Animal - Revelations Part 4

"That being said, you can't ask this of Animal," Gucci continued. "My heart goes out to you and your baby, but what about my baby? If these people are as dangerous as you say then T.J. is going to lose his father."

"If he doesn't help, Celeste loses both her parents because I'm as good as dead and Celeste will be somewhere in Cuba." Sonja shot back. "Gucci, it's like I said, if I didn't have to come here, I wouldn't have."

"I a.s.sume your proposition comes with a plan?" Animal asked, to Gucci's surprise.

"You're not seriously considering this?" Gucci asked in disbelief. The look on his face said that he indeed planned on going through with it. She didn't know whether to scream, cry or hit Sonja over the head with a chair. Gucci tried to hold back the tears, but they fell anyway . . . one by one, tracing thin lines down her face.

Animal reached for Gucci, but she pulled away. He backed her into a corner and wrapped his arms around him. She struggled, but he wouldn't let her go. "Everything is going to be okay. I promise."

"You said you were done with this," Gucci sobbed into his chest.

"I am, ma, but I have to help her," Animal said.

"You don't owe her anything, Animal."

"You're right, I don't, but I owe it to Celeste. Gucci, you know me and my heart. If my daughter is in danger, I can't just sit by and do nothing. I won't leave her to the dogs like my parents did me. She's my blood."

Gucci wanted to argue the point. She wanted to point out the obvious, that he had a wife and son who loved and depended on him, but knowing Animal, he had already weighed it before making his decision. His nature wouldn't let him turn his former lover or their love child away, and that's what hurt Gucci the most. Someone else was intruding on what was supposed to be sacred to only her, his heart. Not able to bare it anymore, Gucci pushed away and walked out onto the beach. Animal wanted to follow, but it wouldn't help. He would allow her s.p.a.ce.

Animal turned to Sonja. All the love and affection that had been in his eyes only a few seconds prior had bled away, leaving behind the inky coldness of a killer. "I'll do this, and after that I don't want to see or hear from you. I'll provide you with money for Celeste and arrange visitation, but other than that I don't want to hear from you, ever again."

"Fair enough," Sonja agreed.

"Now, where do we start?"

Sonja smiled. "I couldn't wait for you to ask. New York City."

This surprised Animal. "Why there? I thought you said your problem is in Old San Juan?"

"It is, but we can't just roll in there and blast my old man. Security is tighter than the president's. We're going to need some invitations, and New York is where we can pick them up."

Going back to New York was an unexpected twist and Animal wasn't sure how he felt about it. New York was a city where he had left a bunch of unfinished business, and dead bodies. They hadn't even left yet and he already regretted agreeing to aid Sonja in her fool's mission. "This isn't going to be easy, and our chances look even slimmer with it being just the two of us. We're going to more hitters."

"I got a few solid dudes I can call," Ashanti said, from the entrance to the house. He'd been so quiet that none of them had noticed him.

"How long have you been standing there?" Animal asked.

"Long enough to know that my friend needs me," Ashanti told him.

"I can't ask you to die for me, Ashanti," Animal said.

"You don't have to, big homie. I'd give my life for you because I know you'd give yours for me. I'm all in," Ashanti declared. His face was hard and war ready.

Animal nodded. "Then so be it. Now, what about these shooters you're talking about? We're about to sit at the big boy table, and I need to know that everybody rocking with us is game tested. There'll be no room for error."

"Don't even trip off it, Animal," Ashanti pulled out his phone. "I got just the right cats in mind for this."

EIGHT.

NORMALLY, HECTOR HATED WORKING IN his father's deli because things dragged and he hated talking to some of the people that came in and out of it. They were mostly older Hispanics, and other neighborhood transients who only shopped there when the nicer bodega across the street was closed. The same didn't apply on Sat.u.r.day's. The owners of the store across the street were Jewish and didn't open on that day because of religious beliefs. On Sat.u.r.day's everybody came into Hector's father's store, especially the young hood rats. Hector would trade them cigarettes or groceries for s.e.xual favors.

That Sat.u.r.day night was especially busy. A few of the neighborhood dudes and some girls were in the store stocking up on beer and other goods for the barbecue they were having in the projects across the street. Hector was in the middle of talking to a big booty black chick, negotiating a blow-job for a few pounds of cold cuts, when trouble walked in.

