Chapter 8

I woke up curled up on the floor in the brightly lit white room of the Saccardi beating house. Every breath was agony, but my headache had faded. The glare of the light hurt my eyes. Tony Saccardi and his trained gorilla were sitting on chairs towards the side of the room. I could smell the harsh aroma of a cigar sitting somewhere unseen. Tony turned as George gestured in my direction. He stood, straightening the suit he was once again clad in, and walked over to crouch down beside me.

"Billy, you have some really good luck. You were going to die, you know that, right?" Tony waited for a moment, then asked again, "Right?"

I tried to form words, but my jaw wouldn't respond. Tony finally felt satisfied when I managed to give something resembling a nod. "You were due to die. You owed my family a whole lot of money. However, a friend of your mother's made me an offer I couldn't refuse." I blinked slightly at the comment regarding my mother; my mother was in the Granite Falls Retirement Community in the Florida Keys. I didn't know her to have any friends in Vegas, much less any with easy access to hundreds of thousands of dollars. I tuned back into Mr. Saccardi's voice as he grabbed hold of my chin roughly. "Are you listening to me? I want you to know that you are apparently worth seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars to someone. He'll be here to get you soon.

"I want you to know how it's going to be after this, William Jones.

"We know you. We know what you do, how you operate, where you live, who you spend time with. As long as you don't come near us, you're safe. We don't want you even remotely involved in anything involving my family. You've shown yourself to be dishonorable, and a traitor, Billy, and I don't want people like that near my family. Stay away, and we won't inflict any punishment on you. This offense has been paid off; our accounts are balanced. Don't give us any reason to have to revisit this... conversation."

I absently noticed the complete lack of expletives while Tony Saccardi was clad in his suit, but didn't have any time nor inclination to respond before the door swung open. Tony released his iron grip on my chin, and I fell back to the floor. I couldn't lift my head on my own, and so could only see my savior by his shoes and the bottom of his black pant leg.

"You didn't mention he was in such bad condition." My savior's voice was as smooth as expensive vodka, slipping down and warming me inside.

"Had you reached us any later, we may not have been able to make a deal. Do you want to cancel our deal?" Tony's voice sounded like gravel by comparison.

Please no, I pleaded, unable to form the words. Luckily, my unseen hero felt the same way; he said, "Of course not."

Tony continued, "Well then, we've kept our end of the bargain..."

"Oh, yes. Seven hundred and fifty thousand, in twenties. A silver briefcase was placed on the floor with a clump a foot ahead of the black shoes of my still anonymous rescuer. George's far cheaper shoes approached, and lifted the briefcase. I heard it placed somewhere with greater echo -- probably the table in the corner. A snap, and rustling told me the contents were being examined.

"Very good. Good night, Billy." Vague echoing footsteps faded into silence as the door closed behind Tony Saccardi and Minion George as they left me behind. I still couldn't lift my head, and my body hurt beyond belief. I knew my life had been saved, but I still didn't know by who.

"Hello, William. We've never met, but I'm a friend of your mother's." A chair appeared just before me. The lights in the room reflected off its metal surface, and the unclear reflection of myself I could see in the chair legs made me feel even more wretched. Unexpectedly, a strong pair of arms gripped me under the arms and hoisted me into the chair. With assistance, I got my first real look at my unknown benefactor.

The black suit was obviously hand made; the very slight lighter black lines were lined up too cleanly at every seam to have been done by a machine. The shirt under it looked as it was made of snow, and his tie was a deep blood red. He was tall, and what I could make out of his body had him more in the body builder frame than in the lanky category. His torso was nearly triangular, and I was placed oddly in mind of the shape of Roman gladiators. Even dressed as a gentleman I had the distinct impression that this was a killer. His hair was long, and pulled back into a pony tail with a leather tie. At first glance he appeared young, but as my eyes managed to stay focused on his features, I noticed fine lines throughout his features. He could have been sixteen with too much sun exposure, but after dropping seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars, I had the distinct impression he was a bit older.

