horror was evident in his eyes. All his carefully laid plans, gone.
Jack twirled the shovel in his hand.
"Have the victim dig his own grave. From now on, Stan, I'm gonna call you Captain Cliche. But you can't deny the imagery, the state of mind it puts the victim in. So—" He pushed the shovel into the ground and gestured for Stan to approach. "Have at it. But I'm gonna need a big grave. Lots of bodies to bury."
Stan tentatively grabbed the shovel and started digging. Jack could see the mortal thinking, searching around him, looking for any possible way to escape. A large tree branch, a handful of leaves, the crowbar sitting not far away. Mortals were so predictable.
"How much did he pay you?"
Stan looked up. "What?"
"How much? To kidnap a defenseless boy?"
"Five hundred thousand. Half up front, half when done."
Jack shook his head, laughing. "I make that legally in eight hours. Pathetic. So many other ways to get custody of a child from an ex-wife."
"Like what?"
"Kill the ex-wife. No ex-wife, no custody hearing."
Stan paused for a moment, studying the psychotic man leaning against a tree. He knew now that Jack had done more terrible things than he could ever dream of. Jack's attitude wasn't a tough-guy act.
And bullets didn't bother him.
"While we're hunting for oil, tell me, where's the boy? Tommy? Bobby? Ah, Robbie. Where's Robbie?"
"You don't even know the kid's name?"
"Nope. Don't care, really. I don't know Robbie, don't give a shit about him. But my daughter wants him home, safe, so they can play. I'll kill anyone that gets in my way from making that happen. Now, if I have to repeat myself again, I'll maim you. Where's—?"
The phone in Jack's pocket started ringing. Stan made the mistake in thinking that Jack was momentarily distracted. He dropped the shovel and tried to run. Jack casually kicked Stan in the knee as he ran for the car, knocking one foot into the other. Stan fell to the ground. Jack grabbed the crowbar and pounded Stan's leg. He screamed with every strike, trying to crawl away. Jack spun the crowbar and buried the claw end into Stan's calf.
The kidnapper's eyes shot out of his head as he howled in pain. He looked up at Jack, tears forming. The angle reminded him once again of when he was a child, cowering from his father in the dining room.
The caller ID brought a smile to Jack's face.
"I searched you…" Stan muttered. "For a phone."
Jack smirked. Mortals were easy to fool.
He held the phone to his ear.
"Victoria, hi. Is this important? I'm kind of in the middle of something."
"Help! Please, help!" Stan shouted.
Jack lowered the phone and drew his leg back. He kicked Stan in the temple, and the woods were once again filled with relative quiet as he moaned.
"What the hell is going on over there?" Victoria asked.
"Not much. I'm just getting ready to kill someone."
"Does he deserve it?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, then. Yes, this is important."
"What's up?"
"What are your plans for tomorrow?"
"That depends on how the rest of my day goes." He looked down at Stan as he held his head. "Doesn't it, Captain?"
"There's a wedding tomorrow I'd like you to come to."
"A wedding? Tomorrow? What dickhead gets married on a Thursday?"
"A friend of mine. It's the anniversary of when they met when they were kids."
Jack frowned. "That might be the dumbest thing I've heard in my life."
"I think it's sweet."
"Whatever. Why do you want me there? You have someone you want killed?"
"Christ, Jack, no. It's time you met him."
He gripped the phone tighter. "The witch? He'll be there?"
"Yeah. He'll be staying with me."
"I don't know if I'm ready yet."
"I'm not saying anything has to happen. Magic can stay off the table. Just bring Tiffany and Erica. Have a good time."
"Erica won't be able to get away from work. I could bring Tiffany, show her the city."
"Do they know yet? About you?"
"Tiffany knows bits and pieces, even if she doesn't see the whole picture. Erica, I've been able to keep in the dark
Jack twirled the shovel in his hand.
"Have the victim dig his own grave. From now on, Stan, I'm gonna call you Captain Cliche. But you can't deny the imagery, the state of mind it puts the victim in. So—" He pushed the shovel into the ground and gestured for Stan to approach. "Have at it. But I'm gonna need a big grave. Lots of bodies to bury."
Stan tentatively grabbed the shovel and started digging. Jack could see the mortal thinking, searching around him, looking for any possible way to escape. A large tree branch, a handful of leaves, the crowbar sitting not far away. Mortals were so predictable.
"How much did he pay you?"
Stan looked up. "What?"
"How much? To kidnap a defenseless boy?"
"Five hundred thousand. Half up front, half when done."
Jack shook his head, laughing. "I make that legally in eight hours. Pathetic. So many other ways to get custody of a child from an ex-wife."
"Like what?"
"Kill the ex-wife. No ex-wife, no custody hearing."
Stan paused for a moment, studying the psychotic man leaning against a tree. He knew now that Jack had done more terrible things than he could ever dream of. Jack's attitude wasn't a tough-guy act.
And bullets didn't bother him.
"While we're hunting for oil, tell me, where's the boy? Tommy? Bobby? Ah, Robbie. Where's Robbie?"
"You don't even know the kid's name?"
"Nope. Don't care, really. I don't know Robbie, don't give a shit about him. But my daughter wants him home, safe, so they can play. I'll kill anyone that gets in my way from making that happen. Now, if I have to repeat myself again, I'll maim you. Where's—?"
The phone in Jack's pocket started ringing. Stan made the mistake in thinking that Jack was momentarily distracted. He dropped the shovel and tried to run. Jack casually kicked Stan in the knee as he ran for the car, knocking one foot into the other. Stan fell to the ground. Jack grabbed the crowbar and pounded Stan's leg. He screamed with every strike, trying to crawl away. Jack spun the crowbar and buried the claw end into Stan's calf.
The kidnapper's eyes shot out of his head as he howled in pain. He looked up at Jack, tears forming. The angle reminded him once again of when he was a child, cowering from his father in the dining room.
The caller ID brought a smile to Jack's face.
"I searched you…" Stan muttered. "For a phone."
Jack smirked. Mortals were easy to fool.
He held the phone to his ear.
"Victoria, hi. Is this important? I'm kind of in the middle of something."
"Help! Please, help!" Stan shouted.
Jack lowered the phone and drew his leg back. He kicked Stan in the temple, and the woods were once again filled with relative quiet as he moaned.
"What the hell is going on over there?" Victoria asked.
"Not much. I'm just getting ready to kill someone."
"Does he deserve it?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, then. Yes, this is important."
"What's up?"
"What are your plans for tomorrow?"
"That depends on how the rest of my day goes." He looked down at Stan as he held his head. "Doesn't it, Captain?"
"There's a wedding tomorrow I'd like you to come to."
"A wedding? Tomorrow? What dickhead gets married on a Thursday?"
"A friend of mine. It's the anniversary of when they met when they were kids."
Jack frowned. "That might be the dumbest thing I've heard in my life."
"I think it's sweet."
"Whatever. Why do you want me there? You have someone you want killed?"
"Christ, Jack, no. It's time you met him."
He gripped the phone tighter. "The witch? He'll be there?"
"Yeah. He'll be staying with me."
"I don't know if I'm ready yet."
"I'm not saying anything has to happen. Magic can stay off the table. Just bring Tiffany and Erica. Have a good time."
"Erica won't be able to get away from work. I could bring Tiffany, show her the city."
"Do they know yet? About you?"
"Tiffany knows bits and pieces, even if she doesn't see the whole picture. Erica, I've been able to keep in the dark
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