Fallen Giant

by Monica Owens

  The cousins started the shouting again and Mel began to struggle in Levi’s hold. Levi rearranged, all the while avoiding elbows to the gut, and it was too late when he saw the shine of the handgun in Mel’s hand.

  “Fuck, Mel!” Ada yelled.

  “You been fucking with me since the day we was born!” Mel screamed.

  “No, Mel, don’t!” Trish shouted.

  Levi grappled with Mel, who was too strong for a man his size. Levi shouldn’t have had a problem with him, should’ve been able to hold him—

  Mel wrenched out of Levi’s hold, his right arm listless at his side, his left straight out with that handgun aimed at Rusty.

  “Shit!” Trish yelled. “Rusty, get down!”

  “Bring it, you motherfucker!” Rusty shouted instead. “Do it, do it, do it! Ain’t a day gone by that I ain’t wished I was dead. Do it!”

  Levi grabbed the back of Mel’s jacket again, tugging him backward. He reached out and tried to knock the gun arm down, to try to aim at the floor.

  The gun exploded.

  Ada screamed. Trish shouted. Patrons scattered. Levi tackled Mel and finally wrestled the gun away.

  “Damn you, Mel!” Trish yelled. “Goddamn you!”

  Levi kicked the gun away, but the damage was done. He glanced up, adrenaline pounding through his body. He saw Trish down on the ground, hands covered in blood, spackles of it painting her face. If this motherfucker had shot her—

  But then Trish moved and Levi saw the body on the ground. The awkward angle of the head leaning against the leg of a chair, the dead and staring eyes. Blood bubbled up and out of the wound in Rusty’s chest and a lake of it began to spread out from his body.

  Mel rested the side of his face on the sticky floor and closed his eyes. “Finally,” he whispered. Levi felt a huge sigh wrack the body under his. “It’s over.”

  *****

  The old rotary phone next to the mayor’s bed jangled at one in the morning. The mayor preferred to keep certain things the way they had always been. His parents had built this house to reflect the glory of the old South. So he still had the old handmade walnut bed they’d used, the diaphanous curtains around the bed, the old wardrobe, the pale pink fabric wallpaper, and the rotary phone next to the bed, complete with the original phone number the house had come with.

  He just didn’t like that the phone rang at one in the morning.

  Because the thing wasn’t hooked up to an answering machine, the ringing just continued on and on. The mayor glared at it, but finally sat up, switched on a light, and scooped the receiver up.

  “It’s one in the morning,” he said unnecessarily.

  “One of the boys is dead,” came the crackly voice on the other end.

  Mayor Elliott sat up straight, instantly wide awake. “What?”

  The sheriff sighed. “One of them finally shot the other. Over at The Rube. I told you over and over—”

  “Which one?” the mayor interrupted.

  “Rusty’s gone.”

  “Shit,” Mayor Elliott swore. “And where’s Mel?”

  “In the drunk tank. He’s off his rocker, crying and carrying on. Trish and that professor you hired brought him in.”

  The mayor’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “Trish responded to a call about the boys fighting. She and that professor were coming back from the medical examiner’s office so she responded. Tried getting the boys to settle, but Mel pulled a gun.”

  “Where did Mel get a gun?” the mayor demanded.

  “How should I know?” Grande shot back. “Are you coming down here? Do you want to talk to Trish? Or that big fucker?”

  The mayor felt his shoulders drop. “No. Take care of Mel.”

  “He’ll be fine until morning—”

  “No. Take care of him.”

  There was a pause, then Grande said solemnly, “I guess I don’t know what you mean.”

  The mayor sighed. “Leave him with his belt and shoelaces—”

  “Trish already took those away,” Grande interrupted.

  “Figure it out,” the mayor nearly shouted. He slammed the phone down. “Goddammit!” More than anything, he wanted to lay back down, go back to sleep, but that wasn’t happening. He shimmied to the side of the bed and got out, grabbed a robe and tugged it on. He slid slippers on his feet and padded down the hall to the stairs, then down to the first floor and into the kitchen.

