Twisted Tales of Mayhem

by Sapphire Knight

  I frown, he walked behind me, he had to have seen my cut.

  “Harbingers of Death MC,” I state.

  “Interesting name. Do you live up to your reputation?”

  “Fuck with us and find out,” I say flatly.

  Barnes smirks. Spreads his fingers wide onto the table top and nods. “Fair enough.”

  I sit staring at him for a while and he stares straight ahead. I only turn my head when Lucy re-appears and puts our meals in front of us. The food here is always good but this guy, this Gordon Barnes, has made my stomach turn sour. The meal is tasteless as I analyze our conversation in my mind. Whoever he is, he met me here on purpose, to what end, I don’t know.

  Chapter 2

  Wraith

  I ate my meal, Declan Jones was right, it was good. I could tell he knew what I was. It was the subtle way he touched his gun and kept giving me sideways glances. It’s hard to disguise what I am. The harder I try to conceal my inner demon the more it peaks it’s head out. If I'm honest, I like that people cross the street when they see me coming or instinctively get out of my way. But it’s not going to work if I don’t find what I’m looking for. I need to be better, smarter.

  So I left Declan in the diner. Thanked the waitress, Lucy and rode away. I’ve been watching him for a little while so I know which road he’ll take. It’s winter, not a lot of people are out and about, the cold keeping most people inside. But Declan Jones will need to get back to his club and he always takes this road. Stupid. The key to not getting caught is originality. Don’t repeat the same route, or kill the same way, change those habits, make it different. See, that’s the problem with people, they do the same things over and over again, making it easy for someone like me.

  By now Declan will have completed his business, such as it is and be headed this way. I’ve prepared, a simple wire across the road fastened to a tree either side. All I need to do is pull, fasten it and wait for his sorry ass to slide down the asphalt. It’s risky, someone might be on the road at the same time but I’ve been here for a couple of hours and in that time there’s only been one car. If he does come off in front of witnesses, I need only disappear into the woods.

  The sound of a Harley punches through the air. I’m so excited, that I’m giddy, even grinning to myself. I pull hard on the wire, fasten it and wait. A loud thud sounds as man and Harley hit the road hard. Slowly I stand, listening for a car or anyone else. The only sound is the Harley and it sounds like it’s about to die. I chuckle to myself and approach the road.

  Fuck!

  The wire severed his head off. Declan's’ head is rolling about and his bike and body are several feet down the road. In frustration I kick his head, sending it off into the woods.

  Fuck, fuck, fuckity, FUCK!

  I jog down to his bike, steal his wallet, knapsack and bedroll then double-time it to the car that I’d stolen to transport him in.

  Now what? He was my lead. I rummage through his wallet and don’t find anything useful except for the cash. I empty Declan’s knapsack and find more money, a notebook and some protein bars. I punch the steering wheel and roar. It can’t be the end. It can’t. She must be avenged. Sitting there I suck air into my lungs as I try to calm down. Ripping open a protein bar I eat it, slowly, deliberately, not really tasting it but concentrating on the act of chewing to try and get myself under control. It’s not about the food as I’m not hungry, it’s about regaining my composure. After five minutes my breathing is back to normal, I need to move. I start the car and drive to the spot where I’ve stashed my bike. All of Declan's belongings go back in the sack and I pick up the bedroll. It all gets transferred to my bike and I head to Spofford. It’s a small town with lots of empty houses. Less than a hundred people live there. I need to be careful, it’s not like a big town where everyone is too wrapped up in their lives, here people take notice. I’ve done the ride in an hour and a half but I need to calm down, so it’s going to take me longer. I estimate two hours. Two hours to sort this mess out in my head and come up with a plan.

  ***

  By the time I get to the house, that’s on the outskirts of town, I’m no closer to sorting out this mess. I park the Harley in a shed at the back of the property, if you drove past you’d never see it. It’s a three bedroom one bathroom home, that’s seen better days. I’ve cleaned the bedroom, bathroom and kitchen. They are the only rooms I need.

