In the inevitable shadows cast by the overhead lights, Bryan stood silently waiting. He leaned against the grey concrete pillar with his glance fixed on the elevator doors thirty feet away. He heard the movement of the car in the shaft, the ringing electronic bell signaling the destination, and keys rattling as they came out of the pocket. The attorney in the worsted wool suit was oblivious to his surroundings. He was working late tonight to prepare for an audit of a client’s account. He’d replaced most of the money he’d embezzled over the last two years. As a rule, his client’s were elderly and of sufficient means to support a life style to which he’d become entitled. His financial genius allowed him to move the funds he skimmed from Louisville to Houston to Miami through several shady ports of call in Europe, through the Caymen Islands, and then to the Bank of London where they appeared as pristine as a virgin bride. The IRS, CIA, FBI, Interpol and not a few organized crime operatives had tried unsuccessfully for years to prove the larceny, but he’d always managed to allude factual guilt. Unfortunately, he remained the model trust and estate attorney.
Over the years, his practice had increased geometrically. His client list was the exclusive section of the social directory. In many ways, he was the city’s biggest champion. He used his talents to raise funds for any civic minded cause, and he was always willing to leverage a donation from a client if the cause was worthy. In the ten years since he passed the bar on the second attempt, he’d raised millions of dollars for various projects, amassed well over a million dollars in legal fees, renovated a deteriorated warehouse into an entertainment complex with his huge sound proof loft apartment above, and deposited billions in stolen assets around the globe for safe keeping.
Walking to the vintage muscle car, he thought himself the most clever person on earth. He reached to unlock the door and was met Bryan’s face in the flesh rather than his own in reflection. “Bryan, what in Hell are you doing here? We don’t have an appointment. Do we?” Bryan simply stared at him. “Fuck Bryan, you’re nocturnal lifestyle is a little beyond the eccentric. Give Rita a call tomorrow, and let her set up an appointment. I’m beat.”
“Uncooking the books is a little more possible than unringing the bell, but it’s a challenge none-the-less I’m sure,” Bryan finally replied.
“What are you talking about?”
“You stole money from me. It’s a crime you know. Wait, you were absent from law school the day they taught that. You were probably out stealing candy from the orphanage, but I won’t swear to it.” Two years ago, Bryan had begun to hear rumors about the wonderful but larcenous attorney and decided to have him manage a few million to see what would happen. Had it been all of Bryan’s cash, he’d now be living in Penury rather than the Triangle.
Steve’s eyes narrowed to slits and his face hardened. “There were some bad investments Bryan. I’m sorry. Call Rita tomorrow.”
“I’m talking to you tonight.”
“No, we’re done,” he said trying to shoulder past Bryan.
“No, dearest. You’re done.”
“It’s been tried before. I’m duPont non-stick. You’ll just look foolish.”
“Really. Well, I know a lot about you Steven. I know most of your sins.” Bryan gave him an epic catalogue of what he’d done over the years. It was like going to confession in reverse. In there meetings over the last several months, Bryan had penetrated Steve’s mind and found his worst secrets – his thoughts, words, and deeds – what he had done and what he had failed to do. Steve sank to the floor begging forgiveness. “I’m not here to grant absolution, for I don’t believe in Imperfect Contrition. You’ve been tried and found guilty. The punishment is death. Truly Steven, I’m not sorry.”
Steven reached into his pocket for his cell phone, but Bryan snatched it away before he could get the keys unlocked. In the process he had taken his keys as well. “Bryan think about this. The police will search. You’ll be found out. You’ll go to jail.”
“No Steven. I won’t. No one really cares about your sorry ass. They pretend to look, but they’ll find no evidence. The security camera here don’t work. I saw to that when I bought the garage a month ago. There will be no physical evidence, and as you’ve been saying since you saw me, there’s no appointment. Why would I be here. In fact, I think I’m asleep right now in my cabin. You know, I’m on a cruise to see the Northern Lights until the end of the month.” Bryan had enough. He grabbed Steven by his tie and pulled him close. “I love Aramis Steven. Remind me to pick up a bottle at the duty free shop. Oh, wait that’s right. Never mind.” In record time – at least it would be in rodeo standards, Bryan had Steven tied up, and he tore through Steve’s shirt to expose his chest. “Quit struggling! It’s only going to make things worse.” Bryan exposed his fangs. “Yes, I know you vagel down badly. Don’t worry, I’ve done this before.”
He bit into the flesh.
Steven let out a guttural cry. Bryan spoke telepathically “Yes I know it hurts, but it won’t in a minute. I’m out for Justice not cruelty.” He drank deeply and Steven calmed down. “You’ve been working out Stevie, but the coke isn’t good for you. It’s not your drug of choice.” He took another long drink of the salty liquor. “No Stevie, this isn’t a bad trip from some acid you dropped in college. This is as fuckin’ real as it gets.” A breath. “I’m getting a slight buzz off your coke habit though.” Brayan savoured the drink he took. “It’s very nice.” The heart stopped. Bryan reached out with his mind and pumped it more.
“It’s been a wild ride Stevie. I did like you. You’re not really a bad person. You just have some odd ideas.” The blood was gone along with Steven’s consciousness. He was dead–totally and completely. “Justice is the Goddess, and She has been served,” Bryan said aloud.
Bryan picked up the body and walked up to the roof where he took flight and sailed out over the city, then the suburbs, then the farmlands. He landed somewhere in Canada and lay the body in a deep grave he’d had prepared. He intensified his gaze and the body ignited. It finished burning, and Bryan kinetically moved the dirt over it. No one would discover it. This was in the middle of nowhere and Bryan owned it and the thousand acres surrounding it. Again he took flight. When he came down to earth he was standing on the roof of the bridge. “Sir, I know it makes for excellent viewing, but passengers aren’t allowed up there,” one of the crew said to him.
“I apologize. It was too tempting.” He came down and walked over to watch the aurora borealis – the path to heaven as it was sometimes called – light the sky and remind him who he was. “Great Mithras,” Bryan intoned in a whisper “bring him unscathed through the river of fire.”
