by Stuart Jaffe
Immortal Killers
Stuart Jaffe
Table of Contents
Title Page
For Glory and Gabe
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Acknowledgements
Nathan K will return soon!
About the Author
Copyright Information
For Glory and Gabe
Always
Chapter One
Nathan Flynn stared at the square, blue jewelry box in his palm. He had never held one before. Never could afford one. The bustle of the lunch crowd in the deli, the clatter of dishes in the back, the rumble of New York City traffic outside — all of it silenced in Nathan’s ears. He only heard the blood pumping through his body. He only saw that small, square box.
A single drop of sweat rolled down the side of his face and dripped on his cheap suit. Despite the late-Spring heat, he knew the real reason for his perspiration — the suit was the most expensive thing he owned other than the ring inside that box. He was crazy to think that Jennie would agree to marry him. Why would she want a lowly intern serving one court summons after another for a husband?
A manicured hand swiped the box. “Is this it?” Charlie thumped down in the seat across from Nathan, the tiny table barely able to hold two plates and glasses, and he flipped open the box. “Not bad. A bit small, but I doubt Jennie will care. Probably.”
Nathan snatched back the ring box and stuffed it in his pocket. “Nobody’s asking you.”
“Hey, relax. I’m on your side. Jennie’s a great catch. Far better than you deserve.”
“Don’t I know it.”
Charlie grinned. “Am I sensing some doubt?” He had a face that put people at ease and a voice that gained their confidence. He was going to be a great lawyer.
“Not from me. I’m doing this. But I don’t know what she’s going to say. I mean usually you know, right? Usually, you’ve been a couple so long that the asking is just a formality.”
“You guys have been together for over a year. You’ve got to know. How could you not?”
Nathan only offered a shrug in response. A gruff voice called out Charlie and Nathan’s co-worker dashed off to grab his food. He returned with a corned-beef sandwich, the meat piled high like a pink mountain between two pieces of rye bread.
“You’re not thinking this through,” Charlie said while he squirted mustard on his food. “Look, in a few months, this crappy job will be done, and you and I are going to be delving deeper into law school. Another year and we’ll be lawyers. Our ability to read people is essential to our success — especially if you want to be defense attorney. And I know you’re good at reading people. I’ve seen you do it before. I mean, take a look around here. What do you see?”
Happy for the distraction, even if only momentary, Nathan nodded toward a woman in a suit, juggling a cell phone, briefcase, and tablet. “She’s a lawyer. Probably not very good.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The mess of papers sticking out of her briefcase, the haggard look on her face, and the stain on her blouse. She has a dazed way of moving like she isn’t quite sure how she got to this deli and should she order first or make that call on her cell or grab a table.”
“Okay. What about ramrod in the corner?”
A lone man sat straight and stiff with a laptop opened and a half-eaten sandwich behind it. He wore gray slacks and a simple, white shirt with a gray tie. No jacket.
Nathan said, “Ramrod’s waiting for something important. An email, perhaps. Maybe he’s watching the stock market and has a lot riding on it. See the way his hands are resting on the keyboard? There’s a slight tremor in his fingers. He’s nervous and ready to pounce whenever the information arrives.”
“I’m with you on that one. How about them?”
An old couple sat in the back near the narrow restroom door. “They’re in love,” Nathan said. “Look at how they watch each other, the way they share their fries, and the way they haven’t stopped holding hands across the table. Their wedding rings look like they’ve been on those fingers a long time.”
Charlie spread his hands apart. “I rest my case. You know exactly how to read people. So, you think about Jennie. Think about all she has said and done since you’ve known her. You picture that woman’s smiling face as you bend down on one knee and pop the question. What’s she say?”
Nathan closed his eyes. He imagined the exact scene. Then he shook his head. “I want to believe she’ll say yes, but —”
“You’re killing me. Of course, she’s going to say yes, so stop all your whining. Jeez, I don’t even know why you’d want to get married. The whole idea is ridiculous.”
“Not everybody wants to be an eternal bachelor.”
“I’m not saying you can’t be committed to one person for the rest of your life, but what’s the real use of an actual marriage? You make it legal and all it does is turn loving people into enemies.”
Nathan had heard this before. Railing against the marriage institution had become a favorite pastime for Charlie. The closer Nathan came to actually proposing, the more Charlie lectured. Usually, Nathan debated the topic — not because he expected to change Charlie’s mind, but they both considered such debates as practice for their legal professions. Plus, he enjoyed stumping Charlie now and then.
