Thicker Than Water (Blood Brothers) (11 page)

“No,” Loki lied. “I laid her and she was alive when I left. I can’t say nothin’ that happened after.”

Michael’s hand had gone to his gun as well.

“So what’s the plan?”

After a few moments of hesitation, Tyr broke the silence.

“We can’t fight. The three of us against the seven of them. It’s chaos. It’ll blow our cover,” he said, speaking more to Loki than to Michael.

“What exactly are you recommending,
Todd?
” Loki spoke the name with exaggerated emphasis in a condescending tone.

Tyr pondered the situation for the briefest of moments.

“I say we talk. Let him take us in if that’s what he wants. Any move we make we can’t make in front of twenty people, but get them alone somewhere we can do whatever we like.”

Loki sighed.

“Hands off your gun, Michael. You heard Todd. We don’t draw lessen they draw first.”

Tyr, Loki, and Michael held their hands at their sides and walked out into the open. There was an unspeakable anxiety and fear in Michael that didn’t appear to be present in the hearts of Loki and Tyr. As he made his entrance at their side he did his best to conceal it and attempt to fit in.

The cries from the crowd were silenced and replaced by scattered murmurs. All eyes went to the three ramblers coming down the street.

Loki started the conversation badly. “You pig-fuckers want something with us?”

The blonde-haired brute took his hands off Al and joined the other five. They formed a line between Locke and his adversaries.

“Who’re yer friends, Michael?” asked Locke, “And what do y’all have to do with what happened to Katie?”

“We don’t know anything about Katie,” said Tyr. “We’re just friends of Michael’s who protected him from a savage beating he didn’t deserve.”

All of the ruffians were ready to draw.

Michael called out to Tommy, standing on Al’s deck. “Tommy, pick a side! Me and my friends ain’t gonna draw lessen they draw first. If yer gonna help us, be ready. One of them pulls his sidearm, you trust me, you start shootin’, got it?”

Tommy nodded. Four to seven. Their odds were looking better but they still weren’t looking good.

“Y’all pulled me and my boys outside, commandin’ our attention whilst she was gettin’ raped and murdered. Best tell me whatcha know or I’m liable to assume the worst.”

Loki snorted. Raped. The way that girl fucked, she probably spread her legs for anything with half a pulse. It would take an especially hideous monster to even have the opportunity to rape her.

“Assume whatever the fuck you want, ain’t gonna get you nowhere,” Loki yelled. “You want to find out who was stickin’ it in yer daughter I’m sure there’s friends of hers could tell ya better than we can!”

The blonde-haired goon cocked his sidearm and Bandage-Pinky did the same. He and Gimpy Broken-Nose had their sights set on Tyr, eager for justice.

“You, my friend,” said Locke, pointing a finger at Tyr, “had best not speak of my daughter again or you’ll die speakin’ of her.”

Tyr glared at Loki. It was a tight spot and a false move could have them leaving Tombstone already or, worse yet, expose their species to the masses. If that happened, it meant massacring every man, woman, and child in this crowd. That kind of thing ended up in newspapers and history books in addition to being a potential hassle.

“Mr. Locke,” said Michael. “None of us had no problem with Katie. I barely spoken to her and these two boys, they didn’t come to town but a week ago and prob’ly ain’t so much as laid eyes on her. Ain’t no bad blood between any of us. We ain’t got no motive.”

“Ain’t nobody got no motive to take advantage of a beautiful little girl,” said Locke. “I ain’t talkin’ of motive. I’m talkin’ ‘bout a devilish maniac bastard come to town to prey on all things wholesome and I’m thinkin’ it’s one o’ them two behind ya.”

“It washn’t da one in black, bosh,” said Gimpy Broken-Nose. “He wash da one out dere broke ma noshe.”

All eyes went to Loki, the man in white.

“Look, Mr. Locke,” Loki tried. “I seen yer daughter. Like ya said she was a beautiful young lady, and I agree with ya a hundred and ten percent. Any man that’d kill a pretty little thing like that ain’t much a man at all, ya ask me. If I’da laid her, I’da sure as shit done it more’n once.”

