Crystal Central presents
Bootlegging, Racketeering, smuggling, armed robbery, arms dealing, money laundering . The whole nine yards. The Sinclairs were ones not to shy from the other side of what's legal and moral. Name one and the Sinclairs have done it. The public found their notoriety exciting. Unless you were the manager of a random bank being robed. That would be a bummer.
All this for a foldable piece of green paper. Power. Fully deserving as the second in history as the root of all evil and corruptor of righteous men. In this vile broth the politicians and police service now stew alongside their career opposites. Underground bars and speakeasies are not so much what they used to be. Now the PD might as well be henchmen for the gangs. But this was just for the gang related bars. Plenty of independent Waterboys¹ had gone bankrupt trying to compete with the likes of gang-backed joints like Larry's Timber and Toast after having the men in blue give them a visit.
Sinclairs were basically one of the unofficial aristocrats of Boston. This young Sinclair supposedly the second in command was the main driving force to the Sinclairs' success. No one knew the head honcho of this bunch of unwanteds. Probably somewhere working on his macho repartee and villain laugh. The nervous Melanie chuckled at her silly joke at this tense moment. A much clear view of the young man sat in front of her. About three steps away.
Compared to the gloomy and heavy air-mostly due to cigarette smoke, The young man looked almost imperious and bright with that slight smile on his face. He sat with his legs crossed in a four on the wooden chair. Larry sat on the opposite width of the table. He definitely didn't look like ' the 'T' in Timber and Toast', like he loved addressing himself. The young man sat parallel to the tables width, but the chair still faced the table. The bodyguard now appeared to be standing on his left.
With his suit coat on the chairs back, the man looked ready for a wedding in his black Italian wool three piece. He had an eye catching silver ring with a green stone inlaid on his left pinkie and a 18K gold rollex with bezel set of diamonds and baguette diamond hour makers. The black leather shoes... Italian?
"So you planning to rob me?" The appraising Melanie started when a cool and level voice interrupted her. Only then did she realize she had been sizing up the princely man. Boss Larry was sweating bullets by the side. This girl will bring me trouble one day.
"Um...no..no, I'm...", Melanie was as flustered as a fish on land. Her eyes moved about all over the place. No answers on the wall for her. Seeing this, the ever smooth as silk Sinclair gestured and said. "Offer a seat to my gifted friend here Larry."
Larry understood and withdrew from the seat, pulling the chair back for Melanie to sit. For the third time in a single night, Larry had shocked the rebellious Fenway. That's what you call turning over a new leaf. Maybe temporary, but turned nonetheless.
Melanie planted herself on LARRY'S seat praying she would keep her job after this. Sinclair though didn't seem to know of her worries and LARRY'S seat that felt like needles under her. Uncomfortable. Moreover, that smile could not fool her, she had heard many tales about these guys. Act natural, be brief, think before you talk... especially the last one. Melanie told herself.
With the introduction Melanie finally learned the Sinclair persons name. Aerth Sinclair. ' Surprising for a guy like him to go around telling his name. Also, strange name.' thoughtfully mused Melanie. There had to be a reason he was telling her this. She could almost feel the slyness and confidence leaking from those ink-black eyes. She didn't trust people with this kind of eyes. Always the metaphorical two steps ahead and always scheming. This kind of eyes ranked just below Val's determined, confident and proud ones.
"You sing like a siren, Melanie." Aerth Sinclair offered as he poured Melanie a glass of LARRY'S whiskey. Yeap the job was gone. 'Siren. Who even says that. Expect the opposite from this guy I suppose' Melanie thought but out loud she said,
"So I've been told."
"You'd do good in Beacon Hill or even Downtown, they'd pay a load for a voice like that."
"I've been told so." Nothing else seemed to be coming from the maverick's head. She didn't want to accidentally slip anyone's name here. Especially Dag and Val's. For some reason Valentine has an alias, Valentine Rose.
"You know you should learn to listen more to what's going on around you." This sentence seemed to have a deeper meaning and with the way Aerth Sinclair meaningfully raised an eyebrow at her she was stumped. 'Should have just nodded.', Melanie scolded herself. Then she heard Aerth's monotone voice, "Let me guess, you've been told so."