  The one thing he didn’t have that his parents had when they built the house was a housekeeper. Too many secrets these days. Luckily he enjoyed cooking and he paid a junkie to come in and clean the house up when he had the time to watch over her. No way would he let anyone wander in his house alone. There were too many valuables, both tangible and intangible.

  Mayor Elliott flicked on the kitchen light.

  A black figure shot across the kitchen and thudded into Elliott, grasping him by the neck and hauling him up the wall. Elliott clawed at the fingers clasped around his throat, choking and coughing, until the figure laughed and dropped him.

  “Bernard,” said a cold voice.

  Elliott gulped lungful after lungful of air, his hand hovering over his neck protectively. He glanced up at the dark figure standing over him, blocking out the light.

  “How long have you been here?” he croaked.

  “Long enough.” The figure dropped to his haunches in front of Elliott and smoothed a hand over the mayor’s hair. “I’ve seen enough.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The big fucker. Levi. Get him out of here.”

  “There are murders. He’s going to help—”

  The figure moved closer, the wispy black material over his face puffing out with his breath. “I said to get him out of here.”

  “Have you seen those bodies?” Elliott demanded. “I won’t have that in this town. I won’t. That damn detective thinks she can stop this, but she can’t. She’s only a woman—”

  “Women can do a lot these days,” the figure soothed. “I’m serious. Get him out of here.”

  Elliott rubbed his neck and swallowed painfully. “The murders—”

  “Don’t worry about those, son. I’ll take care of it.”

  “It’s Satanists,” Elliott murmured.

  “No, it’s not,” the figure said humorously. “Trust me. But get Leviathan gone.”

  “L-Leviathan?” Elliott stuttered.

  There was a nod. “All those scary things I told you about when you were younger? They’re all coming home to roost, Bernard. Leviathan is one of them. He’s a fallen angel, evil incarnate. He lied to you to get on your good side. Told you he could help you with a problem. Who do you think was holding onto Mel tonight at The Rube? You know Mel has never owned a gun, where did he get it from? Only one place, Bernard. From Leviathan.”

  Terror spiked in Elliott. “So he was behind all this?”

  “He might even be the murderer. Didn’t hesitate to come here when you needed him, did he?” The dark figure moved closer. The haziness of the material covering his face let Elliott see past the dark for just a moment. A scarred face, melted beyond reason. A face he no longer recognized. A skinny hand crept up and gripped Elliott’s neck again. “Bernard, those boys of mine were murdered just like you’ve always been afraid of. Leviathan is behind it.”

  Slowly, an idea crept into Elliott’s mind. “Can we kill him?”

  The figure snapped back. “Kill Leviathan?”

  “Well…yes.”

  Chuckling echoed from under the material and inched along Elliott’s ears. “Son, you can’t kill a fallen angel.”

  “Can we frame him?”

  The tickling along his arms, legs, neck, all from the laughter, abruptly ceased. “Frame him?”

  “For the murders.”

  Elliott ignored the excitement at the thought. If he didn’t have support in this, it wouldn’t happen. But the anticipation of snapping cuffs on that big fucker was almost too much and he allowed a hint of exhilaration
to escape.

  That laughter again. “I see you like that idea.”

  “Well…”

  “Can we get the sheriff on board?”

  Elliott nodded eagerly. “Absolutely.”

  The figure got to his feet and went to the door. “Work it out, Bernard. I’ll be back in a few days.”

  Elliott watched the figure leave, then smiled diabolically to himself.

  Big things were going to be happening in this town. Big, big things.

  Chapter Eleven

  By the time Levi gave his statement to the fresh-faced deputy, then gave it again to the sheriff, light was streaking the sky in the east. He was exhausted. He was troubled. This town and its creepy inhabitants were ready to turn on one another, if Mel and Rusty were any indication. How hard would it be to turn on him? An outsider, a stranger, no matter that Trish had indicated he was a friend. Because Trish was an outsider too.

  He didn’t see her or her car when he walked out into the early morning air. It wasn’t hot yet, but the indicators were there. As far as Levi was concerned, he’d get a few hours of sleep, check in with Trish, and then possibly pack his shit and get the fuck out of Magnolia.

  It felt good to think it, but he would never do it.