Locke took a moment to try to restrain himself, but he lost it when Loki capped the statement off with a casual, innocent smile.

“Kill him,” Locke barked.

The streets of Tombstone became the fires of Hell.

Loki’s guns were the first drawn, and he shot down two of the ruffians instantly. Tyr, an expert marksman, thought it better to throw the fight quickly than to showboat for the crowd—so the only bullet he fired struck Bandage-Pinky in the ear. Bandage-Pinky was the next to shoot, but Tyr’s bullet struck him just before he pulled the trigger and his aim was deterred, hitting Tyr in the chest instead of the head. Tyr dropped his gun and let himself go down wounded. Before he hit the ground, Gimpy Broken-Nose put a second chunk of lead into his stomach.

From the deck, Tommy Warden fired two shots. The first caught one of Locke’s goons in the head and the second ripped open Gimpy Broken-Nose’s shoulder. Gimpy pivoted and returned the attack, firing a shot that caught Tommy in the nose and knocked most of his brain out of his head.

The crowd was scattering. Al just watched.

The blonde-haired ruffian fired only once. His shot struck Michael in the stomach. Michael went down on his knees, firing two shots back, one of which struck Blonde-Hair in the thigh while the other hit a female gawker in the ass.

Now it was Gimpy, Bandage, and Blondie firing at just Loki, who was stubborn at the idea of losing a public battle to humans who didn’t stand a chance against him. He emptied both pistols on Blondie, hitting him ten times, starting with crotch for personal amusement and working his way up every vital organ he could think of. Loki and Blonde-Hair hit the ground at the same moment and by the time Loki was lying in the mud, there were five bullet-holes in his torso.

Al’s mouth hung open and tears stained his cheeks. Broken-Nose pointed his gun at the grieving father’s head.

“No,” Locke told him. “He didn’t do nothin’ wrong. Get the guns from the other three and let’s get ‘em back home.”

Gimpy and Bandage did as they were told, retrieving the guns away from the dying men. When Locke brought his carriage nearer to the bodies, each of them worked with his one good arm to load the bodies in, struggling especially with the behemoth that was Loki.

Tyr pretended to be brought back to consciousness as a bucket of cold water was poured onto his head. Loki opted out of it in the moment before the water was poured, stating “You don’t have to do that. I’m awake.”

The water was poured anyway, but the men were frustrated, and that was all that mattered.

Bandage-Pinky-Bleeding-Ear and Gimpy-Broken-Nose-Arm-In-Sling were standing in front of Loki, Tyr, and Michael, who were tied to chairs in the cellar of the Cherrywood Saloon.

“Yer friend’s dead already. And I’m doubtin’ Locke’s gonna let either o’ you leave here walkin’, so you’re here with us for the rest your lives,” Bandage-Pinky promised.

It was true. Michael was unconscious and not coming back from it. His head was slumped forward with blood leaking from his lips. His heart had stopped beating fifteen minutes ago.

Their hands were tied behind their backs, which they’d allowed to happen when they were thrown into the carriage. Now they were alone and safe to behave as they wished, but they played it out for the showmanship of it.

“Ya know, the answer doesn’t matter at this point,” Pinky said, “but I’m still curious. Knowing that you die here in this cellar regardless, is there anything involving the young Miss Locke you wanna confess to, just between you, me and your god.”

“Ohh,” Loki gave a sigh and thought. He was sure there was an amusing quip for this and meant to find it. By the time a few seconds passed, the best he could come up with was: “I’ve had better.”

The two goons’ faces were blank. Locke was upstairs speaking to the county sheriff but when he returned, the news of Loki’s guilt might make him feel a little better.

Broken-Nose stepped forward.

“Why would a man do that? I don’t understand you, I mean, between me and the soon to be dead I don’t blame ya fer layin’ her. Hell any man’s never jerked off to her’s a faggot or a liar, but to cut her up like ya did? Why?”

