by Jamie Wang
Lao shook his head. “Ugh, the same words that everyone says. If I knew this would be the quality of our conversation, I would’ve left the rag in your mouth.”
“I’m sorry I broke your rule. It won’t happen again Mr. Dragon.”
“First off, just Dragon, no mister. Secondly, you don’t even know what you did yet. How can you be sorry? No, I want you to guess which of my rules you broke. Here’s a hint, I only have three.”
John returned a blank look. “Um… the first one?”
“Do you know which rule that is?”
“Is that the one about—”
“It’s the one about violence. All violence belongs to me.” Lao pinched his own chin in a theatrical manner. “Good guess, but not quite right. You almost broke that one, but then you got stabbed and beaten by a fifteen-year-old boy. No, you broke my second rule.”
It still didn’t seem like John was getting it.
“You cheated,” Lao clarified. “During your chess game with Prince.”
John’s mouth gaped open in disbelief. “That’s why I’m here?”
“To be frank, no. It’s your humanity that brings us here.”
“What?”
“You are violent, arrogant, selfish, and sadistic. That’s why you’re here.”
“But that’s not part of your rules.”
“Which is why I’m so glad you cheated.” Lao chuckled and produced a silver flask from inside his jacket. He unscrewed the lid and sniffed its rancid odor. No matter how many times he performed this ritual, the smell always made him retch.
Lao wagged a finger in front of John. “But this wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t give you a chance to save yourself. So, here’s your chance, tell me how Owen snuck a gun into my city.”
“I don’t know, ask him,” John stammered.
“Unfortunately, that’s the answer he gave me... only, he told me to ask you. Oh John, what pitiful creatures we are.” Lao held his flask up over John’s head and poured out its contents.
John squirmed as if he could dodge the liquid if only he tried hard enough. He spit out the bit that got in his mouth. His face flushed red as he gagged on the taste. “Stop!” He shouted in between dry heaves.
Lao stopped. He flung his head back and drank the rest. As soon as the liquid entered his mouth, his body panicked. His heart jumped into an erratic dance and his stomach did flips. With a grunt, Lao gulped down the poison.
It took a while for Lao to put himself back together. He clenched his eyes shut and prayed that he wouldn’t vomit. At last, the nausea passed. “Would you like to know why I drink this?” he said in a pant.
“You’re fucking crazy!” John screamed.
“Not crazy, disgusting,” Lao said.
It was too hard to hold in. He lunged sideways and vomited a clear stream of what smelled like kerosene.
“What the fuck?” John tugged against the noose around his neck trying to inch away.
“Excuse me.” Lao dabbed his mouth with his tie. “I drink this is to remind myself of how disgusting I am, how disgusting what I’m doing is. You see, I believe that what I’m doing is a sin. This is my punishment.”
Lao’s eyes stung. His stomach felt like a knife had pierced it. He paced around John with unstable steps. “But I’m only human and this is the best I can do. I’m violent, arrogant, selfish, and sadistic. What else can you expect? At least I have the good sense to punish myself.”
“Please, I’ll do anything you want!” John begged. “Whatever you want, it’s yours!”
“You already know what I want. How did Owen get the gun?”
John’s eyes grew large. “It was given to us.”
“Was it by someone named The Boss?”
“How’d you know?” John stammered.
“Owen already told me this much. Now go on, what did he look like?”
John slowly shook his head. “I never saw the man. I only heard the name because the package came with a letter from him. We just got a package outside our door one day, that’s all. This isn’t my fault.”
“Then I suppose you’re even less help than Owen.” With a swift kid, Lao knocked John over.
The noose tightened around his John’s neck. The chains on the ground clanked as he twisted and turned. Lao paid him no attention. Taking his time, he pulled out a box of cigarettes.
PRINCE
The black river sparkled with glints of moonlight. Each ripple a small flash of silver, like the glisten of a diamond. It was easy to get lost in such a sight.
