by K'wan
“No, just unconscious. He was a bit unnerved about my presence, so I had to subdue him,” Priest explained. “It’s bad enough that you three knuckleheads are trying to get yourselves killed at every turn, but you’re involving innocent people in your bullshit.”
“Three?” Animal was confused.
“I’ll explain later. We haven’t got much time.” Priest released Fatima. From his robe, he pulled a small black box. He placed the box against one of the shelves and punched in a series of numbers that started a countdown.
“What is that?” Animal asked suspiciously.
“A fuck-you present from us to the police. Always leave your enemies with a fuck-you present. Now, pick Ashanti up so we can go. We haven’t much time,” Priest told him.
“How the fuck are we going to get out of here? There are police crawling all over this place,” Animal said.
Priest simply smiled. “The Black Lotus will provide us with the window we need. Just be ready to move when I say so.”
• • •
“We’ve got them trapped,” Brown said excitedly. For years, he had dreamed of the moment when they would finally take Animal down.
“Move in!” yelled a beefy police sergeant dressed in a bulletproof vest and a cheap suit. The moment he poked his head up from behind the car, it exploded.
“What the fuck?” Alvarez shouted as pieces of the sergeant’s brain splattered on his leather jacket.
The night air was suddenly filled with low whistling, as high-caliber slugs tore through police cars and flesh. The officers who were foolish enough to try to run away were cut to pieces, while the others huddled behind cars and whispered silent prayers that they would live through the firefight.
“Sniper!” someone yelled.
“As if this shit could get any worse,” Brown said, creeping around the car and out of the way of the sniper fire.
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the warehouse exploded, knocking him off his feet.
• • •
Brown wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious. He was awakened by a paramedic shining a light in his eyes and asking him if he knew his name and where he was. He saw Alvarez talking to their captain, standing behind the paramedic.
“What the fuck happened?” Brown sat up.
“We got our asses kicked,” Alvarez told him. “How you feeling, partner?”
“Like shit.”
“That means you’re feeling about how you look,” Alvarez joked.
“Did we get him?” Brown asked. When he saw the look on his partner’s face, he knew the answer. “How the fuck did he get away?”
“When the building blew, he slipped away in the chaos. We thought we might’ve gotten lucky when we found some bodies in the wreckage, but none of them was Animal or Ashanti.”
“That’s one slippery little fucker. Well, at least we got Zo-Pound. I want to put the screws to him personally,” Brown said.
“We had Zo-Pound,” Alvarez corrected him.
“What do you mean, had?”
Alvarez held up the empty handcuffs. “I guess his last name really was Houdini.”
PART IV
LOYALTIES
“Nigga, we gladiators, and there are only two ways out of the arena: on a stretcher as a corpse or on the shoulders of your comrades in victory.”
—Lakim
TWENTY-ONE
ANIMAL HAD BARELY CROSSED THE threshold of the church when Gucci threw herself into his arms and hugged him as tight as she could. “Thank God,” she breathed into his neck. The whole time he was gone, she had feared the worst. When she heard the news broadcast on the radio about the shooting, it didn’t help. Although they didn’t mention anyone by name, she knew in her heart it had something to do with Animal. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
“I told you that I’m back for good. I ain’t going nowhere this time,” Animal promised her.
Gucci looked past Animal and noticed Ashanti, with a guy and a girl she didn’t recognize. The girl looked frightened, but the dude looked confused.
“ ’Sup, sis.” Ashanti hugged Gucci tightly. The last time he saw her, she was in a hospital bed, fresh out of a coma.
“What’s up, lil’ bro? I see you still can’t keep yourself out of trouble.” Gucci returned his embrace. “Who are your friends?”
“That’s my man Zo—he nodded at Alonzo—“and this is Fatima.” He pulled her to his side. “She’s my girlfriend.”
Gucci was surprised. “Your what? My goodness, how long was I in that coma?” she teased.
