Chapter Twenty-One
It was another wild Saturday night, partying with Calisto.
With Shadow gone over to New Orleans for some family business, I had decided to give Calisto a ring to see what she was up to. When Calisto answered the phone, she seemed genuinely excited to hear from me.
Within an hour of the call, I was out of my house and into the limo, speeding off to another nightclub. Lucky for me, Bria had decided to sit this one out.
It was a solid four hours of intense, alcohol-fuelled dancing between Calisto and I that scorched the dance floor, reducing everything around us to ash and leaving men salivating at the p rospect of spending the night between our legs.
After tossing a couple of NFL linebackers—why did we seem to attract douchebag athletes?—Calisto’s way, who devoured them like a carnivorous predator, it was my cue to leave the club.
Despite my protests, Calisto had called Abraham to personally chauffer me home, appalled by the fact that I had taken a cab last time.
A silv er Mercedes Benz convertible—I was too drunk to remember the model but it looked expensive—sat in front of the club doors, waiting for me, Abraham sitting in the driver’s seat.
“God Abraham, I’m so sorry,” I said. “I’m drunk.”
“There’s no need to apologize over having a few drinks,” he said as he got out of the car and opened the passenger door for me.
“Did I get you out of bed?” I asked.
Abraham chuckled as he diverted my attention to his custom tailored grey suit. “I promise you, if I just woke up, I wouldn’t be dressed in an expensive suit.”
“What are you doing out at three in the morning?” I slurred as I entered into the car, sat back and closed my eyes.
“I was just finalizing some details on the Inferno’s accounts…” he rambled.
I didn’t catch the tail end of his reply. Whatever else he said was drowned in a sea of my alcohol induced sleep.
#
In my drunken state I didn’t recall stepping out of the car, entering into the condo, and going up the elevator; but somehow I wound up standing in front of my door, rummaging for my keys in my purse, which were gone.
Cursing, I decided to try pushing open the door anyways. Sure enough it was unlocked, which was strange.
I always made it a habit to lock all my doors, turn off all lights, and close all the windows before I left for anywhere. My father had engrained the importance of security and conserving energy since the day I started crawling.
Bleary-eyed, I entered into my condo and closed the door behind me. I would have to ask someone about making me another set of keys for my condo and possibly changing the locks.
Too tired and drunk to hang up my jacket, I dropped it in the foyer and went to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water, draining it all in a single gulp.
After slamming the glass onto the table, I entered into the bedroom to rid myself of my sweaty dance clothes and into some comfortable yoga pants.
I stood in front of my full length mirror and scrunched my face. I looked like a wreck. Sweat and make up was caked on my face and I was exhausted.
And that was when I noticed something shift in the reflection in my mirror. My heart practically exploded in my chest as I spun around and saw a man, clothed all in black, wearing a balaclava over his face and a hoodie over his head.
I screamed.
His reflexes were fast as his hands lunged for my throat, springing with the speed of a coiled cobra. His fingers pushed into the base of my neck, choking me into silence while tears streamed down my face.
Who was he and why was he doing this?
I had never felt so helpless in my life.
The man shoved me onto the bed, where I curled up into a fetal position while gasping for air.
“You smell like soiled pussy,” he said, his voice the texture of gravel. “Maybe I’ll have myself a turn before I quarter and bury you.”
I should have ran, but my entire body was paralyzed with fear.
Come on Aria, don’t seize up, I thought to myself. If there was ever a time I needed a bit of courage, it was now.
“Never stop fighting,” they always said in the safety police videos. I grabbed an empty glass off my nightstand table and hurled it at him.
I had piss-poor aim and a girly throw and my heart sank as the glass sailed harmlessly over his head, shattering against the wall. My attacker laughed at my feeble attempt to defend myself, his voice filled with a perverse delight.
“Pathetic,” he said, lunging for me. I instinctively rolled off the bed, avoiding his talons by inches, and I bolted for the door. I felt something hard, striking me dead centre of my shoulder blades and I collapsed to the ground screaming.
“Run little girl, run,” he said with amusement. “The chase is what I savor the most, even more than the penetration.”
I was crying hysterically from both the pain of his attack and by the threat of his words. It wasn’t until I climbed to my feet and caught my reflection in the bedroom mirror that I realized that I had a knife protruding from my left shoulder.
“I saw your piano girly girl,” he said. “Can you sing as well? If I chew off your fingers, I bet you will—a pretty little song from a pretty little girl.”
The sick fuck was enjoying every second of this.
I fled from my bedroom and into the kitchen, desperate to find myself a weapon.
“Don’t stop fighting Aria,” I whispered to myself. “Never stop fighting.”
Pulling open the drawers, I grabbed the first weapon I saw. It was a Zwiggler butcher’s knife that came with the condo.
I clung onto that enormous thing with complete desperation, both hands wrapped around the handle. My attacker strolled into the kitchen casually, as if he were at his own home.
“What’s cooking my dear?” he asked, just before his eyes caught sight of the cleaver in my hand.
He wasn’t intimidated. Instead, he laughed at me. I was as threatening as a bunny with fangs.
