Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

“Don’t stop there.” Louis pulled out his knife. “What else did they ask for?”

“I-I was…”

“Protecting your wife and kids,” I finished for him. “What else did they want?”

“They wanted your schedule. Then tonight, they said my last thing was to make sure Rafael takes the phone downstairs to Jean-Pierre. I jammed the cellphone tower near here…”

We glared at him.

“P-please…”

“What did the guys look like?” I asked.

Ju moved his hands in front of his head as if trying to draw a monster. “The main guy. He…he didn’t have a face.”

What?

I thought back to earlier tonight, when I held my cousin’s shaking body.

Giorgio’s bottom lip had quivered as he whispered, “Devil.”

“What?” I’d asked.

“The Devil. He had no face under the mask.”

Fear gripped at my heart. My gut twisted with anxiety.

Please no.

I clenched my jaw.

Ju continued, “He wore t-this clear mask over his f-face, but once he took it off and…”

“It wasn’t anything,” I whispered.

Louis cursed at my side.

For the first time in a long time, I held my stomach as my skin crawled. My legs went weak. I staggered forward. Never had I been this terrified in my life. I looked around, knowing that Rafael and Louis had figured it out.

Unloosing my tie, I yanked it off and let out a long breath. “Giorgio kept saying the Devil. I thought he was disoriented. I didn’t know he really meant the Devil.”

I could see the Devil’s face in my head. Mangled. Blistered. Rotted. Cut away.

Ju’s eyes were full of tears. He took a few gasping breaths. “I-I’m sorry…I was so scared.”

The last images of the Devil bombarded my brain.

Grigor—the Devil—had been my school friend. The first kid I’d met, when I moved to Paris. When I didn’t hang with Rafael, it was Grigor. Later, he worked with us. Ten years ago, I’d caught him with Louis’s little brother, Titi.

Titi had just been ten at the time. There, Titi sat in the room with our good friend Grigor. They were both naked. And the rest of the details had plagued me for years. Louis had taken his little brother away. And I’d taken care of Grigor’s face.

Everyone had wanted me to kill Grigor. But he’d been my best friend. For some reason, love thinned out my anger. I knew he was a sick bastard. I knew I would never forgive him. But still, I couldn’t kill him.

That was me ten years ago. That is not me now. I will kill you, Devil, and anyone you’ve learned to love.

I couldn’t even look at Louis now as I turned away. He’d been mad that I didn’t kill him. He’d told me that Grigor would be a problem later.

The things I’d done to Grigor’s face. It was the immature, stupid part of me, that thought I could do that to a human and then let them walk away.

Grigor had been a handsome man, able to smile around the mothers to get close to their sons. Never dated a woman without a boy. Never could he be found alone with a woman, if not for the son right there on his lap. I’d thought, if I took the face, it would stop him from being a monster.

I should’ve killed him.

Instead, I’d touched every cell on his face with my bow. I ripped flesh. I shredded muscles. I chose pliers for his nose. I’d yanked out tufts of hair. There’d been no detailed face, when I’d finished. Not a mouth or nose. No definition. Just a twisted, bloody, shattered mess.

I’d taken his dick too and considered myself a hero.

“Now women and kids will see you and know that you’re a monster.” I left him there, laying in his own blood.

He’d disappeared after that. I’d heard news that he’d joined with others and did side jobs for criminals that didn’t mind looking into that face.

I should’ve fucking killed him. Now. . .he’ll. . .hurt Eden. No. Don’t say that. I’ll find her in time.

Rafael went over to the bar and made us all a drank. At least, I hoped for a glass of something, before I considered placing a gun to my own head and pulling the trigger.

I should’ve killed him, when I had the chance. Rafael told me to kill him. Louis said do it. Even Giorgio thought he should’ve died. I let him live. I’ll never forgive myself, Eden. Never.

Louis walked up to Ju. “Why did he want Eden?”

Ju widened his eyes. “No. They didn’t… wait… they took Eden?”

Rafael growled from the bar, “Answer the fucking question.”

“They never talked about Eden. On the second day, I heard them talking from the kitchen—”

“They’d camped out in your apartment for those three days?” I asked.

“Half of them,” Ju said. “I don’t know where the other half went.”

“What did they say?” I asked.

“They talked about a tracker, and that it had moved from some city in America to Paris, and that it was in your penthouse. One of the guys didn’t want to do whatever they were doing. They talked about calling somebody to help.”