  I unlock the back door and go inside. The windows are all boarded up, all I had to do was install new locks front and back and she’s as good as a safe…well, almost. I’m stealing power, so I have hot water and can cook myself a meal. I place Declan’s knapsack and bedroll on the rickety old dining table. I’m stiff and cold, I need a hot shower to loosen my muscles.

  ***

  The next day, I empty the contents of the knapsack, eat another protein bar and go through everything again. The wallet has nothing unusual in it, so I toss it in the trash. The notebook has names, phone numbers, and what looks like code but without a cipher, I’m not going to crack it anytime soon. That just leaves the bedroll, with a sigh I undo it, shaking it onto the floor so I can see it in its entirety. Nothing flies out. Nothing is hidden within it. Unzipping it, I open it up, flattening it out and I find another notebook. My hopes soar but I know it could be nothing, none the less I pick it up and inside is a list of names and addresses. The first is Karen’s. My heartbeat quickens. Next to her name it says, bait. Then I find Declan’s name and next to his, handler. Now, I’m excited, it’s progress, it’s a lead. Flipping the page, I find the name Darius Todd, negotiator and under his, Thomas Strike, seller.

  I’ve done it, I’ve found them all. Part of me knows that Karen and Declan will already have been replaced but these next two, if I can rid the world of them, that means she will have been avenged.

  Chapter 3

  Darius

  Harbingers of Death

  VP

  I’m at the coroners in Medina. They have Declan’s body on a slab and as I’m the closest to family, I’m here to identify the body. It’s as cold in here as it is outside. The walls are painted a mint green, I read somewhere once, that it was supposed to remind us of life. Green in any shade reminds me of money.

  “Mr. Darius Todd?” asks a small woman as she enters the room. I glance at her and nod. “Thank you for coming in. I know this is an awful time. I’m so sorry for your loss.” False platitudes from a woman who’s probably done this dozens if not hundreds of times. “I’m Doctor Hernandez. Are you ready to give an identification for…” she looks down at her clipboard, searching for a name.

  “Declan Jones,” I state flatly.

  Doctor Hernandez flinches and looks to her colleague who has remained off to one side the entire time I’ve been in here. Their unspoken language moves him into action. Doctor Hernandez, places a hand on my arm as he opens the draw.

  “Prepare yourself,” Doctor Hernandez whispers.

  I look down at her hand and she pats me, like a dog, and tries to look sympathetic.

  “Let’s get this over with, shall we?” I ask.

  I stare at the body bag, then take two steps toward it and grab the zipper.

  “Markus will do that,” Doctor Hernandes says quickly.

  I grunt and look at Markus who avoids eye contact and unzips the bag.

  Declan’s head is detached from his body. I lean in for a closer look, it’s a clean slice, like a knife through butter.

  “What the hell caused that?” I ask pointing at the severed line between his head and torso.

  “It appears as though Mr. Jones fell victim to a wire that was strung up across the road. Death was immediate.” I glance at the doctor. “It was quite clean really,” continues Doctor Hernandez matter of factly.

  “It’s Declan Jones. Do we know who did this?” I ask Doctor Hernandez.

  “That’s a question for the police but general consensus is it’s gang-related.”

  I pin the good doctor with a look and she wisely takes tw
o steps back.

  “I’m not in a gang, I’m in a motorcycle club an MC, that’s filled with other members who enjoy riding motorcycles,” I reply with acid dripping off every word.

  Her hand flutters to her neck. “Of course. My deepest sympathies.”

  “Keep them. This is Declan Jones, is there paperwork I need to fill out?”

  The doctor thrusts her clipboard at me and points to the bottom of the page. I hold out my hand for a pen, she pulls one out of her top pocket, I sign and head for the door.

  “Wait!” I stop, hand on the door handle. “What would you like us to do with the body?”

  Staring at the door I say, “Burstow’s Funeral Directors have been notified.” I glance over my shoulder at her. “As soon as you’re done with him they’ll pick him up.”