Kahllah entered the church, looking worn and tired. In her arms, she cradled a Barrett M82. She gave Animal and Gucci a look but didn’t say anything when she passed them. She disappeared somewhere in the back of the church, slamming the door behind her hard enough to rattle the already-broken stained-glass windows.
“The fuck is her problem?” Animal asked. Kahllah had been strangely withdrawn the whole way back. She didn’t even say anything about Animal wrecking her bike.
“I’ll tell you later,” Gucci whispered. She was still unnerved by what she had seen and wouldn’t dare speak of it within earshot of Kahllah or Priest. As if reading her mind, the robed assassin entered the church.
“Seeing all of you together like this would make a wonderful family portrait.” Priest smiled.
“What the fuck is this freak show, and what am I doing tied up in it?” Zo asked.
“I’ll take that as your way of saying thank you for us saving you from what was waiting behind door number two, my murderous friend,” Priest said to Zo. “Right now, you’d be in the process of being formally charged with the death of Rick Jenkins, had the Black Lotus not freed you.”
Zo had been sitting in the back of the police car handcuffed to the door, racking his brain trying to figure a way out of the mess he had created for himself. When the door swung open, he thought it was one of the detectives, but it was a beautiful woman dressed in all black and holding a gun. She’d freed him from the cuffs, then whisked him away at gunpoint and locked him in a van, leaving him to wonder about his fate. Zo felt like he would shit his pants the whole time he waited but was relieved when she came back, accompanied by some familiar faces.
“Good to see you again, Zo. I just wish the circumstances were different,” Animal said.
Zo blinked as if he’d just awakened from a dream. “I guess the saying is true; real niggaz don’t die.”
“We all must die eventually, just not before our work on earth is done,” Priest said.
“I’m sorry, who the fuck is this again?” Zo asked Animal.
“My father,” Animal told him.
“Your what?” Ashanti asked, clearly shocked.
“I was just as shocked as you are when I found out. It’s too long of a story to tell, but the short version is that the man who was sent to kill me turned out to be the man who brought me into the world,” Animal explained. “This is Priest.”
“Wait, do you mean the Priest, as in the Clark family’s executioner?” Zo shook his head in disbelief. “Somebody hand me a shovel so I can dig my own hole.”
“I have no claim to your life, boy. At least, not at the moment, but at the rate you’re going in the name of your insane king, it won’t be long before your number is called,” Priest said.
“We didn’t start this pissing contest with Shai, but we’re gonna finish it,” Zo declared.
“Or get finished,” Priest countered. “You and your crew are little more than mice being toyed with by an adolescent tiger. When he’s tired of the game, Shai Clark will devour you and everyone you hold dear.”
“Then help us instead of stringing us along,” Animal interjected. “You said you’d help me end this thing with Shai, but so far, all you’ve given me are some old-ass stories and riddles. If you’re gonna help me kill him, then do that, and if not, let me and mine go about our ways and do what we gotta do!”
Priest gave Animal a sad look. “Animal
, you’re so blinded by your own rage that you can’t see the writing on the wall.”
“Then why don’t you hand me a pair of fucking glasses!” Animal snapped. He was frustrated; they all were.
Priest turned to Gucci, who had been silently watching the exchange. “Gucci, would you mind taking Fatima up to the apartment while the men speak?”
Gucci looked to Animal, who gave her the nod that it was OK. Without a word, she took Fatima by the hand and led her up the back stairs.
Priest waited until the women were gone before he addressed the men. “Fine, you want me to speak plainly, then I’ll do that. None of you have a snowball’s chance in hell at winning a war against Shai Clark. He’s got more guns and more money.”
“Yeah, but we got more heart,” Ashanti said.
“Straight like that.” Zo gave him dap.
“All of you have more heart than I’ve seen in a man in a very long time. If more were built like you three, then maybe the game wouldn’t be so fucked up. But for as much heart as you have, it won’t help you to prevail over an enemy who has the power of a god on earth. When your families are awakened by the rattling guns of Shai’s death squads, will your hearts shield them from the bullets?” Priest asked them.