  There was too much at stake here. Whoever was killing those people was going to keep killing until there were no more people to kill. Trish would think it was her duty to stay, to stop the crime and, no doubt, the corruption this town was dealing with. She’d do it without a thought to her own safety.

  Maybe he could talk her into climbing up into his truck and taking off back to Vegas with him. Talk her out of saving this town from itself. Talk her into his life, his bed. Fuck her until she stopped arguing…

  Wait. Where had that come from?

  Levi shook his head. That glimpse of a vulnerable Trish had his head in a fog and his stomach in knots. The woman was shapely, attractive, and had a killer instinct for crime. Not to mention the woman underneath was a bombshell, too. She was Levi’s kind of woman. His heart had figured it out long before his head had.

  He pulled up into the driveway of the above the garage apartment he was staying in. When he got out, he realized the birds had started to sing, trumpeting the morning. He wished they’d shut the fuck up.

  He scuffed closer to the stairs leading to his apartment and saw the dark shadow on the fourth stair. He paused, quieting, and pulled out the switchblade he carried in his back pocket. The people in this town were crazy, no doubt about that. He didn’t want to get jumped by one of them.

  But when he got closer, he saw the huddled boy on his stair and quickly put his blade away. The bike Colton had ridden before was parked nearby, but a tire was punctured and the spokes bent. Dew dappled the kid’s hair and Levi felt like a douche for forgetting about him.

  “Hey, kid,” Levi leaned close.

  Colton flew awake, his arms flailing and a desperate sob breaking from his throat. Levi backed away, lifting his hands, and let the little boy take in a few gulps of air. Colton sat there, glancing around, hanging onto the spindles of the stairs, until finally looking at Levi.

  “Did I fall asleep?” he asked with all the huskiness of a deep sleep.

  “Yeah, man. Out like a light.”

  Colton dragged a hand down his face. “I-I didn’t mean to. I came to tell you about my bike and I sat down for a second.” He turned and looked at the broken bike, then at Levi. “I should go.”

  “Your mom know where you are?”

  The look on Colton’s face was a mask of irritation. “No.”

  “She gonna call the cops?”

  Colton lifted his chin. “Probably not.”

  Levi waved a hand toward the stairs. “Then we should go eat some pancakes before you go home.”

  “I’m not a charity case,” Colton pointed out.

  “Never said you were, kid. But I happen to be hungry and I can make a mean pancake. Do you want some or not?”

  “Well…”

  “Come on. You can at least watch me make ’em and tell me about your bike.” Levi stalked up the stairs, right past Colton, and smiled to himself when he heard the little boy jog after him. Unlike the other folks around town, Levi did not leave his door unlocked. He disengaged the lock and went inside, going straight to the kitchen. He heard Colton enter and shut the door.

  Levi pulled his phone out and texted Trish. “Colton slept on my stairs last night.”

  He was getting the eggs out when her answering text came. “Is he OK?”

  “Yeah. Tired and hungry. Some1 busted up his bike.”

  There was a pause, then a quick, “I’ll be there in 5.”

  Levi tossed his phone down. “All right, kid. I don’t feed dirty people. Go take a shower.”

  Colton wrinkled his nose. “A shower?”

  “Yeah. A shower. I can smell you all the way over here.” Levi began cracking eggs into a ceramic bowl he’d rummaged from a bottom cabinet. “Hurry up. These’ll be on the griddle in five minutes.”

  Colton stood warily for a moment, then cleared his throat. “I, uh, don’t have any other clothes.”

  “Well, I might be a giant, but you can borrow one of my T-shirts until your shit’s clean.”

  “Adults don’t normally swear in front of kids,” Colton said, in awe.

  “I do a lot of shit I shouldn’t do,” Levi responded. “Like throwing out kids who won’t go take a shower.”

  Colton turned on his heel and ran toward the bathroom.

  Levi grinned to himself and added more eggs to his batter.

  *****

  Trish wasn’t a genius or that good of a detective to find out where Levi was staying. Magnolia didn’t have any hotels or even any cruddy motels. And while the mayor owned all the Victorians in town, he didn’t rent any of those out. What he did rent out was the garage apartment at the home of his cousin, whom Trish had never had the delight of meeting.

