Possessed by the Killer

by Hamel, B. B.

  “Thank you, Connor,” I said. “You’ve been very helpful.” I left him there to cry and headed back upstairs. Mags was back on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, rocking back and forth slightly. Gian sat the table nearby, and looked over as I stepped into the room. I was sweating from the work and I had blood splattered all over my clothes.

  “Well?” Gian asked. “The kid finally talk?”

  “Big Bruno brought them the address,” I said. “It’s definitely Roy.”

  Gian nodded once. “No way he did that on his own.”

  I walked to the steps and called for Marco. He came halfway down and nodded at me. “What’s up, boss?”

  “Take care of the guy upstairs,” I said. “Kill him, dump the body. Same for the guy in the basement.”

  Mags sucked in a breath. Marco headed away, and there was a muffled gunshot a minute later.

  “Why are you killing them?” she asked. “You got what you wanted, right?”

  “Can’t have them going back to their boss,” I said. “As soon as the word’s out that I’m alive, shit’s going down.”

  “What are we going to do then?” Mags asked, looking from me to Gian. “Stay here?”

  “We’ll go back to the house,” I said. “And Bea will spread it around that I’m gone and haven’t been home in a while. That we’re both missing.”

  “I’ll back it up,” Gian said. “Family might go into chaos for a bit.”

  “That’s okay,” I said. “I don’t plan on letting this fake death last long.”

  “You can probably get a day,” Gian said and got to his feet.

  Marco came down the steps, fiddling with a silencer on his pistol. “Fucking bodies, man,” he said. “Always bleed more than you think.” He grinned at me then headed down into the basement.

  Another muffled gunshot.

  “Buy me as much time as you can,” I said and walked with Gian to the door. I opened it, but he lingered on the stoop. He looked past me, over to Mags, then met my eyes.

  “She gonna be okay?” he asked softly, too quiet for her to hear.

  “I hope so,” I said.

  He nodded then headed down the block. “I’ll buy you a day,” he said as he left.

  I went back inside. Marco and Tony got to work taking care of the corpses while I sat down next to Mags. She stared at the floor then slowly looked up at me.

  “Why?” she asked softly. “I don’t understand why my uncle would do this to me.”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But things are going to get bad for a little while. I need you to promise me something.”

  “I don’t think I have any more to give,” she said and leaned her head against my shoulder.

  I put my arm around her and pulled her tight. “All I need is for you to trust me,” I said. “I’m going to get us out of this, okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said, closing her eyes. “Okay.”

  I held her there for a few minutes. There were more sounds from the basement, some grunts and curses. I got to my feet and helped Mags up, and took her outside before Tony and Marco started dragging out the bodies.

  Trent stood in the shadows smoking a cigarette. The smell was thick and heavy as he saluted.

  “You were never here,” I told him. “Got me?”

  “Got you,” he said. “Never here.” He whistled and looked up at the sky.

  I took Mags’s hand and tugged her alone. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go back home and finish this.”

  She came with me and didn’t speak the whole way back.

  We had a day to get this sorted. One day to put things right. After that, I’d lose the element of surprise, and the family might break down into all-out war.

  If that happened, I was afraid that Mags wouldn’t survive it.

  18

  Mags

  I felt numb on the drive back to the house. Dean parked and helped me inside. It was late, and I should’ve been exhausted, but a nervous, jittery excitement kept me awake. “I’ve got to make plans,” he said and squeezed my hand at the threshold of his office. He kissed my cheek softly. “Go find Bea. Make some tea if you want, I don’t know. Try to get some sleep.” He hesitated, but left me there in the hallway.

  I paced back toward the living room. I figured if Bea was still awake, I’d find her there. But the house was empty and quiet, and all the wooden paneling, the statues and the art, it felt oppressive and terrible, like a tomb. The rugs soaked up noise and the furniture seemed like it belonged in a museum, and nothing brought me any comfort, noting felt like home.

