microscopic tadpoles had been crawling all over her.
Therefore, she kept cleaning until the place practically shined, the fire place remained soot less, the bronze legs of the galvanized tub had been polished from green to its original pretty brown.
The curtains are drawn as she sets the tray down.
“Bee what do we have eat today?” Says Bruce eagerly.
His appetite had returned yesterday, and he had been eating everything in sight.
“We have eggs, cheese grits and French toast… with sausage with bacon.”
He wore a large smile as Callie took the pot of coffee and pours the hot liquid into the two cups the tray. She sets his breakfast tray up on his lap and walks over to the other side of the bed. She crawls over to him a rests lifts his fork.
“Can I try to do it myself today?”
She smiles at him, ever since Bruce had awaken, he had been trying to do things for himself. Bee admired his inner strength and resolve. Bee gently places his fork in his right hand. His left side took the brunt of the trauma and remained unusable.
Bruce attempts to lift his right arm; he moves his fork it to the plate and stabs down at the sausage patty. Holding his fork his hand shakes like FDR’s legs, the patty flops off the tip of the fork due to his MS moment and the hot sausage patty falls onto his arm searing his skin.
“Ow” Bruce yelps.
Bee holds his shoulder down to prevent to tray from being up ended.
“Easy sweetie don’t overdo it.”
“I don’t get it, I got shot in my left side not my right.”
“It is just gonna take time for you to get your strength back.” coos Bee.
She had placed the patty back on the plate and wipes the grease from his chest. Picking up his fork she also takes the knife and cuts the sausage patty into pieces. Callie Bee lifts the fork to his mouth, he opens his mouth reluctantly, the corners of his mouth twitch.
She had fed him slow; she didn’t want him to get sick, the meds he was on could make his stomach turn. That is why she avoided the eggs; they had made him queasy. Bee holds her hand under his chin to catch any grits that missed his mouth.
After breakfast and their coffee Bee removes the tray and sets it outside the door. Returning to Bruce’s bedside she began her morning inspection of his injuries. When she first laid eyes on the wounds it made her stomach queasy, but nearly two weeks in she has an iron constitution. First she looks at his shoulder wound peeling bag the bandage.
The wound is only an inch, the area around the wound is blue and black, the color looked healthier. Then she pulls back the sheets. It was determined that Chuck had gotten in the path of the second bullet fired into his side, which took the power out of the shot, knowing that his friend died, and he lived is something she could tell weighed on his mind. His wound seemed to be healing but when she lightly touches the skin he winces.
Lastly she looks at his through and through, which is easily the nastiest of the three wounds. The entry wound looks just like the others, the swelling around it and the blued skin has started to fade slightly.
“Bruce I need you to roll over”
Bee of course has to assist with the roll. The coloration for the exit wound looks no different than yesterday. She feels him shutter as she peels back the bandage. The exit wound has a larger circumference, the exit wound had taken Wayne the most time to dress.
“I am going to change these after your bath...”
There is a knock at the door. Vinny opens it just a peep to be able to holler into the room.
“Bruce! Gary is here to see you, Mickey too.”
“Send them in…” Says Bruce.
18E, Bruce Point of View:
Gary and Mickey approach the bed, behind them is another man that Bee had spoken with daily. Carl is in charge of the group of men keeping Bruce safe, in addition to Carl he had three other men stationed around the brothel. There is Craig and Vinny, there was one other person, he was named Brett, Brett usually patrolled the back garden.
Seeing the men enter the room Bee leans over and whispers in his ear...
“Bruce while you talk with your friends I am gonna draw your bath, it’s been awhile since you have had a proper one” He feels goosebumps popping up all over his body.
Mickey and Gary wait for Bee to go into the bathroom before they continue.
Gary wears his usual navy suit, Carl is less formal in jeans and Mickey well, he had on a suit too, but it looked like it was from twenty years ago. His poor dress seemed to add to Mickey’s troubles, you see, Mickey had been cooped up on the other side of the house, the boss didn’t want him on streets at the moment.
“Did you see the paper today?” Asks Gary.
“No, I hadn’t gotten to it yet.”
