46. Brian

FORTY-SIX

brian

It’s after one o’clock in the morning. Benjamin’s Costume Company has been closed for hours. If there are any unsatisfied customers, they’ll have to make their complaints after the holiday.

The only trouble is, dead men don’t give refunds. Though I’m pretty sure all sales were final anyway. I pick the lock, and the bell jingles to announce our presence. The only light in the place comes from the perpetually malfunctioning Zoltar machine and the purple lights in the glass counter, eerily illuminating the shrunken heads.

I almost walk right into the hanging string of garlic and Mina giggles behind me. It’s not just a prop, it’s fresh, so I wonder if Barker is a superstitious man.

He has a black cat so he can’t be too superstitious. The cat sits on a nearby bookshelf and hisses down at us. I’m surprised there isn’t a security system, but I casually cased the shop the last time we were here, and there were no signs of one—no little boxes to input a code. Unless it’s in the back away from prying eyes. But it would be quite a jog to get to it in time before the alarm went off.

So I’m going with the theory that there’s no electronic security system in this building—just a lock nearly any dumb teenager with a lock-picking kit and access to the internet for a quick tutorial can get into. Maybe he doesn’t worry that a lot of people want to steal from his shop. If he keeps the money locked away somewhere else… It isn’t as though there’s a huge black market for shrunken heads and clown makeup.

Not only is there garlic, but there are sigils hanging near the door and cash register, something I didn’t take notice of in previous visits. Does he believe magic will stop intruders? Is he a believer in magic in general? He lives in an apartment just above the shop, and before I can wonder if we’re going to have to break in to that, too—and if maybe that’s where the real security is—a bleary-eyed Benjamin minus his goth makeup comes downstairs into the main shop. He pushes aside the bamboo curtain. The cat jumps up onto the counter to be closer to him and continues to glare at us.

We’re back in our Krampus costumes—I don’t know why. It just felt like the creepy thing to do. Or maybe it’s a form of cover in case a stray witness still lurks nearby. Benjamin is barely awake and doesn’t seem to have registered the danger we present.

I had thought since he has enough dealings with the underbelly of the city and since my name actually meant something to him, that he would have the good sense and wisdom to keep his mouth shut, but you just can’t trust normies. And clearly his loyalties were already to someone else despite my reputation. I knew it was a risk giving my name—but I also knew it was the quickest route to gaining his compliance and gaining access to Valentino at the critical moment.

“C-can I help you?” he asks.

“You had one job, Benjamin,” I say, as though I’m a parent who is deeply disappointed in his conduct.

He recognizes my voice, even muffled behind the Krampus mask. His eyes widen and he turns to run, but I jump the counter and stop him, pushing him into the back room, and pressing him against the wall.

Back here, it’s clear he does believe in magic—its protective power, its darker powers. There are more sigils back here as well as candles and tarot cards spread out, and carved stone idols on a nearby shelf representing what are probably deities he prays to. Or maybe ancestors or guardian spirits. I’m not so much into the occult. I just know it looks spooky and would make a good set for a TV show centered around witchcraft. But I’m a normie in his world as much as he is one in mine.

Let’s find out which one of us has the real power.

I grip Benjamin’s throat hard. “What did you say to Dante?”

“W-who’s Dante?” He chokes out.

I squeeze harder until his face goes red from it, and then release him to let him gasp and choke and cough, as he tries to get back to the familiar safety of sweet oxygen.

“Tell me,” I growl. “Don’t play fucking games. I was told that you told someone we would be there. Was it Dante?”

Benjamin holds up his hands defensively as if he knows I’m not going to like what he has to say next. “I-I don’t know who Dante is. I swear. T-there was a guy who was looking for you, and I told him you’d be there.”

“How about Frederick Valentine? Does that name mean anything to you?”

Recognition slowly dawns in his eyes. “Y-yes, he bought a costume for the event. But I d-don’t know him. That’s not who I talked to.”

I’m not sure if I believe him. “If you want to survive this night, you will tell me the truth. Did you talk to Dante Valentino?”