There were two of them; one a good-looking Black guy who wore his hair in neat cornrows to the back. He immediately drew the attention of several females who were loitering near the door. He gave them a wink before going into the beer aisle. His partner lingered near the front, looking over the a.s.sortment of candies along a rack. Long braids spilled from the folds of the dark hoodie he kept pulled tightly over his head. It shadowed most of his face, but if you looked closely you could see the ugly burn scars on the side of his face.

The men who had just come into the store gave Hector the creeps, especially the one with the scar. They hadn't done anything, but there was something about the energy they carried with them that made him uneasy. He wasn't sure what it was about the man in the hood that made him afraid, but he was about to find out.

One of the young dude's loitering in the store hovered behind the man, snickering at a joke only he knew the punch line to. The plastic cup in his hand reeked of hard alcohol.

The man in the hoodie ignored him, and continued looking over the snacks. He grabbed a Snickers bar and two packs of sunflower seeds and walked to the counter.

"Oh, you gonna act like you don't hear me, huh?" the young man followed him. "I'm talking to you, sun. Maybe if you take that hood off, you'd be able to hear me," he reached for the man's hood.

The hooded man spun, with cat-like reflexes he caught the young man's hand in mid-air. He c.o.c.ked his head slightly, letting the light catch the web of scar tissue that went from his milky white eye to his jaw. It looked like someone had thrown acid on that side of his face. "Don't put your hands on me," he said in a low growl.

"d.a.m.n, what the f.u.c.k happened to you?" the young man with the cup recoiled. Just then the handsome one came from the beer aisle. He was holding two beers, and smiling. The smile faded from his lips when he saw his brother facing off with the young man. From the calm of his face, he knew his brother wasn't there yet, but he was on the brink. "Everything okay over here?" he asked in a calm tone.

The hooded man looked from the drunk young man to his brother, whose eyes were pleading for him to calm down. "Yeah," he released the young man. "Everything is cool."

"Good, no harm no foul," the handsome one said, glad he was able to defuse the situation before it got nasty. He paid for the beers and handed one to his brother, before leading the way from the deli. They had just hit the door when the drunk young man decided to add insult to injury.

"s.h.i.t, I'd wanna hide my face too if I was that f.u.c.king ugly," he capped, which cause his boys and everyone else in the store to laugh.

It had just gotten nasty.

The hooded man turned and walked calmly back into the store. Slowly, and deliberately, he pulled his hood off and gave everyone a clear view of his horribly scarred face. "You don't like my face?" he smashed the beer bottle against the drunk young man's face, shattering the bottle and splattering beer on himself and everyone near them. The young man collapsed on the ground, bleeding from the shards of gla.s.s that had cut his face open. "I don't like yours either," the hooded man knelt beside him and whispered, "Now you're pretty like me."

The drunk young man's comrades surged forward, but when the handsome one pulled a big gun from his pants, it made the crowd freeze. "Which one of you n.i.g.g.as wanna know what that lead do?" he waved the gun back and forth. He could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket. Keeping his eyes and gun on the thugs, he retrieved it and answered. "Speak." He listened for a few minutes, while the person on the other end rattled intensely. "Cool," was his reply and he ended the call. "Play time is over, Cain," he told the hooded man, and made his way out of the deli.

Cain frowned. He hated having his fun interrupted. He reached down and s.n.a.t.c.hed one of the fake diamonds from the drunk young man's ear. "Next time I take the whole ear," he told him before joining his brother outside. "Who was that, Abel?" he asked his brother once they were away from the crime scene.

"That was Ashanti. There's killing to be done."

PART II.

WAR READY.

NINE.

LILITH WAS UP AND WORKING in her garden early that morning. She'd always liked to get out when the day was fresh, but that day she'd ventured out earlier than usual. The sky was just starting to turn pink, and the sun had barely risen. It had been a sleepless night for her, and working in her garden always brought her peace. She took her time, examining petals and stems, while carefully plucking the different flowers and roots she needed.

She rose, holding her flower basket, and brushed the loose dirt from her nightgown. A soft breeze came through, causing the gown to cling to her so you could see the outline of her covetous body. Lilith was getting on in years, but she took care of her body. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s still sat up on their own and gravity had yet to touch her a.s.s. The only signs of her age were the small crows feet around her eyes and the streaks of grey through her long black hair. Outside of those things, she could give women half her age a run for their money. Her being such a beauty made her choice of lovers the topic of many debates.