"How are you, William?" He seated himself on the edge of the table, grinding out Tony's abandoned cigar with an expression of distaste.

"Water," I managed to gasp out. My mouth had too much of the taste of blood, and I didn't relish the idea of throwing up. Without response, my hero poured a glass of water from an unseen carafe, and left it beside him.

"I just want to be clear, William. You are aware that you would have been killed if I hadn't intervened." In the back of my mind, something sounded slightly off about that comment, but all I cared about was the glass of water too far away from me.

“Yes,” I managed to croak, still desperately eyeing the water just too far away from me.

“Perfect!” My velvet- voiced aide stood up and handed me the drink. He seemed far too pleased to have me acknowledge something we both already knew. “Then there’s something you’ll need to do for me, William.”

Despite my pain, my head rose at this; I saw his eyes for the first time, as he had removed his designer sun glasses. They were the grey of storm clouds, far darker than mine every shaded to. “Sorry, I don’t do well with favors. I’ll pay you back-- ”

The manipulative bastard interrupted, “I neither need nor want your money. Isn't it interesting how the value of money changes? Someone starving thinks a single dollar is a prize worth killing for; a few minutes ago, three quarters of one million dollars saved your miserible life, and that amount will not set your free from your obligation" -- the silky voice of my rescuer positively carassed the word -- "to me."

The only word to describe his smile was predatory. His grey eyes snapped into clear focus as my swimming head caught up with what he had said. The glass of water in my hand suddenly fell as I mentally capitalized the word Obligation. My no- longer- savior moved smoothly across the room as it fell, and caught the glass with a languid motion before it could hit the ground. “Now, is that any way to treat your master?”

“What the hell are you talking about? United States, freedom, ra ra ra,” I said, hoping I could still convince him I wasn't in the Family.

"Servant, kneel!" The liquid tones formed an imperative in my mind, and I struggled with all my might to ignore his command. My bruised body just couldn't handle the stress, and I slipped from my chair to the cold tile floor, still slippery with my blood. The smile across his face broadened, and I felt sickened.

"Master," he said clearly, indicating himself. "You were far from trapped; you invited this yourself. I’ve just placed a karmic burden on you. I saved your life, so I can require one task of you in return. Don’t tell me you didn’t know how life debts work among your Mother’s people."

"You're not my mother's friend; you're my Mother's friend." I spoke up, and clearly he didn't understand the mental capitalization. He wasn't a half- blood, then, as if his eyes hadn't been clue enough. "Although, I doubt that 'friend' is the right word."

He shrugged, relishing his control of the situation. “I understand you’re a smart boy. I just need you to accomplish one simple little task for me, then we can go our merry ways.” The guy was a talker; he put me in mind of the years of Bond villains who would explain in full their cunning plans. Unfortunately, Q hadn't outfitted me for the day.

"Don't you have any minions?" I asked, regretting my position but not seeing any way out of it.

"Of course, and children as well. Unfortunately, I need someone who's not intimately connected to... well, good and evil are such passe concepts. Call it my side. I need someone to run an errand unnoticed. It's not terribly complicated, but it is a little... delicate. You are ideally suited to slip unnoticed, and probably the likeliest to succeed." Big Man was delivering his lines with a practiced smoothness.

"Why me? Why not just go after one of Lady Luck's kids, they're better far better at party tricks than I am."

My boss -- even in my mind I refused to refer to him as master -- rose. "Have you ever met any of those irritating snots? Being constantly lucky just means you never have to work for anything; things always go in your direction. They end up living lives of utter mediocracy, never doing anything even remotely interesting or challenging. They have no concept of how to work, how to pursue a goal. You've actually worked at challenges throughout your life, William." The compliment didn't throw me off the track, and my nature got the best of me.

"Oh, what you mean is that you weren't clever enough to entrap one of Lady Luck's brood, and had to settle for me?"

