Chapter 8
Aleksandr
The Reaper, The Crow, & The Blade
“The dead cannot cry out for justice. It is a duty of the living to do so for them.”
Lois McMaster Bujold
We’d lost faith in the justice system a long time ago. The loopholes and backdoor dealings those with power and money exploited made justice a fancy word people liked to throw around. We came from power, wealth, and privilege, but it didn’t stop evil from darkening our doorstep.
So, what did a person do when society failed to protect the innocent? They hunted with a singular focus on seeking justice, ensuring, if not demanding, it. They became what the world liked to call vigilantes. We, however, preferred to be known as the Reaper, the Crow, and the Blade.
I was the Reaper. Death with a capital D. Hourglass in hand, shaking it, forcing the last grains of sand to fall. Both how a soul was tormented and the timeline belonged to me and me alone. I was the decision-maker.
Nikolai was the Crow. Intelligent and clever, he dug deep into the past and present dealings of those we came to collect justice from. He was the levelheaded one among us. His perspective and profound calmness balanced Ivan and me.
Ivan was the Blade. His unique set of skills in the torture department aided my brother and me in getting the information we needed. Once it’d been uncovered, he got the privilege of collecting the soul with a well-practiced cut of his razor-sharp blade.
Clear and unmistakable, we three served as a reminder that you’d reap what you sow. All actions had consequences. Any man who was fool enough to think his actions didn’t, hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting us.
Step one started with the investigation and hunt. Step two was a beautiful unraveling of their very lives. Financially, socially, and emotionally, our goal was exposure. Once they were outed to friends, family, colleagues, and business partners, we sat back and watched as desperation became reality.
Step three was where the physical pain came in. It was a fitting end for those who had taken, hurt, killed, and then escaped justice. We weren’t ignorant of, or under any illusions about, the evils of this world. The things most people ignored, we simply couldn’t.
Why did we do it, and how did one get into the business of hunting evil? The simple answer was it was personal. Someone we once loved was destroyed. Her life was stolen from her, and the need for vengeance sat and festered for years before we could do anything about it.
We’d never intended for it to expand beyond that. But word got out, and soon, other cases were brought to us in which the victims’ blood cried out. And thus, we were motivated to act once again.
Which led me to where I was today. On the outside, a completely normal-looking building was nestled on an estate. Graham, the owner, allowed us access when needed. We’d taken a case for him previously, and he was happy to open his property to us for our dealings.
On the inside of the building, machinery roared, and the smell of death lingered in the air. Eviscerated pigs, split in half from the rear to nape, hung on hooks from their heels.
Our confrontation was taking place in the middle of Graham’s day. The overhead haulage system began moving, and steam rolled off the pigs. An overpowering stench of animal blood and feces filled the air.
“Take note of your fate, Anton.”
I nodded toward the pig carcasses. “Do you want to go out like the pig you are, or will you answer the question?”
Anton shuffled his feet, trying to gain secure footing. The piece of shit before me was someone we’d been toying with for two months now. He’d recently been released from jail and was a registered sex offender. He had a habit of watching elementary-aged girls.
The loud sounds of the machinery and clanging metal were deafening, drowning out my footsteps as I walked toward him.
“The trouble is, you think you have time. You don’t,”
I stated, tapping the hourglass. It was mesmerizing, and as the red sand fell, it signified the end was nearing.
One of Nik’s surveillance guys was dropping his daughter off at school when he noticed him. Flash forward two months, and we’d gathered all the information to confront him.
Not only was he a sick fuck who got off on looking at little girls, but he also had a coded system with a list of names. He was also in receipt of enormous sums of cash, and today’s little meet and greet was one way to get the answers we were looking for.
“Dirty fucking pedo. Let me dispatch him to hell, Reaper.”
Ivan fingered his blade, a smirk plastered in place and a hungry look in his eyes.
Nikolai stood to the side of him, his eyes already taking on that faraway look. Kill nights brought out the dangerous beast within my twin. The only thing that would soothe him would be a night of debauchery with a beautiful woman, but that would have to wait until later.
“The Blade looks hungry. Look into his eyes,”
I sneered at the asshole standing before me.
Smirking, I grabbed the pliers and began playing with them. The snapping sound caused the fear to race back into Anton’s face once more as his brown eyes widened. His nostrils flared as he gulped.
I looked at Ivan, and he grinned. Sweat poured down Anton’s face as his eyes searched for a way out of his predicament. “I’ve seen that look before, Blade.”
