Blood Blade

Epilogue

The bar was a bright, popular place on Michigan Avenue that was filled with televisions, video trivia games, and, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, karaoke machines. The beer came from microbreweries that spiked perfectly good bottles with flavors like pumpkin spice and strawberry. It was crowded almost any time after business hours, which made it the perfect place to speak without truly being heard.

One of the few televisions bolted to the walls that wasn’t showing a sporting event of some kind displayed the headline that had been splashed across TVs and newspapers for the last few days: MASSACRE IN JANESVILLE. Cole didn’t need to hear what the newscaster was saying. It was probably the same as what had been printed in the papers and displayed on the Internet, which was just a longer version of the report Walter had given on their way out of Janesville: police had stumbled across a bunch of armed men that had similar black marks on their necks and wrists. Shots were fired. A chase ensued and a whole lot of bodies were found near an old parking garage in Palmer Park.

“I got a message from Prophet,” Paige said as she sipped her Amber Winter Brew.

Cole chuckled and swallowed some of the Jack’s Pumpkin Ale he’d been talked into ordering. As he lifted the bottle to his mouth, he couldn’t help but notice the light dusting of scar tissue upon his palm. The wounds had healed quickly, but still itched whenever he drove through certain parts of town. “Another dream?” he asked.

“Just a message.” Paige held up her cell phone to show him the glowing, three-word text message: TOLD YOU SO.

“Not one for grace in victory, is he?”

Paige shook her head and put her phone away. “Who would expect that from a guy who lives in strip bars? Have you heard the latest about Janesville?”

“No. Is there anything new?”

“The police are blaming it all on the poor bastard who was knocked out of that park like a foul ball. He was the one carrying the most guns, so they figure he was the one who planned the whole thing and then ‘killed himself by running into traffic.’” She framed the last part in finger quotes. “Oh, and those are sprouting up too.”

Glancing at the television Paige was looking at, Cole saw shaky footage of the dried husks that were the remains of dead Nymar, bordered by the words, CULT SUSPECTED IN JANESVILLE SLAYINGS.

He couldn’t help but flinch when he saw a police cruiser drive down the street outside the bar’s front window. Lowering his voice, he asked, “Shouldn’t we be—”

“What?” Paige asked in a booming voice that completely destroyed the privacy Cole had been trying to maintain.

“Shouldn’t we be worried?” Cole shouted over the noise in the bar.

She shrugged and took another sip of beer. “If the cops can find us when we’re doing good enough to keep away from Nymar and Full Bloods and everything else out there,” she said as she raised her glass, “then here’s to the cops.”

Seeing no reason to argue with that point, he said, “So, I’m treating myself to a few nights in the Fairmont with my cut of that bounty money. Care to join me?”

“You’d better hit a bank first,” Paige replied. “That’s a real fancy hotel, and I get the feeling Ace and Stephanie will try to steal that money back even before Prophet comes along to collect his share.”

“You said you owe me. I was thinking…maybe we could continue what we started when you showed me how to polish my stick.”

Paige finished her beer and got up from the little round table that was pressed up against a wall covered with framed pictures of celebrities who’d supposedly visited the bar. She slipped her hand beneath Cole’s chin, kissed him on the cheek and said, “We could have both died that night. The blood was racing. Don’t get yourself all worked up.” A cute yet naughty smile drifted onto her face as she parted her lips to say something else. Before she could let any of those words fly, however, she straightened up and looked at another one of the televisions.

The screen was filled with a commercial for a local interest segment hosted by a boyish news anchor in a dark suit. Although his voice was lost amid all the chatter and music in the bar, the hazy picture on the screen behind him was impossible to miss. Two animals that could easily be mistaken for two large dogs were running down an alley The black dog had bright, glittering eyes, and the tan dog held its head down at an awkward angle so it lolled back and forth as he ran. The tagline beneath the video read: WOLVES IN THE WINDY CITY?

Shrugging, Paige said, “I guess I’ll have to take a pass on tonight, Cole. There’s a lot to do. Call me tomorrow and get plenty of rest. You’re going to need it.”

He would have liked to think she was referring to a certain kind of strenuous activity that would put smiles on both their faces, but he knew she was probably alluding to another round of training. After using some of her cut of Ace and Steph’s money to pay the tab, Paige waved to him and left. No matter what he’d been through or what kind of hell was starting to trickle down upon the world, he still took the time to admire the motion of her rounded hips and firm backside as she walked away.

Cheap thrills. That was the secret to a happy life, after all.

Rather than go to his hotel right away after finishing his beer, Cole stopped at a liquor store so he could get some snacks and check on the lottery ticket he’d bought. Things were looking up. A fresh batch of beef jerky had just been put on the shelves, and a few of Prophet’s numbers hit.

It was the easiest $23.75 he had ever made.