But as Charlie started building steam, Nathan’s attention pulled toward the front door. A striking man had entered the deli. He had a battle-scarred but handsome face, close-cropped dark hair, and though he wasn’t a large man, he moved with the confidence of a capable fighter. His clothing looked casual, but something about him struck Nathan as far from casual. He stood at the counter staring at the menu. He kept his hands loose at his side as if ready to move at any moment. Whatever his purpose in being at the deli, he wasn’t going to order food. Confirming his gut intuition, Nathan caught the lone man sitting by the computer watching this confident newcomer with intense interest.
Charlie snapped his fingers in front of Nathan’s face. “C’mon, man, I can’t have an argument alone. Tell me what good marriage is. Anything to dispute my assertion.”
“Sorry,” Nathan said.
“Don’t be sorry. Just explain why marriage is so important? Heck, not even as a worldwide institution, but why are you bothering with it?”
“I want kids.”
“What? Since when?”
“Since always.”
The man at the counter stepped aside to let a young woman and her daughter order. He looked like nothing more than another customer. He blended in well and nobody else but Nathan had noticed him. Except Ramrod with his laptop. He continued to observe the man just as Nathan did.
“Hey,” the gruff-voiced man behind the counter said. “You gonna order anything or you gonna keep standin’ in the way?”
The man leveled a cold look. “You got a restroom?”
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Gruff Voice jutted a chin at the back. The man nodded and walked straight past Nathan to enter the restroom.
Charlie took a big bite of his sandwich. Speaking around his food, he said, “Okay, fine, you want kids, but you don’t have to be married to have them.”
“I want to be able to continue my name.” Nathan glanced over his shoulder at the restroom door. “If I’m not married, that could become a fight. Also, a married mother and father create security for a child. It knows the parents are here to stay.”
Charlie eyebrows screwed downward. “This got anything to do with your brothers having kids? You trying to win Daddy’s favor or something?”
“I think being a lawyer will do more for me than throwing grandkids at my dad. No, this is for me. I mean keeping the family name alive is important, but both of my brothers have that covered. If I have a kid though, I can give him my name.”
“Because the world needs more Nathans around?”
“What’s wrong with the name Nathan?”
The lone man with the laptop stood, his chair scraping the tiled floor. He lacked all the skill of blending in that the other man had displayed as he rigidly walked toward the restroom. He even left his laptop sitting on the table — practically a guarantee that it would be stolen.
“Oh, I get it,” Charlie said. “Kind of immortality. What if it’s a girl?”
“Then I’ll give her my mother’s name.”
That stopped Charlie for a moment. Nathan’s mother had died when he was eight. His father had to raise three boys and never dated again. The Flynn boys revered their mother, and Charlie showed his respect by not pushing further on the subject of names.
But that didn’t put the overall topic to rest. “Let me say this,” Charlie went on. “If your purpose in getting married is so that you can have a child or two or ten and have them know stability and have them carry on your name, then why get married now? Are you really going to try to start a family while you’re in law school? That’s insane.”
“Plenty of people do it.”
“Yeah, but not all of them do it by choice. You are actively planning to burden yourself with immense debt, lack of sleep, constant demands, and an overload of work — and that’s just law school. You want to add a baby to that?”
Two dull snaps cut through the din of lunching noise. Every person in the deli froze. Conversations halted. Eyes widened as diners searched each other for answers. Nobody dared say what they all thought made those sounds. Only the gurgle of the deep fryer could be heard.
Nathan’s heart thrummed in his chest. From the side, he saw the little girl peek upward at her stunned mother. Before he could comprehend his actions, Nathan bolted over to the counter, scooped up the startled girl, and handed her to the mother.
“Get out of here,” he said.
Her eyes darted between him and the restroom door. She nodded.
Nathan’s mouth went dry as he turned his head toward the restroom. The door slammed open and all in the deli gasped. The confident man stumbled out, blood splattered on his face and more blood dribbling from two holes in his chest.
Chaos erupted.
Gruff Voice manically shouted for calm while people screamed. The mother carrying her daughter managed to get out the front door before the mass exodus clogged the way. Tables and chairs fell to the floor.
The bleeding man crawled toward Nathan, locking eyes with him, reaching out toward him. Nathan wanted to help, but he couldn’t move — he saw Ramrod standing in the restroom, watching the madness, a handgun with a silencer dangling in his hand.
Charlie sat still. He held his overblown sandwich in one hand, bits of meat dropping into his lap.
Nathan heard the frightened crowd break through its bottleneck behind him. As the last of the screaming people ran off, the lone man stepped out of the restroom. He pointed his weapon at the bleeding man and shot once more. Then he walked past Nathan and out the front door, his gait more rigid than before.
An unearthly quiet descended upon the deli. Though Nathan knew a crowd had formed outside, no sounds from them penetrated inside. He felt as if a thick towel had been wrapped around his head, covering his ears, muting the world.
Gruff Voice stepped from behind the counter. He glanced down at the dead man and shook his head. “This is gonna ruin my business.”
