Short story - First date

I study my face in the mirror.

I'm not ugly, I think, but my face screams my age. A little sagging under the eyes, a few marked wrinkles, leathery skin, a few white hair. Too many white hair.

Forty three years old.

Sounds like a sentence. I here thereby condemn you to forty three years of age! SINGLE!

My female friends, all three of them, say I'm handsome, that if they would have been single they'd go out with me. Then again they are my friends. What are they supposed to say? That I look like I need two face lifts, a nose job, and a set of veneers?

Also, they are not single.

My work buddies tell me I'm fine. That I keep myself in great shape, work out six days a week, play squash and basketball. I have a successful career and I look great in shorts or in a suit. I drive a BMW, they say that says it all. Worst car I've ever owned, but it's the car to drive these days. I got nothing to worry, they say, nothing to fret about.

But again, they are not the ones out on the dating scene. Nor are they about to go out and risk having a twenty years old kid call you grandpa. What should I do then? Hit him? Run? Laugh it off? Make a snappy comeback? "Go home, kid. Your mother is calling." That will show him. Or not.

"ENOUGH!!"

Yes, yelling at myself in the mirror is just what I need. But it's true. I got to snap out of this negativity, or I'll make a fool out of myself for real.

The phone rings and it's Martha. She's giddy with excitement and had to call me one last time before our first real date. She laughs at herself, and her voice sounds like angels ought to sound.

"Yeah, don't worry. I'm just about ready. Got reservations for two, the Palomino. Yeah, downtown. Six forty five. Just look for the frail old man with a cane."

She laughs, but I gotta stop these stupid put down jokes. I'm not old, frail, nothing. Just terrified she'll be disappointed seeing me for real, and then she'll sneer and I'll tell her "I told you so!" as she walks out.

We say our I love you's and our goodbye's, and I go back to the bathroom. If I keep talking to myself this way, it will go bad for sure. Just fucking shave and get ready, dammit.

---

Ten minutes to seven. She should've been here five minutes ago.

Maybe she changed her mind. I know I nearly did that half way here. Then again when parking. And again when telling the pretty hostess my name.

Why am I even meeting her? It's not like we really know each other. We just chatted online, on one of those dating sites. For two months and three days. And had a few conversations over the phone.

They say that time spent with someone online is only worth a quarter of "real" time spent together. I was married for six years before my ex-wife ran off with a used car dealer. Does it mean I spent twenty four years online with her? Jesus what a nightmare! I still feel sorry for the car dealer.

---

Five to seven. Maybe she came in, saw me, saw how old and gray I really am, and then turned around.

I always used a good recent picture of myself on the profile, and I did send her real pictures of me. Not like Martin from sales. But you can't escape the fact that even the best of intentions can lead to false impressions. I look thinner in those shots, and more muscular. And you can't see the white hair. I think my teeth are crooked.

Maybe she ran into one of her ex-boyfriends. One of those guys who keeps calling her three months after they are through. Was it Ramon, the flamenco dance instructor? Maurice, the lawyer? Joseph, the jet setting man of mystery?? Or Gus, the salesman from Danny's Auto Monster Deals. No one is refused at Danny's.

---

Seven PM. Second whiskey sour. She's not going to show up. What was I thinking?! Martha is twenty years younger than me! She's a gorgeous, tall, young, toned twenty three years old woman. I could be her father! Literally. My first time was at, what, seventeen? Eighteen? That memorable.

I bet she's in a hot tub, drinking some wine cooler, surrounded by her young hot friends, laughing at the old fart who is waiting for her downtown. I even got her flowers.

I knew I was too old for her. I tried to hack this off before it turned into trouble. I told her as much when we first started talking; but she kept writing, and I responding, because, after all, I liked the attention. I should've known it was all in my head. But she did say she loved me. She said it first. On our very first phone call. My heart both sunk and leaped in joy. Part of me knew it was a cruel prank, but I was too happy to listen to my head. I just couldn't believe it. I told her I loved her too, and then we spent hours on the phone every day. Two, four, six hours on the phone, laughing, talking, like teenagers. Until today, our first real date. But now it's time face the truth. This is just a joke. The punch line has landed, the public laughs, they all point the finger at the old dunce on stage who got caught with his pants down and his heart broken. Time to let the curtains fall on the final act of this pathetic charade.

I should just go home.

"Frank?"

I wake up from my sorrows and look up to a goddess in a tight black dress.

"Martha," is all I can say. I stand up and move to shake her hand, but she throws herself in my arms. We kiss.

"Sorry I'm late." She says. "Traffic is murder this evening."

"It's all right," I say, but all I'm interested in is looking at her and holding her.

"When I came in I recognized you immediately, but you had such a face. What were you thinking?"

"Me? Oh. Uh, just work, things I forgot to do today at the office, bills. Carl from accounting got himself locked in after hours."

"Baby, shut up. You think too much."

Scene - Caius in the swamp

Approaching the edge of the swamp, Caius turned to his companion, a barefoot young woman in tatters. Her clothes and well kept long black hair and clean milky skin were a striking juxtaposition to Caius, bald and tanned, dressed in a red doublet, tight leather pants and boots. Her wrists were bound with a silver chain which Caius held at one end.

"Is this the place?" he asked.

"Close by, master," replied the woman.

"I hate it when you call me like that."

"You won me fair and square, I am yours to do as you please, master."

Caius spat on the ground and adjusted the saddlebags he carried on his right shoulder. "Told you before, Morgas," he said, "once this is done, you're free to go. Now, lead me to the fountain," and he pushed the Morgas in front of him.


Two hours later, hours spent wading in the bogs around Venice, Caius slapped his neck where a horsefly just bit him.

"Goddammit!" he yelled, "are we there yet?!"

"Close by, master," replied the woman.

"Fuck you and your master! You said close by hours ago! Where are we? Did you get us lost??"

"Distance is nothing but an illusion, master"

"Oh fuck you!" yelled Caius and kicked Morgas in the back. Morgas fell face first into the water, and Caius pushed her down with a boot. "I told you to stop with that shit!" he screamed at her as she trashed in the water.

Caius took a step back and regained his composure. Morgas got on her knees coughing and spitting swamp water.

"You bastard!" she finally said, trying to fix her hair with her bound hands.

"Yes, I'm a bastard alright. I told you not to mess with me," he spoke calmly, "if you'd just take me to that damn fountain we'd be done already and you'd be free." He looked at the sun low on the horizon and cursed. "Look! It's going to be dark soon! We have to find shelter.. a place dry enough to start a fire or something."

Morgas got on her feet with difficulty. "Free me," she said smiling and showing his her hands, "and I'll conjure a magical fire for you, and a meal like you never tasted."

"Yeah, right, and in the morning I'll wake up with my throat cut," he shook his head. "No, we'll lay by that tree over there. I'll figure something out for the food."

"I'm hungry, master," she pleaded Morgas, "allow me to cook for you, something simple with what I could find here."

Caius walked to a small dry area with a tree in the middle and dropped his saddlebags. "If you don't shut up," he said pulling on the silver chain and securing it to the tree, "I'll give something to drink, just like I did earlier."

Morgas hissed but kept quiet and sat against the tree.

Caius gathered a few dead branches and dead leaves, and heaped them in a small stone circle he prepared as fire pit. He poured on the wood some gun powder, then rained sparks on it with his flint and dagger. The gun powder fizzed and made a black cloud, and this lit the leaves and wood. Caius tended to the fire a little longer, then opened his saddlebags and took out a wine bottle, half a loaf of bread, and a small package of oiled paper. He opened the package and took out a square of salted beef. He took his dagger and cut it in pieces, then he cut the bread in two pieces roughly the same size. He cut the package's paper in two large pieces, and split the beef and bread on the paper pieces, then took the wine bottle and pulled out the cork with his teeth.
He took half of the food and the bottle of wine and sat next to Morgas who was looking at him with a frowning face.

"What do you want from me?" asked Morgas.

"No more master? Good. Don't worry, I just want to feed you," said Caius.

"I won't have any of that.. thing.."

"Don't be daft, woman. You need food just as much as I do," said Caius, and put a piece of salted beef to her mouth.

"Get away from me!" said Morgas turning her head away. "After what went on today, I wouldn't accept a glass of water from you. Anyways I don't eat anything that has been murdered!"

"Look, I'm sorry for what I've done to you." Caius sighed, "I'm sorry for hurting you, for keeping you tied up, for being an all around jerk, but believe me, you need food, and tomorrow I'll let you go as soon as I get to the fountain. I swear on my honor."

"You have no honor, Caius of Imola," and with that she turned away from him and pretended to sleep.

"Jesus Christ, woman! Suit yourself!"

Caius ate the salted beef and bread, and drank more than half of the wine bottle, then put the rest of the beef, bread, and the bottle within reach of Morgas, and went to lay down close to the fire. Within minutes Caius was asleep.

Unnamed post-apocalyptic novel - Prologue

Prologue (In which Charles O'Daniels and Andrew McKinney see the truth)

Sheriff Charles "Chuck" O'Daniels of the 207^th-209^th Floor and his trusty deputy Andrew McKinney, stopped their four wheeler recon about 200 years from the shack. The shack was very basic, flat roofed, roughly twelve feet wide and eight feet tall, had only a door on the front, no windows or porch. Chuck turned on the high beams and the supplemental flood lights, and the shack appeared in the natural grey-brown color of old cypress reWood. There was nothing else in the patch of terrain illuminated, only the shack and marks on the floor indicating something was dragged to the door.

Outside of the light cone from their vehicle it was pitch black, and even inside the cone, the dust floating around made it hard to see at a distance.

Chuck took out his service magnum revolver, while Andrew drew a shotgun and aimed it at the shack.

Chuck took a deep breath. "Let's do it," he said and spat his wad of chewing tomacco to the side.

The couple took a single step at the same time, and immediately a loud groan coming from the shack stopped them. Chuck aimed his revolver with both hands, set his face hard and yelled "Allright! Goddamit! Come out with your hands high, you son of a bitch!"

Andrew, visibly shaking, kept his weapon trained on the shack, but his eyes darted left to right peering into the darkness.

"Sir, I don't think this is wise, sir" said Andrew.

"Shut up, you pussy," replied Chuck without looking at him, "he'll get out, we got him cornered, and when he does, you blast his head off. You got that?"

"Yes, sir" said Andrew, as beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

"This is Sheriff Charles O'Daniels, you goddamned son of a bitch!" shouted again Chuck. "If anyone other than Dreyfus Canalli is in there," he paused.

Yeah, what if is there someone other than Dreyfus?

"Well, goddamittohell, if you're in there with that scumbag, get out with our hands where I can see 'em and and identify yourself, 'cause otherwise I swear to fucking God I'm gonna blast your fucking head off!"

"Sir, we shouldn't be here, sir!" said Andrew looking at the shack, at the darkness around him, at the Sheriff, at the recon they came in with. "I think we're not alone here, sir!"