  She pulled up behind Levi’s massive truck and killed the engine. From here she could see the front tire of Colton’s bike. Smashed. That kid couldn’t catch a break.

  Trish had been home long enough to sleep for two hours, then shower. She was heading back to the office when she’d gotten Levi’s text. Her concern over Colton furrowed her brow as she got out of the car and headed up the stairs.

  At the top, she knocked on the door. She heard Levi’s deep voice call for her to come in, and she ignored the butterflies in her belly. Since his gentle handling of her yesterday, she wasn’t sure what to expect, but some sort of attraction wasn’t it.

  She went inside the modest efficiency apartment and was immediately assailed by the wonderful smell of pancakes. She paused in the doorway when she caught sight of Levi flipping a pancake in the air, catching it expertly in the pan.

  Small hands clapped together in delight.

  Levi turned then, the morning sun hitting him full in the face as he smiled at his audience. He. Was. Beautiful. Those strong white teeth. That thick heavy beard. His eyes, Lord, his eyes. He looked over at her, still smiling, and Trish licked her lips. His gaze dropped to her mouth, then flicked back up to her eyes. Yeah. Her belly was doing somersaults.

  “Hi, Miss Trish!”

  The chirping voice of Colton brought her back to earth. She dragged her gaze from Levi and looked at the little boy. He was drowning in a white T-shirt, his skinny legs sticking straight out from his chair.

  “Where are your clothes?”

  “Levi threw them in the washing machine,” Colton said, hooking his thumb over his shoulder. “He said I couldn’t have any pancakes if I was dirty.”

  “You can have pancakes, too,” Levi told her. Then lowered his voice. “As long as you aren’t dirty.”

  Trish’s mouth went dry. The idea that this gorgeous hunk of man made suggestive comments to her was one thing. The thought that she enjoyed it was quite another. She tried to shake it off. Shake off the deep dip of his voice, the piercing gaze he gave her, and forget about the wa
y he spoke to her. A man hadn’t spoken to her like that in so long, maybe she was just reading too much into it…But the naughty glint in his eye couldn’t be her imagination. Could it?

  “Shut the door,” Levi said with a nod. “No reason to have the whole town know our business.”

  Trish shook herself out of the haze of lust she seemed to have for this man. She shut the door behind her and moved further into the room, her attention snapping to the boy at the table. “What happened to your bike, little man?”

  Colton’s smile faltered and he shrugged his bony shoulders.

  Trish glanced over at Levi helplessly.

  Levi came over to the table and pushed a chair out with his foot, then effortlessly slid two enormous pancakes on a plate. “Come eat, Trish.”

  “I’m not…” She looked over at him and her words trailed off. For some reason, Colton had come to Levi for help. Levi was giving the kid the space to be himself and to talk on his own terms. If she had to eat pancakes to find out who had busted up Colton’s bike, then she’d just eat some pancakes. She went around the table and sank into the chair.

  The pancakes looked glorious. She glanced over at Colton, who had demolished his own food.

  “Are they good?” she asked.

  “Um, yeah,” Colton responded sarcastically. He shoved more pancake goodness into his mouth, then pushed the syrup over to her.

  Trish drizzled the maple syrup over her cakes. Levi stayed at the stove, making more for himself. She glanced between the two, shrugged, and cut into the pancakes with her fork.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered. The buttery goodness melted against her tongue and she had to close her eyes to contain this moment. These were the best pancakes in the world. She didn’t think she’d ever tasted anything like this before. Undeniably… “Delicious,” she murmured.

  “Thanks.”

  Her eyes flicked open to see Levi standing near her, his hands clasped on the back of a chair. He wasn’t looking at the pancakes. He wasn’t looking at her fork, her plate, or Colton. No. He was looking at her lips, where she felt the tremble of a drop of syrup. He leaned forward and wiped his tattooed middle finger across her bottom lip. Without breaking eye contact, he brought his finger to his mouth and sucked it deep, cleaning the syrup off while entrancing Trish. Levi pulled his finger out with a pop, then licked the flat of his tongue from the base to the tip. Trish’s mouth went dry. That tongue. Was that the hint of tattoos on his tongue? Was his tongue tattooed? She felt herself moving closer to him, her lips parting…