Animal III

by K'wan

  “No, I’m a young man asking you to teach him how to survive. Don’t deny me this,” Animal pleaded.

  Reluctantly, Gladiator agreed. “Okay, Animal. I’ll grant you your revenge, but there’s one condition.”

  “Anything,” Animal assured him.

  “When it’s done, I’m casting you out of Hell,” Gladiator informed him.

  Animal was stunned. “But why? You don’t have to worry about me ever telling anyone you helped me.”

  “You don’t get it, do you? I’m a soldier, but not a monster, and a monster is what you’re asking me to become by knowingly putting blood on the hands of a child. If I’m not damned already, I surely will be after this. Every time I look at you, I’ll either want to kill you or myself from the guilt of it, and that isn’t good for either of us. Your exile from Hell is the price for my help.”

  This was an unexpected twist. Hell was the only place that had ever really felt like home to Animal, and the misfits who lived there had become his family. Kastro and Gladiator had become like his surrogate parents, and, had it not been for him, he wouldn’t have made it as far as he had. The thought of leaving behind his home and family for a second time broke his heart, and he wanted to call the whole thing off, but his need for revenge overrode everything else. “I accept your terms. Let’s do this shit.”

  • • •

  “Animal . . . Animal . . .”

  Coming from the dream, back to reality, was like crawling out of a tar pit. He was groggy, and his head throbbed slightly. No doubt a side affect from whatever Sonja had given him. His vision cleared slowly and he found not Gladiator standing over him, but Ashanti.

  “Wake up, Blood. We home.”

  Animal turned his head and peeked out the airplane window. They had landed safely at JFK airport. Just beyond the runway he could see the New York City skyline. He was indeed home.

  ELEVEN

  “MY HOME . . . SHE CAME TO my home with this bullshit,” Gucci said in disbelief. She was sitting at the kitchen table talking to Kahllah, and sipping Hennessy straight. Normally she would’ve chased it, but not that night. She needed it to get straight to her head.

  After everything that had happened that night, Gucci was too wound up to sleep, so she stayed up all night. T.J. sensed something was wrong and tried to comfort her, but Gucci was numb. Celeste just sat, watching Gucci, as if she could read her mind. Gucci wondered if she could somehow pick up on her hostility towards her. Gucci understood that she was a child, and innocent, but she was still resentful of the child. Every time she looked at Celeste, it was like looking at Animal, even more so than T.J. She didn’t dislike Celeste, but she hated what the child represented. She was Animal’s first-born child by another woman, and Sonja would always have that over her.

  Kahllah picked up the slack, tending to the kids. She made them dinner and found a movie for them to watch until they fell asleep. Once the kids were taken care of, she dug up the bottle of Hennessy for her and Gucci. She could tell Gucci needed a compassionate ear, so she put her affairs on hold to help out for the night. They stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, sipping and talking. Initially, Gucci and Kahllah didn’t get along. She thought Gucci was a spoiled bitch, who would likely get her brother killed, and Gucci thought Kahllah was a maniac. They butted heads more than a few times, but their mutual love of Animal forced them to get to know each other, and the two women ended up becoming friends. Kahllah had been a blessing in Gucci’s life, and the glue that held everything together when Animal was in prison.

  “I have to admit, you’re a better woman than I am, Gucci, because I’d probably have done something to her,” Kahllah admitted. “I don’t know too much about the chick, but after the brief meeting earlier I can tell we won’t be friends. Sonja is a character.”

  “That’s putting it nicely, that bitch is a mess,” Gucci said, before taking down the last bit of liquor in her glass. Without having to be asked, Kahllah refilled it from the bottle. “Did you see her march in here with them little ass shorts on and that whorish red hair? She’s a typical THOT. I don’t know if I’m angrier at that bitch for showing up on my doorstep, or at Animal for running up in that foreign bitch raw. God knows what he could’ve brought home to me! To top it off, this bitch shows up with a kid? I’ve put up with a lot of shit over the years dealing with Animal, but this right here is too much,” Gucci said heatedly.