  The only thing I liked in this house was Dean, and Bea, but the rest of I was completely foreign.

  I checked the time. A little past two in the morning. I couldn’t sit around and I definitely wasn’t going to sleep, and one thing bothered me, one detail that didn’t make any sense. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something, that Uncle Roy really wasn’t trying to kill me, that Dean had it all wrong somehow.

  Uncle Roy didn’t much care about me. That wasn’t some huge secret. He never tried to hide his actual feelings, but I didn’t think he despised me enough to have me killed for his own political gain. I was still his blood, his flesh and his family.

  Something bothered me worse. I stepped out the back door and looked up at the night sky. Just a few weeks ago, I would’ve still been working the bar in my father’s club, the night winding down to close, the final drunks all busy getting their last drinks in and throwing whatever money they had left at the girls dancing up on the stage, everyone exhausted, dirty, and sluggish. My father would sit and count tips and do accounting and drink beer after beer until we finally kicked everyone out at three. Now though, everything was different.

  I walked around the back of the house and found the garage. The light flicked on and I stood next to the car Dean gave me. I hadn’t driven it anywhere yet—just didn’t have a reason to go anywhere. Besides, I didn’t have a license, and I didn’t feel like breaking any laws. Yet, anyway.

  Now though, something bothered me, and I needed answers.

  The garage door slid up and I started the engine. It purred to life and vibrated as I pulled out. Nobody came running, nobody tried to stop me, and I drifted down the long driveway, out onto the main road, and headed into the city.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about my father, drinking beer after beer.

  He wasn’t a good man or a good father. He was abusive and aggressive and treated me like dirt most of the time, and yet he was still my dad. If Uncle Roy wanted to kill me, Dad would be in danger, too.

  There was no way Dad would let Uncle Roy get away with it.

  I had to warn him. I didn’t want him to do somethings stupid like go after Uncle Roy. Dad never struck me as someone that might start a fight or get violent with a powerful man like Uncle Roy, but people did stupid things sometimes. I sped up the closer I got to the city, mind racing around in circles, trying to understand how my own family could kill me, and hoping, hoping, hoping, that my father didn’t know about it.

  I found a decent spot near the bar. It was two-thirty. The place was technically closed, though I knew they didn’t kick anyone out yet and I could get in without problem. I hesitated, not sure what I’d find inside, but pushed my fear away and stepped out onto the cold sidewalk.

  The club was rundown and sticky. I entered in through the too-familiar front door and hesitated in the shadows near the door. Jasmine was on stage, gyrating like she was trying to break her own hips, looking exhausted. A drunk old guy threw a single at her and she didn’t bother to pick it up. A man I didn’t recognize stood behind the bar, probably some temp from the mafia sent to help my dad out while I was otherwise disposed.

  My father himself sat where he always did, a beer next to his elbow, cash in front of him. I always thought it was stupid to count money right there where any petty criminal might walk up, push a gun against his back, and take everything, but he did whatever he wanted. I couldn’t tell him otherw
ise, anyway.

  I drifted over toward him, my feet moving like they were glued to the floor. The place smelled like sweat and liquor. I hated that smell, hated the sparkling lights, the terrible music, the body glitter that got everywhere when the girls gave lap dances. I hated the disgusting men laughing as they threw back shots and stared at Jasmine’s tits. I hated my father, sitting in the middle of all this like it was no big deal, and hated myself for staying here for so long and never once trying to get away.

  I stopped just behind him. He didn’t notice me at first, then felt my presence. He looked back with a scowl, ready to tell me to fuck off—

  Then his eyes went wide.

  There was a moment, a few seconds at most, where I still loved my dad. I thought of the good times when he made me laugh. I remembered going to the shore with him when I was a little girl and running through the waves. He was heartbroken back then but still a regular human being. He turned into a piece of shit later, as I got a little older.

  He was surprised. Not upset, not happy. Just surprised, like I was the last person he expected to see.