Prince sat in his usual spot, beads of sweat dripping down his chin. He hated working out, but it was necessary. Nobody as weak as him could protect someone. Since the incident at Hawk’s Lair, he hadn’t missed a single day. If anything like that ever happened again, he would be ready.
“Hey Prince.”
He knew the voice. “Sasha.”
“You smell awful. What are you doing at this hour?”
Prince shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Sasha returned his answer with a smile. “Nobody can. Bolt and Flower are wide awake and Mav’s off doing his own thing again.”
“Our final drop is tomorrow. I’d be surprised if anyone could sleep,” said Prince.
Sasha took a seat beside him and looked toward the river. “This is so pretty!”
Prince glanced at her. Her red eyes widened as if she could see the entire world, if only she opened them wide enough. The silver of the moon glimmered through her red making her eyes look like rubies. It was easy to get lost in such a sight.
“Why didn’t you tell me the river looked this pretty at night? I would’ve been here every night.” She wielded no authority in her voice. Right now, they were equal.
For the first time in a while, Prince found himself at a loss for words. He had only seen her so relaxed a handful of times before. It was hard to believe that this was the same proud girl that headed their family.
“I think a fish just jumped out the water!” Sasha laughed. She hugged her knees and pointed a finger at the river. “Did you see that?”
Prince brought his hand up to his chest, surprised to feel the rapid thumping of his own heart. He could hear the blood pounding through his head. Though he tried, he couldn’t contain his laughter.
“Did I say something funny?”
“I never thought you were such a girl.”
Sasha grinned back. “Asshole.”
They sat there a while, enjoying the breeze. It was Sasha who broke the silence. “We’ve been getting in a lot of fights recently.”
If it was anyone else, Prince would’ve given a sharp retort. Instead all that came out his mouth was an apology. “Sorry. It’s my fault.”
Sasha rolled her eyes. “You’re letting me off too easy.”
“On the bright side, we’re almost done.”
Sasha nodded in agreement. “Seriously, can you believe it?”
“I can’t even imagine.” Prince chuckled. “I bet we’ll be bored within a week.”
“No way, I have big plans for us.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
Sasha gave him an innocent grin. “We’re going to finish this last drop, escape this city, and see Paris!”
Prince snorted. “Why Paris?”
“So I can show you guys the stars.”
Prince pointed toward the sky. “They’re right there.”
“There are more stars than the ones in the sky.”
Prince stared into Sasha’s eyes. “Do you know what a star is?”
Sasha nudged Prince over. “Idiot, I’ll show you one day, then you’ll see.” She stuck her tongue out.
Prince’s brow raised. “What are we, ten? And you come up with a new plan every week. Get back to me when you actually have something.”
Sasha stared back and for what seemed like the longest second, she stayed silent. “Sorry Prince, but for now, this is all I can give you,” She said, her voice almost a whisper.
The sincerity caught P
rince by surprise. He looked away, his face already hot. “I couldn’t…” Prince stopped talking, realizing that he was speaking too softly even for himself to hear. Making sure to project, he said, “I couldn’t ask for more.”
The silence stretched forever. Prince peeked at Sasha, and then, to his surprise, she started laughing. “Calm down Prince, you didn’t have to yell at me.”
“What?” Prince clamped his mouth shut, thinking back to how loud he had been.
Shit.
But Sasha’s laughter was music. It was contagious, and pretty soon, Prince joined her. He glanced over to see her head tilted toward the full moon, just like his.
We must look mad, laughing at the moon. The thought made him laugh even harder.
“Anyway,” Sasha turned away from the moon to once again watch the silver ripples of the river. “I tried returning your money but the bartender wouldn’t let me. Can you believe it?” Sasha took a deep breath and dropped a handful of crumpled bills beside Prince. “You win. How you spend your money is none of my business. Sorry about, you know…”
“Wow, an apology from Sasha?” Prince’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “And such a well thought out one too.”
“Shut up.” Sasha’s face was so red, it was noticeable even in the dark.
“Thanks Sasha.”
