Suicide Kings, page 28
“Nicely super-villainish,” he says.
“I like the classics,” I say. “So, here’s where things stand. I know what you did. I know how you did it. The whole kicking the soul out and tethering it to the body thing. My line of work, you pick up a few things about souls. I get it. Smart move. Flat-out killing Toby wasn’t cool, but setting it up so you could kill any of your family and not have your head pop? Nicely done.”
“Seeing as I’m somewhat indisposed at the moment, magically speaking, I don’t see any reason to deny it,” he says.
“Couple things, though. One, I can’t reverse it.”
“And you want me to tell you how?”
“Was kinda hoping, yeah,” I say.
“And if I don’t?”
“I beat the fuck out of you until you do.”
“That’s not going to work,” he says. “That’s the only currency I have in this negotiation. What’s the incentive? You can’t kill me.”
“I can make you wish you were dead,” I say.
“Oh, please. Amanda won’t let you hurt me. Aren’t I right, dear? Good, obedient Amanda. There’s a good girl. Listen to your elders.”
“I think you’re talking about a different Amanda than the one I know,” I say. I grab him by the collar, ready to pound on his face some more.
“Wait,” Amanda says. “He’s right, Eric. I won’t let you hurt him.”
“There,” Liam says. “See? Now Amanda, be a dear and—”
His voice turns into a scream. Bloody bone grows out of his foot, tearing through his shoes like Play-Doh through a sieve. Long calcified tendrils curl and corkscrew back into his foot, up his leg, down into the floor. It looks like curled ribbon on a Christmas present. Very festive.
“I’m the one who’s going to hurt you,” Amanda says.
“You think this will break me? I won’t tell you a goddamn thing,” Liam says through clenched teeth.
“You killed my mother,” Amanda says, “my father, and my lover. I have wanted to murder you for ten years. But instead, I’m going to hurt you.” More shards rip through his leg, curling back onto themselves, encasing it in a bloody bone cage.
Amanda returns to her chair and picks up her glass, swirls it a bit before taking a drink. Liam’s screams drop to whimpers, and then he sinks into unconsciousness. Amanda’s spell reverses itself and the devastating growths tearing through his body recede until the only signs are tears in his clothing and pooled blood.
Liam jolts awake and immediately starts screaming. That goes on for a few minutes, until he seems to realize that he’s not actually hurt anymore.
“You’re not getting off that easily,” Amanda says. “I can keep you conscious as I strip the skin from your body and turn your bones to glass.” I can’t imagine how much that must have hurt, but looking at Liam on the floor shaking, drool running down his chin, I know I really don’t want to find out.
Liam mumbles something I can’t quite hear. I don’t know if this is a trick and he’s waiting for me to get close enough that he can bite my nose off, so instead of getting close I kick him and tell him to speak up.
“I don’t know,” he says, his voice cracking.
“Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t quite catch that. Amanda, did you hear him?”
“I didn’t,” she says. “I think he just needs a little more encouragement.”
“No, I—” This time his skull grows spikes that rip through his eyeballs from the inside while his teeth drill their way out through his jaw. Blood and skin runs off his skull like wax. He’s not even making a sound you could call screaming anymore. And just as quickly the gore is gone.
“You were saying?”
Liam looks up at me with newly restored eyes, and if he doesn’t see a pair of goddamn devils in front of him we’ll just have to try harder.
“I don’t—” He catches Amanda narrowing her eyes at him. “No. Please. I’m telling the truth. It didn’t tell me how to do that. Just how to cast the spell. Please.” Bloody tears run down his cheeks.
“I kinda thought you might not know. That gets me to my next point,” I say. “How’s Jimmy doing?” Liam stares at me, dumbfounded.
“Who?”
“Jimmy Freeburg,” I say. “You probably know him as the Las Vegas Oracle.” Wide-eyed recognition on Liam’s face. “There we go.”
“The Oracle gave you the spell,” Amanda says.
“And the plan, yes,” he says. “But—how do you know?”
“You told me,” I say. “Talking about how my name kept coming up in Vegas?” Then I get it and start laughing. I’m not sure I can stop. “Oh. Oh shit, you didn’t know, did you.”
“It was part of the payment,” Liam says. “To tell you that if I saw you. It told me it wasn’t related to this. It lied to me.”
“No, he didn’t,” I say, wiping tears away. “You didn’t know that the only thing I ever did in Vegas that people would talk about had to do with Jimmy. It didn’t have anything to do with this, but it got me thinking and I drew the connection. He fucked you and you had no idea he was doing it.”
But why? Spite? Jimmy—at least living, breathing human Jimmy—was too stupid for spite. The Oracle’s a different matter, though. I go through events from the time Liam mentioned Vegas. Sonofabitch.
“My god, what a fucking asshole,” I say.
“What?”