Since she was a girl, Lilith had never been known to keep company with the most attractive or well-built men. Her lovers had always been average at best. She chose men like this because they were always intimidated by her beauty and it made them easier to manipulate. Lilith had never been concerned with what a man looked like, only what kind of influence he held or the extent of his wealth. Those were the lessons taught to her by her mother when she was a girl.

Lilith had emigrated from Cuba to America in the 1980s, during the cocaine explosion in Florida. She and her mother, like so many other refugees, settled into what back then were referred to as one of Miami's ethnic ghettos. Those were some rough and dangerous times. Lilith's mother had been a botanist in Cuba, so she was able to make money creating elixirs for those who didn't have the money or doc.u.mentation to go to the hospital. It didn't make them much money, but it did put their family in good standing with the people in the neighborhood. Selling the elixirs was honest work, but it was the dishonest things that Lilith's mother was into that kept them from starving.

Lilith's mother was as skilled at playing on the hearts and desires of men as she was at making elixirs. She targeted men who were either less than attractive or on in years. They were intimidated by her beauty, therefore easier to manipulate. Lilith's mother would bleed them for whatever wealth or influence she could before moving onto the next. Lilith didn't like her mother's extracurricular activities, but her mother convinced her that the ends justified the means. They were women and would always be the underdogs, so to get ahead they had to use their wits to win the battles that their fists couldn't. Those lessons taught to her by her mother would be the bootstraps she would use to pull herself out of the ghetto and place herself into the position she currently found herself in, the bride-to-be of the most powerful man on the island.

Crossing the lawn, on her way back to the house, she greeted several of the armed men who guarded the property. They had been hand-picked and given the honor of serving as part of her lover's personal security force. Each of them would kill or die for their employer, or his lady, without giving it so much as a second thought. They were dedicated. The men waved or nodded in greeting, but none of them would dare make eye contact with the boss's s.e.xy fiance. It was said that she could read men's minds, and none of them wanted to let her in on their dirty thoughts. One word from Lilith could mean the difference between life or death for any of them, so they kept their heads down and did their jobs. Still, it didn't stop her from trying to entice them every chance she got. This is why she always wore her most revealing nightgowns when she made her early morning trips to the garden. To her, it was all just a deadly game.

Lilith welcomed the cold push of the air conditioners when she got in the house. The air outside was warm and sticky. She made her way into the kitchen, where the staff was already at work preparing breakfast. They said their respective "good mornings" but that was as far as their interaction with Lilith went. Most of the staff either feared her or despised her. Lilith could hear them at night, when they thought they were alone, talking about their employer's new mistress and the sway she held over him. In the most hushed of tones, some of them had even accused her of witchcraft. Lilith never let on that she was aware of their late night conversations, but every so often she would find a reason to fire a member of the staff, or worse. One of the young girls who cleaned the house had made the mistake of letting Lilith catching her rolling her eyes, after being given a task, and mysteriously disappeared. Her family held onto hope that she would turn up again one day, but Lilith didn't.

Placing her flower basket on the counter, Lilith began removing the contents and preparing them. She carefully washed all the flowers, and cut away the parts she wouldn't need. When everything was prepared, she placed her collection in a metal strainer, and dropped it in a pot of boiling water. When it was done, she poured the contents of the pot into a teakettle, which she placed on the tray, containing a plate of eggs, bacon and fluffy biscuits. Picking the tray up, Lilith mustered the biggest smile possible and went to serve her future husband his breakfast.

When Lilith entered the huge master bedroom, she found Poppito awake, but still in bed. His skin color was better, having gone from pasty white to recapturing some of its color. His eyes still carried a yellow tint, but were alert.

"Good morning, love of my life," Lilith greeted him when she entered the room. She had almost completely shed her Spanish accent, but thickened it when doing business or coddling her Poppito. He always said her voice reminded him of his mother. "How are you feeling today?"

"Better than I have in a few days," Poppito pushed himself into a sitting position. The blanket fell away, revealing the expensive silk pajamas he was wearing. At one time they had fit him nicely, but now hung loosely on his constantly deteriorating frame. Poppito had lost quite a bit of weight over the past few weeks.

"For this, I am thankful," Lilith said, placing the breakfast tray on a table. "Will you try and eat something today?" she removed the top of the breakfast tray.

The smell of the bacon wafted into Poppito's nose, and he could feel his stomach growling. The growling was replaced by a sick lurching feeling and the moment of hunger was replaced with sickness. "I don't think so. I'm sorry for putting you through the trouble of making breakfast for me but my traitorous body won't allow me to taste it."