“Yes, someone is thinking about escaping. However, he should know there’s only one way out of here,”
Ivan said calmly.
“Actually, there are two. He could tell us what we want to know,”
Nik offered.
“Who is the piece of shit who hired you? Now, I can shake the hourglass and move the ball to stop the sand, buying you extra time, but we will know the answer to the question.”
I glared at him. “You can tell me, or I’ll give Blade his request.”
I leaned away from him. The stench of cigarettes and sweat emanating from him was overwhelming. He made me fucking nauseous.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,”
Anton mumbled.
Ivan chuckled and shook his head. I threw the needle-nose pliers to Nikolai, who pulled Anton’s right hand out.
“Eenie, meenie, miny, mo, which nail should be the first to go?”
Nik tapped the metal against Anton’s fingernails as he recited his poem. He clamped down on one and yanked. Anton screamed and began to beg and plead with Nikolai.
Nik stared him straight in the eyes and cut the zip tie that had been holding his hands bound. Relief washed over Anton’s face. Stupid fool. He thought we were actually going to let him walk away. I slipped out my tiger claw switchblade brass knuckles and slid it down my hand.
Ivan stepped back, knowing what was to come. I nodded to Nikolai. He produced a knife and held it out to Anton, who stared at it for several seconds before taking it. As he studied me, he looked surprised. I took a fighter’s stance, raising my fists.
“God, Blade, I sure hope he knows how to use that thing. It’s been ages since I’ve been in a good knife fight.”
I bounced back and forth on my feet. “You’re a piece of shit, Anton, but my honor dictates that I fight fair. So your options are to talk or fight your way out,”
I told him as he took several breaths. He steeled his face and clutched the knife in his hand.
“Shall we dance, then?”
I glared, and with those words, I swung.
He blocked it and took a fighter’s stance of his own. I raised my eyebrow in surprise and gleefully said, “Oh, Brothers, tonight just got interesting.”
Ivan and Nik snorted with laughter while Anton and I danced around one another, checking out each other’s weak spots. He lunged forward with the knife, aiming for my stomach, but I was quicker than him.
I slid effortlessly to the side and landed a hit square on his jaw. His head swung back, and blood spurted from the cut the tiger claw inflicted. He did a repeat lunge, and, once again, my fist connected with his face. This time with his nose.
Breaking it, I smiled as blood slid down his face. I chuckled as he grew frantic and lunged. I clocked his jaw again, and he fell to the ground, dropping the knife. Apparently, knife fighting wasn’t one of his strengths.
I kicked him hard in the ribs, and a satisfying snap greeted me. “You ready to talk?”
He groaned, refusing to stand. The fucking coward wouldn’t even go out with a proper fight. I rolled my eyes at Ivan, who darted toward him, kicking the blade out of reach. Ivan and Nik hauled him to his feet once more and held him.
Anton wheezed through shallow breaths. “I know nothing, I swear.”
He groaned, grabbing his ribs.
“See, I might be inclined to believe you, but the Crow here informed me you received a wire transfer a week ago. It was for quite a large sum of money. How much was it again?”
I looked at my brother, grinning.
“Fifty thousand dollars,”
Nikolai answered, leaning into Anton’s face.
“I swear I have no idea who he was. I was minding my business when a man came up to me and handed me a phone. He told me someone would reach out later. I swear that is all I know,”
Anton said around another groan.
“Hmm. That’s all you got. No description or anything? That’s too bad for you.”
I walked over to the table nearest me and fingered some of the remaining instruments.
Thus far, we hadn’t done anything other than beat him. Maybe it was time to kick things up a notch. I grabbed the baseball bat and strolled over, swinging it. He gulped. I nodded to Ivan and Nik, and both of them stepped to the side.
“Okay, okay. I honestly never saw the guy in my life. He was wearing a black hoodie and a hat with sunglasses. I couldn’t pick him out of a lineup to save my life. Literally. I swear all he did was hand me a phone and—”
“Yes, we know. Someone would reach out. How long were you in contact with him before you were paid?”
I tapped the tip of the baseball bat against the floor in front of him.
“After I sent him the initial list and pictures of the girls? Maybe three weeks.”
“And that’s all you’ve got?”
I gave him one last chance to give us information. I amused myself by dragging the bat along the ground as I circled him.
“He had knuckle tattoos—symbols and some other shit. They were foreign looking, and he spoke funny. That’s all I can remember. I swear, you have to believe me.”
“Explain the tattoos. And you say he spoke funny, like a lisp, or…?”