  Roughly I open the door and get out of this building. I liked Declan. He was good for a laugh and handled business well. Replacing him isn’t going to be easy. They need to have the right temperament, be good looking and know how to pick them. Declan was exceptional at all of those things.

  Outside, I find Hammer, sitting on his Harley.

  “Was it him?” he asks.

  “Yeah, the head was cut clean off.”

  “No shit?” asks Hammer.

  “No shit. Cops think it was gang-related.”

  Hammer scoffs. “First Karen now Declan, you seeing a pattern here, Darius?”

  “My thoughts exactly. You think I’m next or you?”

  Hammer shrugs. “Come on, I’ll buy you a beer.”

  I’m VP in the Harbingers of Death and Hammer is the President. If someone is after us, there’s no way they’re going to get close enough to hurt us. We’ve been around for a long time and are two of the most vicious men you’ll ever meet. Fuck with us and we’ll end you.

  Chapter 4

  Wraith

  I have this ability to blend in. To be part of the scenery or not to be seen at all. The members of the MC walk straight past me, not even noticing me. I follow them with my eyes and when they’ve left the building, I slowly walk to the entrance and watch as they walk across the street. The whole time the VP is animated, talking with his hands but the President, he’s calm, he’s the one I’ll need to watch.

  They enter a bar further down the street. I would have thought it was too upper class for them but I guess a beer is a beer no matter where you go. I push through the double doors and out into the cold. With them both being gone from their clubhouse, now is the time to do a bit of snooping. I walk around the block, get in the cheap car I’ve purchased and drive to the clubhouse, well, near it. I change into jeans, a black t-shirt and an army green jacket and walk past. It’s not lunchtime yet, so there’s not a lot of people about.

  Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly to calm my nerves, turn around and walk into the bar area. A few of the bikers stop their conversations and eye me as I go straight to the bar.

  “What’ll it be?” asks the barmaid. Their name, Harbingers of Death is written across the black tank top that’s three sizes too small for her boobs. If it wasn’t for her red bra, she’d be flashing her goods to the entire bar. Maybe that’s the point, show a little to get a little, her tip jar looks healthy.

  “Whiskey, neat.”

  “Haven’t seen you around here before.” I nod as she pours my drink. “You from around here?”

  “How much?” I ask.

  A man sidles up beside me and places his elbows on the bar. “That depends. First one is free if you can answer a simple question.” He smirks at me and winks at the barmaid.

  “Man, I’ve had a shitty week. I just want a drink, in private and then I want to leave. I don’t want any trouble.”

  “Well, you see you picked our bar to come into, so them’s the rules.”

  I nod, sigh and fix him with a stare. “What’s the question?”

  “Are you a cop?”

  “What? No! Are you for real?”

  “We can never be too careful.” He smiles and nods at someone behind me.

  “I’m no cop. I just want a drink or two or twenty and I’ll be on my way.”

  “Shitty week?” he asks.

  “Yeah, like I told you,” I reply.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Man, no offense, but I don’t know you and I’m not the sharing and caring type of guy.”

  From behind me a voice booms. “We don’t know you mother fucker and this is a club bar. Harbingers of Death own this place so answer the fucking question or get the fuck out.”

  Turning slowly, the voice belongs to a man who must be six foot six and built like a tank. I’m six foot four but this guy’s got more bulk on than me. I’m thinking he knows how to bar room brawl but hasn’t been trained in anything else. I could take him but if he hit me hard enough, I’d wake up next week.

  “My ole lady has been fucking the next door neighbor and my kid, my girl, has disappeared. That fucking slut didn’t even notice she was missing.”

  I’ve discovered over the years, that the way to make people believe you is not to steer too far from the truth. The brawler eyes me and smiles. The guy next to me slaps me on the shoulder and pushes the whiskey toward me.

  “Drink up! Women are all whores!” yells the first guy.

  The bar erupts into laughter and I quickly swallow the burning liquid.

  “Another,” I say pointing at my empty glass.

  “The names, Tick.” He holds out his hand and I grasp it in mine.

