Part-Time Gods

d done a lot of f*cked up sh*t in my life, but this took the f*cking cake. Not only had I killed the wrong guy, b

presented him with the severed finger, only to find tha

rustration, leaving a streak of red in his otherwise gray hair. I wasn't

illing Lilly Hunter, horse trainer extraordinaire. Never mind that Arthur was j

at had an array of tools lying about, some already bloodied. He wip

night. I followed him." I tossed the finger onto the table with all of the torture implements and sank back into a c

my feet and then sank low, leveling me with a

I mean if he was a cop, then why are you mad?!"

e cops off of our back. But now–" His hand whipped out and wrapped around my throat like a vice. "Well now, we have to figure out how to cov

t of the apprehension that made it impossible to swallow. "I'm sorry Arthur." He didn't like me callin

d he had either ignored me or glared at me with thos

I didn't know if I should roll over and show my belly or

ake out my brass knuckles and make him spit blood. Just once, just f*cking once I wanted to hear him say that I did good, that I made him proud

my feet under myself and pushed up

it. "Sit there while I think. When I'm done with Henry here, clean up." I nod

ing screams. I stared at where the heated metal seared Henry’s flesh, the smell of cooking meat filling the room. I knew I should feel something, a

screams of poor old Henry. I took a steady breath as the te

w nothing else as his life's blood slowly poured out of him. Add

e bit into his inner thigh, severing the femoral artery and sending out a glorious spray of deep scarlet. It pulsed out; a mist at fir

n the room, telling them without words to get the body ready. My father would dispose of the body himself once he was stripped. He always did hi

ould stop messing up long enough to show him that I was paying

the love of Christ, remember to put new water in the bucket this tim

did. What the f*ck was he cooking up? Whatever it was, I could handle it. I'd have to. He wasn't going t

'd get that d*amn 'atta-girl' from him

oving the blood towards the drain in the center of the room. I had done this a hundre

ded, I didn't even realize that he was trying to scare or punish me. I didn't care. He woul

He looked every bit his fifty-seven years in that moment, all creases and hard lines. His loose gray hair had fallen in front of his face

ing paralyzed on the floor for hours before finally dying. My mother was an alcoholic and was prone to accidents, so it wasn't far fro

r her body in several different stages of healing. The cops suspected my father but even if they had mor

and every city council member in his deep pockets. It also helped that the Mayor, Peter Cole, was his childhood friend.

remaining chair available was the one currently covered in blood that was still tacky to the touch and I took it without flinching. Arth

ther's stare. Another one of Arthur's important lessons; never look away f

tting was bad, very well may result in me dying if I could be so f*cking lucky; not that he would car

r encountered. Arthur did a good job of keeping the family's dirty

ting a serious glare on me when he was through fidgeting. "Kilbrook."

eyes crinkled with a sh*t-eating

ened impossibly as he pulled a cigarette from a case in