  “Gucci, I can definitely understand why you’re angry, but to Animal’s credit, he didn’t know. If Animal had any idea that he had a child floating around out there, you’re the first person he would’ve told. Animal can be an efficient enough liar when he needs to be, but not to those he loves. However it happened, Celeste is here. How and why aren’t the questions anymore, the question now becomes how does this affect your future with my brother?”

  “What do you mean? When this is done, that bitch can take her kid and roll out the same way she rolled in. I’m not dealing with baby mama drama,” Gucci said.

  “Gucci, you and I both know it’s not that simple. Now that Animal is aware of Celeste, he’s going to want to play a role in her life.”

  “Oh, I’m not saying leave the little girl hanging out to dry. Of course I’m going to make sure that we send money for her,” Gucci promised.

  Kahllah gave her a disbelieving look. “You must not know your husband as well as you claim to. Animal went through some real bad shit as a kid, because he didn’t have anybody. That’s why he’s such a good father to T.J. He knows what it’s like for a kid to not have a dad, so do you really think he’s going to limit his interaction with Celeste to just sending checks? No, he’s going to want to be active in her life.”

  Gucci hadn’t thought about that. She had been so focused on her anger in the moment that she hadn’t given a lot of thought to the future. There was no doubt in her mind that what Kahllah was saying was accurate; Animal was going to want to establish a relationship with Celeste, but that also meant he would have to deal with Red Sonja. She wasn’t the first random chick to wander into Animal’s life, and she probably wouldn’t be the last, but she was the first to ever make him stray. Granted, it had happened during the two years Gucci and Animal were separated, but it still didn’t make her feel any better knowing that Animal had shared intimate moments with Sonja. Gucci had fought long and hard for Animal’s heart, and Sonja presented a legitimate contender for her position. Gucci didn’t believe Animal would leave her for Sonja, but her presence represented a threat.

  “This is a lot to digest,” Gucci said honestly.

  “Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” Kahllah quoted. “Things are a little crazy right now, Gucci, but you and Animal will pull through. You always do.”

  She was right. Gucci and Animal had stood against more than their fair share of immeasurable odds, and they always came out on top. A Love Child was a bit of a different situation than a gangster wanting you dead, but still a major obstacle. Gucci had spent a good chunk of her life waiting for Animal to sort through his demons and she honestly wasn’t sure how many more years she had to waste while Animal played Russian roulette with his life. She loved Animal, but she couldn’t force him to love himself. Gucci would do her part, and hold her husband down like she always did, but if things got too out of hand then she would have to do what was best for her and T.J.

  “What time is it?” Gucci asked, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

  Kahllah looked at her watch. “Almost six-thirty. You should probably get yourself a few hours of sleep before T.J. wakes up.”

  “Yeah, he’s sure gonna run me ragged and I’ll need all my strength,” Gucci got up from the chair and stretched. She shuffled over and gave Kahllah a hug and kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for being such a good sister.”

  “Any time,” Kahllah hugged her back. “While you’re resting, I’m going to run out for a while. I should be back before you wake up, if not, I’ll call. Animal left me a set of keys and the alarm codes, so I’ll make sure the h
ouse is locked up tight before I go.”

  “Kahllah, where in God’s name are you going at this hour of the morning?” Gucci asked. The look Kahllah gave her answered the question. “I sometimes forget you lead a double life.”

  Kahllah smirked. “Most of us lead double lives; I’m just one of the select few who aren’t ashamed of it. Get some rest, sis and I’ll see you in a few hours.” Kahllah sat there watching as Gucci shuffled to the stairs leading to the master bedroom. Her shoulders sagged like she had the weight of the world on them. Kahllah imagined that she probably did. The heart was a delicate thing, and it didn’t take much to bruise or break it. Time’s like those, Kahllah was glad that she had no such attachments. She took no lover and mothered no children, so was the price for her initiation into her order. Kahllah had resigned herself to a life-time of service to the Brotherhood. This brought her back to her own set of issues.