Sasha grinned back in the stupid way she always did. “I’m serious about this one. Even if we fail tomorrow, even if it kills me, I’ll take us to Paris.”
In unison, they returned their gaze back to the moon.
VLAD
Vlad relished the dead quiet of the night, its stillness disturbed only by the grass snapping underneath his feet. He held his jagged blade in one hand. Though it was only a knife, he walked as if it was an anchor. His arm dangled behind him and dragged down his entire body in a lopsided gait.
The moon stood high in the cloudless sky. It illuminated the flat landscape, casting shadows from the tents scattered around the riverbank. Vlad reached his hands up as if he could grasp its luminescence.
How would I make you scream?
“You know this is all your fault,” he said, shifting his gaze to the stars, talking to the heavens above him. “You said that you loved us all. You promised us a just world. How do you lie so well?”
And if you can be cruel, why can’t I?
Vlad walked through rows of tents with soft steps. Only now did he notice his drool, falling in thick globs from his mouth. He wiped it up, surprised to feel his lips curved into an uneven smile.
“Don’t worry,” he told nobody. “Because however cruel you are, I promise you, I can be crueler.” Vlad approached Jericho’s tent and let out a squeal.
He peeled back the tent to find Jericho asleep. Vlad moaned and dragged his fingers across his face. “I’m glad you raped her,” he whispered to Jericho, laughing through his words. “Because I loved her, and you broke her so completely. But you see, without a victim, there’s just no justice. Without her pain, this would all be so hollow.”
He crawled into the tent, his knife raised. It was strange seeing Jericho so peaceful, Vlad had watched him for weeks and never once was Jericho this calm. Well, at least he wouldn’t die that way.
Vlad thrust his blade into Jericho’s leg. The knife cut to the bone. Jericho jerked up, but Vlad held him down, his hand latched onto Jericho’s mouth. He shoved his blade deeper into Jericho’s leg, twisting and turning it to produce the squelching noise he so loved.
Hawks aren’t the only ones who scar.
Vlad maneuvered his knife, etching his art into Jericho’s femur. Just seeing Jericho’s quivering eyes would’ve been good enough, but now he felt Jericho’s spit between his fingers. He felt the vibrations against his palm of the screams that would never escape.
If Jericho could scream— Oh wait… Vlad guffawed, sending spit raining down on his victim. “You can scream,” he laughed.
Vlad wiggled the knife out from Jericho’s leg and stabbed it into his gut. This time, no bone stopped the knife. Only now, did the metallic smell of blood fill the air, its fragrance accentuated with a hint of sourness. It was intoxicating.
His nails dug into Jericho’s cheeks. However Vlad tried, he couldn’t stop his laughter. It felt like he was under some spell, some wonderfully powerful spell.
“Scream! Scream for me!” Vlad released Jericho’s mouth to unleash the screams he had been holding in.
Vlad dug his knife further into Jericho before scooping it out, flinging blood onto the tent walls. With another lunge, Vlad returned the knife into Jericho’s gut, stabbing him over and over again. With each stab, he flung more blood as if drawing some horrific mural.
“Can you hear his screams, God?” Vlad howled, feverishly painting the tent walls.
Jericho convulsed with every stroke. His screams died into a gurgle and then nothing.
“Can you hear it even when you’re so high up on your fucking throne?”
Sweat dripped down Vlad’s face. His shoulders rose and fell with his panting breath. Only now did he realize that Jericho had died. Vlad shook his head in disappointment. Holding Jericho’s face steady with his nails, he slammed the knife into Jericho’s eye, the finishing touch on his masterpiece. It always astounded Vlad how fast a person could become an object.
And then there was silence. The night remained completely unchanged. The river still flowed, the moon still shone; nothing at all had changed. Vlad looked down at his work. He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. His skin tingled. Jericho’s scent tickled his nose.
I had been too loud.
“Jericho?” The high-pitched voice came directly behind him.
