11/8/2022 0 Comments Finely home by ben markly![]() ![]() ![]() He ran a finger over the rough inscription on its surface, an inscription in a language no one had spoken in thousands of years. The metal was cold, always cold, no matter how long he held it. Not quite right, Angelos thought and gripped the coin in his right hand beneath the covers. Not because death was imminent but because he had one more thing to do, and it would require every bit of life remaining to him. The strength was leaving his body like the heat from a dying star. “You know, making an emergency conversion to Buddhism or Scientology or whatever is not a get-out-of-jail-free card.” The demon’s fifteen minutes were likely optimistic. “Which I’d say is in about fifteen minutes.” “If you don’t think the priest saved you, what keeps me from taking your shit-stained soul the very second you shuffle off the mortal coil?” The demon pantomimed looking at a wristwatch. He’d finally met his match in the two packs of Marlboros he smoked every day since he was sixteen, proving again that you get what you pay for. He paid his dues in blood and bribes and became one of the most feared men in the city. After that, Angelos had proven himself a reliable smuggler, then an even more reliable contract killer. He’d started running guns for the head of the so-called Greek mafia in Baltimore at the age of nineteen. “I let him perform the blessing to help her get over my death.” His mother had wanted him to go into the priesthood of the Greek Orthodox Church, but a life of piety and service was never in the cards. “The priest was for my mother,” Angie said, his throat as dry as sunbaked desert. It takes more than a little Latin and holy water to wipe away a life of sin.” “What? You think that priest that came and blessed you the other day makes one bit of difference? Come on, Angie you’re not stupid. ![]() When he could finally suck enough air to speak, he said, “I’m not going with you.” You, my friend, are going pro.”Īngelos chuckled, sending rivers of agony through his entire body. “Oh, you think you know pain, do ya? Well, Angie, you ain’t seen nothin’.” The demon waved a dagger-clawed hand at Angelos’ shriveled body. I’m ready for the pain to end.” The cancer had been eating him alive for the better part of three years. The demon, a blood red mockery of the human form with curling goat horns, eyes like black marbles, and a mouth filled with shark teeth, grinned. It had been there every day since he’d entered hospice care, proving you can get used to anything: demons, pain, impending death.Īngelos swallowed and turned his head toward his infernal visitor. When Angelos Hasapi woke, the demon sat in a chair next to his bed. ![]()
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