  There was no way a low-level, flesh-peddling half-gangster like Klein could’ve gotten the drop on Kahllah without help. She was the best of the best, which is why her services were in such high demand. A man would need a small army to take Kahllah on, and that’s exactly what Klein had had. Obviously someone with knowledge of her mission had tipped him off, but the question was, who? Klein’s contract was airtight, it bore the seal of the elders themselves, so it wasn’t likely that the corruption started that high up the food chain. Kahn’s name immediately popped into her head.

  There was no love lost between Khan and Kahllah, because of their differing views on the future of the Brotherhood. They’d clashed several times at council meetings, and Kahn had never hid his resentment of Kahllah being a member of the Hand. Kahllah was one of three women who had been initiated into the Brotherhood since the order was founded, but she was the only one of the three to ever sit at the Hand’s table. There were some who were uncomfortable with her wielding such power, but Kahn had been the most vocal about it. To him, women in the Brotherhood had their places, but sitting at the Hand’s table wasn’t one of them. If anyone had an axe to grind against Kahllah it would’ve been Kahn, but it didn’t make sense. Kahllah rarely bothered with affairs of state, unless her vote was absolutely necessary to decide on a matter. She kept her distance from the everyday politics of the Brotherhood, and in return she was left to her own devices. Kahllah wasn’t around regularly enough to challenge whatever he had been planning for the Brotherhood, so he wouldn’t need her dead to do it.

  If it was indeed Khan who had tried to have her killed, things were looking far graver than she thought. For as powerful as Khan’s position as leader of the Hand made him, he did not have the authority to simply order a hit on Kahllah’s life. She was also a member of the Hand, so certain protocols would’ve had to be observed. It would have to go before the Elders to make it official, but it didn’t make it impossible. She doubted that the Elders would hand down a death sentence on her, without some sort of formal trial, but there was another way for Kahn to have her killed without risking being disciplined. All he would need was the burden of proof and the right people backing his play; three members of the hand and one elder. Those five votes, including Khan’s, were all he needed to legitimately make an attempt on Kahllah’s life. If it did indeed play out like that, it meant Khan had gone through quite a bit of trouble to have Kahllah removed from the Brotherhood, but the question was still, why?

  Kahllah sighed. There was much to do, and she couldn’t get it done sitting there thinking about it. She had to go on the offensive. Kahllah figured that her best plan of attack was to start at the bottom and kill her way to the top.

  TWELVE

  “TOP OF THE MORNING, DETECTIVE Sully,” the old woman in the apron greeted him from behind the counter.

  “Hey, Donna. How’s my favorite girl this morning?” Detective Sully smiled at her, showing off his too small teeth that were heavily stained by the cheap cigars he was always chewing on. He was a chubby man, wearing a pair of off the rack slacks and a suit jacket he’d gotten from the Salvation Army. Detective Sully slid onto one of the free stools at the counter. The diner had just opened and he was the first customer, but the breakfast rush would start soon. The only people at the diner at that hour were Donna and her eldest son, Clyde.

  Donna shrugged her frail shoulders. “I could complain, but who would listen?”

  “I’d listen, mama,” Clyde said in a slow drawl. He was six-foot-five, and well over two hundred pounds, but had the intelligence and demeanor of a ten-year-old.

  “You’re a good son, Clyde,” Detective Sully told him.

  “That he is,” Donna patted her son’s cheek affectionately.

  “Hey Donna, how about a cup of joe and a couple of eggs, huh?”

  “Coming right up,” Donna said, pouring him a cup of coffee. “Come on Clyde, you can help me with Detective Sully’s breakfast.”

  “Can I crack the eggs this time, mama? I promise I won’t get no shells in them,” Clyde said excitedly.

  “Yes, you can crack the eggs this time, Clyde,” Donna told him, leading her son through the kitchen doors.