Vlad turned and peeked through the sliver of light streaming through the tent flap. It was a small girl, her figure hidden by shadows. There was a crowd behind her. They stood away from the tent as if it housed some sort of monster. Vlad plucked his blade out of Jericho’s eye.
“Who’s in there?” The girl was on the verge of sobbing, her voice like the squeak of a mouse. “Please, brother, say something.”
I need a mask. Vlad didn’t bother looking around, he already knew where his mask was. He plunged his face into Jericho’s gut, engulfing himself in the blood. He rubbed it all over him, filling his nose and ears with its warmth. Once again, as if commanded by spell, he started laughing. Bubbles of blood spluttered from his mouth.
With a swift turn, Vlad was out the tent. Strings of blood oozed off his lips, dripping down his chin like slobber. The crowd huddled around each other. They were sheep eyeing a wolf.
The girl gasped, her eyes darting between Vlad’s face and his knife. “Who are—”
Vlad opened his mouth to respond, instead, a shrill laugh escaped him. He spluttered blood over the girl. It pained him to laugh so hard. He clutched his stomach, heaving the laughter out of him. By the time he had managed to calm himself down, the crowd had thinned. If he had awoken anyone else, they were smart enough to stay inside. All that remained was the stragglers inching away from him and the little girl.
She opened her mouth to talk, but no words came out.
Vlad smiled, never having seen anyone actually frozen with fear before. It was rather cute. He walked up to her and pinched her chin, peering into her doe-eyed stare.
“Please don’t kill me,” the girl cried. Tears crawled down her cheeks.
“Do you know who I am?” Vlad brushed her cheek with his knuckles, painting it with her brother’s blood.
Her words came out in short stutters. “The Slasher.”
Vlad took a deep breath. “That’s right,” he whispered into her ear. He gave her a bloody kiss on her forehead and walked away. The remnants of the crowd parted for him, none dared make eye contact.
Behind him, the girl wailed into the night. They started out as short staccato notes that crescendoed into a beautiful finale, a perfect conclusion to his symphony of screams. He placed a hand over his thumping heart with a smile so wide it hurt.
Vlad looked tow
ard the heavens, already wanting more. “If you could scream, how would I make you scream, God?”
LISSANDRA
“Mom!”
Lissandra awoke in the usual manner.
“Mom! I’m hungry!”
Normally this wouldn’t have bothered her, but her body felt like dead weight. The drop had been harder than she anticipated and now she was paying the price. If it wasn’t for that red-eyed girl, she might not have even made it back.
“Quiet,” she muttered at her little brother and snuggled deeper into her pillow.
“Mom!” her little brother wailed.
With a sigh, Lissandra pushed herself up. Her joints audibly popped into place. She leaned over to the left and gave her little brother a small kiss. “Okay Leon, I’ll make you some food.” She elbowed her older brother on the right, “Gunther, help me make breakfast.”
Gunther stopped snoring and rolled over. With his back turned to her he asked, “With what food?”
Before she could respond, he was asleep again, his snore deeper than before.
“Damn it.” Lissandra took care to whisper. Leon was too quick to pick up on new words. She crawled out of bed with a groan.
“Liss, where’s mom?” Leon asked.
“Leon, shh, I’ll make you something. Just go back to bed and when you wake up, I’ll have your favorite soup all ready for you.” Lissandra’s voice was soft and high as if talking to a baby.
Leon frowned, dissatisfied with her answer. “But where’s Mom? Why isn’t she here?”
That’s a good question, Lissandra wanted to say, but one look at Leon’s wet eyes stopped her. He was too young for the truth. Lissandra plastered a smile onto her face. She was a poor replacement for their mother.
“Mom’s a little sick right now,” she said. “But don’t worry, she’ll get better real soon. Until then, just let your big sis take care of you. Now back to bed with you.”
Leon, finally satisfied, retreated under the rough covers of their bed. “Okay, Liss.”
Lissandra smiled as she watched him fall back asleep. When his gentle breathing became slow and deep, she left into the living room. On the sofa was her mother with bottles of alcohol spilled beside her. The entire room reeked of its smell.