"Jesus fucking H Christ, Andy, what the fuck is wrong with you? Of course we're not alone! We got Dreyfus in there, and now we're gonna blast his head off! Get your shit together, boy!"

Chuck took another step forward, and again a loud groan came off the shack.

"Shit!" cursed Chuck, "What the fuck do you have there Dreyfus?!"

Andrew, sweating profusely but not daring to take his hands off the gun to wipe his brow, started training his gun to his left and to his right. "Sir! I swear I see eyes glimmering in the dark! Sir!"

"Fuck you, Andy. Fuck you and your glittering! Keep that damned gun pointed at Dreyfus and follow me!"

"But, sir!"

"Andy, you little shit stain, if you don't come forward and cover me, I'm gonna take that bitch gun of yours and shove it up your ass! Now git moving!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" said Andrew, now mouth breathing and swallowing hard, while still dripping saliva from his open mouth.

Chuck and Andrew took a step forward, fully expecting another groan. Nothing happened.

Chuck grinned and walked all the way up to the brightly lit shack's door, positioning himself to the right of the door. Andrew slowly followed glancing everywhere, and kneeled a few steps in front of the door.

"On three," whispered Chuck, "I'll open it!"

Andrew nodded, nearly crying.

"One.."

"Two.."

"You do know you're out of your jurisdiction, right?" said a voice definitively not from inside the shack.

Chuck swung his gun around, getting blinded by the recon's beams.

"Who the fuck said that?!"

Indeed they were out of their jurisdiction, far from the 207^th floor. Far from the 206^th or 205^th. They were deep in the wastes of the 204^th floor.

If the 207^th was the frontier, the Far Down, a nigh-lawless region where the naive came to seek fortune and died quickly at the hands of the tough, the 206^th was the border, and the 205^th was the desert, the place where people running away from the law hid, trying to survive avoiding marauders and pirates, until they either died, turned around, or became marauders and pirates themselves.

But the 204^th was a wasteland. There was nothing. There was no light, for one thing. No light, little or no air circulation. No animals either, as there was nothing to draw sustenance from. As a matter of fact there was no vegetation, no grass, no dirt, no rocks. Just dust. It was also the lowest floor you could reach with the elevator. "The" elevator. A single one that opened at the End of the 205^th, semi-hidden in a valley rarely visited even by marauders.

The rumorline claimed that at the End of the 204^th floor you'd find a new set of elevators, and they would take you down, below 200, even all the way to the Ground. On the rumorline you could even hear that there were floors below the Ground. Many rumorlines contended that this was all nonsense, as it would be impossible to go below Ground, because it was the End of the Ends. Others claimed there was an Under Ground. Everyone agreed that there had to be a Ground, since the floors stood on top of each other, but nobody had been below 204^th, or even 205^th, since the Reset, so there was no real way to tell, unless you were a Believer. Then anything was possible.

None of this mattered to Chuck, who, firstly, believed, and secondly, was spitting curse after curse at who had spoken.

"Come out, you son of a bitch! Show your pox marked mug, bitch!" he repeated, waving his gun from side to side.

Andrew had made himself small on the ground, hugging his shotgun, crying, and squeezing his eyes shut.

"Are you quite done?" said the voice again.

"Fuck you!" yelled Chuck, "I am the law! And if you're helping Dreyfus I'm gonna.."

"..blast my head off" said the voice really close to Chuck's ear.

That was the last thing Chuck ever heard. After that the floor lit up and Chuck saw the truth.

It was beautiful beyond words, it was immense, it was unimaginable.

Andrew sprung up, dropped his gun and ran screaming in no direction in particular. He got a glimpse of the truth and stopped, slack jawed and panting. Then Andrew's head exploded in a shower of brain, blood, and bones.

"What the fuck.." started Chuck, dropping his gun, dazzled by the truth.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" said the voice.

Chuck spun around and faced the voice, but before he could say or do anything, a vibroblade sunk in his stomach and got pulled all the way to his sternum.

"Dreyff..goddammitfuckinsonsabitchfuck"

The man behind the voice pressed a button on a remote controller and the floor returned dark, then he went to the rover and turned it off, plunging the floor in complete darkness again.

Death and Caius - Take I

Caius raised an eyebrow and gave a side look at the hooded figure sitting at the other side of the table.

"Death?"

"Yes."

Caius took a long gulp of beer without taking his eyes off from the figure. Nothing peered outside of the hood.

"All right, Death" he said, and smacked his lips. "You are here to try to kill me. I get it. Can't say it's a healthy decision," He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, "and you are not helping your cause by telling me."

"I'm not here to kill you," came from under the hood. "I am Death."

"Whatever you say. Now, if you don't mind, I will finish this beer in peace, and after we'll take this business out, in the street."

"I don't think you understand.."

"Can I finish this beer?" Caius sighed and put his tankard down. "Are you in that much of a hurry? Are you behind or something?"

"I'm always behind. The plague is coming to town and I'll be busy all week long."

"My heart bleeds for you."

Caius resumed his drinking, looking at Death, who laid back on its chair and waited without further words.

After two more gulps, Caius stopped, even if there was still half of the container to go, and started nibbling on some of the bread on the table.

Best not being too drunk, he thought. Although the cape and hood should slow "Death" down, no sense in taking any chances. Kick the knee, as he goes down punch the ear, and if he tries to get up, a dagger to the stomach.

"You said you'd only finish the beer." Said Death. There was no intonation in his voice. His voice? Her voice? Its voice? Can't really say.

Caius took a short gulp. "I said I'd finish the beer and we'd go. Didn't say it was the only thing I'd do."

He put the beer down and stretched out his arms and yawned, moving his neck in a wide circle.

Odd. Tavern is full, but everybody is quiet, and nobody looks in our direction. Surely someone must find Death's garments out of the ordinary. If nothing else, he looks like a leper.

"Please, finish your beer, so that we can step outside."

"Are you that hot to go from being Death, to being dead?"

"I can't die. I am Death."

"Only one way to find out." Caius adjusted his belt, positioning his pistol to cover his companion, then took the tankard and resumed his slow drinking. I don't like it. Only a short while ago it was impossible to hear my own thoughts, and now it's dead quiet. This Death guy, or girl, is getting to me.

"Whatever!" Said Caius, and slammed his tankard down.

"Something wrong?" said Death.

"Yeah. Everything," Caius stood up, reached for his coin purse, then glanced left and right to the crowd. Nobody looking in their direction, still. Caius patted the handle of his pistol.

"Let's get out of here and get this done and over with. I'll be back after killing you."

In a smooth movement, and without a word, Death got up and started walking toward the door. Neither the cape nor the feet made any noise as it moved across the floor.

Caius looked at Death, which was at least a full head taller than him.

Might end up being a tougher fight than expected.

He picked up his own cape with one hand, and adjusted the weapons in his belt. Touching the pistol's handle he considered firing his single shot in Death's back and bolting the other way.

As soon as the thought formed in his head, Death stopped.

"Don't." said Death. "It would be a waste of ammunition, powder, and most of all, time."

Caius mouthed a curse word of surprise but said nothing and smiled.

"Let's go," said Death, resuming its walk, with Caius a few paces behind.

The couple went through the front door and it slammed behind them. With the door closed, the noise coming from the tavern dimmed, and as the two walked further down the road, the evening grew still, quiet, with no man or animal in sight. Only Caius light steps could be heard, Death didn't make a sound and kept walking toward a narrow alley.

As soon as Death was in the alley, Caius charged from behind without breaking his stride.

He cleared the distance between them in an instant, and his shoulder connected with Death's spine, sending it face first on the hard stones of the road.

"There is no need for this!" thundered Death.

Caius drew his dagger and fell on the sprawled figure, stabbing violently its lungs.

The dagger didn't encounter any resistance, and Death stood up, pushing Caius off like he was a light sack and turned around, the dagger sticking out of its back.

Caius landed on his feet and sprung back at Death, but Death was ready this time. It struck out a gloved hand to repel him and yelled "Stop! I'm not here to fight!"

Caius grabbed that arm, spun his body up and kicked Death's face, but instead of both of them falling, he just hung there while Death's hood fell backwards.

For a few seconds nothing happened. Death stood still, its arm stretched out, with Caius holding on to it and retreating his leg to get a better hold.

"I'm not here to fight! I'm here to talk!"

Caius stared at the pallid face. Few singed hair on top, no eyebrows, deep green eyes with a small pupil, and no color on the lips, and an old fading scar going from the left eye down the cheek to the collar bone. Caius squinted, then his mouth slacked open.

"Emmerich?? Ric?!" He said.

"I am Death."

Caius let go of Death's arm and fell backwards. Death loomed even taller than before.

"Ric! What the hell is the meaning of all this?! I nearly killed you!!"

"Emmerich is not here. I am Death. This is just the vessel I chose for the time being."

"What the hell are you talking about Ric?"

"There is no Ric."

"Yeah? Then why do you look just like him.. well, a grey pale version of him?"

"Earlier, when Emmerich died, he told me about you and of your peculiarities. I realized I could make use of your help, and the only way I could talk to you was by taking over a human body."

"Wait. What do you mean Ric died? You killed him?"

"I don't kill. I am Death."

"You say you are not Ric, and that he's dead, but you wear his face." Caius got up and cleaned his doublet. "You are too physical to be a ghost, and too ..smart.. to be one of those undead things."

"It's all rather complicated," Death stretched its arm all the way to its back and retrieved Caius' dagger, "and it would be much simpler if you could just accept that I am Death, personified in the body of Emmerich Russdorffer"

"So," said Caius looking at his dagger in Death's hands, "He kicked the bucket, you happened to walk by, and thinking it would help chatting me up, you picked up his face?"

"I was there when he died, I'm always there when someone dies." Death, still holding the dagger, begun pulling off his left glove. "Emmerich, son of Johannes and Gude Russdorffer, a fence and a burglar in a family of pious men of God. Also, a dabbler in the art of alchemy, which indirectly caused his demise."

Death's glove fell to the ground and showed Caius a mangled hand missing three fingers.

"His death wasn't quick. He was convinced he had discovered a way to transmute common matter into gold. He was wrong, of course, but went for a celebratory meal in his kitchen."

Death held the dagger in the right hand and pushed it clean through the mangled left. No blood gushed, poured, or even trickled. Was like looking at a knife being pushed in a form of cheese. He then withdrew the blade and tossed it next to Caius, who picked it up by the tip of the hilt, and stared at it like it was the first time he ever saw it.

"Was he poisoned?" Asked Caius, testing the dagger's tip with his own finger.

"Like I said, he went to celebrate in his kitchen. Opened a jar of pickled anchovies, flipped one in the air, and caught it in his mouth. It went straight into his throat and he choked on it. He began coughing hard, slipped, and fell. The shock of the fall, the pain, and of the choking experience were too much. His heart gave."

"An anchovy?" Caius looked up at Death's face, and absentmindedly stabbed his own finger. "OUCH! Dammittohell!"

