Ren almost screamed when the fellow launched forward to Levi with his clip point blade, but his agile movement was far too slow, Levi dodged in one fluid move, underneath, his foot kicked the fellow's left calf. The fellow stumbled down on his butt with a heavy thud, he tried to stand up but Levi grabbed both of his arms and locked it behind him, pressing a knee hard into his back as the man scuffled on the ground to get freed.
Ren's bewildered gaze flicked from Levi to Riley, who was sitting comfortably at a small concrete ledge, looking like he was some kind of a mobster letting a crony of his do the dirty works.
"Let go—ugh!" the fellow whimpered over and over again. His voice came out garbled by how hard Levi was pushing him on the ground.
Ren looked stupefied as she gazed at Levi, questions crowded the tip of her tongue, when she looked at Ash, it was much to her surprised that he wasn't looking startled at all, and something on his manner even seemed to be expecting this.
"He looked like a racketeer, young lad to me, willing to run some nasty errands for a great deal of bucks." Ash uttered, walking towards the fellow.
Ren noticed the young fellow on the ground indeed looked so much younger than them. He has scraggy clothes, greasy, red hair surrounded his haggard face, and freckles stood way too visible on his weathered skin.
Ash knelt one of his knees in front of the guy, who glanced up to him with sharp eyes, his teeth clenched and jaw tight, then he sniffed sardonically at Ash.
Ash stared at him for a moment, then stood up. "We're not getting anything out from him, Lev. He's just another pawn, desperate for money. I doubt he knows even the face of the person who paid him." Ash's gaze marveled somewhere farthest the darkened horizon of San Francisco, and an alien of a smirk sneaked the edges of his lips, "It's not like the king would willfully head down from his throne and risk even a small portion of his cape to be seen," he muttered, as if he's seeing someone in the wilderness of nothingness. "Let's hand him to the police," he said to Levi afterwards, "they'll be pleased to have another increased of juvenile delinquents."
"Is that rascal even aware he just murdered someone?" Ren said exasperatedly as she found her voice to talk amidst her surprise with this scene.
"He is, but who the fuck cares, Ren, as long as you're being paid handsomely?" It was Riley who answered, "But how come you're also here, Ren?" He added, confused.
"Shouldn't I be the one to ask you that, Riley?" Ren replied, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you went home. How on earth you both end up here?"
"We didn't run away, Ren. We decided to help." Riley jumped off from the ledge and walked over to help Levi get the guy since he kept on fighting back.
"Were you always this helpful with Ash? I thought he always does his detective thing all by himself."
"We're not helping Ash, Ren. We're helping someone else." Riley gave Ren a quick glance before he and Levi started to walk away.
By dawn's early light, Catalina sat on her bed. She just got home from smuggler's cove, from that nerve-wrecking incident. The cops were still there when she left, but she called Mr. Malthus and let him handle everything.
Catalina pulled out her phone and opened it, the message from an unknown number she received an hour ago flashed her gaze, her fingers trembled as she read it again,
"There are people who deserve to die. And your grandfather is one of them. Those who deserve it shall never be saved."
There's anguish within her eyes as she read every words. A vortex of thoughts came swirling inside her mind while she balled her fist. She threw off her phone on the bed and sat quietly still in the darkness of her room. She gnawed the inside of her cheeks as she tried to stop her shaking body, feeling her pulse pounding on her temples. Soon the taste of blood filled her mouth.
The people behind this, they're much lesser human than she thought. They could easily kill someone as if they're just hunting birds, as if it's no worse than slaughtering a dog.
But what did her grandfather had done that they are so much eager to pin him down beneath the ground? If they want him dead this badly, why didn't they just kill him directly?