Bruce looks across the room at the breakfast tray sitting on the coffee table he lifts his finger and points at the tray. Mickey being the closest to the tray takes the paper and hands it to Bruce. He looks at the front cover and sees nothing.
“Turn to page eight”
When Bruce does so he looks down at the page, Gangland, Eight Dead: Bruce scans the small blurb.
“We pop two of their captains and it doesn’t merit the front page!” States Bruce.
“I think it is the mayor, last thing he would want are feds in the city picking the bones of this war.”
“No witnesses, foggy night and all head shots. This must have been Lucifer?” Mutters Bruce still scanning the page.
“It was him, he spent days tracking them down. Kevin and Donald helped they say Lucifer is much angrier than usual.”
“Might have something with us losing eight of our guys, this tic for tac isn’t gonna work, they have us outnumbered 3 to 1, we will need some way to drop bunch of them.” Says Mickey.
Carl took this time to interject into conversation.
“We will leave the killing to Lucifer, Bruce I wanted to let you know we are gonna need to be vigilant today, Go about your business and rest, just keep in mind we might have to change safehouses.”
After that, the three of them took their leave of Bruce, Bruce stood up so see hoe Bee was getting along with the bath.
“Are they gone?” He heard her drawl calling him from the bathroom.
Bruce uses cane to brace himself.
“Yeah they are gone”
Callie Bee steps out of the bathroom, she leans on the wooden frame her dark hair flows below her shoulders, all the way down to her bare bottom. Bruce’s eyes were locked on her front, he couldn’t peel them away. Her shoulders, and knees were smooth and unwrinkled. Her stomach tone and flat, he then looks back to her bottom, that poked out with a healthy bump.
His eyes became fixated on her chest, attached to her skin were two perfectly symmetrical breasts, flawlessly well-proportioned with a pair of the smallest and pinkest nipples, Bruce ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. Bruce staggered holding onto his cane and fell ass downwards onto the edge of the bed.
Abandoning looking sexy Bee crosses the room and braces Bruce.
“Sorry let me help you”
“You almost caused me to faint” jokes Bruce.
“Sorry but it’s the best way for me to be able to hold you in the tub to keep from slipping, let me help you up we will go slow...”
Inside the bathroom Bruce is stripped of his pajamas, and he could tell Bee was right about him needing a bath, sponge baths help a man from feeling dirty, but it doesn’t fully remove the scent of his order.
Bruce felt self-conscious being helped into the tub, he sat forward, the water does not reach above his thighs, soaking gunshots wounds is not advisable. He feels the ripples of water moving around him as she climbs into the tub behind him...
Feeling her slippery skin of her pelvis and the tickle of her erect nipples on his back, causes Bruce’s lad to swell under the water, the tip of his foreskin begins to raise out of the thigh deep water as if a lighthouse in the center of a bay.
Callie Bee acts like she didn’t notice it. She gently rubs bar of soap onto a soft wash cloth, and begins gently rubbing the soap into a lather on his skin. It felt blissful to feel her hands cleaning every inch of his body, then he felt the softness of her hand close around his lighthouse.
“I hope you didn’t think I forgot about him?” She whispers into his ear.
It didn’t take long for the lighthouse to catch fire, he erupted with a massive volume! This had been the first time he had discharged since the night before the heist. Bruce became suddenly grossed out knowing that he was floating in tub full of himself. Thankfully Bee didn’t let them stew in the now half sperm, half soapy mix for long...
Bee fixed a soft cotton towel around his waist and kisses him. He soaks in the ecstasy of his lover and kisses her back on the mouth. But this bliss state wouldn’t last for long, for as Bee placed her hands onto the waistline of his towel, the large window overlooking the front of the house implodes into the room!
Bruce falls down with Callie Bee in his arms, he seeks shelter behind the large galvanized tub. Bruce looks down at his front some of his stitches had opened and fresh blood leaks out.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
The sounds of Gunshots below, ring out into the morning! Bruce needed to get to his 1911 but didn’t want to leave Callie Bee unprotected, he chose to trust his men, as he holds onto her tightly, telling her they would be fine... But were they empty words?