“Well,” said Loki, making no effort to appear wounded by the five bullets in his chest, “first I saw her in the window. And I thought, ‘Wow, I’d like to see her tits.’ So I went up there, and I got her tits out. Then I thought, ‘Well hell, now that I’m lookin’, I think I’d like to fuck her.’ So I told her my intentions and we get to it on her bed. And then as we’re finishin’ up, I’m lookin’ at her, and I’m thinkin’, ‘Ya know, if her pussy tastes this good, how good must her blood taste?’ So I get out my knife…”

“Jesus Christ,” Broken-Nose muttered. The two of them had taken to backing away from their hostages, even as they were tied.

“Ya know, I think we’ll make you boys a deal,” Tyr cut in, not wanting to be left out of the moment. “How about… you untie us and let us go… and nobody else has to die here tonight.”

The tone of his voice took the captors by surprise.

“Oh come on now,” said Pinky after a long pause. “You gonna have to beg a whole lot harder than that.”

“That wasn’t a plea, gentlemen. That was an offer.”

The two just stared at Tyr, a smile on his face and his hands still bound behind his back. Even in a town of roughnecks and savages, this manner of confidence was off-putting.

The door to the cellar swung open and Locke stepped in. He was still in his three-piece suit and looking riled as ever. He was shaving, but it was obvious he had the razor with him for other reasons.

“So where do we stand?” he asked the boys, his low booming voice filling the room.

“It’s this one like ya thought it was. Told us all about it. You shoulda heard some o’ the things comin’ outta his disgusting mouth.”

Locke turned his gaze to Loki.

“What sorta things was ya sayin’, boy?”

“What do you wanna know?” asked Loki. “Her lips tasted like cherry wine. And I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout her mouth.”

In an instant, Locke was across the room and the razor was on Loki’s neck.

“What if I cut your throat?” he threatened. “You get off on that shit? Think it’s about time someone does it to you?”

“Is that a justice question?” said Tyr. “Yer wonderin’ about justice, Loki there ain’t really the one to talk to.”

Locke’s head turned, “What did you ‘ave to do with it?”

“With her specifically? Nothin’ more’n tellin’ him it was fine idea. It’s kinda what the two of us do. But to get back to your question about ain’t it time someone does it to us, I think yer onto somethin’. See after a thousand years give or take runnin’ around doin’ what we do, ya couldn’t really call it a tragedy if we found ourselves on the other end the proverbial sword. However if there was a time frame like ya said where it ought to have flipped on us, I think Loki and I have long passed it. Yer talkin’ about justice. And justice is either man-made or God-given. What my experience tells me about justice is this: man can give nothing to me but blood, and there is no god higher than I.”

Locke looked back at Loki, who gave a cheesy smile to acknowledge his satisfaction with Tyr’s response. Bloodlust brewed behind Locke’s eyes and he gave on the idea of dragging this out further. He dug the razor into one end of Loki’s neck and dragged across to the other end. Loki winced horribly and let out a grunting scream as the thick red goo gushed out of his neck. His head slumped forward and became still.

Locke turned his back to the boys. As he walked to the door he said, “Shoot ‘em in the head and let’s have a drink.”

And then he was out the door.

The boys obeyed. Pinky shot Tyr in the head and his body went limp, and then he shot Michael in the head to be sure. Gimpy drew his gun on Loki, who raised his head and glared, gritting his teeth.

“You shoot me with that gun—” he started to threaten, but before he could finish, the firearm was unloaded and the bullet was in his head, blood spilling on the concrete floor. His chin dropped to his neck and he faced the floor again.

Pinky was out the door and up the stairs while Gimpy was still admiring his handiwork. As he started up the steps, a sound caught Gimpy’s attention.

It started as air escaping from a sealed container, perhaps breath in Loki’s lungs that was finding its way to the room, and then it had voice. It was a low, human groan that could have been a spasm of the body, but it also could have been that there was somehow a fragment of life left within the brutalized man.