“So then what would you have us do, keep running until Shai eventually picks us off?” Animal asked.
“Heavens, no, my son. Asking you not to fight would be asking you not to be true to your character. No matter how much a man changes, the nature of who he truly is will always be lurking beneath the surface. I’m simply asking you to choose a stronger weapon,” Priest told him.
“Shit, what’s a stronger weapon than a gun?” Ashanti asked.
“Information,” Priest told him. Before he could elaborate, his phone rang. He looked at the caller ID, and a worried expression crossed his face. He excused himself while he took the call.
“So what’s the game plan? Do we roll with whatever Priest is cooking up, or do we take our chances?” Zo asked.
“I say we round up the posse and go at this bitch nigga Shai with everything we got,” Ashanti said.
“A lot of good that’s done us thus far. That strategy has gotten me killed twice and the two of you marked for death,” Animal pointed out. “I ain’t saying Priest is right, but I ain’t saying he’s wrong, either. We need a better plan than bumping our heads against the wall, hoping our skulls don’t crack open. I’m ready to put this shit to bed.”
“As are we all.” Priest rejoined them. “Gentlemen, I think I have a way to get us all what we want, but I need to know how far you’re willing to go.”
“You already know where I stand,” Animal said.
“I’m with the big homie. If he says we roll with your plan, I’m cool with that,” Ashanti said.
“Zo?” Animal turned to him.
He looked at the assembled faces. “I’m down for whatever ain’t gonna get me killed.”
“You’re a wise young man,” Priest told Zo.
“So what’s this great plan of yours?” Animal asked.
“To bring an end to all this bloodshed between your respective crews without anyone else having to die,” Priest told them.
Zo laughed. “Man, you said you had a legit plan, but you’re talking about a miracle. Shai hates us, and we ain’t too fond of him. Lives have been lost, and there ain’t no way to just sweep this all under the rug.”
“To an extent, you’re correct, but it isn’t as complicated as you would make it seem,” Priest said. “Although all your reasons for going at Shai are valid, none of them is a wrong that can’t be made right. You”—he addressed Animal—“wanted to get at Shai over what happened to your lady, but she’s safe and sound now. You”—he looked at Zo—“fight out of loyalty to your brother, but it isn’t really what you want. If you had it your way, you’d find yourself a decent-paying job and be content to live happily ever after with your girlfriend. And you”—he turned to Ashanti—“fight because it’s all you know how to do. It doesn’t matter if it’s Shai or some other foe, as long as you get to bust your gun, you’re fine with it.”
“Sounds like you know us all pretty good, but we don’t know you or what your stake in it is,” Ashanti said.
“My stake is I don’t want to see my son slaughtered in the street like cattle. The only reason I’m entertaining you two is because it’s important to Animal. I honestly couldn’t care less what happens to you,” Priest said bluntly.
“If nothing else, you’re honest,” Zo said with a measure of respect.
“My game is killing people, not coddling them,” Priest told him. “The way I see things is, you can either keep up this war until you’re plucked off one by one or take the high road and everything goes back to business as usual.”
Zo thought on it. “OK, so let’s say that we do try things your way. Who’s to say all parties involved will play along?”
“You let me worry about the Clarks. I just need the street crews to stand down,” Priest said.
“I’ll speak to King and Lakim. It’ll be a hard sell, but King isn’t a completely unreasonable man,” Zo said.
“Dawg, you’re as hot as a firecracker right now behind that Rick Jenkins shit. The hood will be the first place they look,” Ashanti told him.
“I’m hot?” Zo raised his eyebrow. “Did you forget that you just had a shootout with the cops and blew up a building in the middle of the Bronx?”
“Ashanti has a point,” Animal said. “Brown and Alvarez can say for certain Zo and me were at that crime scence and our names are probably on the wire as we speak, but they got no proof Ashanti was there. Let Ashanti go holla at King. We need to stay low.”
