Mike strolled to the murder cabin, carrying a far lighter load than he had leaving confession. There was a confident stroll in his step and a peace to his breathing, as he saw Yuri loading a plastic bag into his trunk, with a few more already inside.

  “Yuri the garbage man…still obedient as usual?” he nodded.

  “Taking initiative and earning my rewards.” Yuri shrugged.

  “I see. Dispose of it with care, and here. Give this to Tanner when you see her.” Mike said, tossing him some rosary beads. “Tell some shit about good luck and blessings and where you got it. It’s probably bullshit, but you never know. Just make sure she wears it, just in case it means anything at all. Obviously make up any story except: Mike killed a priest and gave it to me while disposing of a body for Nadja.”

  “You still love her, yet you do what you do with that THING.” He said, looking back at the cabin.

  “It probably means nothing more than superstition, but I would do anything to protect Tanner…anything.” He said in a slightly threatening manner. “So just remember that when you give it to her. There’s more than one monster to fear the wrath of for betrayal, and God forbid you ever have to choose.” Mike snarled.

  “From the man feeding the devil. How much irony. Better to take out the trash for the devil than sleep in its bed.” Yuri sighed.

  “Bold, but fair. Everyone makes sacrifices. Make sure they’re worth it.” he said, passing him by and entering the workshop through the side door, as Nadja sat in a silk robe drinking what may have been red wine or mostly red wine.

  “Having fun without me?” she asked.

  “I wasn’t aware I was a prisoner, at least not in every sense.” Mike smirked.

  “And where do you go that I cannot follow and assisst?” she asked with a strong hiss, and a sip of something red.

  “No point lying to you when you can tell. You can be a bit stifling, and sometimes I need to be alone to center myself and find peace. I went to church.”

  “Adorable. Trying to find your God’s voice again so I would simply disappear.”

  “Honestly, I’d miss you a little even if I believed praying you away was a possibility.” He said, placing the bloody Rachel on the table and a vial of blood, in a different brand of vodka bottle than before, the first one still missing.

  “Interesting things to take to church.” She giggled.

  “I brought Rachel, this blood I brought as a souvenir. There’s no denying we both love killing, but we have very different styles and I needed to test something. I needed to hear from my voice one more time and I needed to kill MY way, the way I used to when I listened to it. You might be pleased to hear what it said.” He smiled as she sniffed the gun for freshly fired magnesium and human blood.

  “A little nostalgic solo satisfaction? And what did the voice say?” she asked.

  “That I’m not done killing yet. That I need to kill a president for you, and that my soul is far too gone to save. Not what I hoped for, but very fucking clear.”

  “So you finally understand the voice of your god is both telling the truth and just your own voice? You needed to test that out?” she giggled. “Mike, you are a very stubborn creature but predictable.”

  “I didn’t say what I believe the voice is, and I don’t fully know what to believe, but I trust it, and it said to kill. I wanted to kill tonight, alone, with Rachel, quiet and quick, painless and efficient, just like I always did. There’s a peace to it, something that the slashing and screaming doesn’t quite satisfy. So I killed a priest, found that balance again, accepted what I can and can’t control and accepted my place. I don’t have to like it, but I am apparently just made for something specific, and it’s what I do best.” He said, unscrewing the cap and pouring the priest's blood into her wine glass. “Consider that a symbol of faith, a gift. Something to show where my loyalty lies.” He said, staring into her cold eyes and not uttering a lie beneath his ulterior motives, waiting for her to take a drink. She playfully gave it a stir with her finger and sat the glass down. He paused, waiting to see if holy blood burned her throat or not.

  “Not everything gets better with age, some things go stale and putrid when left out too long, but I appreciate the gesture. Just let me know next time you need, alone time. I don’t like turning my back and finding you missing.” She said darkly. Leaving the glass as she sashayed off and left him to his workshop. He picked up the glass and gave it a smell, wondering if it would burn him and his blackened heart now.

  “Wasting good alcohol? Now, that’s not like you.” He smirked, turning to his projects and scrolling the screen on the CNC machine, stopping and clicking a file called Azazel. He tipped back the glass like a shot and swallowed it, pressing the go button on the screen and getting comfortable in his chair. “Damn that’s good. Very expensive vintage to leave behind…unless you can't stomach it.” He sighed to himself, feeling the slight warmth of a silent victory.

  Tanner peered up from the couch as Yuri strolled in, Alexander loosening his hug on her shoulder so she could turn better, smiling, peering over his glasses.

  “Yuri, my foreign comrade. Have a drink with us. We have acquired a spread of the finest charcuterie and cheese the local deli had to part with, for the price we could manage. It’s divinely tolerable.” He chuckled. “You appear glum, have you lost a pet recently I was not aware of?” Alexander said in a slightly tipsy manner.

  “Honey, he’s going through some personal shit.” Tanner muttered. “He’s not the kind to talk about his feelings, maybe you could go tinker for a while?” she cringed.

  “No.” Yuri said. “I prefer Alexander’s company, actually. Matters of men. And yes I am in bad mood. I had to socialize with fucking Rowan.”