With no fancy reply at hand, Melanie lamely nodded.
"Ever heard of the Gigantes?" Sinclair suddenly changed the topic like it was nothing. Melanie just went along after a pause and nodded. "Go on." Aerth prodded. Melanie had carefully considered Aerth's subtle warning earlier and now planned to engage the man more. Still cautious though. Nowhere were Dag and Val related to Titans or Giants...or anyone labeled Myth. That sure would be one for the ages if it were true. Uncle Fate had told them stories. Of Titans, Giants, Olympians and Primas. The four main Pantheons. She couldn't believe they'd come in handy one day. Bless you Uncle Fate.
Then Melanie started, "Born from the blood of Uranus from castration by Cronos falling to the earth, defeated by the Titans and sent to Tartarus, defeated by the Olympians and burried under mountains, defeated by the Primas and once again thrown to Tartarus." Unbeknownst to Mel the bright and sunny Aerth was beginning to match the gloom of the club's dark Conners. "They once tried to scale Olympus by stacking mountains but Zeus..." "Okay that's enough. Seems you really know your stuff." Aerth interrupted Melanie. "It's fascinating." Melanie went back to her brief answers.
"I have a tale you have not heard I'm sure." Melanie looked at him. Now somewhat curious. With her Uncle Fate she was sure to know when a beard of Zeus fell. Aerth was now facing Melanie with a glass of whiskey in his hand. His elbow rested on the table. His legs in a four and the blinged left hand -if "blinged" is a word- still on the chairs back.
"The tale goes that in the center of the Underworld twelve castles stand. The king's of them have red eyes, sharp claws that can rip steel and sharp canines to Pierce a victims skin. The kings each rule over one of twelve Houses, each with a different power of their own. It is said one more ruler is yet to appear-The ruler of the thirteenth house-for the Underworld to be complete and stable. I also heard another tale here in Boston. This lore talks of a girl. We'll call her Rosa. People say that from time to time you would see Rosa's eyes glow red in reflected light." Aerth looked to his now empty glass then back up to Melanie's blank eyes. Like a deer in the headlights. She knew what he was talking about. At least she had an idea. A girl... Valentine Rose, Rosa... Occasional Red tinted eyes...in Boston. He was talking about Val and now he seemed to know why she had been called here. If it was a threat, a warning or whatever, it was working, Aerth now had her full attention.
"You know what I think?", This felt like one of those villain monologue moments but Melanie shook her head, and Aerth humored her, "I don't think it's the reflection, I think I've just found the thirteenth ruler. The thirteenth Ancient."
"That's quite a nice tale," Melanie tried to shelf her scattered thoughts and offered. "Fate will tell." Aerth casually threw out this sentence. Now Melanie was more and more aware that this guy was either crazy or something beyond human. A category that until a few minutes back was reserved only for Uncle Fate. Worst of all this guy seemed to have designs on them or to be precise, on Valentine.
"I really need to get home Boss Sinclair. I have a patient to look after.",Melanie gathered the courage to say this. Aerth replied much to her dismay, "You do that. Tell Damoir and Fenway tommorow I got them a job at the harbour downtown. 6:00 pm latest."
This sentence sealed it. He knew about her, her brother and even Val's real name. The previous bright and smiling youth now looked more and more like a smiling devil.
There was also the other part. Valentine and Daglaus worked for the Sinclairs. If not for the more pressing matters, this would have been a big discovery, but in contrast to everything that happened tonight, it was far off.
Melanie went towards the exit. She didn't spare Freddy nor the girls a single glance as she took the creaking wooden staircase to the restaurant floor above. Two steps at a time. She opened the door and walked a short hall then came upfront, to the restaurant. It was buzzing as the patrons ate. This was the real Timber and Toast, the front cover for Larry's underground club. Melanie pushed the restaurant door and into the cold Boston night. Displeasure, anger, worry and guilt strewn across her face.
Down in the basement the always silent mountain of a bodyguard bent down and said. "Sir, shouldn't we go after her?"
Aerth Sinclair looked at his empty glass of whiskey and said, "Not yet, The hunt has not yet begun."
1.Waterboy: alcohol distributor/seller.