“N-no! I don’t know him! I told you!”

“What about the guy you talked to? Who is he?”

“I-I don’t know… he came in for a costume. I don’t know him. He just mentioned he was looking for you and asked if you were going to the event.”

I wonder if it was some kind of set-up. Was Dante looking for me? Or was it truly someone else?

“P-please… I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I just thought he was a f-friend of yours.”

“Never met the guy,” I say.

“S-so I told you what you wanted to know, so w-we’re done here, right? I-I can go back to my apartment?”

“Brian…” Mina says, putting a hand on my arm. “Let’s just go. He didn’t mean to…”

I shake my head. “You believe that, Mina? Really?” I can’t trust this guy. He’ll talk to the cops. He’s too scared. He’s too unreliable. He will absolutely name us for this crime because he’ll think me being behind bars will protect him.

“You probably should have invested in real security instead of these weak, silly trinkets.” I say, swiping a hand out, knocking one of the idols off the shelf and to the floor.

His eyes widen as he watches it crash. “That was unwise,” he says. “The spirits will be angry.”

I just laugh at his attempt to scare me and turn the tables. But then a draft blows through, and one of the candles goes out.

Parlor tricks. Coincidence. Probably the AC kicking on—though I didn’t hear a unit. I look around for an air vent anyway.

“Brian, maybe we should leave,” Mina says, tugging on my arm. That absolutely will not happen. This loose end has to go, along with any paper evidence that might tie back to us. I know there’s no paper trail around the payment, but there is that fucking master list Benjamin kept.

“Are you kidding me right now? You believe in this shit?” I say to Mina, not taking my eyes off our new target.

“I mean… no… but… I don’t know... maybe…”

“I-I could read your cards,” Benjamin says, clearly attempting to buy more time to live and to sway Mina against me.

“Mina…” I say, “he’s a threat. He’s already proven he can’t be trusted. I don’t do loose ends. You know this. And I’m not going to risk you for this fool.”

“You should have all the information before you make a choice,” Benjamin says. As though tarot cards count as information.

Mina takes her mask off and gives me the puppy eyes. Fuck. I swear.

“Fine, read my cards, but it won’t change your fate.”

I back off of him and remove my own mask as well as the heavy costume. I have a black T-shirt and jeans underneath and easier access to my weapons—exactly what I need with this slippery eel. I watch him carefully to make sure he isn’t going to try some sleight of hand magic trick to gain control of the situation. If he sells so much of that shit, he probably knows how most of it works.

Mina also removes her outer costume. These costumes are fucking hot, and while they felt nice and cozy in the cold winter air, they are much more claustrophobic and stifling indoors.

Benjamin sits at the table and gathers up the tarot cards. They are black with intricately designed hyper real artwork. Pale alabaster nude figures are visible before he turns them face down and shuffles them into the deck.

“I need to add your energy to the cards, so cut the deck,” he says.

I can’t believe I’m engaging in this foolishness. But I cut the deck, trying to figure out what this guy has up his sleeve and how he’ll try to wriggle off my hook. Surely Mina must know we can’t leave this man breathing. That’s the real danger, not his spooky ambiance and fucking tarot cards.

He holds my gaze for a moment, and then draws a card and lays it out on the table.

The Lovers.

I don’t know what any of this means, but, The Lovers seems like a positive card, at least. The second card he turns over is The Devil.

Well, that’s for sure me. No mysteries of the universe uncovered here.

The final card he pulls and flips over… The Tower.

His eyes widen a fraction as he takes it all in. I glance over to Mina and her gaze is riveted to him. Okay clearly The Tower isn’t a good card, but who the fuck cares? They’re just cards. They don’t have any magic powers. They can’t tell your fate or destiny. They’re just cards.

Benjamin locks eyes with me and says in a way far more solemn and creepy than he should be able to with his life on the line, “Tell her before it’s too late.”

I feel Mina go still beside me. She’s buying this shit. I know she is. I glance down to see she’s unconsciously twisting her grandmother’s ring on her finger—the one she was told has protective power.