  “Man, he really just does piss off literally everyone ever, doesn’t he?” Tanner sighed, getting up.

  “You have no idea.” Yuri groaned, “Sorry to interrupt television time with boyfriend.” He said, plopping down as Tanner made left for privacy. Yuri sat silently, he counted footsteps and waited.

  “Are we…socializing?” Alexander asked. “Wasn’t aware we did that, let alone silently.”

  “Conversation best kept from loved ones. I assume you know she cares for you, but still cares for the preacher, yes?” Yuri asked. Alexander smiled and sighed, fluffing his hair and looking annoyed by the reminder.

  “Why no, it has not once crossed my mind or kept me up at night feeling like a runner-up who has won on technicality. I stand here with a gold metal, because Mike slept in the day of the contest. Hooray for me. I shall never be replaced or forgotten for my victory.” Alexander sarcasmed gloriously.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Then you also see problem. Mike is too far gone to be there for her. You are not second best, you are winner because Mike has stopped being Mike. She just does not believe it. This will get her killed, or us killed. He would break her heart. Her idea of taking him in alive to be helped, is foolish little girl’s dream and the humane thing would be to just kill him. To protect her and you both. If she knew, she would hate you, but she would be safer, and she is better off with anyone than Mike, especially you. Nadja and I have history, none of it good, but if anyone robs me of killing her I might have to become violent to them. I deserve this. You deserve Tanner, Tanner deserves to be safe and happy, even if done with lies. So…my proposal. I supply you with guns, you do not ask where the money comes from, and when I ask favor of you, you go with me without question.” Yuri shrugged.

  “You wish to go kill them both, without her. Without her knowing, without her stopping us, and without her getting hurt trying to assist in taking alive, the animal that cannot be caged or tamed. Why have you not simply spoken up sooner?” Alexander chuckled.

  “I was not sure of your opinion.” Yuri admitted.

  “My opinion is simple, Tanner is a beautiful and charming fool in love with a dream. A perfect wonder of everything I love, but too in love with what amounts to Mike’s magicians tricks, to see the trap doors behind the curtain. I would rather have her hate me for finding out, than dead for trying to tame a creature untamable and dangerous. You can have Nadja, I’ll have my priestly safari hunt. If you can supply the weapons and make me look like a competent weaponry provider, then I shall owe you gratitude and not question your methods. In fact, if you need an alibi for anything, I will vouch for it.”

  “Good. Then we understand. Now, unfortunately, I need you to vouch right now. If asked, you sent me to get ammunition and I agreed. I have to go be social with Rowan…which I wish was simply getting ammunition.”

  “It would be a shame if he went missing, especially if your location was vouched for and mine was here. I will say nothing further on that.” Alexander sighed.

  “We don’t need to. He has a way of…tempting his fate.” Yuri nodded.

  “So here we are, mutinous men pretending to follow a leader and leading our own master plans. What else would one expect of a group of killers brought together by a madman now dead, and grand delusions still alive. Enjoy your escapades, my friend. Do bring me a lot of very difficult to find ammunition. I was VERY specific on my demands, after all. Armor piercing rounds, Preacher-killers if they make those.” Alexander smiled, kicking back as Yuri shuffled off.

  The trunk lifted up, Rowan and Yuri staring down at something from bird’s eyes view, as Yuri moved the tarp and Rowan smiled like a kid on Christmas.

  “Oh goodie. She is a very nice find. Freshness is something you can’t always find with these sorts of deals.” Rowan chuckled maniacally.

  “You wanted attractive dead girl. I brought attractive dead girl.” Yuri shrugged.

  “Please tell me you didn’t do the butchery yourself. If you did, I would love for you to stop and bring me the next one as intact as possible.”

  “I don’t want to know why, but I make no promises. This is difficult to get as it is. I did not kill girl, I retrieved.”

  “No, I appreciate the find, my reason for preferring a whole body is not as demented as you assume. I just prefer to do my own butchery my own way. These cuts are not exactly made by a skilled culinary expert, more like a… skilled sadist. I cut for efficient meat removal, this was done to inflict suffering. She seems to be missing the head and heart, very interesting.” Rowan noted.

  “After I arrived, there was no head, I assure you it was attractive before that. I saw photo I.D. What does it matter?” Yuri asked.

  “Didn’t take the I.D. by chance?” he asked strangely.

  “You asked for body, not driver’s license. She was nobody, dead when I got there, volunteer disposal service for old favors."

  “Just a shame. I do love to see who I’m sampling beforehand. Call it a quirk. Well, if you’ll help me move the body into the van, your services are no longer needed. Your secret is safe for now, and this should last me some time.” Rowan smiled as they loaded both halves of Sage Ember into the refrigerated van Rowan had ready for butchery. He shut the door and began his careful work, trying to decide where to start and how to best work around the numerous slashes already in the meat, trying not to feel disappointed at the work done for him, and poorly. The missing heart was a sad little detail, altering his recipe plans.

