Butcher's Road by Lee Thomas

believers he called the Alchemi. A part of Marco, and it was a considerable part, hadn’t believed in the mystery men or their metal magic. In fact, he’d considered such realms of magic absolute horseshit, but the men were real; here they were, and if they existed, then everything else Lonnie had told him must also be true. Marco’s head spun with it. Weapons. Baubles. Bits of steel that looked useless to everyone but the men who knew how to use them.
    Tony, his face and suit now covered in deep red freckles, fell to the floor. The tall man walked away from the chair, and the stocky man, the one named Brand, moved in and pressed the point of his knife to Marco’s chin.
    “My name is Mr. Hayes,” the tall man said. He stood next to the bar sticking out of the wall. Leaning down he said, “And as I noted, my colleague’s name is Mr. Brand.”
    The stocky man before him smiled, and then he tapped Marco’s chin with the blade of his knife. “Nice to meet ya,” Brand said.
    Hayes grasped the metal bar and gave it a gentle twist before pulling it smoothly from the wall. He tapped the rod against his palm and sneered. “Mr. Brand, would you please attach the pin to Mr. Impelliteri.”
    “Of course,” Brand said, reaching into the pocket of the leather apron.
    “The what?” Impelliteri asked. The amazement he’d felt only moments before was gone as he understood the focus of the two men was now wholly on him. “You’re not sticking anything in me.”
    Brand pressed the blade hard against Impelliteri’s cheek. From his pocket he drew a shining silver item approximately the length of his little finger. Ridges ran over the arched top of the object, and a long, needle jutted from below. Brand lifted the thing for Impelliteri to get a good look, waving it with his puny hand like a child teasing a classmate with a toy. Then the stocky man reached down and in two quick motions pushed aside the lapel of Impelliteri’s dressing gown and jabbed the needle into his chest.
    Though the pain was minimal, hardly more than a light pinch, Impelliteri shouted and tried to launch himself from the chair, but Brand caught him with a shoulder and knocked him back into the seat. Marco reached for the pendant, eager to have it out of his flesh, but Brand knocked his hand away and returned the blade of the knife to his cheek. The point again hovered a quarter of an inch from the soft tissue of Impelliteri’s eye.
    Hayes tapped his hand with the rod as he returned to his place by Impelliteri’s side. “That pin, Mr. Impelliteri, is a means of gathering the truth. If you lie to us, you will feel it. More importantly we will know it. I suggest you stick with the truth. Despite the unfortunate incident with your associate, we have no taste for violence, though we understand its efficacy and are more than willing to use it as we deem necessary.”
    “You’re the Alchemi,” Impelliteri said. “I’ve heard about you.”
    “From Mr. Musante?” Hayes asked.
    “Yeah, Lonnie told me about you freaks.”
    Brand frowned and pressed the flat side of the knife hard against Marco’s cheekbone.
    “That was a severe indiscretion on Mr. Musante’s part,” Hayes said. “But he was never a particularly reliable individual. If he were still alive, I imagine we’d be forced to deal with him.” Hayes paused and leaned close to Impelliteri’s ear. “He’s not alive, is he?”
    “Who, Lonnie? He’s as dead as shit,” Impelliteri said. “Don’t you freaks get the newspaper?”
    “I think we can dispense with terms like ‘freak,’ Mr. Impelliteri. They are hateful and Mr. Brand is particularly sensitive to such derision.”
    “Indeed I am,” Brand said.
    “Like I give a fuck.” Impelliteri fixed his eyes on Brand’s. “I’m not the one walking around like a rag doll with a thread hanging off the shoulder. You got questions? Let’s hear ’em.”
    “You gave Mr. Musante a large sum of money for an item that was stolen from