  Detective Sully sat, sipping bitter black coffee, and going through the sport’s section, checking the scores from the night before. He cursed as he ran his fingers down the stat-line of the baseball games. He had lost more than he won, and the money from the few games he had won would have to go to paying off debts from the games he’d lost last week. Sully had a serious gambling problem, which is why after almost thirty years he was still busting his hump for the L.A.P.D, instead of having retired years ago. He was so far in the hole that he felt as if he’d never climb out. The only reason he hadn’t swallowed a bullet yet was because he hadn’t finished paying off his youngest daughter’s college tuition. Of all the people he had disappointed in life, he never disappointed his kids. His wife . . . she was a different story.

  Sully was about to check the lottery numbers, hoping he’d find a sliver of luck there, when someone bumped him while taking the stool next to his. Sully looked up and saw a good-looking woman wearing tight jeans and a low cut black t-shirt. She had long black hair that spilled from beneath the dark baseball cap she was wearing. A length of chain ran through the loops of her jeans in place of a belt. Covering her eyes were dark sunglasses. Sully might not have given her a second look, had it not been for the fact that it was already eighty degrees outside and she was wearing black gloves.

  “Hello, Detective Sully,” Kahllah greeted him, before backhanding him off the stool. She spun gracefully off the stool, and flicked her wrist, magically producing a retractable baton. From his back, Sully managed to draw his gun, but a whack from her baton sent it skidding harmlessly across the diner.

  “Who are you? What do you want?” Sully asked frantically, sliding back on his elbows, trying to make it out of her reach.

  “Where are my manners? Let me give you my card,” Kahllah removed something from her bra and flicked it at Sully. A small dagger planted itself between Sully’s legs, just missing his privates. Carved into the handle of the dagger was a black lotus flower. Sully looked from the dagger to the woman and turned as white as a ghost. “From the loss of pigment in your face, I take it you know who I am and why I’ve come?”

  “Somebody help me!” Sully yelled, scrambling away on all fours trying to get away from her.

  Kahllah snatched the chain from her jeans and whipped it out at Detective Sully. One of the steel hooks bit into the flesh on the back of his thigh. “Don’t run off before we’ve had a chance to chat,” she pulled him towards her slowly. Kahllah reached down and grabbed a fist of his thinning brown hair. “My target knew I was coming and I want to know how?”

  “You crazy bitch, I’m a cop! You can’t just come in here and do this to me!” Detective Sully shouted.

  Kahllah slapped him viciously across the face and tossed him through one of the wooden tables. She grabbed him by the collar of his cheap jacket and yanked him to his feet. “You’re a fucking middle man for the Brotherhood, whi
ch means I can do whatever I want to you.”

  Detective Sully snickered. “Do what you like, but I’m more afraid of what the Brotherhood will do to me than what you will. Without their backing, you ain’t shit but an over-qualified freelancer.”

  Kahllah kicked Detective Sully hard in his chest, sending him stumbling backward, but she jerked him back by the hook in his thigh before he could make contact with the wall. Sully opened his mouth to scream, but Kahllah’s hands around his throat trapped the sound. She lifted him by his neck and slammed him through another table as hard as she could. The impact knocked the wind out of Sully, leaving him dazed and confused. She straddled him and placed one of her knives against his throat.

  “You piece of shit, dirty pig, you think I’m playing with you?” Kahllah applied pressure to the blade and drew a trickle of blood from Detective Sully’s throat. “Who altered the deal? Who wants me dead?”

  “What the hell is going on out here?” Donna came out of the kitchen when she heard the noise. Her eyes got wide when she saw Kahllah with the knife to Detective Sully’s throat. Her gnarled hands dipped beneath the cash register and came up holding a .45, which she aimed at Kahllah. “Last sons of bitches that came through here to rob my joint left with lead in their asses and I ain’t about to have you break my streak,” she said before pulling the trigger.

  Kahllah rolled off Detective Sully, just in time to avoid a bullet that slammed into one of the benches along the wall. Detective Sully used the distraction as another attempt to flee, but Kahllah gave the chain a yank and dropped him back to the floor. She wrapped the end of the chain around one of the bar stools, which were bolted to the floor, while she dealt with the old lady and the gun.

  “Clyde, we got burglars. Get the police on the line!” she screamed, trying to line Kahllah up in her sights.