"A heart attack indirectly caused by an anchovy. But as I was saying.."

"An anchovy?" asked Caius sucking on his finger, "The man who beheaded a rabid boar charging at him with a single stroke of his axe.. killed by an anchovy??"

"It happens all the time. His heart was weak."

"What does it mean his heart was weak!?! This is the man who in a single night out drank and out whored a platoon of hardened mercenaries!!! And I should know, I was there!!!"

"That night he only pretended to drink, and paid the women who went with him to keep the whole thing quiet."

Caius started a protest, but Death interrupted him shoving him to the ground. "You, on the other hand, after your first ale were too drunk to notice anything was amiss, even when your comrade Augustus chocked to death on a snail. I should know, I was there. Now shut up and listen!"

Caius got up, muttered some words about Death's manners and parentage, wiped the dagger on his leg, slipped it inside his belt, and stared at Death.

"I'm all ears," he said.

"There is someone in Rome, someone who is dead, but refuses to die," Death paced back and forth. "So far she has found a way to evade me. I want to know how does she do it, and I want to catch up with her."

Death stopped and pulled a scroll tied with a long thick thread from inside of his right sleeve.

"A drawing of her likeness," Death offered the scroll to Caius, "bound with the severed thread of her life."

Caius took the scroll but made no motion to open it, instead he kept looking at Death.

"What do you want me to do," asked Caius, "strangle her with this rope?"

"She's already dead. She removed herself from this plane with poison. Three years ago this Sunday. No, I want you to confront her. Talk to her, make her see reason, find out how has she been able to avoid me. She has to come with me."

Caius unrolled the scroll. On it there was a crude line drawing of a woman's face with a large mole on her right cheek and a vaguely familiar crooked nose. He looked at the drawing for a little while, then looked at the grey face of his dead friend.

"I don't know," started Caius, "someone who kills themselves and won't die.. not something you do by mistake.."

"Indeed," said Death, "she has knowledge that doesn't belong to her, and uses it to avoid me."

"Hmmmmm.. sounds dangerous.."

"You will get your reward."

"Rome.. two weeks ride from here," said Caius, moving his eyes back and forth from the woman's picture to Death, "to find a this not-so-dead ugly chick.."

"Your reward will be significant." If Death was impatient or angry, its voice didn't betray it.

"This woman who poisoned herself, died, but.." Caius stopped, and chewed on his lower lip. "How exactly could you die, but escape Death?"

"It's complicated," said Death.

"I bet it is. Why would someone even want to do such thing?"

"In this way she can't die again."

"You know, I'm getting a headache. Why.. how.. I mean.. sure, I'd do most things for money, but.. you're not telling me everything, are you?"

"I guess I should give more information."

"Good guess.." murmured Caius.

Death started pacing again. "When someone dies," it started, "I come around to collect the soul and bring it to their final destination. Sometimes I am prevented, via means of incantations or demonic interference. In these cases the body dies, but the spirit survives, allowing one's essence to increase in knowledge and power well beyond what could actually be achieved in life. Now, when Donatella.."

"Ok ok enough, I'm falling asleep here." Caius looked at the drawn face again. I've seen her somewhere..

"Don't you care to know what has happened?"

"Would it make a difference? Make it easier for me to get her to ..uhh.. abandon this mortal coil?"

"I don't think so."

"Then I only care about two things: One, what am I supposed to do with her.. she's dead, can't exactly threaten her. Two, what do I get out of it."

"You could reason with her. Show her the error of her ways."

"Anyone who lives in Rome and has enough knowledge and money to avoid Death, knows very well the error of their ways. As a matter of fact, they love the error of their ways, and plan on riding that way back and forth till the day is long, and then some more. I'll need some leverage against her."

"Hmmmmmmmmm. You could threaten her brother or father or other family?"

"Again, anyone in her situation most likely has already killed her brother, father, or other family."

"They live."

"How would you.. never mind, stupid question. Still, I doubt she cares that much for them. No, someone like her wants power or money, or both. Likely both."

"I could give you an artifact of power. A phylactery, empty of course but I could obscure it. She'd be interested, and you could trap her inside."

"Good one!" Caius smiled at Death, "you and I could do some business together, ya know?"

"I doubt it, you caused me already a lot of work."

"Hmm, I'll take that as a compliment. Now, about my payment.."

"What payment?"

Caius stuffed the scroll inside his doublet and rubbed his hands together. "You mentioned a reward.."

"I was going to tell you the truth about your birth, your real father, and made sure you could meet him."

"My real father? Uuh.. honored as I am to know that Death thinks me a bastard, I'd rather have a large pile of gold."

Death's grey, dull, face turned up to look at the sky and said nothing.

Caius started talking softly to himself, "Two weeks of travel.. at least one week in Rome.. there will be guards to be bribed.. some corpses to be disposed of, at least one for sure.. information is going to cost, especially in Rome.. there's always malaria or the pox there, so hazardous pay.. food, inns, drinks.. plus something for me, of course.."

"I offer you.." started Death.

"Twelv..Twenty sequins." Interrupted Caius, "Venetians, none of those Byzantine or Ottoman things."

"Actually, I was thinking.."

"Eighteen, not one less."

"But how about.."

"Sixteen is my last offer!"

"Wouldn't you rather.."

"Fine, fine! I give up! Fourteen!"

"You're not listening.."

"Twelve! I can't go lower than twelve! It would cost me nearly as much to get anything done in Rome! With Easter on the way, it's gonna be expensive."

"Immortality."

"Twelve is really..immortawhat?"

"How about I don't come collect your soul when it's your turn to die?"

"Uhhh, no. Thanks, but the idea of my body rotting away while still alive really disgusts me."

"I have no money to give you, though."

"Yeah, well, I see where this is going.. OK, I got an idea, do you know when am I going to die?"

"I can check if you want."

"Do that, but keep it to yourself. Just.. well, if I'm going to die a violent and premature death, how about your give me enough notice that I can avoid that end? I really would like to die old, in my bed, drunk, and happy."

"It's not that simple."

"It's never simple with you! It's always complicated, dense, in need of long boring explanations! Can't you just do something instead of blabbing on and on?"

"Fine. I will do as you ask. I will present myself to you before your path is set. Would that work for you?"

"Yeah. Sure. I still going to need money to get to Rome and poke around, and I don't have enough on myself."

"You could work for it."

"I have a better idea.. anyone rich, close by, about to buy the farm?"

"The largest fund owner of Bubano is close to meeting me."

"Fan-tas-tic! I know where we can get us some dough! Bubano is, what, less than a day walk? Will he make it for a couple more days? I need some time to get there and ..uh.. collect.. something.."

"It's possible, he's of strong build, so he will last at least till Sunday. He might even think he's going to survive the plague, but so very few do. Oh, so few.."

"Plague? Eww!" Caius' face frowned, "I can't stand that stench.. nevertheless, it's actually an advantage. I'm one of those who survived the plague, now it does nothing to me. When the squadron I commanded started falling ill.."

"The only one in your squadron that survived it. I should know, I was there. And wasn't your squadron, you cleaned the horses. You were twelve."

Caius squinted his eyes and looked sideways at Death. "If you knew already, why did you let me go on?"

"Because you never shut up. Not even Death can shut you up."

"Oh, so funny," said Caius without laughing, "look at me, I'm laughing at Death's funny jokes."

"I should know, I am here and I am Death. And you don't shut up."

Caius opened his mouth, then closed it. Raised one finger at Death and said "I am going. We'll meet again here in two months. If I'm not here, I'm dead, and you broke your side of the deal."

No Saints (Part 6 of 6)

The evening dragged on. At least it did for me. Everybody was having a great time and I played along. Little by little I warmed up and stopped looking like a stiff from the mortuary, and acted human. Inside, though, I was still torn by the doubt.

When Mike and Susan finally left, Caroline and I cleaned up. We exchanged few words. I wanted to question her, make her tell me the truth, no matter how painful it would have been. I knew I could handle it, and I knew I could restrain myself from acting like a jealous idiot. I had never been the jealous type, and I didn't think I would start now.

Still, I wanted to know. At the same time I had all these doubts. Susan truly looked like Caroline, and it was dark and raining in the back yard. I could have been mistaken. How could I ask Caroline to tell me the truth when I wasn't sure of what I had seen? So I kept quiet and mulled over everything.

I took the trash out, in the back yard. It had stopped raining, and in the cold of the night I felt better. I looked at the kitchen window, now dark, and I couldn't say for sure what had happened. Maybe I should have just said something, mention it in passing how I saw Mike and Susan making out in the kitchen. Caroline would roll her eyes and laugh, but I didn't know it was Susan and I wasn't sure of anything of what happened earlier on.

I went back inside, Caroline was making some noises in the bathroom upstairs, so I turned off all the lights and went up to the bedroom.

I took my clothes off, slipped into bed and closed my eyes. I didn't want to wait for her to be done in the bathroom, I wanted to sleep. A good night of sleep is what I needed, that would've cleared my mind and make it all better. It's always better in the morning.

I fell asleep immediately, and right away I had nightmares. The house was on fire, old crones were laughing at me pointing their bony fingers to me, and other amenities. Then a noise woke me up, but I only opened my eyes and didn't move.

"Dan," said Caroline, and I felt a cold hand on my shoulder. "Where were you?"

I pretended to be still sleeping.

"I know you are awake." She poked me in the side. "I told you I want answers, and this time you can't get out of it."

I sighed but didn't turn or say anything.

"Where are you been all these evenings?" She kept poking me in the side and shaking me. I hated it.

"I didn't drink."

"So where have you been?"

"I didn't do anything wrong."

"Look at me!"

I didn't want to look, not tonight, not while I was still confused.

"Where have you been?!" She grabbed my shoulders and tried to turn me around. "If you didn't go out to get plastered as usual, what did you do outside?!"

"I told you so many times, I don't go out to drink."

"You disappear for hours, without explanation," she pushed me hard. "You say you didn't drink, yet you won't tell me what you are up to."

I kept mum. What difference would have it made if she knew? Did I even care at this point?

I heard her breathing breaking up quietly. Tears. The last weapon of the guilty woman. "What's her name?"

"Who?"

"The one you have been seeing all these nights."

I twisted around in an instant. "What?" How could SHE ask ME such a question?! "What are you talking about?"

"You kept drinking and drinking for months, years." She was sobbing now. "Then all of a sudden you start going out late at night, but come back without the stench of smoke and booze."

"And?"

"You have someone else," she wiped her tears with her fingers. "Someone who made you quit drinking."

"Caroline.." I couldn't form a coherent thought. The scene in the kitchen window, Susan looking a lot like her, Mike's comments, now her accusations. It was all a ball of searing pain that fumbled in my brain.

"Who, dammit, who?!" Her face was streaming with tears, and she began banging my chest.

"There is no one else, Caroline." It was odd, I didn't feel anything. No pity, no desire to take her in my arms and comfort her. Nothing. All I could think of was whomever I saw in the kitchen window.