I prodded him, finally feeling like we were getting somewhere. Nik had perked up as well and seemed interested in what he had to say.
“No, like foreign, another language,”
Anton wheezed, his condition deteriorating by the minute.
Nik stepped up to him and shoved a phone in his face. “The tattoos, did they look like these symbols?”
“Yeah, yeah, exactly like that. Not in that order, but I remember one specifically on the back of the hand because it looked like letters backward. It was like a weird HMP or something.”
“Like this one.”
Nikolai pulled up another image, showing it to me before Anton. It was a common Russian tattoo. It had a very specific meaning and was often associated with the Bratva.
“That’s it, that’s the guy. Should be easy to find now,”
Anton said, sounding relieved.
Nik boomed with laughter, and Anton nervously joined him. Ivan spat on the ground and waited for Nik to fill him in.
“I doubt it’ll be that easy. Menya ispravit rasstrel,”
Nik spoke in Russian, cocking his head to the side.
Ivan threw his head back and laughed freely, the sound echoing off the walls. I smiled. How ironic. Of all the images this shithead would remember, at least it was a good one.
Nikolai put the image in Anton’s face again. “This symbol means only execution will correct me. How much more symbolic can it possibly get?”
Nik’s grin spread across his face, and Anton’s face fell as he shifted, catching on finally.
“Look, that’s all I have. I needed the money. I would never hurt those girls. I was paid to watch them, nothing else. I swear,”
he whined.
“But we know you, Anton. You say you didn’t intend to hurt those girls, but you would have at some point, now, wouldn’t you?”
I said, stepping back and placing the bat on my shoulder, getting ready to swing it.
“I’ve never hurt any little—”
I swung hard, hitting him square in the nuts. I couldn’t take his lies anymore. He doubled over and squealed like the pig he was. Several more swings of the bat made talking impossible for him, which was fine by me. He wasn’t going to give us anything else, but what he’d shared was at least a starting point.
Anton sucked in his breath, the defeat clear on his face. He knew his time was up, and the consequences of his actions were upon him. There would be no arrest, no trial. Not this time. Since he hadn’t learned his lesson, it would be pointless to give him that right.
Nikolai pulled out his phone and put some criptic song on, signaling the poetic end. He gripped Anton once more, grinning.
While the investigation and the digging came with its own accomplishments, for Nikolai, the end was the pièce de résistance. He began singing. Ivan’s role of wielding the blade, that final cut from ear to ear, would be therapeutic. Killing scum like Anton, for him, had become as easy as breathing.
I knew the exact face he would envision as he expertly made his move. It was the same one Nik and I were imagining. I grabbed Anton by his oily hair and pulled his face up so he could see me directly.
“Do you know what Robert Louis Stevenson used to say, Anton?”
He shook his head.
“He said, ‘Sooner or later, everyone sits down to a banquet of consequences.’”
I let it sink in before adding, “It’s time to feast.”
Nodding at Ivan, I gave him what he wanted. I stepped back and watched as the Blade worked. Grabbing the shackle Anton had completely missed, he wrapped it around his left foot before hoisting him upside down. With a loud clank, Ivan secured the shackle to one of the free hooks while Anton started pleading for his life, begging us to stop.
“I’ll give you the money, and I can get girls for you,”
he offered.
With each second, his face got redder and the offers increased. He gave us everything but what we wanted to know. In one swift move, Ivan’s blade sliced him open. Hearing him gurgle was music to my ears.
Nikolai closed his eyes and whispered. I didn’t need to hear him to know what he said. He kissed his fingertips and raised them to the roof. Then he grabbed his phone, called the cleaners, and made his way over to pay Graham for his time.
If the guy Anton was working for was tied to the Russian Mob, then we owed it to the girls on the list to ensure their safety. A sinking feeling filled my stomach as I contemplated what we’d learned from Anton.
It was never-ending, the organizations that traded and scouted, looking for young children and those who were vulnerable. I squared my shoulders before meeting Ivan’s eyes.
As usual, he read my thoughts and stepped away, giving me some time to process everything. God, I was tired. So many fucked-up people in the world. Take one out, and another would take their place. Never-ending. Were we even making a dent in the world?
Anger coursed through me. Now was not the time to be having an existential crisis. People were depending on us and the skill sets we provided. But a deep sense of numbness seeped through my body, leaving my head to deal with the aftermath.
A slow, pulsing sensation began on the right side of my head. I knew that the severe throbbing pain would be right behind it. Just like clockwork, it never failed.