Atone (The Disciples 2)

My heart is pumping so fast I can sense my mind trying to fight my demons. As I listen, I have to fight back the bile. There’s the voice that told the Seeds our location and to make sure they got all of us. Except they didn’t factor in Debbie and Tabatha showing up, looking for me. There’s more on the recording, and it tells me all the things I’ve known in my gut to be right.

“I want blood. I need that voice identified, Frosty,” I hiss at him. Blade puts his hand on my shoulder.

“We’re close, David. Don’t do this to yourself. Stay focused, brother. I can feel your energy.”

I sit as my mind replays the voice—the voice that can’t be identified. The voice that tells the address and names of all of us—the people he wants blown up. I was named, but another McCormick took my spot because I was late, and I live in hell every day for it.

Rage, pain, and guilt are my worst enemies as my fists clench and unclench.

“I get to kill the rat. Do what you want with Satan’s Seeds.”

I stand and push the buzzer for the steel door to let me out.

Edge’s voice is saying to let me go and cool off.

But I’m not ever going to cool off. Blade’s right. This is the first time in a while the monsters have come back to play.

The witches are loud as they swirl around my mind, fucking with my will to deal with reality. I don’t know what or how exactly I find myself in front of Sergi’s table.

I saw him when we came in and didn’t bat an eye, or did I? All these years I’ve been living only for the truth. Now that I have it, I need to shut the demons up. A small taste, maybe even a snort in each nostril. I need the drug to help me recover from the fact that my child was sacrificed.

A brother in my family killed her along with my uncle, cousin, and baby momma and I can taste my revenge.

I’ll stop tomorrow. Even though some rat in the Disciples ordered it, it’s still my fault they’re dead.

Yeah… tonight I need to let the darkness take me down, like the dark night waters of the ocean, and let myself float to a peaceful sleep.DAVID/POETI head downstairs and straight to the man who can make all my pain vanish. The music is crap that I don’t recognize, but the beat is making my chest vibrate.

Weaving my way through the bodies, I stop at the table in the corner. Some Disciples sit on one side and his bodyguards sit behind him.

“Ah, Poet, you come for me to solve all your problems?”

“Cut the shit, Sergi.”

He smiles and his front teeth, which are gold, shine in the dim light. The smell of weed and other shit being smoked in the corner to my right almost prompts me to turn and ask to join.

But this final betrayal to myself needs to be private.

Sergi holds up his hands as if I have a gun on him. “What can I help you with, my friend? It’s been a long time.”

“I’m surprised you’re not in jail.”

I look around at the packed club and now understand why Edge has it loaded with high-tech security everywhere. He’s controlling what and how much comes in and out. Edge has always been smart at numbers. I’m sure he’s making a killing.

“I need just a taste.”

When he smiles again, the thought that some people should be put down flashes through my mind. He’s one of them in his velvet cream-colored sweat suit and his gaudy gold chains.

He’s part of the Russian mafia and has done quite well considering he’s nothing but a thug.

Reaching into his fanny pack, he pulls out a small baggie with the white powder that can make all my agony go away. I won’t have the dreams that make me too scared to close my eyes and sleep tonight.

I won’t sleep with this magic. I can stay awake and the monsters won’t have a voice anymore.

“David?” I reach for the bag, tossing Sergi a fifty, and see Axel. Out of everybody, Axel’s the one who thinks he can save me? That’s a laugh.

I walk away from him and move past the sweaty bodies gyrating on the colorful dance floor.

The night air is somewhat humid. I need to breathe, but it’s like a cobra has slithered its way up my neck, slowly cutting off my air supply as my eyes dart around for a corner.

“I can’t let you do this, brother.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” I yell at Axel, though he remains calm.

The parking lot is well-lit as I turn and walk to my bike. “Axel.” I sigh as I sit on it. “In all our years of knowing each other, I’ve never thought it any of my business to know why you hate the world.” I look at him as he stands in front of my bike, hands crossed, and I have to hand it to him—he’s got balls of steel.