Firestorm Chronicle Anthology by The Firestorm Chronicle Anthology

Author:The Firestorm Chronicle Anthology
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-01-15T17:54:46+00:00

Brothers

By Andrew Atramor

I slammed Will Ledley against the wall of his pawn shop. My hand was pressed firmly under his chin. I was sure he could feel the lattice of scars on my fingers. I held off on choking him, though. Will had been working for me and he had information I wanted; it had taken a full month of petty theft to get him the money he asked for. But I needed him to think I might hurt him.

“What haven’t you been telling me?” It was a calm question. I pressed my face close to his and wondered if he could see the stitch-marks around my lips.

Simon leaned over my shoulder. His bloodshot blue eyes darted all over Ledley’s face. The boy was healing up good; he’d been bruised and bloodied when I found him, surrounded by screaming meth heads. I felt bad for him. He had no friends, nowhere else to go. I don’t often feel bad for people, so I let him stay with me. It was getting to be time to cut him loose though. “He’s holding back,” said the kid. He gave Will a little punch in the gut. People who spend any time with me tend to get violent.

Ledley’s Pawn was a tiny store sandwiched between a Brooks Pharmacy and one of those places that cashes checks. It was close to midnight and nobody gave two shits about what happened in that part of town. All the parts of Providence I felt comfortable in were like that.

“Nothing. I haven’t been holding back anything,” said Will. I pressed my hand just a fraction of an inch closer to his throat. “Well, okay, some things, but you have to understand, you aren’t the first person to ask me about that fucking gun. The thing has been a headache since you brought it to me, and now the cops want to know where I got it. Wolfe, come on, we’re friends. You don’t have to do this.” My hand trembled at the word “friend” and I dropped him. I didn’t want to accidentally fry his nervous system.

“I could snap your neck like a dry biscuit, asshole. We’re not friends. I paid you for information. You think a guy like me has a day job? Tell me what you learned and we can start over again, civil.” He glanced at a manila folder resting unceremoniously under a blunt replica of a samurai sword.

“Christ, thank you. Jeez, you need to relax. Take up yoga or something.”

Simon strummed a guitar he’d found on the wall. It sounded like crap to me.

Ledley winced. “Does he have to play with that? It’s antique.”

“Don’t change the subject,” I said.

Will spit out a hunk of phlegm and nodded. “The gun. So. I talked to a cop friend of mine, ran the serial number by him. And you know what he told me? That gun you have is wanted in a murder investigation.”

My head felt itchy, and my left hand idly stroked the cool metal of the handgun in my pocket.

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