  “And who were you, dear? A college student with a gambling debt? A cheating wife with an angry husband, a jogger, simply in the wrong place on the wrong night?” He said admiring the fitness and quality of the pieces as he stopped to stare. His eyes diverted to her left foot and the subtle purple flower tattoo Yuri had either missed or didn’t care about.

  “Oh surely not.” Rowan pondered, lifting the foot and inspecting the tattoo closer, rolling his chair to the laptop in the corner and Googling something, a butcher’s marker in his teeth and a look of confusion in his eyes as images of the popstar scrolled down the screen, and he looked for an ankle shot. He rolled over and compared the marks, the general physique, and the skin tone, knowing the level of yellow paleness to expect post-mortem.

  “Yuri, did you just bring me a dead starlet that was murdered by our dear friends Mike and Nadja? Now how would you conveniently know where to find that body?” he asked aloud. “Oh, you make this so fun and easy to leverage you, you big dumb Slavic delivery boy. But what a treat you have brought me regardless.” He smiled, unrolling his cleaned knives and butcher’s paper. “I’m actually a huge fan.” He grinned.

  A man in the back of a gun store beamed with pride as he dialed up a number and waited. “Is this Gabe? Yea, I got the code word motherfucker. Ezekiel, That’s it, just checkin. Oh, buddy you’ll wanna hear this. I just had a guy with a Russian accent and a fake ID buy a bunch of guns and gear, illegal, paid in cash, custom ammo, and get this…2 Russian submachine guns. Yea, of course I sold them, I had to make the deal look real. I didn’t bust the guy because I’m not a cop or a guy with a death wish. Just listen to this… What I did do, is run his fake ID through a friend of mine, and got a hit to a credit card he’s been using off a brand-new bank account, and 3 weeks ago he bought 4 burner phones. I got guys monitoring the sim-card numbers. I told this guy to buy guns in cash he needed a phone number, stupid fucker gave it. Any of those burner phone call that number, we can trace the call. Gabe, you got this Mister Black son of a bitch.”

  Alexander puffed a cigarette to the sound of nu-metal and Yuri’s car returning from his trip. Teeth clenched to keep his blunt from falling, he lifted the garage door and smiled as Yuri brought 4 black cases to the table.

  “Did you really bestow me the blessing of an obscene amount of ammunition?” he asked.

  “You wanted to impress Tanner, but you struggle getting illegal guns and accessories. I do you the favor. Everything on the list, full auto and bonus.” Yuri smirked.

  “Would the bonus, pray tell, be the tragic news of Rowan leaving us to join the traveling sideshow cannibals never to return?” Alexander grinned.

  “No, sadly he will be returning, but he will be returning late and distracted. I left him gifts as well. No… leave music playing.”

  “Man of tastes too? Fantastic band, are they not?” Alexander said, basking in the aggression.

  “No, it just is loud and nobody can hear us. You said you have experience with FN SCAR knockoff?” Yuri asked.

  “Yes, I fondly admired the design and feel of it. I was owed money by a man who had none, and as a young fool, I was convinced the knockoff was real. My thinking that I was gaining a thousand dollars, became my horror that I lost nearly as much in counterfeit. I considered killing him for it, but my only rifle was the knockoff one I now had. So train I did, and by the time I had felt confident enough to use that instrument for vengeance, I found myself rather nostalgic and enjoying it. Please oh please, Russian Santa Claus, tell me you have now blessed me with the genuine S-CAR of legend.” Alex tingled, touching his fingertips with excitement.

  “No. I got knockoff, CZ Bren 2. Same S-CAR quality, but lower price, still upgrade.” He shrugged, revealing the case.

  “Oh now that is delightful. And so many goodie boxes of little add-ons. Are we hunting preachers tonight?” he grinned.

  “Hunting soon, but not tonight. I am working angle on anonymous tip that may come in handy. So if I call you and say that we need range practice, bring your gun and hunting gear.” Yuri nodded.

  “Many years since I’ve killed a man. It was over a woman as well, so at least my consistency is incredible…similar gun even. How ironic. If only the poetry of youthful motives and sheer luck were with me still. But the hand remembers the gun you favor, does it not?” he sighed nostalgically, shouldering the black and tan rifle.

  “That one is mine. You get dark one. They only had 3 for sale, and one was long range, different caliber. Too expensive.”

  “Well we certainly don’t wish to be striking Archangel Michael from a distance requiring a raged kit. That’s where he hunts best. Why is yours designated as the one decorated in tan, exactly?”

  “Identical guns, but you will be closer and easier to spot. So you get... sort of camo. I also just like tan. Be ready tomorrow for practice. I want you useful and sharp, not assuming the hand remembers how to kill. The hand forgets what it does not repeat. Here is your ammo. They were out of preacher killers, but I think armor piercing military grade is fine. And here is Tanner’s accessories. Have a busy night tinkering. If you need me, I will be drinking alone in my room.”

  “I can handle this task all on my own. Thank you greatly, and drink well.” Alexander toasted, almost drooling over the cases. “Let the tinkering and drinkering begin.” he smiled, cranking the music.