  But what really did it for me was the drink.

  Not a beer, like usual, but whiskey. Probably the good stuff too, knowing him. He never drank whiskey, not unless he had a good reason.

  “You look surprised to see me,” I said.

  He blinked quickly, and the moment was gone that fast. But I didn’t forget the look on his face. I didn’t think I’d ever forget it.

  He knew.

  “You’re with the Don now,” he said, trying to smile. It was a ghost of the real thing. “I didn’t think you’d come visit your poor father ever again.”

  “I probably shouldn’t have,” I said, tilting my head. “Considering how much of an asshole you’ve been to me for years.”

  He winced slightly but the old anger came back. Dad couldn’t hear a challenge without stepping up, especially not from me.

  “What do you want, Mags?” he asked. “You need money or some shit?”

  “No, I don’t need your money,” I said and stepped closer. “I came to warn you.”

  “Warn me?” He frowned a little. “What the hell would you warn me about?”

  I reached out and grabbed his whiskey. He watched me toss it back. I slid the glass away and it banged up against the taps. The bartender stared at me then looked away like he couldn’t bear to watch.

  Motherfucker. He knew.

  Dad knew.

  “Something’s going down in the family,” I said, leaning toward him. “Dean’s been talking. I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

  “Oh, yeah, kiddo. I’m safe. Don’t worry. Uncle Roy looks after me.”

  I leaned toward him, closer than I’ve been voluntarily in a long time. He leaned back like I was about to bite his throat, which I really did consider.

  “You might want to avoid Uncle Roy for a while,” I whispered. “Word is, he’s been doing some bad things.”

  Dad’s mouth dropped open. His jaw worked. He tried to speak, stopped himself, cleared his throat, looked for his drink, stopped himself again. “What are you talking about?” he asked finally.

  “You knew,” I said and the words wrenched from my throat like a knife wound. “You knew he was going to try to kill me, didn’t you?”

  “No,” he whispered but his face went pale. “No, honey—”

  “You motherfucker,” I said, hands balled into tight fists. “You piece of shit. I knew you were a bad father, I knew you were a selfish bastard, but I didn’t think you’d let your brother murder your own daughter. How could you, Dad?”

  “I didn’t know,” he whispered, and there were tears in his eyes, fat crocodile tears. I didn’t feel bad for him. I couldn’t pity this man, this pathetic half-man.

  “Leave town,” I said, moving back away from him. “Run away. Leave tonight. Take all that cash and get out of here.”

  “What are you going to do?” he asked.

  “Dean will take care of me,” I said. “If you’re still around when this is all over, you’re going to die. I promise you that, Dad. I’ll make sure Dean finishes you off.”

  He sucked in a breath and looked down at his hands. For a second, I thought he might apologize. I thought he might have a good excuse, some reason why he knew and didn’t try to stop it, like Uncle Roy blackmailed him or forced him or—something, anything, any reason for me to not despise my own father for letting me get murdered.

  Instead, he shoved the cash in his pocket. “I’ll go,” he said, and stood up. “I need an hour.”

  “If you’re in the city come sunrise, I’ll make sure you die,” I said. “And if you tell Uncle Roy you saw me, I’ll hunt you down myself.”

  He nodded once. “I didn’t want any of this,” he said. “Your uncle—”

  “Just go,” I said, biting back tears. I didn’t think I could keep them in much longer and I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

  He looked down at the floor, turned, and walked away. He disappeared into the back, and I hoped to god I never saw him again.

  I leaned against the bar and took deep, painful breaths. When I turned, Dean stood in the doorway, staring at me with narrowed eyes.

  I didn’t move. It took me a second to realize he wasn’t a figment of my imagination. Seeing gorgeous Dean in this seedy piece-of-shit strip club was bizarre. I didn’t know how long he was there, but he must’ve seen me talking to my father.

  Slowly, I walked to him. He came and met me halfway, and wrapped his arms around me.