Catalina stood up and went to her personal vault—which she rarely open—underneath her high-glossy-tiled floor, she made a counting of her steps inside her head as she walked over her spectacular bedroom, when she stopped at a specific single square of tile, she removed her heel and gently stepped the bottom of her foot on it, a subtle green light emerged underneath her foot followed by a verifying sound of her toe prints. The tile slid open, a golden box appeared below and opened automatically in front of her, among all of the things that are stored inside, her hand reached for the one soulless clunk of metal, the color of silver and the carefully elegant engravings of the handle looked so beautiful in the gloom.
Catalina held the gun, this piece of metal that sat so heavy in her palm really do felt like an embodiment of human sin. She stood up and went back to her bed, lying softly against the comfort of her mattress and feeling the chill of the frigid metal against her skin, as if the weapon was taking hostage a part of her soul, and maybe the only way to get it back was to use the gun for love, for protection, and defense.
Catalina stared at the gun, her fingers marveling at the revolver, then gently squeezing on the trigger, playing with the point at which a bullet may or may not be released. Maybe, the creeping anxiety that taken hold of her would probably soon be melted by this piece of metal. It's either she'll end them first, or they'll end the only life source she has; her grandfather.
Moments later, her weighted lids dropped, she felt the blackness gradually came over her. Like a blanket, but not a blanket of warmth but a blanket of coldness making her shiver, yet somehow, it's making her eyes heavier and heavier, the fine line between dreams and reality got thinner by the second, her vision getting blur, until finally she was dragged into the oblivion of sleep with her hand clasping in the cold metal of gun.
That night, she dreamt of her grandfather. Daylight radiated the inside of a room where Catalina's little self sat on a warm hammock that hung near a large window overseeing the yard with a deck and towering trees, pieces of crayons scattered over the white floor, and above her tiny laps was a sketchbook where she was gently filling in with colors the randomly doodled sketches of dresses of cartoon characters.
Seconds later, the door opened with a gentle push from behind, little Catalina stared at it innocently, and when the smiling face of her grandfather emerged inside, Catalina let out a jubilant laugh.
"Hi, my little starlight," Her grandfather's voice was as glamorous and as serene as his suits down to his pair of scarlet shoes.
Slowly, her grandfather walked towards her, carefully sitting with her on the hammock.
The glitter of excitement between Catalina's emerald pair of eyes intensify every second of looking at her grandfather.
"Sei bellissima come sempre, mia Catalina. (You look beautiful as always, my Catalina)." Said by the gentle voice of her grandfather as he lightly pinched her nose, the voice and touch she would always edge to hear and feel.
Catalina smiled, looking like a veneer of angel against the light of day, so delicate and fragile, blooming like an only flower with true roots, nurtured by the most loving grandfather on earth.
The ray of sunlight momentarily struck over her grandfather's eyes, he blinked in pain and when Catalina looked up, in that span of moment, his smile faded, the glow on his eyes wavered, and his gaze wasn't on Catalina anymore, he's now looking at the distance outside the window. Catalina followed his gaze, there at the distance, at the darkened part of one of the towering trees, a hazy figure of a little boy stood shivering on barefoot.
Little Catalina spoke but her grandfather seemed so far away, he couldn't hear her, his eyes and soul was as if locked on that image of the little boy. Suddenly, hues of blacks and oranges slowly enveloped the horizon. The cold breeze wafted the room, Catalina started to move and run towards his grandfather but the more she tried to get closer to him, he seemed to get even farther away.
Something wasn't right, Catalina's little self kept running on darkened sands but was engulfed by a smoke, then she stumbled and found herself slumped on the white floor of her room. She closed her eyes at the creeping pain, then she felt something heavy on top of her chest. She opened her eyes and it was to her surprise that a little boy was sitting on top of him, still in that hazy figure, as if she was still looking at him from afar. The little boy bent low and hugged Catalina's slumbering frame.
Catalina froze.
The little boy was whispering something, at first his whisper was like the soft susurration of the wind in the trees, then as it became more clear, the whisper became an eerie rasping voice, moaning, groaning.
**
"It hurts, the pain, it's eating me up, save me—no, let me kill him. . .Cathy."