Bossman stood upright, sighed, and shook his head slightly. Then I hit the wall across the room, not even aware of being hit, or of crossing the distance. I fought to remain conscious as I crumbled back to the floor. I could vaguely see my reflection in his shoes as he crossed to me, and then my head was wrenched back. "Listen you smart ass, you belong to me. Now, will you do this one task, or do I have to start threatening that little Irish girlfriend of yours?"

Vaguely I realized he was talking about Shauna; my head felt impacted, and I was surprised I could put two thoughts together. He threw me back against the floor with a gesture of casual contempt. "Have you accepted your task?"

"I don't know what this damn task is!"

"Oh, right. Simple, really. You need to destroy your Mother, Eris, Goddess of Chaos, Strife, and Dischord."

I blinked, and then laughed, a choking noise that racked my body with pain. "You can't kill a god, asshole. Nice task."

He went to hit me again, then paused. "Destroy is not the same as kill. I just want her gone. There's a... gentleman in Cairo; you'll find him, tell him what you want to do, then assist in executing the task."

He had me trapped; I never would have hurt my mother, but my Mother? I was pretty sure she could take care of herself, even against treacherous half- blood sons. "Fine."

"Good. William, this really doesn't have to be this difficult. You will find me to be a generous master." His hand dipped town, then carassed my forehead.

I fell backwards as the power flowed into me. It was the best Scotch, the best sex, cocaine, heroine, a hit of LSD, all while winning the World Series and the Super Bowl, with crowds of adoring fans reaching out to touch me at my first rock concert -- everything cruising through me. I felt my wounds stitch close, and my bones reknit themselves in the short silent hush between breaths.

I stood. I could feel the power flowing through me; and realized what it must be like to be a god. Hell, at the moment, I was a god.

I stood a head shorter than my master, but looked into his eyes unafraid. "Right," I said, taking control of the situation. A pleased smile crossed his features. "What must I do?"

My master handed me business card with a hand-written name on it, and said, "Visit this man--"

"I can figure out the rest." I didn't need hand- holding; I would impress my master with my initiative and creativity. "Visit him, destroy my Mother, Eris. Anything else?"

"Bring me proof," my master said, his smile growing ever wider. "Then we can negotiate something more permanent than your minor Obligation."

"Right." I started walking out of the room, intent on my task.

"Oh, William, you'll need this to find me again." This business card had a name and address on it. I picked my repaired jecket from the floor so I would have somewhere to keep the cards, and flung the jacket over my bare shoulders. I headed out into the desert night back towards the lights of the Vegas Strip.

I walked into O’Malley’s three hours later. I breezed through the door, and Marcus looked up at me as if I was insane. Foolish human that he was, I decided he was due to have an seizure, and continued through the bar as Marcus collapsed foaming on the floor. Shauna ducked out of her office as one of the girls who had just been flirting with the gay little bartender shrieked in terror. I caught Shauna's arm as she dashed by me, "Shauna, please be a dear and get me a drink."

She endeavored to throw off my hand, "What's wrong with you Will? Come help Marcus!"

"Oh, he'll be fine. The human just forgot his place."

Shauna blinked as I dropped her arm. "The human? Will, he's a friend! What's wrong with you?" She hurried over to the bar as I let myself into her office. Silly little locks.

While waiting for Shauna to bring me my drink, I entertained myself by counting out her pot of gold. "He stopped seizing, but I'm going to need your help to cover the bar," Shauna's voice wafted around the corner as she walked towards her office. I more felt than saw her freeze at the door. "Will! Get out of my gold!"

The blow she launched in my direction never landed. I saw where it would land, and stepped around it, still counting the gold coins. The blow whistled by, and Shauna looked confusedly where I had been sitting a moment before. I leaned against the far wall, coin stack in hand. "Is this all you have?" I asked, tossing the coins back into her pot.

"Will, you had better start explaining yourself, or you're going to end up cursed."

"Relax, I just need to borrow some of your money to take a trip to Egypt."

"You're not borrowing my gold," Shauna's voice lost all trace of sympathy. "You're going to tell me what happened, now."

I shook my head. "No time, love." I kissed her cheek and picked up her pot of gold. I walked out of the room, and froze in the doorframe.