it’s a good thing we’re not law enforcement, isn’t it? Want to know what I think? I think you had the gun and the Molotov. I think Ossie here is the driver of the family. Would I be right, Ossie?”
Ossie glared at his brother. “Told you we should’ve finished them off.”
“I thought they were dead,” Ralphie replied.
“Who tipped you off?” Milo asked. “It doesn’t matter to me one way or the other, but I’m sure Abigail would like to know who betrayed her.”
“Abigail is the Devil,” said Ossie.
“She looks like a little girl.”
“Looks are deceiving!” Ossie said, standing.
Milo’s hand went to rest on the butt of his gun. “I’m going to have to ask you to sit back down, Ossie.”
“She looks like a little girl, but she ain’t!” Ossie crowed. “She’s the Devil and we’re the only ones brave enough to tell it like it is!”
“Be brave while seated, what do you say?”
“You don’t scare me. I have seen with my own eyes the true face of evil, and it is that little girl. ‘And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which … which …’” Ossie looked at Ralphie for help.
“Uh,” said Ralphie, “‘which … deceiveth’.”
“‘Which deceiveth the whole world!’” said Ossie. “‘He was cast … he was …’”
He looked to Ralphie, who frowned and looked down, trying to remember.
Milo sighed. “‘He was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him’. You fellas need to brush up on your Bible studies. Besides which, you used to work right alongside Abigail, did you not?”
Ralphie narrowed his eyes. “We were wayward, yes. But we were shown the true path.”
“By the old man, right? Lautaro Soto? That the true path you’re talking about? The one that allowed you to continue dealing drugs and killing people for money?”
Ralphie had nothing to say to that, so Ossie answered for him.
“She’s still the Devil.”
“Be that as it may, we came here to deliver something to Ralphie and, once that’s done, we’re going to drive away and hopefully never cross paths with you again. That sound good to you?”
The brothers shared a look of suspicion. “What’ve you got?” asked Ralphie.
Glen cleared his throat, and stepped forward. “I’m the one who has it, actually. The old man, he gave it to me, and now I suppose I’m returning it to you.” He held up his hand and they saw the Deathmark.
Ralphie jumped to his feet.
“I’m really not happy with the number of people standing up right now,” said Milo.
Ralphie jabbed a finger at Glen. “That is for her! You deliver that to Abigail! How did you even get that? Lautaro was supposed to—”
“Lautaro is dead,” said Amber. “We get that you were trying to kill someone you think is evil. I believe you when you say she is. But you two are every bit as bad.”
Ossie shook his head. “We’ll kill you dead, but we won’t damn your immortal soul.”
“Dead’s dead,” said Milo. “Ralphie, you’re going to stand there and let Glen lay his hand on you.”
“You ain’t touching my brother,” Ossie said through gritted teeth.
Glen tried a smile. “Listen, I really don’t want to hurt anyone, and this really isn’t personal, but if I don’t pass it on to you, Ralphie, it’ll kill me.”
“So die,” said Ralphie.
“Well now, that’s not really fair, is it? I don’t have anything to do with any of this. So let’s all be grown-ups here and do what has to be done,” Glen said, stepping towards Ralphie.
What happened next happened way too fast and also way too slow. One moment Ossie was standing there, seething and tense, and the next he had the biggest hunting knife Amber had ever seen in his hand. Before she’d even asked herself where the hell he’d been hiding it, he was taking his first lunging step towards them. By this time, Milo’s gun was already out of its holster. He fired twice, the gunshots loud in Amber’s ears, and Ossie jerked as two small holes appeared in his chest, really close together. Even as he tumbled gracelessly to the ground – and here Amber realised he’d never even had a chance to complete that first step – Ralphie was bolting to the bedroom.
Glen yelled and ran in after him and time returned to normal, and then Glen came sprinting out of the bedroom, yelling even louder. The sound of that machine gun filled the house. Bullets peppered the walls in a shower of splinters. Milo dived, Glen dived, and Amber ducked and stumbled, and before she knew it her skin was red and she had horns again.
Ralphie strode from the bedroom door beside her, swinging the machine gun from side to side, firing the whole time, yelling and cursing and not noticing her as she straightened. She yanked the weapon from his hands, grabbed him by the throat, and lifted him off his feet. Ralphie dangled there for a moment, gurgling and struggling, finally registering who and what had a hold on him, and then Amber swung him up over her head and flipped him. He hit the floor and she raised her foot to turn his head to bloody splinters.
“Amber!” Glen cried, stumbling into view. “Amber, stop! What are you doing?”
Glen’s stupid face sapped some of the rage from behind her eyes, and she froze, startled by both the depth of her viciousness and the suddenness with which it had overtaken her.
She threw the machine gun into the bedroom. “Whatever,” she said.
Glen smiled at her, nodding like a lovesick idiot. She pointed a taloned finger at the man on the floor who was gasping for breath. “You going to do what we came here to do?”
“Oh yeah,” Glen said, and crouched. “I’m really sorry.” He pressed his hand to Ralphie’s arm.
The blackness swarmed under Ralphie’s skin, quickly spreading through his whole arm.
Glen straightened, checked his hand, and smiled in relief. “It’s gone,” he said. “I’m going to be okay. Hear that, Amber? I’m going to live!”
“Oh joy,” she muttered.
Ralphie’s breathing, already laboured, became a rattling wheeze.
“You okay?” Milo said to Amber.
She frowned at him. “Why shouldn’t I be?”
He shrugged. “It’s just, you haven’t shifted back yet.”
“So? What’s wrong with staying like this for a while?”
“Exactly!”