"Who, you bastard, who is she?!" She hit me harder. "I can see it in your eyes."


"Enough, Caroline!" My voice was getting louder. "It's all in your head!" In her head. Like the scene that kept repeating in my head over and over. Caroline or Susan, kissing Mike. Susan or Caroline. One and the same.

"Who!? I deserve to know!" She slapped me across the face. My face burned where she left her hand print.

"No one!"

"Bullshit!" And she slapped me again.

"You will not hit me, not ever again." My voice was strange, coming from somewhere deep and dark inside of me. From the same place where the desire to reach out and strangle her was coming from.

"Give me her name!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

"No one!" The lying, cheating bitch. Accusing me of what she had just done the same night under my very own roof. "NO ONE!"

She tried to slap me again, but I caught her wrist with my hand and squeezed it hard.

"I told you not to hit me ever again!"

"Daniel!" She winced and try to pull her arm free of my grasp. "Let go! You're hurting me!"

I yanked her arm to the side. "And I told you that there is no one else!" I saw fear in her eyes. It felt good.

"There is no one else," I repeated, squeezing her fine wrist harder. "No one! I have been going to Alcoholics Anonymous!" I spat the words at her, and with each word she tried to pull back further. "AA Meetings! Getting clean!"

"Danny, baby, my arm hurts." With every pull I squeezed harder and yanked in the opposite direction. "Please baby!"

"You constantly harass me, nag me, fucking berate me with your stupid incessant questions!" The more she squirmed, the louder I spoke and the more I squeezed and yanked. "I tell you I quit, and you don't believe me! You never believe me!!" She grabbed my arm and dug her nails in it, trying to free her captive wrist. I squeezed harder still. "I told you I didn't wanna talk about it, and you nag me to death, even when I try to sleep!! Nag nag nag!" I shook her hand off my arm and pushed. She squealed and I felt the heat inside of me exploding. "I told you I there isn't anyone else, and you slap me!" I twisted her arm, pulled her close to me and yelled at the top of my lungs. "And when I tell you not to hit me again, you go and try again!"

I let go her wrist and pushed her off of me. "What do you want from my life?"

She crawled off the bed, her face red and covered with tears. She had gone too far. This time I would show her who she was messing with.

"What? You ran out of words now? After all you have said?! You accused me of cheating. YOU! After what you have done to me!" Her face showed complete panic and I started moving toward her like a panther stalking its prey. "After the way you ripped my heart apart with your deeds!" I crawled closer, inches from her face. "After I saw you throwing yourself at Mike like the whore that you are!!"

Caroline raised her arms to her face. Her cheeks were flushed, with red streaks coming down from her eyes. Her mouth slightly open with only small squeaky noises coming out.

"I can't hear you, honey. What? You thought I'd never figure it out?"

She started crawling backwards away from me toward one corner of the room. I got closer.

"What is it, honey? Cat got your fucking tongue?"

"Baby, please.." She squirmed like a mouse. Like a rat caught with cheese in her mouth, trying to avoid the impending just punishment.

"Please what?" I took one step closer. "Please stop throwing the truth in my face?" Another step closer. "Please stop finding out about my affairs?" I stood up towering her. "Please WHAT? Speak up, whore! I can't hear you!"

She squeezed herself in the corner, whimpering, curling up like a porcupine. "Baby, please don't hurt me!"

"Why would I hurt you? Huh? WHY? Why would I hurt my fucking angel?" Her fear told me all I needed to know. She did it, it was her. "Have you done something you shouldn't have? HUH?" My hands were clenched in tight fists. "Yes you have!" And with that I slapped her hard across the face.

She screamed and I hit her again.

"You see what you made me do?" I slapped her again. "After all I've done for you!" I punched her and she shrieked, curling tighter to avoid my hands. "After all the sacrifices, the hardships!" I snatched the arm covering her face and slapped her again. "After all these years!" She was in absolute panic, but I punched her down and started crying as well. "After all this time! Why did you have to do that to me?"

I started hitting her repeatedly, crying with every hit I landed on her. She was bawling and sobbing, screaming when I'd hit her harder.

It lasted forever, or so it felt. Then all of a sudden I realized what I had done, and fell back, pushing myself away from her. I had hurt her, the woman I loved more than anything in the world. There she was, crying, whimpering, crumpled up in the corner.

I wanted to say something, call her name, to try to make things better, but nothing would come out of my mouth. She kept crying and crying, and I knew there was nothing I could ever do or say.

I sat in front of her, naked on the floor, and put my head between my knees, with my hands over my head, staring at the carpet. How did I ever fall this low?

I heard some noises. Caroline getting up. I peeked without moving my head and saw her stumbling up, her chemise ripped, something dark smeared on her chest and arms. I brought a hand to my eyes and saw the same stain. It smelled of blood.

Nothing mattered anymore. Whether she had been cheating on me or not felt trivial. My pride counted for nothing. Now there was no going back, I had lost her forever, because of my stupid self.

My tears had stopped. I was too stunned to cry. All I could managed to do was to stare at my feet and listen to Caroline's slow movements, accompanied by her crying. I heard her open a drawer, moving things in there. I knew what she was looking for and I deserved it.

Some metallic clicks, a pause, then more clicks. I looked up, only to stare at a barrel and the reflection of the night lights in her eyes. It was dark in the room, but I could see and feel the cold fire in her.

She spoke. There was nothing but hatred, disgust, and death in her voice. "You will never hit me again."

I made no attempts to shield myself. My guilt was soon to be removed from me, and I longed for that as I longed for Caroline all these years. She said something else, but I didn't hear it. I think I smiled.

After that it was just a white hot rose of pain rapidly blossoming in my face. Then another. I didn't feel the third.

No Saints (Part 5 of 6)

I sat in the car, at first saying nothing, then I begun to cry. I screamed at myself, wondering how long it has been going on, what had I done wrong, why didn't I see the signs. I wanted a drink, something strong, but I knew that once I crawled inside a bottle, I'd never get out of it again, so I just sat there, feeling sorry for myself.

Half an hour later I actually went to get the butter. What a corny excuse to get me out of the house. Butter. What would it be next time? Milk?

Eventually I pulled up to my driveway and found Susan's golden Caddy parked in it, so I put the car on the side of the street, in front of Mike's vehicle. Mike always loved his black sporty Lexus, and the day he drove it from the dealer's lot he bragged about it for hours. Walking back to the house I sank my keys in the doors as hard and deep as I could.

Outside of the door I managed to dig a big smile from inside of me and put it on my face, then I walked in.

"Knock knock!" I called out opening the door. "The big bad wolf is here!"

Mike was sitting on the right arm of the couch, talking to Susan who was sitting in the armchair. He turned my way and yelled "Here he is! Thought we had to send out a rescue party!" He smiled and winked at Susan "And that's not the kinda party I like to be in!"

"Dan!" Susan got up and came to give me a big hug. "How are you? How long has it been since last time? Ages!"

"It sure has been," I replied. "I'm so happy to see you." I hated her. Why couldn't she keep her man on a leash?

Caroline walked out of the kitchen with a mixed look on her face. "Honey! What took you so long?"

I had to force myself to keep on smiling. "Oh, it was a mess. A fuck up after another." I stared at her, aware that my face muscles were straining my smile into a smirk. "Two guys got in a fight over a woman, right there in the store. Apparently she was double timing one of the two. Then the cashier tried to short change me. Tried a bait and switch scheme on me." I looked at Mike with the same intensity I looked at Caroline. "Could you believe that someone would try to screw me over? And that some broad would cheat on her man? What a crazy world we live in, huh?"

Mike didn't change expression. "There sure are some weirdos out there!"

"My aunt once was mobbed in a super market," piped in Susan, but I barely noticed her. I kept my eyes fixed on Mike's, smiling at him.

I went to put the grocery bag in the kitchen, going past Caroline, with same frozen smirk on my face. She said something but I didn't hear it. In the kitchen I looked out of the same window those two traitors used to frame their betrayal. I felt like throwing up so I walked out.

"So, Mike," I said while putting the coat up. "How was it?"

"Hm?" Mike was having another drink. Sure, go ahead, you already had my wife, why not take my whisky as well.

I walked up to him, he was sitting on the couch, Susan by his side. "How was keeping her warm? Did you do a good job?"

Mike gave me a puzzled look. "What?"

"Caroline," I nodded at my wife, smiling. "Did you keep my wife entertained while I was out?"

"Uh.. yeah. Yeah!" He gave a belly laugh. "We caught up with the latest and greatest happenings until Susie got here. Caroline is sure a hot kitten!!" And he laughed again.

Right there I wanted to kill him. I wanted to take that bottle of wine he brought and smash his face with it. I wanted to cram it down his throat and stare him in the eyes as he'd choke on it, clawing at it, desperately trying to catch a breath, while I'd push more and more down. His face would turn blue, his eyes would become as glass, and I'd drink with glee at his funeral.

"Danny!?" Caroline whispered to me. "Are you ok?"

Those sweet thoughts still coursed through my head, but I banished them, lest I'd let on that I knew. Meanwhile Susan was hitting Mike with a pillow for those remarks. I'd have handed her a battle axe if I had one.

"Danny??"

I took a deep breath. "Yes, honey, I am ok," I said and looked at her. I couldn't smile any more. "Are you ok?"

"Danny, what's wrong? You look awful."

"I'm ok. I'm just tired, I guess. I had a hard day."

Meanwhile Susan was laughing while hitting Mike. "You are a real bastard, you know?"

"Yes, yes," Mike was protecting his drink and trying to take a sip between pillow hits. "But you love me like this anyways, so why should I change?"

I looked at Susan. Was she part of the conspiracy? "So, how come that you got your hair done at the last minute?"

Susan held a pillow over Mike's head and looked at me, still breathing hard from all that hitting. "Yeah, things that happen."

"Really? Just today, just right this day?"

"Yeah," the look on her face was becoming more confused. "I made the appointment last week and they cancelled on me. Then today I worked late and had totally forgot about it." She looked at Caroline. "I was lucky to get in as it was."

Mike looked over his shoulder and grinned. "And while you were doing chores at the store and Susie was doing her hair, I was doing.." Susan slapped Mike upside the head with the pillow and his drink spilled all over his corduroy pants. Mike, Susan, and Caroline were laughing, while I felt like someone had just pushed my face into a toilet and flushed.

"Danny," said Caroline regaining her composure. "Did you notice Susan's hair?"

"Her hair?" I looked at Susan.

"Yes, look at her now! What do you think?"

Until now I had forgot she had hair, except that she used it as an excuse to let her wandering bastard of a man cheat on me.

"Hmmm.. I give up?"

"Oh, you're such a man!" She laughed and went to stand next to Susan, while Susan got up and stood next to her. "Look! The same hair do! Same dress as well!" Susan giggled.

Susan put an arm across Caroline shoulders and Caroline reciprocated. "We could pass for twins," said Susan and they both giggled.

