The Wrath Walker (The Wrath Series Book 1) by Matthew Newson (fun to read .txt) 📗

loud, so act like one, but you’re doing this. Do you understand me? You, by yourself, no outside help. That’s your penitence for the stunt you just pulled with all your big talk.”

“Okay Skeeter,” Frankie said as he looked down at the table.

The pity party he was trying to have for himself made me sick. Grown men in our line of work didn’t act like that.

“Don’t look so sad now, didn’t you just say you wanted blood? Didn’t Frankie just say that, Enzo?” I picked up my cigar and continued to enjoy the smooth flavor of it again as the aroma soothed my nerves. I took in a mouthful of smoke and blew it at Frankie, who didn’t say a word about it.

“That’s what he said, Skeeter,” Enzo replied, still glaring at Frankie.

“Yeah, that’s what I heard too. Look at me, Frankie.”

Frankie looked up with a sober expression on his face. I knew I had gotten to him, but I had to make an example, so he never tried something like that again. It always started off with bucking orders and raising their voices, and if the individual was never put in their place, it always ended with them taking a shot at the boss. I wasn’t about to let something like that happen to me.

“Go and take care of Brandon for us, Frankie, and make sure no one sees you or ever finds that piece of trash.”

Frankie got up and buttoned his jacket and nodded respectfully to me. “I’ll take care of everything, Skeeter, you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

“Do I look worried to you, Frankie?”

Right before Frankie reached the door, I stopped him for one last word of encouragement.

“Hey Frankie, wait a second.”

“Yeah boss,” he said as he turned to face me as I took another long draw on my cigar.

“I want to be clear on this. If you get busted or you fail to take care of Brandon, then it will be you that gets taken care of. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now get out of here, and don’t come back until it’s done.”

Chapter FourteenBrandon Farmer

The Black Castle

AFTER I FOUND MY OLD Bible, I read the story of Sodom and Gomorrah repeatedly after Wrath disappeared from the hallway, but there wasn’t a part of the story that struck me as the key to stopping Wrath’s murderous rampage. I took several pages of notes on the story that night, but I was still unable to connect any dots before I tried getting a few hours of restless sleep. I knew Wrath was a killer and nothing more, but I still found myself intrigued by the guy and his wild story about his origin. Even though it made no sense whatsoever, the man still possessed abilities that seemed to be from another world. However, he still wanted to kill me for a reason I had yet to determine, and how he was able to lump me in with the Amaras was beyond my detective skills.

I got out of bed around eight the next morning, and quickly got ready for the day. I rescheduled all my clients that week and moved them to the next, so I could focus all my efforts on what had been placed before me. Besides, I couldn’t find any cheating spouses if I was a dead man. I packed my notebook and a couple of pens in my backpack, grabbed my gun, and tucked it into my waist before I went outside. I had to remember to leave the gun in my car because the Black Castle was government property, and it was considered a felony to carry a gun into government buildings unless I was law enforcement. The humid air smacked me in the face as soon as I stepped out of my building. I wondered if the Spring would ever cool back down, and then I figured we were in for a hotter than normal summer. I got into my car and started to make the drive to the Black Castle. I listened to the audio version of the story of Sodom and Gomorrah as I drove, hoping for something to stick out to me, but nothing did.

When I pulled into the parking lot of the building our town was named after, I marveled at the massive structure. The castle stood at an impressive five stories tall, with giant windows set into every floor that ran across the structure. The attached six story tower on the right of the castle had a massive clock installed at the top. The bell could be heard throughout most of the city at the top of every hour. The grounds were meticulously cared for by the city, and citizens were fined if caught walking across the grass. The bushes at the front were already in full bloom, as I watched the bees jump from flower to flower, and then dive bomb people as they walked out of the building.

It was almost hard to believe that the now Black Castle had only been what remained of an old castle that had burned up a long time ago, and no one really knew what had caused the fire. I heard that lightning had struck it, a rival group burned it, and aliens had set it on fire. That had been my personal favorite tale of the castle because it was so beyond the scope of reality that I found it amusing. Some believed it to be fact. What we did know was the fire had darkened the stone walls and left the place without a roof over most of the castle. Even though the city owned it and the land it sat upon, and it was what our town was named after, no one had tried to restore it until the early sixties. The city government decided to renovate it and turn it into a place for school kids to go on field trips. When the tours died down, the city