“A’ight, but I still can’t linger around here. I got shit to do in the streets. Porsha is probably worried out of her mind, and I got something else I need to look into before the last dance.” Zo thought of the girl he’d let escape. “We can all meet back here in the morning.”
“Fine, but I trust I don’t have to tell any of you why it’s imperative that you stay out of sight,” Priest told them.
“I’m good at moving unseen,” Zo assured him.
“Handle what you have to handle, and we’ll all meet here in the morning. Is there anything that you’ll need in the meantime?” Priest asked.
“Yeah, a pistol,” Zo told him.
• • •
From the back of a heavily tinted SUV, a pair of eyes watched the old church. The watcher looked on curiously as two young men slipped quietly from the side entrance, with a pretty girl between them. His hand tightened on the grip of the machine gun sitting across his lap, ready to pop off. Upon closer inspection, he realized that neither of the dudes fit the description of the man he’d come looking for. A few seconds later, a third man came out of the church. This man was older and dressed in priest’s robes. He said something to the three youths before going back inside. The watcher waited until the trio had gone before picking up his cell phone.
“Yeah, this is the place. You want me to handle that, boss man?” the watcher asked the person on the other line. “A’ight, it’s your call, but y’all niggaz hurry up so we can take care of business.” He ended the call and went back to his watching. Soon . . . very soon.
TWENTY-TWO
AFTER THE DAMAGED CAUSED IN Harlem, Fire Bug and Big Money decided to have a little celebration. Big Money called some hood rats he knew and had them come out to meet them at a hotel in downtown Manhattan. Big Money had promised to get them high and drunk and put a few dollars in their pockets if they came and freaked off with him and his cousin. The thirsty hood rats readily agreed and told him they’d be there within an hour.
Although he kept up his smug persona, Bug was actually quite nervous. When he was around his brothers or other male members of the Savage clan, he would regularly boast about his sexual exploits, but they were mostly lies. Bug played grown men’s game, but chronologically, he was still a child and inexperienced. He slept with a few of the girls f
rom his school and a wayward prostitute or two from Maxine’s stable when he caught them drunk enough, but Bug was a novice when it came to women. On the cusp of his potential first orgy, he found himself borderline terrified.
“What’s taking these chicks so long? You think they backed out?” Bug paced the floor of the spacious hotel room nervously.
“Chill out, Fire Bug.” Big Money was putting the finishing touches on the blunt he was rolling. “Shorty texted me a few minutes ago and said the cab was dropping them off in front of the hotel. I left a key for them at the front desk.”
“What?” Bug stopped his pacing. “Why you leave them bitches a key? We don’t know them hos like that. For all we know, they could be planning a jux.” He dashed over to the writing table and retrieved his gun.
Big Money looked at Bug comically. “Boy, why don’t you sit your paranoid ass down somewhere? I met these hos at a club downtown, and they jumped on the dick, so we kept in contact. These bitches ain’t off shit but get high and a few dollars, so quit working your teenage brain with conspiracy theories. You’re worse than Mad Dog with that lunatic shit.” The minute Big Money said it, he wished he could take it back.
“What you say about my brother, nigga?” Bug’s grip tightened on his pistol. “You putting family business in the street, Big Money?”
The subject of Mad Dog’s mental stability was taboo in the Savage household. As a kid, Mad Dog Savage had been hit in the head with a baseball bat while trying to protect their father from some men who had ambushed them. Mad Dog suffered a cracked skull and was in a coma for five days. When he awoke, he said he’d had a conversation with the Grim Reaper, and during their conversation, death had whispered to him the exact moment he was scheduled to die. Mad Dog was never the same again. He lived like a gypsy, moving from place to place, searching for death around every corner and trying to stay one step ahead of the Reaper.
“Bug, you know I didn’t mean it like that,” Big Money said in a sincere tone. “I got love for my big cousin. I was just trying to get you to lighten up a little, Bug.” He lit the blunt and took a deep pull. Still holding the smoke, he passed the weed to Bug.