Benjamin’s proclamation is exactly the kind of vague bullshit you’d get in a fortune telling tent. No clairvoyance required to set ambiance, pull out some cards, and say something that sounds almost wise. He assumes I have some sort of secret and is just trying to sow discord so he can barter with Mina for his life. Not a giant leap to make with a sequence like: The Lovers. The Devil. And The Tower.

“Oh yeah? How about we read your cards and see what fate and all the powers that be have in store for you.”

I take the cards from the table, insert The Lovers, The Devil, and The Tower face down on top, and shuffle them.

“Cut the deck,” I say, sneering at him. “It needs your energy.”

I see him swallow visibly now that he’s in the hot seat. He cuts the deck and I pull and flip over the card on top.

Death.

I look up at him and smile. His eyes widen, the blood draining from his face as he sees his little stalling technique didn’t work after all.

“The death card doesn’t mean death! The death card doesn’t mean death!” he says frantically, waving his hands in front of me as if performing some warding protective magic.

“Well, in this case it does.” I pick up the sharp pointy knife that looks like a mini jeweled sword off the table and jab it into his carotid.

He grabs at his throat, his eyes wide. “That was a mistake.”

Or I think that’s what he said. The blood is gurgling and choking him, muffling his words so I really can’t tell. He could have said anything. A moment later, he’s dead, his sightless eyes staring up at the ceiling.

Mina snaps out of whatever trance she was sitting in just now. “Brian! My God, what did you do?”

“What I had to do. He’s not safe to leave alive. He would have talked when the police inevitably came calling. He couldn’t follow one fucking simple instruction. If he’d kept his mouth shut and just made the fucking costumes he wouldn’t be in this situation. He has nobody to blame but himself.”

Why am I justifying myself right now? I did what I had to do to keep us safe.

The cat yowls from the other room and gets a case of the zoomies, rushing in and out around our legs, jumping on and off the table, and on again, knocking candles over in her frantic surge of random craziness. There are far too many flammable things and fabrics in this room. It goes up into flames so quickly.

I grab Mina’s hand, and we run for the exit as the smoke chases us into the main part of the shop. Then I stop, remembering that fucking list. I can’t risk that it’ll be spared.

I rush back behind the counter.

“Brian! We have to get out of here!” She’s coughing and covering her mouth with one arm.

I pull out several drawers behind the counter, tossing things out behind me, until finally I find the list with everyone’s information. I toss it on the flames and watch as the fire consumes our costumes and the list—the only evidence tying us to the scene of the crime.

The investigation on The Yuletide Slayer will inevitably hit a dead end and the city will be talking about something else as soon as the new year rings in.

“Come on!” Mina shouts at me. She manages to pull the fire alarm as we run from the burning shop.

We get in the car, and just as I’m pulling out, the black cat crosses right in front of our path.

“Brian,” Mina says after we’ve been on the road for several long minutes.

I take a deep breath, still shaky and paranoid we might be forgetting something… and half worried we may have been seen at some point.

“Yeah?”

“What did he mean back there? What he said? Tell her before it’s too late?”

I sigh. “Mina, for God’s sake, he didn’t mean anything. He doesn’t know anything. He’s not psychic. He knows I’m a killer, and he wanted to play on your sympathies to try to spare his own life. And clearly it worked.”

Well, not the saving his own life part, but he did his damage tonight.

“I don’t think you should have stabbed him with that thing. It looked like some sort of ritual knife. And then… the cat, and the flames and…”

“Mina... that guy… I think he was some sort of mentalist or illusionist. He clearly runs in those circles. He’s picked up some tricks of the trade along the way like cold reading and getting inside people’s heads. He probably had something set up so he could make that breeze and candle thing happen to freak out people who come to the back room for a reading. He was just using your fears against you.”

She stares out the window and doesn’t say anything else, but I know she’s still thinking about it and what dark secrets I might be withholding from her. And once a seed like that is planted, there is nothing on this earth that can dig it out.