Before Nathan could express shock at the comment, the dead man coughed and lifted a hand. Gruff Voice shrieked, jumped back, and fell over a chair. Charlie startled and his sandwich hit the floor.
Nathan snapped his fingers at Charlie. “Call 9-1-1. This guy is still alive.” To Gruff Voice, he said, “You go outside, see if you can find a cop.”
He dropped to his knees, ignoring the blood soaking into his only good pair of slacks, and turned the not-so-dead man over. The man’s eyes rolled up but a smack on the cheek brought him back.
“Help is on the way,” Nathan said. “Hang in there.”
The man’s hand shot out, latching onto Nathan’s shoulder with surprising strength. He pulled Nathan close in. Part of Nathan resisted — whatever this guy wanted to say, it couldn’t be any good. But part of Nathan thought nobody deserved to die without being able to utter some final words.
He turned his head to the side in order to hear well. But the man locked his fingers on Nathan’s jaw and turned his head back. He stared at Nathan with his dark, vibrant hazel eyes. Nathan thought it strange that a dying man should look so alive in the eyes.
The man opened his mouth, blood strung between his lips, and said, “Sorry.”
Nathan felt pressure on the side of his neck. He glanced to the side and saw blood spraying out. The dying man held a knife covered in the dark crimson that continued to shower across the deli floor.
“Is that my blood?” Nathan asked.
The man wrenched Nathan close, pressing their foreheads together, and stared into his eyes. Nathan stared back. His mind raced to comprehend what was happening, but no answers arrived.
And those eyes.
They filled and swirled and dazzled with flecks of green and gold and brown like a kaleidoscope. More than that, Nathan thought the colors widened, grew around him, enveloped him in their wonder. He could fall into them. It would be easy. And a good thing. His brain told him how wonderful the world would be inside those eyes.
He dived inward. He had no clue how he had done it; he simply slipped forward and felt his body drifted down into the eyes. Until the colors left him.
And nothing remained but darkness.
Chapter Two
Nathan had died. He knew it by the darkness. Never while alive had he known such icy darkness. A cold beneath the cold. A dark that swallowed the dark.
This was Darkness.
This was Death.
Nathan’s skin prickled at the thought. But did he have skin? And where was he? Heaven? Hell?
Not Heaven. Certainly such a place would have more to offer than this. Hell, then. Except, he suffered no pain, no discomfort other than the cold.
Perhaps the religions were wrong. Perhaps all that remained after life was nothingness, frozen darkness. It didn’t matter what this place was — Nathan wanted out.
The Darkness that surrounded him had weight. He could feel it pressing against his skin, rolling along his back, snaking around his legs — if he even had those body parts anymore. He couldn’t see his own hands, let alone legs or a body. Was that a result of the utter lack of light, or was it because he lacked a body to see?
Something took hold of him in his chest, and it lurched him forward. He thought this must be what a hooked fish feels like as the painful grip dug into his sternum and pulled him further along.
With a blinding flash, he saw Jennie lying in her bed. He watched from the ceiling, floating above her while she rolled the covers to her feet. Her naked body revealed, she smiled and reached toward the bathroom door.
“Come on, honey. Don’t make me wait all night.”
Nathan chilled at he
r voice. Not just the sound of it, but because he remembered her saying those exact words. This was a memory. This was the first time they had slept together. He was in the bathroom, fumbling with a condom, nervous that he would fail to live up to her expectations, chastising himself to think she would have expectations of him as if he held some secret Casanova reputation.
The door opened, and Nathan watched himself enter the room with a goofy smile. Jennie cracked up, giggling and curling into a ball. From the ceiling, Nathan smiled.
Another blinding flash struck, and Nathan floated above another bed. This one he had no desire to see. A motel room, filthy, unknown stains on the walls, the smell of urine and pot permeated the air, and a young man, Dean Schooner, sat on the edge of the bed with a needle in his arm.
Fresh out of high school, Nathan had worked for a bail bondsman, hunting deadbeats who skipped their court dates. Nathan was good at the work and he enjoyed tracking people down, but he had no stomach for the darker side. As Dean removed the needle and sighed, Nathan wanted to scream at him, to warn him, to force him to run.
Moments later, the door busted in. Young Nathan and his partner, Mack, rushed forward. Mack tackled Dean, though there was no need. He straddled the drugged out kid and pummeled him. Young Nathan did nothing to stop the abuse. He watched, and when it was over, when Dean Schooner no longer moved, no longer breathed, they hurried out, vowing never to tell a soul what had happened.
Flashes of memory continued to strike out at him. His only one night stand. The five-finger discount of a comic book when he was fourteen — X-Men with Storm on the cover sporting a super-cool Mohawk. And Jennie, always returning to Jennie.