"I will make breakfast for you every morning from today until forever, it is your wish. Severing you is what I live for, my love," Lilith said in a sincere tone. "If you can't eat, then at least drink something," she poured some of the tea she'd brewed into a teacup. "My mother used to give this to my brothers when they fell ill, and I used it for my own sons. It will bring balance back to spirit," she handed Poppito the gla.s.s.

Poppito's hands shook a bit, but he managed to take the teacup and sip from it without dropping it. "You are too good to me, my flower."

"I'm only doing my duty as your woman. We need you to get better soon. You have an empire to run and we have a wedding to plan."

"Yes, your special day," Poppito smiled from behind the teacup, while he took another small sip. "Fear not my love; I won't leave this world before I've had a chance to profess my love and devotion for you before G.o.d and our family. I've just had so much on my mind with Chris being killed and Sonja running off . . . ," his voice was heavy with emotion. "How could she betray me like that at such a critical time?"

"You know how these children are, my love. If we don't give them enough, we are bad parents, but if we give them too much, they become unappreciative. Look at George, I've spoiled him rotten, but he's never here when I need him. He's too busy jet-setting here and there," Lilith waved her hands dismissively. "But Peter, who has had to work for everything, is always by my side. He puts his family before his own needs."

"Peter is a good son, much like my Juan was," Poppito took another sip. The tea had settled his stomach. "Juan was a good boy . . . a good soldier. He would've made a fine leader had he not been killed. Chris was a good son too, but he was no soldier. He was never been cut out for this life and I was reluctant to force it on him, which is why it was such a blessing when Sonja came home. She wasn't Juan, but the soldiers respected her and I knew they would follow her when the time came. Now she's gone, Chris is dead and I am a sick old man. When G.o.d calls me home, who will look after what I've built? Why did my Red Sonja betray me?" the tea was kicking in and he was starting to ramble.

Lilith perched on the edge of the bed, draped her arm around Poppito's frail soldiers. "Fear not, my love. You still have a long life ahead of you, but when your time does come, know that I will make sure your empire still stands," she kissed him on the forehead lovingly, "this I can promise you."

Poppito rambled on for a few more minutes before the tea put him into a sound sleep. It would be hours before he woke again, and when he did, Lilith would be there waiting to administer another dose. Keeping him in these stupors made it easier for Lilith to operate freely, but it also came with its risks. Overmedicating him with the poison would eventually start to cause brain damage, and she needed Poppito to be somewhat functional . . . at least until after they were married and everything that he laid claim to went to her.

"Mother," a soft voice called from the doorway. Lilith looked up to find her daughter, Ophelia standing there. In spite of the heat, she wore a long blue floral dress that covered her legs and arms. Her black dreadlocks were pulled to the top of her head and fastened into a large bun. When she wore her hair like that you could better see her attractive face. Ophelia had skin the color of b.u.t.terscotch, and eyes to match, with a wide nose and thick lips.

"Yes, child?"

"Peter is ready for you," Ophelia announced.

Lilith nodded. "Tell him I'll be along as soon as I put on something decent and not to start without me."

"Yes, mother," Ophelia said, but didn't move to carry out the order.

"Is there something else?" Lilith asked.

"There's been word of the rogue," Ophelia said.

"Well, don't just stand there in silence," Lilith demanded. She noticed the way Ophelia was looking at Poppito, hesitant to speak in front of him. "Don't worry about him. He's so far removed from this world right now that I could stab him and he wouldn't notice until the moment his heart stopped. You can speak freely."

"As you wish," Ophelia said softly. "News has come in of the rogue, and our attempts were thwarted again. We suffered several casualties." She braced herself for one of her mother's legendary rants, but to her surprise, she was calm. There was a look of disappointment on Lilith's face, but she was hardly as angry as Ophelia had expected her to be.

"Slippery b.i.t.c.h," Lilith spat. "It's my own fault, really. I should've never trusted a task so sensitive to novices. Mercenaries are so unreliable in this part of the world. Still, with the failed attempt our hand might've been tipped off which will put her on the offensive. Even cut off from all support, she's still resourceful and could present a problem. We should tighten up security until she's brought in and we can move forward with our plans with our friends across the ocean."

"Mother, let me go after her. It would be an honor for me to lay the traitor at your feet," Ophelia said.

