The Holy Death

Chapter 11

Pioneer Courthouse Square was not especially busy that weekend night, as a light rain fell upon the bricks of the square. A few homeless youths huddled together near the light rail stop as an older, less mentally stable man in dirty rags walked by them, mumbling to himself. A couple shady-looking fellows in sports team hoodies stood under the eaves of the Starbucks, watching a young couple walk nervously past them. And among all this, a solitary figure, a gaunt, thin man wearing a black fedora, dingy black leather jacket over an equally dirty grey sweater, and jeans, sat on the brick steps texting on his cellphone. He was aware of the life around him, and did not care. Most of the Square denizens either knew the man and feared him, or just did not care for him enough to want to interact with him. One thing he was not aware of, however, was the approach of an attractive olive-skinned lady who sat down right beside him, immediately getting his attention.

"Well, hello, gorgeous," Jesse the Vermin said. "And what brings you out this fine evening?"

"Don't you recognize me, Jesse?" Cressida asked. "I'm disappointed."

"Oh, no, wait, Cressida, right? Bang! I never forget a pretty face, or a smokin' bod, whatever."

"You certainly are the charmer, Jesse."

"Yeah, ain't I? So, what's up?"

"We're looking for information, Jesse."

"Oh yeah? Who's we?"

Just as unexpected was Jeremiah. Unexpected, and certainly not as welcome. "Good evening, Mr. Vermin," Jeremiah said as he sat down on the side opposite Cressida.

"Ah, shit," Jesse cursed, "It's Jeremiah. I am so honored. Not. What the hell is this?"

"We wish to ask you some questions, Jesse," Jeremiah said.

"Yeah, great. Hey, what gives, Cress? Are you now working for the Big Mac? And I don't mean McDonalds! I mean the big 'M', as in Ministry. What, have you turned soft too?"

"Actually," Cressida responded, "'Work' is kinda why I'm here. Turns out my connection has been disconnected permanently. And since I didn't really know anything about the guy, Jeremiah thought you might be able to help."

"Sure, you bet, I can help!"

"Excellent!" Jeremiah said. "Then we must ask you—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, big guy. You know how this works. You must pay for services rendered in advance."

"How can you pay for services rendered if they have not yet been rendered?"

"Just fork over the cash, big guy!"

Jeremiah reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded stack of bills and handed them to Jesse. "I see you came prepared," Jesse said as he flipped through the wad of money. "Okay, now, what do you want to know?"

"I want to know more about my handler," Cressida said, "And since he's in no position to talk much, I was hoping you could fill us in."

"Yes," Jeremiah said, "All we know is that his name was Chuck, and he was an elf."

"No shit?" Jesse replied, "An elf? So, let me get this straight: our friendly neighborhood hit succubus got her wet work assignments from an elf? That is different. I mean, usually elves just content themselves with making toys, or shoes, or cookies. Not this guy, I guess!"

"Do you know anything about this elf?"

"Not much. Look, the local elf community is kinda clannish. Very close-lipped, know what I'm sayin'? They don't like outsiders much. For an elf to be working out in the human world, he had to have done something pretty bad, you know? Probably banished by the elf king or some shit like that. Anyway, I wouldn't be able to find out much more from the elves than that, 'cause they like vampires even less than they like people."