I stood there, frozen like a snow man. They did look very similar. Who did I see flirting with Mike?

Mike stood up and came to my side to admire the recently rejoined twins. "Danny, my boy," he said while sipping on what was left of his drink. "If we'd get into wife swapping, I don't think I'd notice."

He laughed. Susan and Caroline laughed heartily. I gave my best effort.

No Saints (Part 4 of 6)

Even with that rain and the weekend traffic, the store was no more than ten minutes away. The rain kept coming in waves, alternatively slowing the traffic and speeding it up. I always wondered why people couldn't drive more smoothly in the rain.

A traffic light ahead turned red and I slowed down, and my mind slowed down as well. Caroline and her butter. What if when I would be back, she'd send me out again? Bread? Lima beans? Besides, she had said she wanted butter, but she didn't specify whether it was salted or plain butter.

I reached into my pocket for my cell phone, but it came up empty. As the traffic started moving again, I patted myself but I couldn't find anything. I must have had left it on the coffee table, or on the cupboard. Maybe Caroline had put it away for me, she always tidied up behind me. I took the first turn and sped back home. It was much better to look stupid and getting more details, than to come back with nothing but plain butter when she wanted salted butter and a can of corn.

I pulled up behind the house. I wasn't going to walk in like a complete moron, not in front of Mike. Mostly he would have started talking more and more, and it would have taken one hour before I could go get the butter. As it was, I was going to be about ten minutes late.

I got out of the car, lifted the lapels of my jacket and closed it tight on my chest and neck. I was going to get really wet. I went in the dark backyard, walking in long steps to avoid the deep cold puddles of rainwater. I should have had the yard landscaped, with some sort of pathway to the rear deck.

I leaped one large puddle, nigh a pond, and put one foot on the steps up to the deck, and stopped. The deck was illuminated by the window in the rear of the kitchen, and although the rain was falling hard on me, blurring my vision, I could see someone moving. It was Caroline, of course, but something made me stop and wait.

Whatever told me to wait was right. Barely a second after Caroline passed in front of the window, I saw another shadow. A bigger one. Mike.

He walked in front of the window and Caroline joined him. They both had glasses in their hands. Caroline was smiling. It was a warm, welcoming smile. Mike was laughing, but all the noise was drowned by the rain.

Mike said something. Caroline laughed, her cheeks turning a deeper tone of red. Blushing. Mike talked again and got closer to her. She laughed and covered her mouth. Mike put an arm around her and drew her close. Caroline didn't stop him, instead she put her arms around his neck and laid her head on his chest. She was smiling.

Then she looked up to him and they kissed.

A vehicle passed by and startled me. Slowly I turned around and returned to the car.

No Saints (Part 3 of 6)

One hour into the evening and still no sign of Susan. Mike briefly talked to her on the phone, she was done with the hair, but stuck in traffic somewhere on the turnpike. I tried to help Caroline in the kitchen, but she'd push me out with a giggle and a kiss.

As time passed, we turned the television on. The incessant babble about the ruined lives of the rich and the famous made for more discussion topics. Mike's flushed cheeks and drawled speech told me he was getting drunk. "Yeah, I know that duuuude," he would say, dragging the u for a few seconds and pointing at some actor on the screen. I remembered Mike as funnier, that was when I used to drink with him, but he was still a hoot. "I defended his sorry ass from some bum rape charge two years ago. Some cute chick from some club claimed he forced himself on her. It was all bullshit." He finished his gin & tonic, which Caroline promptly refilled. "Got him free and clear in the preliminary hearings. She couldn't stand a chance against me. So much so, that she was my date the night after." And we laughed.

Caroline would pop in and out of the kitchen, being amiable and sociable, even to me. "Mike, you're a low dirt scumbag," she would say laughing. "Can anyone have a chance against you or your wily charms?" She'd sip on her long island iced tea, smiling, then she'd walk back to tend to dinner. She was the only woman I knew who could be wearing a sexy black dress, high heels, full make up, and at the same time cook, making a hell of a meal. Not to add that she was still a great hostess.

"Not if I really want it, babe!" He winked at her.

She laughed. "Danny would cut you to shreds if you'd try that with me," and put a hand on my shoulders. I doubted I could hurt him, maybe if he was threatening to hurt me or her first, but I chimed in with my best hick accent.

"Darn tootin'!" I waved a threatening coffee mug at him. "You lay an eye on her, Mikey-boy, and ye gonna have to deal with me!"

Mike laughed hard. "Naah, if I wanted to, I'd make it so that you'd be glad to hand her off to me!"

Caroline stuck her tongue out at him, still laughing, and went back to the kitchen.

Trying to keep up with Mike's perception of reality was a full time job, albeit a pleasant one. I didn't miss the booze, I actually enjoyed the night better. Tonight I wanted tell her everything, how much I loved her, how my love for her led me to change, to become a better man and stop wasting my life in a bottle. I smiled.

"Honey?" Caroline motioned at me to follow her in the kitchen, and I obliged.

"We're out of butter," she whispered.

"Use margarine?"

"Honey!" The conspiring tone of voice was gone, replaced by the Drill Sergeant command voice. "We need butter!"

"It's OK," I smiled and tried to dodge the inevitable. "You can go and I'll entertain Mike. I'm sure he won't mind. Heck, he's half drunk as it is.."

"No," she pointed a menacing greasy spatula at my chest. "You will go, and I will tend to the food. Unless you want the roast beef on the charcoal side of well done."

I didn't want to go out. It was late, it was cold, maybe even raining, and I liked to shoot the breeze with Mike. He might have been a loud ass, but he was my best friend and I hadn't seen him in ages. "Can't we do without?" I pleaded.

"Baby," she gave me that condescending sweet look mixed with the steely assurance that noncompliance would have resulted in a fate worse than death. "Corn on the cob. Mashed potatoes. Sauteed mushrooms. Cream of spinach. Roasted asparagus. Without any butter??"

I looked at her feigning complete and utter ignorance, even gave her my best I'm just here for the party look. She wagged the greasy spatula at me and I knew I had lost this battle. I wanted to point out that she had gone to the store three times in the past five days, but that would have just turned this situation into a major argument, so I huffed, slapped her butt and turned around to go get my coat and keys.

Mike looked at me with an eyebrow raised.

"Got drafted," I said with a crooked smile. "On times of crisis and dire dangers, it falls upon the boldest among us to face certain death in order to make the world a safer place."

Caroline was standing by the kitchen, a hand on her side, with a cute mock frown on her face. "Just make sure that the world is safe and you're back from the war before dinner is ready, will ya?"

Mike laughed. "Don't worry, buddy," he said with a wink. "I'll keep her warm for you!"

I walked out of the front door, saying out loud, "Women, can't live with them!"

As the door closed behind me, I was sure I heard Caroline say "Men, who wants to live with them?"

You could have heard Mike laughing even inside the car, and, as I feared, it started to rain.

No Saints (Part 2 of 6)

Mike was at the door, a bottle of sparkling wine in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. "Caroline! As gorgeous and sexy as ever!" He stretched his arms wide open. "Give me some sugar, babe!"

Mike was the kind of good looking charmer that could have sold running shoes to tetrapleagics. Eons ago, while in college, we met while selling overpriced junk for a small computer store. We would compete for clients, and he always got the best commissions, but we went along great, often working as wing-man during some though sales. Once I witnessed him talking an older man into buying an expensive model. Mike told him the cheaper one couldn't draw circles properly because it had square pixels, while the expensive one had banana shaped pixels. He went on to become a rather successful lawyer, while I made a career in sales and marketing.

Caroline chuckled. "Good evening Michael," and gave him her best smile. "As flattering and flirtatious as usual."

A hug and a peck on the cheek, and I winced. Mike dated Caroline first. She dumped him when she found out about his cheating habit, but that was over ten years ago. I swept her off her feet two years later, with Mike's blessings, but I couldn't forget how he used to talk about her.

He turned to me and put the bottle in my arms. "Danny! My man! Got something good for you here!"

"Hey, Mickey." We shook hands. He was flashing his teeth around like shark. "I'll put this away for later."

Caroline looked behind Mike. "Where is Susan?"

"She's running late. She wanted to get her hair done, right at the last moment!" Mike winked at me and smiled. "You know how women are."

"Yeah, women. Can't live with them, can't kill 'em!"

We laughed and Caroline gently rammed her elbow in my side.

She gave a saucy look at Mike. "For a second I thought you'd say that she was not your type, and that it was time to move along, spread your wings, break free, broaden your horizons." Mike grinned, and I gave a deliberate deep sigh while smiling. "Or was that what you said about Cynthia? Or Mariel? Or was it Annette?"

"Wait, wait!" He was laughing again. Was there a time when Mike didn't laugh? "This time is different, she really is the woman of my life, my perfect mate!"

Caroline tilted her head, looked up, put a finger on her face. "Funny, I could swear I heard that before," she hummed for a second. "Oh, right!" She looked at me, like he wasn't there. "He used to say that about me!" And we laughed again, only that this time I didn't feel amused.

"Come on you two," I motioned to follow me as I walked inside. "Get in before we all freeze to death."

Mike and I sat on the sofa around the coffee table, Caroline took Mike's gifts in the kitchen and then she joined us. We spent some time catching up with the latest events in our lives, making small talk and stupid jokes. Mike always laughing a bit too hard. Eventually Caroline got up and asked, "Anyone wants something to drink?"

"Yeah, sweetie!" Mike's smile seemed to grow bigger every time. "Get me a gin and tonic, if you don't mind." He smiled at me. "One for the big boy here as well!"

Caroline's eyes met mine with the kind of look that could pierce two inches of steel armor. I smiled and raised a hand as a peace offering. "I'll have some coffee." Then I looked at Mike and said, with a lower voice, "I got an early start, and I wouldn't want to end under the table already."

That white lie might have worked to keep Mike from asking embarrassing questions, but didn't fare well with Caroline, who didn't show any emotion and went in the kitchen without a word.

Mike and I exchanged questioning glances, I mouthed "Women" and we returned to talk about what interesting cases he had had to defend.

No Saints (Part 1 of 6)

Caroline wouldn't believe me.

"Not for an instant."

"I told you already. I quit drinking."

She made a disgusted face at me. "How many times have you quit and been on the wagon? And how many times have you quit that as well?"

"This time is different." I couldn't tell her that I had started going to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. I have always taken care of my problems myself, head on, and wouldn't go to the doctor for anything less than a severed limb. How could I admit to her that I was incapable of remaining sober without help?

"So, if you haven't been drinking, where were you last night? What about last week? You were gone two nights without telling me where."

"Sometimes I need fresh air."

"Fresh air? You were out till past midnight yesterday!"

"I'm sorry, babe. I got lost." Last night I finally introduced myself. It took a lot to admit that I was an addict. I lost track of time retelling my life to a group of strangers.

"You never answered your cell! I called you four times!" She was nearly in tears. "I was worried!"