“Does the little girl want to dance?” he asked, pulling out his own massive knife from his boot. Its jagged bite looked deadly. I wanted to drop to my knees and scream out in fear, but I held myself together.
I had to fight.
My voice cracked as I screamed at him. “Fucker!” I shouted as I swung as hard as I could, but my attack was clumsy and uncontrolled and the man dodged it effortlessly. I felt a heavy blow to my stomach and I instantly dropped to my knees.
The butcher’s knife fell out of my hands and onto the floor.
Had he stabbed me? My hands clung onto my abdomen, desperately prodding for an open wound. Luckily, I felt no blood. Perhaps I wasn’t dead—not yet anyway.
“I hit you with my left hand as a warning,” he said, pointing to his right hand which held the knife. “But the next time you attempt to be stupid again, it’ll be with the other one.”
I struggled to rise to my feet but the pain from my stomach along with the knife protruding from my back was crippling.
I was at his complete mercy.
I collapsed to the ground in a sad heap.
It just wasn’t fair, I thought. Just when the future looked so bright, this masked asshole was going to steal it away from me. Tonight, I was going to get raped, murdered, and then butchered. Oh God, was this real?
His footsteps made no sound as he walked over to where I lay, hovering over me, like a black spectre of death. Out of the corner of my tear-stained eyes, I saw the knife in his hand.
“Are you going to still struggle girly? Or can I have some real fun now?”
“Fuck you,” I cried out. “You damn asshole.”
“My, my,” he said. “Harsh words from such a pretty mouth. Your lips remind me of rose petals.”
With a last ditch effort, I tried to climb to my feet again, but a vicious blow to my legs knocked me flat on my stomach.
“A girl should know when to quit,” he said. “Let’s see if a girl knows when she should die as well.”
At least he wasn’t going to rape me. I closed my eyes and waited for the sharp bite of the knife in his hands. It’s funny, from all the things I’ve heard about death, I had the impression that my life would flash before my eyes.
I must have been the exception. The only thing I experienced was regret. I regretted not seeing Shadow again; just when we seemed to have things figured out between us. I’d never taste his lips, feel his warm touch, and caress his body ever again.
I also regretted not being able to fulfill the dreams that my father had set out for me. I was never going to be able to stand on that grand performance stage and tell the world just how important my dad was, and all the sacrifices he made for me.
And there was Justin too. I regretted not being able to make amends with him. He was my best friend and it was heartbreaking to know that I would leave this world with him despising me.
So many regrets, and no time left to fix them.
I opened my eyes and saw my attacker’s shadow looming over me. His knife was raised high above his head, ready to deliver the death blow.
Maybe I’d be able to see my dad again.
“Get the hell away from her,” a voice cried out, full of venom. I looked up and saw Abraham standing at the door way, my house keys in one hand and a gun in the other. I must have left them in the Benz and he had come up to return them.
“These are rather unfortunate circumstances,” the assailant mused. “No one else was supposed to be here. It looks like you stumbled upon your death today as well.”
“The only one dying tonight is you,” Abraham said. If there was any fear in him, he concealed it well. “Do you know who she is?”
“Of course,” the man in black said. “She is the lover of your stupid master.”
“So you know that if you lay even a pinky on her, our entire organization will hunt you down like a mangy bitch and destroy you. You will suffer.”
The man laughed, “Small threat. I will take my chances with the money promised instead.”
“Who’s money?” Abraham asked.
“It makes no matter. She will die,” the man said, “And you sir, are at the wrong place at the wrong time.”
I stared at Abraham, whose eyes were fiery like a dragon’s breath. He was snarling as he gripped the gun tightly, his knuckles turning bone white.
“I’m not a man of mercy,” Abraham said. “Especially to those that inflict harm on the ones I care about. The second you laid your hands on Ms. Valencia, you put this gun to your own head. Make no mistake you degenerate, you’re going to die.”
The man seemed amused by Abraham’s threats. “Old man, do you know who I am and how many people I’ve killed with my bare hands?”
“I know who you are,” Abraham said. “I could smell the stench of a Crow brother the second I walked through the door.”
“Then why are you so eager to die? I’ll tear apart your haggard face like a—” but before the Crow could finish his sentence, Abraham pulled the trigger. The explosive and harsh sound of gunfire echoed throughout my condo.
I covered my ears and screamed, which was pathetic in comparison to the Crow, who dodged the bullet like some super-human ninja.
His reflexes were unbelievable, moving with the strength and speed of a cheetah. He leapt across the room and connected his fist into Abraham’s jaw.
I heard a sickening crack and watched Abraham drop to the ground clutching his mouth.
“No, stop!” I cried out. Fuck Aria, do something. Because of my cowardly weakness, my friend was going to die.
I heard the sounds of Abraham gasping for air like a wounded animal and it broke my heart. Meanwhile the asshole was hovering over him like a black phantom, laughing with perverse amusement.
“It must be hard to sound brave, now that you have a broken jaw,” the Crow said. “I don’t believe I like the sound of your yelping. It reminds me of a puppy I once had, who didn’t know when to shut up. I killed him with a hammer and a butter knife. I can do the same for you.”