  “Vince.”

  “Give us the bottle, Candy. Me and my new friend here, are gonna get shit faced.”

  “Pay for the bottle and it’s yours and your new friend’s,” replies Candy with attitude.

  “Don’t be a bitch,” snarls Tick.

  “It’s my ass that Ham will take it out of if the bar is short on bottles. So pay for it or leave it!” I throw some notes at her and she nods. “That’s more like it.”

  Tick sneers at Candy and she winks at him and walks away.

  “Fucking women,” he grumbles as he swipes the bottle and walks toward a booth.

  I pick up my glass and follow Tick, he flops into the booth, pours himself a drink and smiles at me.

  “Much appreciated,” Tick says as he holds up his glass.

  I pour myself a drink. “Anytime. How long have you been a member?”

  “My dad was in, his before him,” Tick chuckles and continues, “back in the day when it was just a club. Just a place to hang out. The good ole days.” Tick throws back his drink and refills his glass.

  “So you grandfathered in?”

  Tick laughs, loud and long. “Nah, had to do my time as a probie but there was never any other life for me, my old man made sure of that.”

  “Yeah, they can.”

  “Your woman, you settle the score with her?”

  I shake my head. “Not worth it.”

  “Your kid?”

  “Ann. I’ve been following up on leads but…”

  “Yeah, they get to an age and they don’t need us anymore. I’m sure she’ll turn up.”

  “I know she will. Even if I have to skin whoever took her.”

  Tick sits back looking confused. “She was taken?”

  Fuck. I’ve said too much.

  I shrug. “I’d like to think so. I’d like to think she wouldn’t have just fucking left without so much as a note.”

  Tick nods. “Yeah, I get that.”

  “She was hanging out with the wrong crowd. People who were only trying to drive a wedge between her and me, well, her family. Ann trusted them and they betrayed her.”

  “Sounds like she was lost to you a long time ago.”

  I nod and for a while, neither of us speak, we drink in silence. Tick drinks three for everyone one of mine. Mind you I’m trying to be smart and not get shit-faced.

  Tick refills his glass. “Where were you? Why weren’t you at home with your girl?”

  The closer to the truth, the better. “I was in the
army. Deployed overseas. I guess I was away more than I was home.”

  Well, a kind of truth. Similar but not the same. I was overseas, but not military, CIA, Black Ops. I was sent to places and did things that would make a normal person hair curl and turn white. It gives you a taste for certain things, but it made me very good at my job.

  “Fucking government!” sneers Tick.

  “Yeah,” I agree.

  We each have another drink and I stand as Tick pours himself the final round.

  “Where you g-going?” Tick slurs.

  “Need cash, need to find a job.”

  “You m-mind getting your hands dirty?”

  “I don’t mind hard work,” I reply.

  Tick laughs. “Not that k-kind of hard work. It’s d-dirty though.”

  I cock an eyebrow and sit back down. “What do you mean?”

  “Tick! Shut your drunken mouth!” yells the six foot six behemoth from three booths away.

  Tick gives him the finger and grins. “Fucking make me, you ugly s-son of b-bitch!”

  I stand, hands held up in surrender and lock eyes with the behemoth. “Hey man, I was just asking about work. That’s all.”

  “You ain’t one of us. We don’t need someone like you,” the man fires back.

  “Someone like me?”

  “Yeah. Like I said you ain’t one of us.”

  “Who ain’t one of us?”

  I turn and come face to face with Hammer, their fucking President. I’ve stayed too long.

  “I’m leaving,” I state.

  Hammer gives the barest shake of his head and two men block the door, everyone in the bar goes quiet.

  “You looking for work?” asks Hammer as he drags a chair toward the booth.

  “Look, man, I was just shooting the shit with Tick here, having a bad fucking day, hell month. I’m on the bare bones of my ass.”

  Hammer gestures for me to sit down and I do and then he sits, staring at me intently.

  “Out of all the bars in this town and you chose to come here?” Hammer looks around the bar, one eyebrow cocked up.