I wanted to take her in my arms, hold her, and tell her it was all right, that I was just trying to get myself back in shape. That I was doing this for her, for us, because I didn't like myself when I was drunk, and I couldn't stop. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was fear. But fear of what? That the would find me less of a man? That she would stop loving me?

I took a long breath and avoided looking at her. I knew I should have said something, but I bit my lip. I didn't want to do this now. "Baby, can't we talk about it later? Mike and Susan are going to be here any moment now."

She looked at me with hard eyes. "You can't avoid me forever." She wouldn't cry, not for lack of feeling, but because she was as strong as I was stubborn. "Once they are gone I don't want any more lies, any more excuses. You owe me some serious answers!"

It must have been fate, because as she finished talking the doorbell rang. I looked at her and gave her a humble smile. "Anything, babe." I meant it.

The doorbell rang again. Caroline nodded and together we went to open the door.

Money

With the last rays of the afternoon sun, Kelly's house looked even more empty and cold than it was, even for winter. In the kitchen Kelly sat quietly at the table and looked as the well dressed lawyer stacked wads of twenty dollars bills neatly in a pile on the table. The fluorescent light bulb flickered a couple of times, then it steadied, shining the even glare on the formica furniture.

Kelly stared at the money.

"Six hundred thousand dollars," said the lawyer while seating at the opposite side of the table. "Just like I said." He smiled, crossed his legs and made himself comfortable on the wooden chair.

Kelly tried to say something, but only a weak squeak came out. "That's.." she started, and then cleared her voice. "That's a lot of money." Her voice was still a whisper.

"Another six hundred thousand in two weeks. That's more than one million dollars Ms. Barnett."

"I could get cleaned up with all this money."

"You could do more than that. You could start a new life, away from here. Or go on a vacation, even buy a new car."

"A new car," she repeated.

"Anything you want."

She stretched a hand toward the money, without touching it, and looked at him. "And for this money, you want.."

The lawyer took a thick stack of papers from his briefcase and put it on the table. He split the stack in two separate paper and gave her a toothy grin. "Like I said on the telephone, all you have to do is sign this settlement and this waiver." Then he produced a gold plated ballpoint pen from his breast pocket and held it toward Kelly.

"And then I get the money?"

"And then you get the money. Exactly simple as that."

"But if I don't sign.."

The man's smile faded and stared right into her eyes. Kelly looked down. "If you don't sign, Ms. Barnett, I will take these six hundred thousand dollars away, and you will never see a dime from Mr. Villa."

"But he abused my son."

"Allegedly. It's just your son's word against Mr. Villa's." He stuck a finger in the air. "If you push this and it makes it to court, a very unlikely case mind you, there is no way to predict how it will turn." He then took the pen between his index and thumb fingers of each hand, like it was going to snap it in two if she made more trouble, and smiled again. "Even if it makes it to court, even with the best lawyers. The best and most expensive lawyers." His smile broadened. "Do you have a good lawyer, Ms. Barnett?"

Kelly stared at her feet.

"Ms. Barnett," he said with a softer voice. "This is a very generous offer. Drop the charges, issue a statement retracting those baseless claims, pocket the money, and put all this behind you and your child."

"My boy wouldn't lie to me." Kelly kept her hands steady on the table, but she was staring down and shuffling her feet. Her voice was faint and grave. "He wakes up at night, crying. He won't eat much and doesn't want to go to school."

The lawyer sighed, pushed the papers toward Kelly, and put the pen in front of her. "With this money you will be able to get him away from this place, to take good care of him. You will be able to get him the treatment he needs."

Kelly looked at the pyramid of banknotes and the table, then at the papers. "But it's not fair," she said. "Villa, your boss, is gonna get away with it."

"Ms. Barnett. Kelly. Mr. Villa hasn't done anything wrong, you and I know it. There is nothing to get away with."

Kelly looked at him. "A lab, like those you see on TV. They could find the signs, prove that my boys isn't making this up."

The lawyer shook his head. "There aren't any signs," he said. "Just allegations. Words. Lies."

He leaned forward, put the pen in her hand, then held her hand like a good friend. "Make the smart choice. Sign the papers, Kelly. Take the money. Trust me, you don't want to go against Mr. Villa."

She clasped her hand on the pen, considered it for a few seconds, then gave a hard stare at the lawyer.

"I believe my baby. A jury would believe my baby if they'd listen to him."

"Kelly, seriously.."

"I want justice for my boy. The jury would see he's saying the truth!"

The lawyer let go of Kelly's hand and sat back, his lips thin as razors. "What jury? There isn't a case here. There aren't hidden clues, just the words of a child. There is not a jury in the country who would believe the delinquent son of a crack addict over one of the city's most influential businessman, a man who has brought honor and jobs to this city."

Her face flushed red. "My Jeremy ain't no delinquent!"

"He has a felony conviction, Ms. Barnett, and he's only twelve."

"How do you know? The record is sealed!"

"I know. Everybody knows. Mr. Villa has many friends."

"Yeah, I heard that he's in bed with the mob," said Kelly with a louder voice. "He's the real delinquent!" She slammed her fist holding the pen on the table. "Not like my boy. Why should he get a pass, when my baby got nothing from no one?" Tears started rolling down her cheeks. "Why should he get a pass from me? He hurt my baby, he abused him! He thinks he can buy my silence?"

The lawyer huffed, took one of the stacks of cash from the pile on the table and thumbed through it. "You know," he spoke slowly. "You could buy a lot of stuff with this money. A new house, clothes, cars." He looked at her. "A lot of crack too."

Kelly swallowed hard and looked at the money.

"Angel dust too. Have you ever tried cocaine? It's a rich man's drug, only rich people can try that."

She shot straight up from her chair. "Get out of here!" she yelled. "Get your filthy money away from me!"

"Ms. Barnett, you are making a big mistake," said calmly the lawyer. "This is a one time offer."

"Get your filthy money and get the fuck out of my house!"

"Mr. Villa is not going to be pleased, Ms. Barnett."

"I said get your filthy money and get the fuck out of my house NOW!"

The lawyer stood up, gathered the paperwork and the money deliberately and without saying a word. Then he headed toward the door with Kelly behind him.

"You think you can buy me?" She yelled at his back. "Get the fuck out of here! I have my dignity!"

The lawyer opened the door, took two steps outside and turned. "Last chance, Ms. Barnett. I strongly suggest you take this offer and reconsider your actions against Mr. Villa."

"Fuck him and fuck you too!" She made an obscene gesture with her hand. "You tell Mr. Villa that I will see his mobster ass in court!" And with that she slammed the door closed.

- o -

The streetlight's glow filtered through the dusty windows in the living room. There were no shades or blinds, the lights were off, and the darkness inside made everything look crystallized in place.

"Mom," called softly Jeremy.

Kelly was lieing relaxed on the worn sofa. "Yes baby?" She said without turning.

The noise of slow, heavy steps accompanied Jeremy. "Mom?" he called again. There was pain in his voice.

Her voice was mellow, distant. "You're home early, baby? Or you haven't left yet?"

A stingy haze hung in the air, its tendris propagating from Kelly into the dark.

Jeremy started crying. "Mom? Please?"

Kelly put the glass pipe down, propped herself up, and turned toward Jeremy. "What's up, baby? Again nightmares?" Her eyes fluttered over his figure, unable to focus.

"I'm sorry mom," said Jeremy sobbing, and Kelly noticed the tall dark figure in a thick overcoat standing behind him.

"Who are you? What.. How did you get in here??" Kelly tried to get up, but her knees wouldn't support her. "What do you want??" She asked while slipping back on the sofa.

The figure put a hand in his overcoat. "You should have taken the money, Mr. Barnett," said the intruder, and drew.

An encounter with a tree

The woods were alive in a cacophony of birds' songs, the brook's water, and the buzzing of flying insects. Arda felt at home right away. She had never been in a place so rich in colors, sounds, and perfumes.

She went by the creek, took her shoes off and plunged her feet in the chilly water. She felt so happy she started to sing and laugh. She was sure mom and dad wouldn't miss her for the few minutes she would've been gone. Besides, she thought, that's why they came in the woods, to get in touch with nature.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and laid on the creek bank's tall grass. This was going to be just great.

THUMP

Arda sat up and held her breath.

THUMP

"Who is there?" she asked. Nobody answered her; the forest's noises were gone, except for the babbling of the creek. Arda stood up, and gazed into the darker part of the forest while walking barefoot on the grass to dry her feet.

THUMP

"I hear you! Show yourself!" she cried into the forest. "I'm not afraid, you know. Show yourself!"

THUMP

"OK, maybe I am a bit afraid," she said to no one in particular, "but.."

THUMP!

This time the noise was closer. Arda saw a strange large shadow moving in the woods, and heard a odd noise, nigh musical, coming from that shadow. She quickly put her shoes on and ran inside the forest.

I'm not afraid! I'm not afraid! I'm not afraid! she kept saying inside her head, and then she nearly ran into that shadow.

Arda stopped, look up and her eyes widened, her mouth dropped open, and she gasped.

She had seen many trees before, some tall, some short, even some short and wide funny ones with leaves longer than she was tall. In her family's yard there was an old oak tree that she would climbed often in the spring to check on the bird nests. All those trees had one thing in common: they didn't walk. And talk, or rather, sing.

The talking and singing wasn't as disturbing as the walking. With each step, the tree would unearth a large root, swing it across some distance, land it with a loud THUMP, and that foot would immediately bury itself, like it had always been there.

THUMP

This last step was close and the noise and tremor shook the amazement off of her.

"Trees don't walk," said Arda.

The facts disobeyed her, and the tree passed her by in a huge step.

THUMP

Arda screamed at the top of her lungs "I said TREES DON'T WALK!" and confirmed that statement stomping her foot.

The tree stopped, turned toward her, and two rather black eyes stared at her. Arda immediately felt very small, and a small voice--more than her conscience, was just her survival instinct--inside her head told her that maybe yelling at a giant walking tree hadn't been a great idea.

A deep voice, as if coming from the earth itself, spoke. "Dwarfs don't come out in daylight either."

"Yes they do!" Arda replied. "And I'm not a dwarf! I'm an elf! A wood elf!" The same small voice inside Arda's mind suggested that talking back at the tree was even more stupid.

The tree bent at what would've been the waist, if it had been a man--an enormously tall man with multiple legs and a robin's nest on its head. It looked her in the eyes for a few seconds and adjusted its leaves on the top. From its head came loud distressed chirping, and a two robins flew out.

"You don't smell like an elf," he declared. "And the last wood elf left at least two hundred years ago."

"But I am an elf," protested Arda. "And.. and.. my dad said we are wood elves." That little voice inside her head was getting louder, saying that it was time to stop engaging in debates, and start engaging in cross country running.

One of the robins was trying to brace the nest, while the other flew in front of the tree's eyes chirping loudly.

"Did your father also tell you that trees don't walk?" said the tree waving away the robin.