“Jimmy. He made all this happen. And he didn’t have to do much. All he had to do was knock over the right dominos. Liam went to him and the Oracle gave him what he wanted, a way to knock out the family competition. He omitted a few details, but he told the truth. Then he had Liam drop a hint for me so I’d eventually figure it out.”
“My dad? Gabriela? He arranged this?”
“Not all of it,” I say. “He didn’t have to. Otto was going to come at you anyway. The conclave was going to happen. Except—You said ‘if.’ To tell me if you saw me. Did he say that exact word?”
“Yes,” Liam says. “I—I think so.”
Oracles don’t deal in ‘if.’ That suggests Jimmy didn’t know whether I’d be here or not. I don’t know what it means, but whatever it is, it can’t be good.
“Is it important?” Amanda says.
“Maybe. Not sure. What I don’t understand is why he—” And then it comes to me. With everything that’s happened, Attila, Gabriela, Liam not knowing how to reverse the spell. “He’s not done tipping over dominos.”
“Sorry,” Amanda says.
“You and I are invested,” I say. “There’s no way in hell we’re going to give up until we find a solution for Gabriela and your dad. Liam doesn’t have the information we need. So what do we need to do?”
“Find the Oracle,” Amanda says.
“He wanted to make sure we would go looking. I don’t know why, but for some reason Jimmy wants us to find him. But we’d need a reason to do it. So he gave us a couple of whoppers.”
“This is insane,” Amanda says. “He could have just called. Sent an email. Not all this shit.”
“If he could, I think he would have. There’s something that made this a better option, and he knew enough about it to get the ball rolling ten years ago. Whatever he needs, it has to do with you and I specifically.”
“I’m going to kill him.”
“I don’t think you can,” I say.
“I’ll find a way.”
“I can help,” Liam says. Amanda doesn’t so much as glance at him and his entire body turns inside out, organs rearranging themselves into a horror show. He can’t scream with inverted lungs, so he just sort of twitches in place. Just as quickly he’s back to normal. This time Amanda lets him pass out.
“What now?” Amanda says.
“I guess we go to Vegas. I hate Vegas.”
“I’m sure Vegas feels the same way about you,” Amanda says.
That’s what I’m afraid of.
About the Author
Stephen Blackmoore is a writer of crime, horror, and urban fantasy whose work has appeared in the magazines Needle, Plots With Guns, Spinetingler, Thrilling Detective, Shots, and Demolition. He has also written essays on LA politics and crime for the website LAVoice.org and the LA Noir true crime blog.
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Stephen Blackmoore, Suicide Kings
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“I like the classics,” I say. “So, here’s where things stand. I know what you did. I know how you did it. The whole kicking the soul out and tethering it to the body thing. My line of work, you pick up a few things about souls. I get it. Smart move. Flat-out killing Toby wasn’t cool, but setting it up so you could kill any of your family and not have your head pop? Nicely done.”
“Seeing as I’m somewhat indisposed at the moment, magically speaking, I don’t see any reason to deny it,” he says.
“Couple things, though. One, I can’t reverse it.”
“And you want me to tell you how?”
“Was kinda hoping, yeah,” I say.
“And if I don’t?”
“I beat the fuck out of you until you do.”
“That’s not going to work,” he says. “That’s the only currency I have in this negotiation. What’s the incentive? You can’t kill me.”
“I can make you wish you were dead,” I say.
“Oh, please. Amanda won’t let you hurt me. Aren’t I right, dear? Good, obedient Amanda. There’s a good girl. Listen to your elders.”
“I think you’re talking about a different Amanda than the one I know,” I say. I grab him by the collar, ready to pound on his face some more.
“Wait,” Amanda says. “He’s right, Eric. I won’t let you hurt him.”
“There,” Liam says. “See? Now Amanda, be a dear and—”
His voice turns into a scream. Bloody bone grows out of his foot, tearing through his shoes like Play-Doh through a sieve. Long calcified tendrils curl and corkscrew back into his foot, up his leg, down into the floor. It looks like curled ribbon on a Christmas present. Very festive.
“I’m the one who’s going to hurt you,” Amanda says.
“You think this will break me? I won’t tell you a goddamn thing,” Liam says through clenched teeth.
“You killed my mother,” Amanda says, “my father, and my lover. I have wanted to murder you for ten years. But instead, I’m going to hurt you.” More shards rip through his leg, curling back onto themselves, encasing it in a bloody bone cage.
Amanda returns to her chair and picks up her glass, swirls it a bit before taking a drink. Liam’s screams drop to whimpers, and then he sinks into unconsciousness. Amanda’s spell reverses itself and the devastating growths tearing through his body recede until the only signs are tears in his clothing and pooled blood.
Liam jolts awake and immediately starts screaming. That goes on for a few minutes, until he seems to realize that he’s not actually hurt anymore.
“You’re not getting off that easily,” Amanda says. “I can keep you conscious as I strip the skin from your body and turn your bones to glass.” I can’t imagine how much that must have hurt, but looking at Liam on the floor shaking, drool running down his chin, I know I really don’t want to find out.
