The Peacemaker

Chapter 12: Wet Work

Joshua

Back at my house I head to my bedroom, kneeling in front of my bed. My finger hovers over the button that will reveal the relics of my past. A past I hoped I had left behind.

I take a deep breath, then fold my hands together resting them on the bed before me and bow my head.

"God, I know I said I was done with this, that it was behind me. But it is the only way to save her. I can't let them have her. I willingly give my soul to the devil if it will mean she is save. God, forgive me."

I hit the button and the trim under my bed flips up. I pull out the case hidden underneath and prepare for the task before me.

Magnolia

Joshua's father, I mean, Vincent, Vincent's father.

Vincent's father walks into the dark room they've been holding me in. He flips on a dim light and throws a pile of photos on the floor. I know what they are trying to do without even glancing at the photos. Whatever 'task' Mr. Santiago set Joshua-Vincent to is in those pictures. He's trying to make me believe that Joshua is a bad guy. But no matter what is in those photos, I know who the real evil person is. And it isn't Joshua.

"In case you are curious what your sweet boyfriend does, what he has been trained to do." He nods to Nicolas, who is standing beside him.

Nic walks forward and cuts my bindings, freeing my hands. I immediately put them to good use, lunging at Nicolas.

But my fist never makes contact. He drops the knife, grabbing my wrists. His face a stone mask as he says his next words.

"I don't want to have to hurt you, Magnolia."

I still hear the next words, even though he doesn't say them out loud. He doesn't want to hurt me, but he will. He will because he is his father's puppet.

I let out a long breath, fighting back the warm tears that begin to blur my vision. I'm not a fighter. Not really. There is no way I can get out of here on my own. I relax, un-clenching my fist and he lets me fall to the floor.

The door closes behind them and I am left alone with the photos. I try not to look at them but I can't help it.

In each photo I see him, Joshua. No, Vincent. Joshua could never do this. Five others are depicted across the various photos, four in suits and body armor. I assume they are FBI or some other government agency, the fifth is a man in his thirties or forties. Every photo shows a new angle of Vincent as he slaughters each and every one.

 I know what Mr. Santiago is trying to do. He's trying to make me hate Joshua, to be afraid of him. And it's working.

Joshua

I kneel on the floor, blood on my hands, tears on my face. It wasn't long ago that a job like this would excite me. The thrill of the hunt, of playing God, holding another man's life in my hands. I loved it. But things are different now. I don't want to go back to the way they were. I don't want to be my father's blade.

I decided, finally to reach out for help. Reach out to the only person who could help and the least likely one to actually do so.

I pulled out my phone and called my brother.

I walked back into the abandoned factory, throwing the proof that the task is complete at my father's feet.

"It is done. Now where is she?" I chance a glance at the crumbling catwalk. She isn't there. I'm not sure if I'm relieved or more afraid.

"She will be released, as promised. Give your keys to Nicolas and he will ensure your bike makes it home. You will ride with me. We have quite a bit of catching up to do."

Nicolas reaches out to me and I back away. "No. Show me she is safe."

"Do you not trust your own father?"

"No. And I'm not going home."

"Then your little friend will go in your place."

"No."

"Do you intend to fight me, Vincent? You have never been able to beat me, what makes you think that has changed?"

"Because this time, I'm not fighting you alone."

At my signal, Nicolas moves to shove his knife into our father's back. But father is quick. The knife still cuts into him, but the wound is superficial. It will not slow him down.

Father grabs Nicolas' arm, snapping it almost instantly. Nic grunts, but it is hardly the worst injury he has received from our father, and crying out only made things worse.

 I jump forward, my own knife flashing in the dim light. My blade dives deep into father's flesh but again, the target is not hit and I might as well have merely slapped his face.

He turned on me, and for a fleeting moment I wanted to run. I always wanted to run. Every time my father and I fought, I wanted to run. But running didn't solve the problem, it only made him angry and the pain greater.

No, I won't run this time. Because this time, I'm not fighting for me.

I face him, putting on the indifferent face I wear when stopping fights at school. School seemed like a distant memory here, but I don't have time to reminisce.

This time, I let him make the first move. I let his first strike hit me. It was only the distraction anyway. The next blow I grab, spinning him into a lock. He easily breaks my grip, but mine was a distraction also.

Nicolas has recovered his blade, wielding it now in his uninjured left hand. As my father moves away from me, Nicolas moves toward him shoving the knife deep under his rib cage. This time the blade hit its mark. As Nicolas pulled the knife away, father smiled.

"It's about time...you two...learned to work...together." He staggered back away from us then fell to the floor, blood pooling under his body.

"I still despise you, Vincent." Nicolas said, smiling.

"Ditto."

Dear readers,

The end is near. I hope you have enjoyed reading! I do have plans to edit and expand the story but for now it will remain a short work of thrilling fiction. One more post, and it is done.

Thanks for reading! And please don't forget to vote!