66. Aareth
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AARETH
THE WORST DAY IN AARETH’S LIFE
The burning in his lungs that should have brought him to a standstill was manageable.
The multiple knife and gun wounds that ravaged his body should have put him in a hospital.
Right now, physical pain was acceptable.
Aareth Emerson, inspector to the city of New Hope, raced down its cobbled streets in a manic state.
His current case had led him to infiltrate the largest and most dangerous gang in New Hope, the Bloodstone family.
They were suspected of having their hands in everything from drugs to prostitution.
There were even whispers of something darker at work, something spoken of only at night or in the shadows, something called The Order.
Aareth had worked for months infiltrating their ranks until he had been admitted to a meeting with the head of the family, Don Bosque. The meeting had taken place only minutes before. The events that led to Aareth running down the streets of New Hope now played back in his mind.
“Don Bosque Bloodstone,” Aareth had said, lowering his head as was customary. The head of the Bloodstone crime syndicate demanded every courtesy. “It’s an honor.”
“Please.” The rotund man behind the oak desk opened his arms in welcome. “One such as you, who has already done so much for the family in such little time, may address me as ‘friend’.”
Aareth lifted his eyes. He took in every detail around him.
The room lined with books and maps, the expensive liquor on the desk, the pair of armed men behind him.
His mission was almost complete. He had entered the Bloodstone mansion.
All that was left was to find the family ledger listing their illegal contributions to the city.
Aareth probably wouldn’t get his hands on it today, but he was well on his way.
“My men tell me, a few months back, you were a common street thug looking for work. Now here you stand, after completing job after job for the family. I applaud your ambition, Inspector Emerson.”
Aareth’s blood turned to ice in his veins. His heart attacked his rib cage in a sharp staccato rhythm. His cover was blown.
“I’m sorry, Don.” Aareth tried to recover from his shock. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My name is Daniel Hunt, I’m?—”
“We can cut the dramatics to save us both time.” Don Bosque waved his enormous hand as if he were shooing away a fly. He rapped three times on his oak table. The loud booms acted like a signal. The doors into his office opened. Two more men entered.
Aareth looked over his shoulder at the hired muscle. They were all large human beings. Aareth counted a pistol, a knife, and two clubs amongst the group.
“If you already know who I am”—Aareth slowed his breathing—“then you should have known to bring more men.”
Don Bosque’s grin went from one of evil mirth to uncertainty.
Aareth didn’t wait for them to make the initial move. He turned and rushed the first man, bringing his elbow up in a vicious uppercut to the underside of his jaw. The man crumpled. A gunshot rang out. Pain followed a millisecond behind the roar. The bullet lodged in Aareth’s left shoulder.
Ignoring the pain, Aareth dodged a strike from his next attacker’s knife. The razor carved a shallow cut across his left cheek. A well-placed punch to his enemy’s throat left the thug on his knees, gasping for breath against a shattered Adam’s Apple.
There were still two left. One was desperately trying to reload his pistol, while the other was already swinging a club at Aareth’s skull.
Aareth caught the poor excuse for a swing in both hands. He broke the man’s wrist, taking his weapon from him. Next, Aareth slammed the club against his adversary’s temple before turning to the slow pistol loader.
“If you’re going to choose a pistol as your main weapon, you should really work on your reload time,” Aareth said before taking the man down with a strike from the club.
Another shot rang out. Red-hot pain erupted in Aareth’s left leg. He was lucky. Instead of the bullet burying itself in his flesh, it grazed his leg, going on to find a final resting place in the Don’s bookcase.
A bloodstain was already seeping through Aareth’s pant leg. Aareth looked past the smoking barrel of the Don’s pistol and into the pudgy man’s beady eyes. Fear was present in the Don’s face, but there was something else there as well. Something Aareth didn’t like.
“You’re under arrest for crimes against the city of New Hope,” Aareth started.
“And you should really get to that pretty wife of yours,” the Don said, lowering his pistol.
He glanced at a clock on his desk. “I sent a group of men to take care of her at the same time this meeting was taking place. It was insurance. You learn about insurance when you get to be a Don in New Hope.”
“You’re bluffing.” Aareth took a few angry limps toward the Don. “You’re a liar.”
“I never bluff, Inspector Emerson.” The Don smiled over his double chin. “And I am a liar, but not this time.”
More than anything, Aareth wanted to write off the Don’s words as the act of a desperate man.
But he couldn’t take the risk. Panic was sending another surge of adrenaline through his body.
Aareth limped forward and hit the Don in the jaw with his club.
The large man fell to the floor as though he’d suddenly forgotten how to stand.
Now, Aareth was ignoring the pain and pushing his limits as he pounded down the city streets to his apartment.
Each step brought tremor of pain that had to be ignored.
Rounding the corner to his house confirmed the worst. The windows to his ground-level flat were shattered on the street.
A group of onlookers were already surrounding the scene.
“Brenda!” Aareth screamed. He ran toward his ravaged home. Ignoring the closed door, Aareth jumped through the windows, cutting himself on the jagged glass. Every one of his senses became numb when he saw her body. Her perfect frame lay on the floor in a pool of blood.
“No, no, no!” Tears streamed down his face. He ran to her, sliding on her blood. Aareth fell to his knees to cradling her limp form. “Brenda, Brenda!”
Aareth choked out sobs as he searched for the pulse he knew he would not find. The only thing on her neck was angry red marks, telling him she had been strangled.
The blood wasn’t hers; it must have belonged to her attackers.
A testament to her will to live. Screaming met Aareth’s ears as he held her close to his chest. Later, Aareth was told he’d been the one screaming.
The yelling soon turned into howling. Roars of anger and rage continued from some primal part of him that had just been recently awoken.
Aareth jolted awake from his nightmare. It was just a nightmare, a memory that had visited him through the years. Except this time, the ending had been different. This time, there had been howling and the feeling of something furious inside clawing to get out.