Liam mumbles something I can’t quite hear. I don’t know if this is a trick and he’s waiting for me to get close enough that he can bite my nose off, so instead of getting close I kick him and tell him to speak up.
“I don’t know,” he says, his voice cracking.
“Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t quite catch that. Amanda, did you hear him?”
“I didn’t,” she says. “I think he just needs a little more encouragement.”
“No, I—” This time his skull grows spikes that rip through his eyeballs from the inside while his teeth drill their way out through his jaw. Blood and skin runs off his skull like wax. He’s not even making a sound you could call screaming anymore. And just as quickly the gore is gone.
“You were saying?”
Liam looks up at me with newly restored eyes, and if he doesn’t see a pair of goddamn devils in front of him we’ll just have to try harder.
“I don’t—” He catches Amanda narrowing her eyes at him. “No. Please. I’m telling the truth. It didn’t tell me how to do that. Just how to cast the spell. Please.” Bloody tears run down his cheeks.
“I kinda thought you might not know. That gets me to my next point,” I say. “How’s Jimmy doing?” Liam stares at me, dumbfounded.
“Who?”
“Jimmy Freeburg,” I say. “You probably know him as the Las Vegas Oracle.” Wide-eyed recognition on Liam’s face. “There we go.”
“The Oracle gave you the spell,” Amanda says.
“And the plan, yes,” he says. “But—how do you know?”
“You told me,” I say. “Talking about how my name kept coming up in Vegas?” Then I get it and start laughing. I’m not sure I can stop. “Oh. Oh shit, you didn’t know, did you.”
“It was part of the payment,” Liam says. “To tell you that if I saw you. It told me it wasn’t related to this. It lied to me.”
“No, he didn’t,” I say, wiping tears away. “You didn’t know that the only thing I ever did in Vegas that people would talk about had to do with Jimmy. It didn’t have anything to do with this, but it got me thinking and I drew the connection. He fucked you and you had no idea he was doing it.”
But why? Spite? Jimmy—at least living, breathing human Jimmy—was too stupid for spite. The Oracle’s a different matter, though. I go through events from the time Liam mentioned Vegas. Sonofabitch.
“My god, what a fucking asshole,” I say.
“What?”
“Jimmy. He made all this happen. And he didn’t have to do much. All he had to do was knock over the right dominos. Liam went to him and the Oracle gave him what he wanted, a way to knock out the family competition. He omitted a few details, but he told the truth. Then he had Liam drop a hint for me so I’d eventually figure it out.”
“My dad? Gabriela? He arranged this?”
“Not all of it,” I say. “He didn’t have to. Otto was going to come at you anyway. The conclave was going to happen. Except—You said ‘if.’ To tell me if you saw me. Did he say that exact word?”
“Yes,” Liam says. “I—I think so.”
Oracles don’t deal in ‘if.’ That suggests Jimmy didn’t know whether I’d be here or not. I don’t know what it means, but whatever it is, it can’t be good.
“Is it important?” Amanda says.
“Maybe. Not sure. What I don’t understand is why he—” And then it comes to me. With everything that’s happened, Attila, Gabriela, Liam not knowing how to reverse the spell. “He’s not done tipping over dominos.”
“Sorry,” Amanda says.
“You and I are invested,” I say. “There’s no way in hell we’re going to give up until we find a solution for Gabriela and your dad. Liam doesn’t have the information we need. So what do we need to do?”
“Find the Oracle,” Amanda says.
“He wanted to make sure we would go looking. I don’t know why, but for some reason Jimmy wants us to find him. But we’d need a reason to do it. So he gave us a couple of whoppers.”
“This is insane,” Amanda says. “He could have just called. Sent an email. Not all this shit.”
“If he could, I think he would have. There’s something that made this a better option, and he knew enough about it to get the ball rolling ten years ago. Whatever he needs, it has to do with you and I specifically.”
“I’m going to kill him.”
“I don’t think you can,” I say.
“I’ll find a way.”
“I can help,” Liam says. Amanda doesn’t so much as glance at him and his entire body turns inside out, organs rearranging themselves into a horror show. He can’t scream with inverted lungs, so he just sort of twitches in place. Just as quickly he’s back to normal. This time Amanda lets him pass out.
“What now?” Amanda says.
“I guess we go to Vegas. I hate Vegas.”
“I’m sure Vegas feels the same way about you,” Amanda says.
That’s what I’m afraid of.
About the Author
Stephen Blackmoore is a writer of crime, horror, and urban fantasy whose work has appeared in the magazines Needle, Plots With Guns, Spinetingler, Thrilling Detective, Shots, and Demolition. He has also written essays on LA politics and crime for the website LAVoice.org and the LA Noir true crime blog.
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Get personalized book picks and up-to-date news about this author.
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Stephen Blackmoore, Suicide Kings