Abraham struggled to his feet but a violent kick to his gut sent him crashing against a wall. The picture of a Parisian inspired vogue sketch I had hung crashed onto the ground, shattering the glass all around him.
The Crow walked over and inspected the wall that Abraham’s body had struck.
“This is a well-built condominium,” he said. “Usually when I toss my victims against walls, they break through the drywall. You must be hurting like a bitch.”
While the Crow was ranting, he failed to notice Abraham grab a broken piece of glass from the ground. His grip was tight as it cut through his hands, droplets of blood trickling to the ground.
Abraham lunged at the Crow’s stomach but the assassin had telegraphed the attack and deftly spun away, smashing his boot against Abraham’s hand, grinding the broken glass into his flesh. Abraham howled with pain.
It was more than I could stand.
I struggled to my feet, enduring the sharp pulsing pains across my abdomen and shoulder blades.
Come on Aria, I thought. Abraham needs my help. I’ve had cramps worse than this.
I reached for the weapons within my reach. This guy was fast and smart, but with a bit of creativity, hopefully I could surprise him.
Meanwhile the Crow was taking great pleasure in tormenting Abraham, slapping him across the face with a back hand repeatedly. Every strike must have been excruciating considering Abraham’s jaw was mangled.
“Fuh…fuh…fuh,” I heard Abraham mutter through staggered breaths.
“You seem surprised,” the Crow continued to rant. He was distracted making it the opportune time to strike.
He continued taunting Abraham. “When you face a Crow, there can be no result other than your complete and utter—”
I attacked him from behind. Even though I crept up on him silently, he was still aware of my presence through some unnatural sixth sense. His right hand gripped my wrist which was raised above my head, the butcher knife in hand, longing to shear the flesh of this bastard.
“Why Ms. Valencia, I am surprised at your continual efforts to struggle. Perhaps I should dispose of you now,” he mused. “You are quite the pest.”
“You talk too fucking much,” I cried out. What the Crow didn’t see was Abraham’s gun in my left hand, concealed behind my back. With the weapon still held behind me, I turned ever-so-slightly so that the gun was pointing directly at his stomach and I pulled the trigger, the explosive sound of the gunshot echoing throughout my condo.
I stared deep into the Crow’s eyes, wide with shock, and found satisfaction in knowing that an ordinary girl like me had bested him.
As he sank to the ground, I spat on him for good measure.
“Maybe if you finished the job instead of indulging in your ridiculously stupid soliloquies, I wouldn’t have just fucked you in the stomach with a bullet,” I said, aiming the gun at his head.
He tried to speak, but all that came out was a gurgle. I looked down at his wound and saw wetness pooling around the black fabric of his jumpsuit.
“I don’t want to do this,” I said, closing my eyes. But I had no choice. I had to save Abraham and myself. My hands were trembling and I hesitated for a moment. Was I ready to take another person’s life? I suddenly felt a gentle hand rest upon my shoulder.
Abraham was standing behind me, his wounded hand buried underneath his suit jacket. Blood streamed down the corner of his mouth, and he looked at me with glistening eyes and shook his head.
“Du-du-dun’t.”
His hands reached for the gun, gently prying it away from me.
“H-h-hands fu-fu-fuh mus-si-sic.” Abraham clutched the gun with his good hand and pointed it at the Crow’s head. Instinctively I looked away.
My stomach wasn’t made for this sort of thing.
Even though I was anticipating it, I still jumped at the sounds of the gun roaring. When I turned back around, the Crow was dead, and Abraham stood there like a man who had just been tortured.
I rushed over to him and wrapped his arm around my throbbing shoulder—knife still protruding from it—supporting the weight of his frail body as it threatened to crumple to the floor.
“Come on Abraham, you’re alright,” I said. “I’ll get you to the hospital and they’ll fix us.”
Abraham nodded slowly as we made our way out of my condo and towards the elevator. I frantically smashed the button with my finger, cursing that the elevator wasn’t here ten seconds ago.
“You’re a brave and foolish old man,” I said, keeping some type of conversation going. I was afraid that if he lost consciousness, he wouldn’t wake up again. “You must have been quite the stud forty years ago.”
I felt him slump further to the ground, but I used all my strength to hold him up. He looked at me with glazed eyes while his mouth was bloody, battered, and out of place. I had the urge to go back to the condo and put more bullets into the fucking dead bastard’s skull.
Finally the elevator arrived and I half carried, half dragged Abraham into it.
“Do you want me to call anyone?” I asked. “Shadow maybe?”
Abraham shook his head. He tried to talk but I was quick to shush him.
“You don’t need to say anything. I’ll take care of you. I promise.”
He looked at me affectionately, as if my words had brought him peace. He closed his eyes and tears streamed down their corners.
“Come on, no need to get sentimental on me,” I said. “It’s my turn to look after you from now on. Both Shadow and I will. Does that sound good?”
He nodded.
And then the elevator doors opened and there was an explosion of light and sound that assaulted my senses.
When I had regained myself, Abraham was lying dead on the floor, a bullet wound straight through his heart.
#