"I, hmmmm..." Arda looked the tree in the eyes, and it never blinked. She was slowly becoming aware of the small inner voice, but she wouldn't be called a dwarf by anyone, not even a tree.

"Don't hum dwarf-girl, it is a sign of weakness."

"I told you I'm not a dwarf!" she said with a lower voice and averted her eyes.

"You smell like one."

"I'm too tall to be a dwarf," said Arda clenching her fists. She wanted to stomp on the ground, that usually made her point more poignant, but her legs didn't obey. Meanwhile her little inner voice was screaming, trying smoke signals, and foreign languages.

"From my point of view, you're not too tall to be a dwarf."

"I go to school with a lot of dwarfs, they are all much shorter than me."

"Elf-kind share their homes with dwarves now?" If there was humor in the tree's deep and monotone voice, Arda couldn't hear it.

Arda shuffled her feet. "Uh.. we live in a suburb. There's lots of people there. Elfs, dwarves, humans. Some ogres too."

"But no walking trees."

"We have trees. But they stay where you put them," Arda said looking up. "And they don't talk back."

The tree moved its face closer to Arda's. Both of the robins were shoring up the nest with their heads now, and the little screaming voice inside Arda's head had resorted to one syllable words and easy to understand diagrams.

"Young trees. Well planted. No reason for any of them to walk around. Give them another five hundred years and they'll run amok."

The tree straightened up, much to the joy of the robins and of the Arda's little inner voice.

"I must be going," declared the tree. "Nice to meet you, Elf-friend-of-dwarves."

"Wait!" exclaimed Arda. Her small inner voice started crying.

"What is it, girl?"

"My name is Arda. What's your name?"

"I am Creeosopotiritium."

"Hi Creo," said Arda.

"Bye Arda," answered Creeosopotiritium. The tree turned and with a loud THUMP started walking away. Arda's little voice relaxed, reached for a drink, and wondered about other job opportunities.

"Where are you going?" asked Arda. The little voice spat its drink.

The tree stopped. "I'm going home," it responded without turning. "You should do the same."

"Can I come with you?" If the little voice inside Arda's head had had hands, it would've been slapping her now.

"No," said the tree.

"Please? I've never seen someone like you!" she begged.

"Stop begging," said Creeosopotiritium. "It's unbecoming. And I don't carry others on my branches."

"I don't need to be carried. I'm fast! I can keep up with you! Please?" Arda's little inner voice gave up and left slamming the door.

Creeosopotiritium sighed deeply, as much as a millennium old walking timber could. A bunch of leaves fell from its head.

"Fine. I will tolerate you, but I will not carry you."

"YES!" rejoiced Arda, and she trotted behind the tree as it waded through the forest.

Joseph

Joseph slowly capped the pen and put it down carefully. He was breathing hard, his hands were shaking, and his heart was racing, but he still clung to old habits, like capping a pen not in use.

He swallowed hard and pushed the big man's body off, and got up.

Can't keep making mistakes like this, he thought while catching his breath. One of these days I'm not going to be fast enough, strong enough, or lucky enough.

His shirt was covered in blood, the other man's blood, and so were his hands and face.

Should've kept it simple. Sniper rifle, a remote bomb, or just run him over. Why did I try to get close?

Joseph went into the bathroom and took his shirt off. His hands were still shaking.

'Cause I'm stupid. Stupid and curious. Like to understand why I gotta plug someone, like to see them up close. Stupid.

He threw the shirt in the tub, and began to rinse the blood from his body. The warm water helped relax, but the adrenaline was still coursing through his body.

No time to shower, just get cleaned enough not to attract attention outside. It's getting dark anyways. Still can't just hang around here.

A couple of minutes later, a much calmer Joseph returned in the main room of the hotel suite and studied the two bodies on the floor. The air conditioner kept humming away, keeping the room at a constant 67F. Joseph turned the temperature down to the lowest setting, then smudged his fingerprints.

At least there wasn't much noise. The old man died right away, and this gorilla must've been mute or something. Not a word, not a noise, not even when I stabbed him with the pen. Freaky.

He looked at the old man in a suit. The stiletto was buried in the man's chest, and his face was still a mixture of surprise and pain.

More or less my size. Good.

Joseph went in the bedroom and proceeded to dig through the old man's luggage, pulling out clothes and throwing them around.

Three suits. He brings three suits with him, six changes of underwear, but not the hint of an extra pair of dress shoes??

Finally, after much searching all over the bedroom, he pulled a pair of sneakers out of a drawer. From the pile of clothes, he chose two shirts, a long sleeved white shirt and a black polo shirt, and put on the white one. Then he picked a garment bag from the wardrobe and went back in the main room. He put the items on the coffee table and walked over to the big man, who was lying in a large puddle of blood. Joseph walked in it, pulled his pocket knife out, crouched near the man, and carefully picked the the man's right hand up.

Damn pig had such a grip on my neck he nearly ripped it off.

As Joseph scraped underneath the man's nails, he noticed something glimmering on that man's belt. A police badge.

Great. I killed a cop. Doubt I could pass this as self defence. Shit.

A lot more hastily, he cleaned the other hand.

Why was he here? Did they setup a sting op? Trying to set the old man up? Did they know I'd be here tonight? Nah, I took a chance and went ahead, no one knew of today. So why was he here?

He quickly checked inside the cop's shirt, but he didn't see a wire.

Was this pig dirty? Trying to shake the old man down? Why didn't he make a sound? Don't think cops hire mutes these days, not even their standards are that low. So why was he quiet? Did he know something?

He looked around the room. The window was closed and the shades were pulled.

Yeah, all closed and tight, doesn't mean this place ain't bugged or someone ain't listening in with a laser mike.

Joseph got up, walked on the carpet to wipe his shoes clean, and turned on the television. Some news station was reporting that today they were close to breaking their summer record high. He wiped his hands on his shirt, retrieved the items he left on the coffee table, and went back to the bathroom. There, he changed in the black polo shirt and changed in the sneakers, then he used the white shirt to wipe down all the bathroom fixtures. He took out of his pants pocket a pair of sticky fake mustaches and applied them.

Not much of a disguise, but people are confused easily. I look like I'm straight out of the 70's.

Finally he picked up his old bloody shirt by the few clean spots, and rolled it and his old shoes in the white shirt, and then dumped it all in the bathroom garbage bag, which he then picked up and put in the garment bag.

He walked in the main room and slowly scanned it to make sure he didn't leave obvious tracks or signs, other than the two large conspicuous dead bodies. He looked at the coffee table and noticed a piece of art.

Someone must've paid a lot of dough to have this goblet smuggled in the country. Doubt it was found in a yard sale, more likely a museum.

He took the goblet and gazed at it.

So the old man was into arts and crafts. An art dealer. Why did they send me to snuff him? Did he take this from someone he shouldn't have? Sending me ain't exactly an everyday kinda thing. Why the plain clothes cop? Why was he so quiet? This ain't right, something feels wrong.

The goblet was old. A metal cup, baroque, encrusted with colored glass and gems, some dents here and there. He put it in the garment bag.

Maybe it's nothing, he thought. Maybe this has nothing to do with me being here along with a mute cop, but I've never seen such a thing. Might come handy as a bargain chip later. Or as a flower pot if no one cares.

Joseph quietly opened the door and cleaned the handle. He waited two seconds listening for any sound from the corridor, then stepped out, put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the outside handle, and carefully closed the door, wiping the handle before going toward the stair well. He went down one story, then headed to the elevators. He pressed the call button and waited.

Someone started shouting from one of the guest rooms, then silence, then more commotion, louder, closer. Someone must have opened their door.

"ACH! Screw you!" someone yelled. "You filthy whore!"

Joseph didn't turn, but shifted his garment bag to the hand closer to the wall.

More curses and then the noise of a door slamming shut, then a litany of curses followed. A few seconds later, a very short man joined Joseph in the elevator waiting area.

"Bitch!" the short man exclaimed while zipping up his jeans.

More good news, though Joseph. A drunken dwarf. A drunken, stinky, foul mouthed dwarf.

The short man mumbled to himself, then yelled out. "Whore!" and spat on the carpet.

The circus must be in town. First the amazing giant mute cop, now the drunken midget. Must've had a fight with the bearded lady.

Joseph smiled, more to his fortune than to the situation, and the man eyeballed him.

"What?" The short man was loud and his breath stank of beer. "What ya laughin' at?" He was drooling while talking.

"Yeah, fancy pants, I'm talking to you!" The man continued. "Never seen an angry man?? Yeah, a man! Not a dwarf. A man. I'm a man, you motherfucker, a man!"

"I'm sorry," said Joseph turning to him, but without looking him in the eyes. "I wasn't laughing at you, I was just thinking of my girlfriend."

Either girlfriend or funny joke, but he'd take funny joke personally.

"Fuck her," the short man sneered, and spat again.

Joseph looked away.

Don't get involved. Don't get in a fight with the gnome. He's loud and will attract attention. Plus there's nowhere to dispose of the corpse, no matter the size. Maybe he'd fit in the ashtray. Damn smoking bans.

"I fucked your girlfriend," said the man between burps. "And your mother too." He was looking at Joseph with bleary eyes, fixing his gaze on Joseph's face.

Joseph ignored him and the elevator finally arrived. They both got in, Joseph first, and he pressed the ground floor button.

"Ain't ya gonna ask me where I'm headin'?" asked the man. "Not important enough for you?"

Joseph kept ignoring him.

He's itching for a fight, but this is the wrong place and the wrong time.

Joseph looked up without moving his head, and saw the elevator camera. The power led was on, but there wasn't any buzzing sound as powered electronics make.

Someone decided to go for the effect, rather than the functionality. God bless cheapskates.

"I'm talking to you, motherfucker. Are ya gonna give me my respect, or do I have to fuckin beat it out of ya?"

"You're a man," Joseph said without turning. "You don't need my help."

And I don't need you, ever. Hope you die of alcohol poisoning, he added mentally.

"Damn right I'm a man! More man than you'll ever be, motherfucker!"

Ten floors to go, thought Joseph. Keep the freak calm, just let him rant and don't smile, argue, or anything. Just let him be, maybe he will pass out on his own.

"Fucking right," the man said with a burp. "Takes guts to be me, ya hear. No one ever gives Randy a free ride, never got an easy deal, you bastard." Randy burped again. "And I still made it. Not fucking thanks to you, you lousy son of a bitch."

Six floors to go. Six long floors to spend with the midget from hell. In the slowest elevator in the fucking universe.

"You should get on your knees and thank me for not killing you," kept ranting Randy. "You should get on your knees and kiss my ass. Fucking right. You should bow to me, you fucking asshole."

Joseph took a deep breath, and Randy got even more agitated.

This is not good. This freak is gonna cause a scene. All eyes will be on me and him, some security camera, a real one, will record my face and someone will remember me. Gotta get out of this.

"You should kiss my ass now, right now! On your knees, bitch!"

Joseph dropped his bag and his hand darted to the elevator console to press the third floor button as the elevator crossed the fourth.