Ophelia's loyalty warmed her mother's heart. "No," Lilith touched her face tenderly. "This battle is not yours, Little Flower," she called her by the nickname she had given her when she was first brought into the family. "I have something more important I need you to handle."

Lilith went onto instruct Ophelia on what she needed her to do. Ophelia didn't like it, but it was her mother's will and she would not disobey. "As you will," Ophelia reluctantly agreed to do as she was told, and left the room.

Lilith knew she had hurt the girl's pride by giving her what seemed like such a meaningless mission when there were so many more important things to do, but she would get over it. Part of her path to enlightenment was to learn to stop looking at tasks in terms of big or small, and appreciate the opportunity to serve, regardless of capacity. In the end she would be grateful for the lesson.

Of Lilith's three children, she was most proud of the one who did not come from her womb. She had come into possession of Ophelia over a decade ago during a visit to the Midwest where she was conducting business with some men from the East Coast who fancied themselves pimps. Amongst their stable of wh.o.r.es was a young girl. She was a frail thing, with the saddest eyes. The girl seemed somewhat dimwitted, and rarely spoke unless she was ordered to. What the pimps did wasn't Lilith's business. She was there for the sole purpose of recruiting several girls to use as mules, but she couldn't get her mind off the girl. Lilith was no angel, but she had never abused a child and people who did sickened her. By the time Lilith's business was conducted, she had relieved the pimps of all the girls, and the men who owned them were all found murdered in a hotel room. Most of the girls went back to whatever lives they had come from before Lilith's liberation, but she kept the young girl with her. She was so small and fragile that Lilith didn't trust that she would be able to survive in the world on her own. She would raise her as the daughter she never had and mold her in her own image. In addition to a new life, Lilith also gave her a new name, Ophelia, after the character in Hamlet.

Lilith found herself with no shortage of problems to deal with and not a great amount of time to address them. What she was orchestrating would require great time and care, but time wasn't on her side. The longer they prolonged the wedding the harder it would be to execute her ultimate plan. She would have to speed things along and deal with the unexpected casualties as they came.

When Lilith emerged from the house, she was fully dressed. She'd traded in her nightgown for a sleeveless white shirt, black slacks and a large white hat to protect her from the sun, which had now fully risen. Flapping in her hand, pushing a soft breeze across her face was a beautifully decorated straw fan. She took her time, walking down the rear steps of the house, out onto the stone path leading to the ten aces of forest that surrounded the house.

Standing at the mouth of the woods, addressing several of the guards, was Lilith's eldest son, Peter. Much like the soldiers who guarded the house, Peter was dressed in a uniform consisting of fatigues and steel-toed boots. In his arms he cradled a long machine gun, and at his hip was strapped a machete. His hair was cut bald, showing off his tattooed head. A pair of devil horns went from his temples to the middle top of his skull. The soldiers listened intently as Peter instructed them in what he wanted done. When Poppito had first given Peter command of his personal guard, some of them were reluctant to follow the newcomer, but Peter quickly earned their respect and fear with his deeds on the field of battle. Peter was a fierce opponent and a master strategist. They called him The Fox because he was such a crafty opponent. Even if his enemy's forces were larger than his, Peter was always able to outthink them to gain the advantage. Before coming to join Poppito's forces he had helped topple several criminal organizations in Cuba, and then Miami. Lilith might've been the most proud of Ophelia, but it was Peter who had her heart.

When Peter saw his mother approaching, he immediately hurried over to meet her. "Good morning, mama," he kissed her on both cheeks. "I'm sorry to disturb you so early, but you insisted that you be notified as soon as they arrived."

"Yes, this is something that can't be trusted to second-hand accounts. I would look into their eyes personally," Lilith said.

Peter took his mother by the hand and led her deeper into the woods, where his men awaited him under a stand of trees. Hanging from several of the trees, by their arms, were three naked men, beaten and frightened. At one time they had been soldiers in Poppitio's army, but now they were branded traitors awaiting judgment.

Lilith walked amongst the hanging prisoners. "Blood on the leaves . . ." she sang, running her hand down the exposed ribs of one of the hanging soldiers. " . . . blowing in a southern breeze," she gently nudged another of the hanging bodies, causing it to sway. "Strange fruit, indeed. So, these are those amongst the foolish few who still defy the words of our benefactor, Poppito?"

"Yes, we found them trying to flee the island early this morning and brought them here immediately, as you ordered," Peter said proudly.