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I wouldn’t necessarily call it a bad thing, but since burning the bar down the street I’ll have to find another way to drown out the screams. I look down at the body at my feet, wondering why this dumb shit had been stupid enough to draw Nalar’s wrath. Nal may be a sick bastard, but he doesn’t have me kill someone without a good reason. Then again, I would rather just kill them outright rather than what he usually wants done.
Nalar considers himself somewhat of a governor of the suburb. He claims to answer to someone higher, but I never cared to ask who. He is a mid level thug who has enough sway to get a few of his plans worked into the boss’ overall scheme. This isn’t the type of guy I exactly like working for, but he only sends me to the targets that really deserve it.
The good ole sheriff got his attention by coming down here and pulling the prostitutes off of the streets. This kind of thing can piss off a guy, but most guys in the business write that off as a cost of doing business.
The real problem was that the sheriff had been kidnapping the girls to start his own business out in the country. If you think the cops were corrupt before, I almost beg to have the old days back. You at least had a fifty-fifty shot of running into one of the good guys back then. You might not have gotten out of a ticket, but at least you didn’t have to fear for your life. All the good Lord left us with now are the corrupt ones. Sure, there may be one or two like me that still fight the good fight, but I’m not going to stake my life on it.
I kneel down, put my gloves on, and pull out the cross and holy water out of my pack. Einuir doesn’t like it when I accidentally get some on my skin and I don’t like having to explain why I’m walking around in my skitters any more than I have to, so I’ll play it safe. Sometimes I regret making a pact with a demon, but if I have to be alive during this shit I am glad he is on my side.
I place the cross on his chest and sprinkle some holy water around him. Normally, I would throw in some salt for good measure, but Eunie made it disappear the last time he took over. Demons like him are why I try to keep as many souls from going to the demented fucks as I could.
Prayers are out of my hands, though. All that would do is guarantee a quick trip to see the big buy. Not worth the price of a few words.
I grab my knife, clean it off on the good sheriff’s shirt, and put it back in my boot. Then I close the bottle of holy water and put it back in my bag. The cross can stay, it may help him go up top. At least he has a better shot than I do.
I turn around, walk out of the room and shut the door, all while noticing the carnage this mark caused. Every building on the right side of the street is in flames. So much for sneaking out in the cover of darkness.
“Put your hands where I can see them.” I hear the voice coming from behind what remained of the steps leading into the tavern.
I raise my hands in the air slowly. The cop was a portly ole guy. And by portly, I mean he hasn’t missed a meal in a long time. And by not missing a meal I mean he never missed double portions at a meal.
“Situation is under control officer. I am sorry about the bar. Really sorry, in fact. Today is payday, and I was looking forward to a beer or six.” I lower my hands and try to take a step.
The sound of a gunshot causes my ears to ring.
Did that fat fuck just take a shot at me? I stop and look over at the pig. His hands are shaking, sweat already starting to pour through his shirt.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I have one wicked dark side that you do not want to anger.”
“Stand still, the sheriff is coming. He is going to take you in.”
I hold back a laugh. “Sheriff’s already here.” I motion my head back towards the place I just left. “I can promise you that he isn’t taking me anywhere.”
I take another step. Piggie takes
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