"What the fuck are ya.." started Randy, but Joseph grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him in front of himself. All of a sudden there was fear in Randy's eyes.

"Son of a.." protested Randy, but Joseph headbutted him, and as the elevator doors opened, he kicked him violently in the solar plexus while letting him go. Randy flew out of the elevator, crashing on the opposite wall, while Joseph kept pressing the "Close Doors" button.

OK, he thought as the elevator resumed his slow drive down. Maybe I should've got out myself, but what if he followed me? Maybe I should've tried to befriend the midget. Offered to buy him a drink, even if it meant to spend more time with him. Yeah, I could've definitively handle this situation better. He sighed. Whatever. It felt good to kick that midget's ass! Joseph smiled and the elevator arrived to the ground floor.

He put on his sunglasses, and walked through the small crowd in the lobby, his bag in hand.

Outside the sky was dark, the street lights were already on, and mosquitoes flew through the muggy air to fry on an electric bug zapper.

Joseph walked to his stolen rental car, put the bag in the trunk, and headed out of town.

Another day like this, he thought, and I'll seriously retire.

Caius and Niume

Caius walked in the cave first, torch in one hand, single shot pistol in the other.

"No one has been here, good" he said.

"I don't want to be here," said the witch, "it's cold and damp."

"I don't want to be here either, that's why we're going to go through this very fast and then we're going out of here."

"And then you pay me!" she said.

"I already paid you. Don't try memory spells on me, witch, they don't work, ok?"

Caius started getting into the deeper part of the cave.

"Call me Niume, it's my name darling. You're cute. Maybe a payment in nature?" she asked smiling.

"What?" Caius stopped and stared at Niume. "NO! Nonono! Don't even think about it. Just.. just do your job, will ya? Gods. Keep the portal open long enough for me to go in, get that elf, and get out, ok? That's it. No payments in nature!"

"Oh, come on," whined Niume smiling at him.

Looking at Niume, in the flickering light of the torch, Caius mind conjured all kind of situations that involved him, the witch, and absolutely no clothes.

If I survive any of this, I swear I'll never hire witches again. Greedy, stinking, lecherous, ugly ugly UGLY oh my god she's smiling! I'm gonna throw up.

"For the love of all that's holy and sacred! Stop looking at me like that!! I get out of there alive, in one piece, and with my sanity, AND my honor, then I.. uh.." Caius gave a second look to Niume and repressed a heave. "I will give you a bonus! Yes! Money! 10 extra crowns! Ok? Please?"

"Oh fine fine, darling, but you don't know what you're missing!"

"I don't wanna know. Just follow me, shut up, and don't touch me" said Caius, hurrying again in the cave.

About one hour later, Niume and Caius were standing in front of a shimmering portal. Caius snuffed the torch and put it on the ground.

There's light enough in here, he thought, besides.. might need to the fire.. if it gets cold.. or the witch gets cozy.. why do they all smell of cabbage? Seventeen years old boiled cabbage.. shouldn't have had breakfast this morning.

Niume approached the portal giggling softly, and Caius took one step back toward the torch. She caressed the portal's stone arch, passing her fingers over the ancient gliphs, murmuring words Caius didn't understand. She then hunched her old figure to her right, over a bowl carved in stone. She giggled some more and licked the bowl slowly, glancing a smile to Caius.

I think I'll kill her when I get out, he thought showing her a big grin.

Niume then took a stone dagger from a opening in the wall and started chanting in a loud voice, then she giggled some more and looked at Caius, who was nervously caressing the grip of his holstered pistol.

Yes, kill her. Slowly.

Niume winked at him while finishing the chant.

Cut her to pieces. Then burn those pieces. Then take a piss on the ashes.

"Ooohh, Caius... such a long time.. haven't been here in such a long time," said Niume while turning to Caius.

"And nothing has changed, right? Ya still know how to get me through this, right?" inquired Caius.

"Uh huh, I sure do, my darling!" beamed Niume. "But there's something, a gift, a token, a little something that's still needed.."

"And that would be..."

"BLOOD!" exclaimed the witch, eyes wide open while licking her lips and slowly moving toward Caius.

Caius grabbed his pistol without drawing it, eyeballed Niume and stood his ground.

Screw cutting. One ball in the head, right between the eyes.

"You sure? This is the right way to do open this thing?" he asked.

"Yes, my darling, I am sure," she said while smiling at him and batting her eyelashes.

Like a mouse, he thought. Her voice is just like the squeeks of a rat who has found a large piece of cheese, the largest piece of cheese in the universe, and has gone completely crazy in joy. Do witches REALLY eat children? What about adults? Or they just hump them to death?

"The only way?" he asked with a flat tone of voice, still gripping his pistol.

"Yes, nothing else will do." Niume was giggling and slowly swinging her hips side by side, making creaking noises.

I wonder if she's actually human underneath those filthy, stinking, godawful rags she has on. Oh, gods, mental images! I'm gonna be sick.

Caius moved sideways, around Niume and putting himself between the bright portal and her.

"I mean, it's not that I don't trust you or your capabilities. You're surely the greatest witch I've ever hired," he said. And one of the greatest mistake I've ever made. Lords, tell me that's just my imagination and the shadows, and not some sort of tail she's wagging slowly underneath her skirt.

"But, uh," continued. "I've never heard of such a key. Blood.. for a portal. Just a portal."

Witches are..were humans. Humans don't have tails, right? Some men, tho, have.. Ugh. Gotta stop it. If I throw up right here she will take advantage of me.

"Maybe there's something else? Written in some ancient manuscript somewhere in a remote pagoda on top of a mountain in some other country where you will now go to and return in several years? Centuries even. I'd wait for you."

"No, darling, there is no other way," said Niume shaking her head. "You want to cross the portal, you have to spill some blood."

"SOME blood, it doesn't necessarily have to mean my.." he perked up his voice. HER blood?

"I meant YOUR blood, sweetie," she interrupted him. "It's quite simple: This portal will let through only someone who has spilled THEIR blood in the bowl."

"I'm very attached to my blood," complained Caius.

"It's just a few drops! You don't have to fill that bowl!"

"OH!" Caius relaxed his grip on the pistol, but kept his eyes on the witch. "Well, that's better. Yes, much better. Drops. Why didn't you say it earlier?"

"Because the moment I said something about spilling your blood, you started whining!"

Niume turned toward the portal and played with the dagger, then, with a smirk, gave a side look at Caius and giggled.

Drops. Yeah. Sure. Ah huh, he thought, but only narrowed his eyes and didn't reply. Horny old thing likes pain.

"Ok," he exhaled forcefully. "Drops it is. I believe you." No, I don't, but at least going through this portal will cut a lot of time searching the highlands for the elf bitch's hideout.

"A couple of drops, and then I can go through without further delays, right, old bat?" Caius asked.

Niume scowled. "The name is Niume. And yes, darling, it will lead you right near the entrance, in a nice safe spot, and everything else. Been through this portal before, you know."

Caius huffed, but didn't say anything. Yes. Definitively cut her to pieces, burn her, and piss on the ashes.

"You know, you complain a lot for being an adventurer and a man of action," she wagged a finger at him.

"Differently from most other adventurers and men of action, I survived all of my encounters, portal crossings, and even dealing with vampires, ghouls, and horny old witches." He snapped at her. "Now, are you going to draw the blood, or do I do it?"

"No," she said, "I have to do it, it has to be a woman's hand."

"All right, whatever," Caius said, rolling up his sleeve.

"Good!" exclaimed the witch smiling. "Now drop your pants!"

"What? What for?" asked Caius.

"Blood letting, darling!" she replied with a giggle.

"You need blood from my knees?"

"You cute silly thing," she said still giggling. "From your penis!"

"HELL NO!" cried out Caius while clamping his hands over his crotch. Burn her first. Alive. Then put the fire off and burn her again after she healed. Then piss on her ashes.

"Why not?"

"What do you mean 'why not'? You perverted old whore. You are NOT getting your old leathery paws on my little friend! And especially not with any sharp or pointed objects!" Caius was starting to be loud.

"Not just any object!" Niume's eyes were getting wider, and her voice louder. "The Sacred Razor of Mha'Duh'Ahri!" she wielded the dagger high in her hand, with a smile beaming from her face. A few teeth were missing.

"The sacred.. Are you nuts? That's a piece of rock, bitch! Something some bum left behind!!" Caius hands zoomed back and forth, from his crotch to the hilt of his sword, back to his crotch, then to his pistol, and again to his crotch.

"Put that crap down! Now!" he ordered. "Mahahaduri.. madahuri.. Balls of Ba'al!! Do you make this crap up as you go, or is it part of the usual repertoire??"

"It's not crap!" She looked offended. "It is written! On the stone arch! Look!" Niume pointed at the strange characters all around the portal.

"I can't read that shit, woman. That's why I hired you!" Caius took a deep breath, pulled back his sleeve, and walked over to the torch.

"Any man who wishes to pass through the gate," she proclaimed reading aloud, "shall leave a token of his submission to Mha'Duh'Ahri! Blood from the stem of his progeny!"

"Oh, for the love of the gods!" exclaimed Caius picking up the torch. "My contract is for a woman, an elf, how did SHE pass??"

"Women don't have to give blood. They can go through as they please." She was talking with a rather matter-of-fact voice, like it was common knowledge and he was an idiot for not knowing.

"This is insane! Who built this portal? A leather clad dominatrix sorceress hell bent on giving women on the run a free pass?!?"

Caius started striking the flint to light the torch.

"It was a demoness, not a sorceress, but for the rest you have it right. Mha'Duh'Ahri is the demoness that started the first witch coven thousands of years ago, and, yes, she does hate males."

"Bet she was so fucking ugly, she never got any!" He huffed, and motioned at Niume. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Caius started walking back toward the cave entrance. I'm too nice, he thought. Should leave her here to rot.

"But! Wait!! And the fugitive??" Niume shrieked.

"I'll find someone else to go through this for me, and tell me where it leads. Maybe an eunuch."

Caius picked up the pace without looking back, and Niume had to rush behind him.

"You're such a wuss! Just a few drops!!" protested Niume.

"Yep. A wuss with his jolly good friend all in one piece. You're not gonna touch it, ok? Millions of women would've been devastated if I went through with this and you sneezed."

"Ok, ok," she said with a softer voice. "Still," she sighed. "I would've liked to see it, to hold it. I'm still a woman, you know? It has been a while. Nobody stops to give me their homages."

She walked behind him, skipping steps to keep up.

"That's because you're nine hundred years old. At your age you shouldn't think of what men have between their legs: you should be thinking of grand kids, knitting stuff, rocking chairs. Where you're gonna be buried." Old, leathery, horny, stinky, ugly, he sighed. Freaking feeling bad for you.

"I like to think of you," said Niume smiling.

"Niume?" Asked Caius, without slowing down or turning.

"Yes, dear?"

"There is something seriously wrong with you."