  “Are you okay?” he whispered.

  I sobbed into his chest. I didn’t think I’d ever be okay again.

  My father knew, and he did nothing to stop it.

  “Come on,” Dean said, gently leading me back outside into the cool night. “I’ll take you home.”

  “What about the car?” I asked.

  “I’ll have a guy bring it back for me,” he said, hugging me tight against him, arm over my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, blinking rapidly. The world was blurry and I felt like I might be sick. “I didn’t think my dad… I didn’t think he’d be a part of it. I wanted to warn him.”

  “You don’t have to apologize.” His voice was tight and angry. “You don’t deserve this, Mags. You don’t deserve any of it. Your own fucking father, selling you out.”

  I leaned up against him and he stopped, pushing me back up against his car. I sucked in a breath as he kissed me, and I returned his kiss with a starving, wild desperation I hadn’t known I felt. His fingers trailed down my cheek then wrapped into my hair and held me, and though I cried, the kiss tasted right, tasted good, and finally made up my mind.

  I knew what I wanted. And I got into that car with zero reservations.

  Dean was a monster. He was a hulking beast. I could still see him stab that guy in the leg with glee in his eyes. I could smell the blood and the damp, moldy basement air. But that monster was my monster, the monster that cared about me more than my own father did.

  That’s all I ever needed or wanted.

  19

  Dean

  We got a few hours of sleep. It was barely enough, but neither of us would get through the next day if we didn’t pass out for a little while at least. I left her tangled in the sheets, that poor, beautiful fucking girl, and called a meeting of my most trusted advisors.

  Her father left her for dead. I didn’t hear what she said to him, but I saw their faces. She let him leave, but he wasn’t going to get away so easily. I already texted Mattias and told him to hunt down Mags’s father and to kill him quickly and quietly. That man would never bother her or anyone else ever again.

  Maybe she’ll be angry about it. But I had a feeling she wouldn’t mind, if she ever found out.

  Gian, Hector, and Bea gathered in my office. Gian looked almost as tired as I felt. Hector paced like a nervous boy. Bea seemed as serene as always. She practically glowed. I didn’t know how she did it, but I wa
nted some of that calm.

  “Did you tell them what’s happening?” I asked Gian.

  He grunted. “The basics,” he said.

  “I can’t believe this,” Hector said. “After everything we did, the contracts, the marriage, he still does this. I can’t believe it.”

  “Are you sure, Dean?” Bea asked.

  “I’m sure,” I said. “Does it seem so hard to believe?”

  She sighed and shook her head. “No, it doesn’t. I’ve known Roy a long time and this is exactly the type of thing he’d do. Always a snake, that one, but a good, loyal snake to your father.”

  “My father’s dead,” I said. “And I’m here now.”

  She smiled and nodded slightly.

  “What can we do about this?” Hector asked. “If it gets out, there will be war.”

  “All’s quiet for now,” Gian said. “I’ve been running interference. Leaked some rumors that you’re missing, and a few other rumors that you ran away with your pretty new wife. He’ll think you’re dead for now.”

  “I have surprise on my side,” I said. “And I intend to use it.”

  Hector moaned and rubbed his face then pulled at his thinning hair. “I don’t like this,” he said. “Capos killing Capos. It isn’t right, Don Valentino. We can’t hold the family together this way.”

  “I’m doing this for the family,” I said. “Roy came at me, tried to stab me in the back. He used our enemies to do it. I’m going to take him down and make the family understand why.”

  “You’ll have to get the story straight,” Bea said. “Any ambiguity could be bad.”

  “Messaging,” Hector said, nodding a little. This was more comfortable ground for him. “I can see to messaging.”

  “Come up with something,” I said. “Make sure it’s something the soldier’s will understand. The truth might be good enough.”

  “Roy’s a snake bitch,” Hector said with a sharp, terrified laugh. “Yes, that might be enough.”