“Nah, I got plant babies to go check on back home.” He gave me a hug and lowered his voice when he lingered by my ear.
“You know, driving the old Batmobile to a date kind of ensures you don’t get a second one. Something we need to talk about?”
Well, shit. How in the hell did he figure me out?
I pulled back and feigned confusion. “Whadd’ya mean?”
“You didn’t take the hearse out for a joyride last night?”
I felt my nostrils flare, and I know he caught it. I shook my head anyway. “I did go in the garage though for some gardening stuff. Maybe I just forgot to close the door.”
“Yeah, I noticed that. Since when do you garden in the middle of the night?”
I shrugged. “Taking my frustration with men out on the roses. Suppose that’s better than painting them red, yeah?”
Dad rolled his eyes and smirked. “They don’t deserve you anyway. Be careful on your way home.” He kissed my forehead, and I smiled as I walked out. Crisis averted. I need to be more fucking careful. I hopped in my car and cranked it up, forgetting I had the volume up almost full blast and giving myself a small heart attack before getting my bearings and reaching for the burner.
UNK: Good evening. Apologies for the short notice, but we’re in need of your services again…urgently.
Holy balls…what happened? Did I do something wrong? Are they trying to get me to walk the plank to my own damn demise? I felt every bit of the two pots of coffee I drank today churning in my stomach and I swallowed it down while I read the next text.
UNK: You’ll be compensated handsomely for your prompt assistance.
I got compensated handsomelylastnight. I’m half tempted to tell Daddy Dumbledore to go fuck himself…but is that a smart move? I don’t think I have the strength to tackle another job without sleep. Especially if it’s as rough as the one they had me cleaning last night.
What the fuck do I do?
Dad just called me out about the hearse not two seconds ago, and I barely got out of that unscathed. It’s not even fully dark out. I’ll have to drive my own damn car. This is aterribleidea. All the images of that body started filtering through my mind. If I don’t go to this job…that could be me that’s sliced and diced. It doesn’t help that I’m positive I’m dealing with the mob of all things. I guess I don’t have a choice.
“I’m gonna throw up,” I whispered to myself, throwing the car in drive and heading around the circular driveway. I hoped this wouldn’t be the last time I ever saw it.
A little over an hour later, and against my better judgment, I pulled up to the gate and it opened right up. I slowly pulled through it and as they didn’t give me specific directions this time, I went and parked on the west wing again, shutting the car off and putting my hands on the wheel. I had to stop by the little mini storage to get all my gear before making my way over, and it barely fit in the trunk of my tiny ride. They’re gonna have fun getting it out this time. It’s a clear night. The stars are winking to life, one by one, and I lost track of how long I sat there looking up at them before I realized…nobody’s come to get me, yet. I drummed my thumbs on the wheel and got increasingly nervous until my burner buzzed on the passenger seat. I reached over and flipped it open.
UNK: You can come inside. Enter through the front door tonight. Walk straight between the two staircasesand into the room directly in front of you. We’ll send someone out for your supplies.
Gulp.
What the hell have I gotten myself into? Why no escort this time? Did I build some level of trust with a fucking mob boss? Maybe I need to invest some of this money into some therapy, dude. In what world is any of this considered sane? I shook my arms out, hoping to grow a spine I could straighten to put on the mask I carelessly wore the last time I was here.
I’m a professional. I’m a professional. I’m a professional.
I got out and quietly shut my car door, making my way towards the front of the house, and damning myself for assuming I should just park on the west side. It’s a big ass house, and walking this far makes me feel way too exposed. It feels like a thousand eyes are watching me—because they likely are—and that familiar sensation of just as many spiders started sneaking up the spine I didn’t grow as I finally made my way up the front steps. The oversized doors were unlocked, and I opened the right one, letting myself into the massive foyer. It opened into an even bigger entry space with two huge, red-carpeted staircases curving towards each other over the checkered tile floor. I saw the door that they told me to go for and slipped the sockies over my black boots before walking towards it.
I took in my surroundings and while it was huge and clean and…beautiful…it was also way too quiet, and I didn’t see a single soul anywhere. That nervous feeling just kept getting heavier and heavier until I approached the large wooden door. I smelled the irony scent of blood when I opened it, but…it’s not the same as death. I couldn’t explain it to you if I tried. My instincts went berserk when I got the immediate feeling that something wasn’t right. I left the door cracked behind me andsnuck down a short hallway that led into a dimly lit room and as I passed the area where that hallway ended…I saw a familiar figure tied to a chair. There was some blood, yes…but it wasn’t too bad.
I crept closer and realized pretty quick why this guy looked familiar to me. Nobody came to get me tonight because the guy in the chairwasMr. Nightshade. My escort fromlastnight. I don’t know why, but I felt kinda bad about it. I sighed and pressed my hands to my hips to figure out how the hell I was gonna fit a body and a chair across the floorboard of my tiny back seat. Of all the chairs that are probly in this fine establishment, they picked one with upholstery to ruin. I might have to hack it apart and take it out of here in pieces. Damn it, I really wish I had the hearse.
“…ugh…”
I nearly leapt out of my fuckingskin.
I’ve seena lotof dead people. I’ve heard them make noises occasionally. I’ve seen some things leaking out of them that would make somebody yack all over the floor, but that sound? That’s not the sound that one would hear coming out of abody. That’s the sound of someone still alive. Barely…but alive. He was pretty gutted, I could see several of his organs through his midsection. His eyes were gouged out like the guy I’d studied last night. A few of his fingers were hacked off, but this time, carefully placed in a neat pile in dude’s lap. I couldn’t stop my chest from heaving up and down in panic and I backed away slowly, about to make a break for that door I left open.
Bump.
I wailed…like a cat that had its tail stepped on. Figures, I’d be so absolutely backwards about a situation like this. Perfectly calm and collected when there’s dead people all around me—screaming like a pussy around people that arealive. Somebody just put me out of my misery…please. I spun around,knowing full well it was warm flesh I backed into and met a pair of truly Irish eyes.
Hiseyes.
