Page 62 of The Killer Card

Wonderful. He smells like vodka and bratwurst.

“Where,” Grandfather growls as the car starts to pull away from the house. “Is your goddamn tie, boy?”

All the blood drains from my face when I pat down the front of my shirt and find… Nothing. Fuck. I forgot the fucking tie. Last time it had been my belt, so I made sure I put it on today. But fuck I forgot the fucking tie.

“Well?” He demands, his mouth pulling down in a scowl beneath his white beard.

Swallowing, I try to stammer out an excuse that will save my ass when Sonya whispers, “Oh.” She reaches into her Chanel, pulling out a purple tie, almost the same color as her dress. “I forgot to give this to you the other day. I picked it up from the shops.” She gives Grandfather a demure smile. “I thought it would be nice if we matched.”

She turns back to me, handing over the tie. The look in her pretty blue eyes is sharp. “I had his old ones sent to the cleaners. You know how he treats his things.”

She didn’t, I know exactly where they are and Kira makes sure they’re pristine. But I’m not about to fuck up her rescue. “Thank you, Sonya.” I put on the tie, careful not to elbow Andrei. “I like this color.”

“Yes, a lovely choice, my darling.” Grandfather kisses Sonya’s cheek. “You always have the most wonderful taste.” To me he snaps. “Straighten your collar, boy.”

I do straighten my collar, and when the car pulls up to the church, I wait for Andrei to help Grandfather out before whispering to Sonya, “Thank you.”

“You’re seventeen,” she whispers back harshly. “Get your shit together. I won’t be around to save you forever.”

Andrei helps her out of the car next, and I climb out behind her, making sure my suit is straight and my hair is… Well, in some manner of assembled. It’s getting too long, curling at the ends, but Kira hasn’t had time to cut it recently.

The cathedral stands out amongst the shining glass architecture of Midtown, it’s gothic design making it at once beautiful and frightening. I used to fear coming to church because of the looming darkness of its various arches and crevices. Now, as we walk in together as a united front- a family so to speak- I can allow myself to appreciate the skill that went into carving the pillars, welding the stained glass, and gilding the cavernous ceiling. The choir is already singing, angelic voices echoing off the stone rafters.

When I was kid, I used to imagine that one day we would walk into this holy place and my Grandfather and Andrei- and all the other members of security that fan out amongst the congregation- would burst into flames. That’s what they always said would happen to the demons of hell who entered the holy house of God. The infernal would be cast out in fire. But, of course, that never happened. Because they’re not technically demons and even more technically, God isn’t real. I’ve prayed enough over the years to know there’s no divine intervention coming my way.

There’s a pew reserved for us near the front, right up close to the pulpit so Grandfather can better hear the Lord’s message. I’m not entirely sure why, it’s not like he walks in the light any other day of the week and I’ve never seen him go to confession to absolve himself of his daily crimes. Sonya, however, goes weekly even though I can’t imagine she’s doing anything particularly heinous.

Not that I’m at all aware of what my sister gets up to in her spare time. We rarely see each other around the estate and when we do she typically ignores me or says a few chiding words before walking away. I know why she doesn’t like me and I’ll never try to change her mind. Especially not when she still performs sisterly acts like buying me a new tie just in case I forget my old ones. I just wish I had more than a sister, I guess. Just one friend would be really fucking amazing.

What feels like days later, the priest ends his sermon with the Lord’s prayer and then Grandfather and Andrei go to speak with select members of the congregation as they do every week. Sonya disappears to confessional. I stay seated in the pew, my eyes on my leather shoes, pulling uncomfortably at my collar while I try not to squirm in my suit.

I hate wearing this thing. It’s too tight in all the wrong places and feels like roaches crawling across my skin. Honestly, I don’t know why I even have to come. It’s not like anyone really knows or care that I exist anyway. Every week some old friend will come say hello to Grandfather and the first thing he does is direct attention to Sonya.

“And this is my lovely, Sonya. All grown up since the last time you saw her. Isn’t she a jewel?”

“Quite a treasure,” they’ll say and then notice me lingering to the side. “And who is this handsome young man?”

Only then will Grandfather begrudgingly gesture me forward. “My grandson,” he’ll tell them, and I’ll politely shake their hand, introduce myself and then remain a silent figure at his side. Then, when they leave, I’ll melt back into Andrei’s shadow.

Today is no different. Hello, hello old friend. Isn’t Sonya gorgeous? Then there’s this loser I’m stuck with. Have a lovely day. I follow along behind them until we get to the town car. Grandfather stops me from getting in with the tip of his cane against my chest. I wince, meeting his glacier glare.

“What—”

“I have a job for you, just up the block.” I frown, glancing at Sonya. She bows her head silently. When I look at Andrei, he’s grinning like a cat who just caught a mouse. Fuck, he told him about the knife. “You want to play with big boy toys now?”

I shake my head quickly. “No, Grandfather, I—”

“I have taken my time with you because you are my blood, but you are old enough now for more responsibilities, I think.” He shoves a folded piece of paper into my hand, and then a switchblade similar to the one I stole from Andrei. “Do what is necessary. Do not come back empty handed.”

My blood turns to ice, and I swallow bile as I meet his eyes again. “Don’t disappoint me, boy.”

The door to the town car slams shut between us, pulling away and leaving me standing in the shadow of the cathedral. Quickly, I pocket the knife, my fist clenching around the paper. I already know what’s on it. A name, an address, a debt owed. A debt Grandfather wants me to settle.

“Malparido….” I curse under my breath. “Mierda…”

An older woman too close to me gasps, literally clutching her pearls and I remember I’m still standing a little too close to a church. I apologize and quickly move down the block, out of earshot of Christ and his flock. Checking the paper in my hand, I look up at the closest street sign. It’s only a few blocks, but I wish I wasn’t wearing dress shoes for it. Not that my sneakers would have been much better I guess. At least the soles aren’t in danger of falling off these ones. Loosening my tie, I shove my hands in my pockets, heartbeat quickening when my fingers wrap around the switchblade.

They’ve never given me a weapon before. Typically, when I have to make runs it’s with nothing but myself and whatever they need me to move. But this job is different I suppose. Today I won’t be selling anything, I’ll be collecting on purchases previously made. I don’t recognize the name on the paper when I glance at it again so it’s no one I’ve sold to before. Small mercies I guess.