Page 27 of Death's Deal

Flipping the pages, looking more closely now at it all, I finally see at the bottom right side of each page there is a simple set of letters.

F Q II E L G

Looking at the legend Piper gave me, I find myself scrolling through the original section. This is how they dated the entries, different digits and different characters correlated in Piper’s legend. Using it, the earliest entries are from the mid-eighties. The page with the “Queen and King” pact I quickly realize had a date from July of eighty-eight. It’s the year before I was...

Pausing, I look at the entries in this timeframe. The writing is that of the first person who wrote in the book and not once is Mayhem mentioned. He is not even spoken off until...

Flipping furiously, looking at the dates on the pages where he is mentioned it’s not until nineteen ninety-one.

That means...

“Holy shit!”

Covering my mouth after the loud outburst, I look to Toni, who had been slumbering away. As she stirred, I stood breathing heavily as I internally freaked out about the news.

Pacing the room, feeling my heart crashing against my chest as it thunders, I’m working through the thoughts that are nearly impossible to stop. It all adds up to numbers I don’t wish to acknowledge.

“The dates line up.” I count it out. The dates are a perfect match.

The darker skin, the blue eyes, the build, height, temperament and...

“Fuck.” Cursing low, I dance around the idea this huge bombshell I’m carrying around is something no one can or should know about. Hell, I don’t want to know about it.

I pace the living room as I work through the truth of the dates and how they coincide with my history. Walking to the fridge, pulling free a beer, I take a long swig of it before another heavy curse escapes, “Fuck,” this time a bit too loudly.

“What’s wrong, Quinny?” a groggy Toni asks.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Well, someone shouting out curses tends to wake me.” Pulling her half drank glass of water off the table and sipping it, Toni sits up. Laying her long hair over her shoulder before clearing the sleep from her eyes, she sets the glass down, asking, “Are you okay?”

Fully stressed, edgy, and about to explode, I point at the evil tome on the table before pulling open the fridge door for another beer. “I’m a tad pissed off by the spectacularly painful information I just learned in the Queen’s book.” Yanking the door to the fridge open, finding there is no beer left, and slamming it closed with a heavy sigh, I turn to the half-empty bottle of whiskey that rests on the counter. Grasping a highball from the cupboard, I pour in a thick glug of amber happiness. Sucking a large amount down, hoping it will settle my annoyance, I wrestle with the truth. A truth I still don’t care to believe.

Striding over and placing a hand on my shoulder, Toni tentatively asks again, “I don’t understand. Is there anything I can do?”

Edgy and near the point of exploding, I try to keep my cool with her. Antonia has nothing to do with this revelation. “It doesn’t concern you.”

“I know it’s been a beat since we’ve been around each other, but I still know when you’re about to lose your shit,” she says.

Turning, standing face-to-face with her, I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol, the lack of nutrition and sleep that has my decision making paradigm in flux, but without thinking further about it, “Toni. This is one time you need to give me space and fuck off.”

Crossing her arms, scrunching up her nose, narrowing her gaze, she stares me down. “No. We’re sort of stuck together for the near future and if you’re going to get drunk and lose your shit on me, I won’t stand for it.”

How adorable. She’s trying to act tough.

“You don’t get a choice, Ms. Morriso. If I decide you’re going to be locked in a room filled with fluffy unicorns and childhood dolls of a pedophile then that’s what will happen.” Gulping the remainder of the whiskey down, I refill and sip again. I’ve kept my cool and tried to be as nice as I possibly can, but the reminder of her fucking me over on the stand all those years ago still sits presently in my mind. It may have been years ago to her, but to me, I feel it is just as fresh as it was that day.

“You don’t have to impress me, make me fear you, or have me hate you. I’m way past that. I know you better than you think, and I know what you’re capable of.”

Backing her up to the wall, pressing myself tightly against her, I cage her in with my arms. “I’m not the same man, Toni, and I’m not in the mood for us to take this where it needs to.”

Releasing a heavy breath, “Where is that, Quinlan?”

If she wants to hear it, I’m not one to disappoint her.

“Fine. You want to go there while I’m pissed off. Let’s go there. You fucked me over. I spent eight years in jail while you were in your cushy palatial mansion with cooks, maids, limo drivers, fancy clothing, and parties with the rich and famous. The course of my life shifted to gangs, carefully crafted moments with soap, and an incessant need to trade soup for phone privileges. I didn’t have cushy pillows and happy dreams. I was sleeping with one eye open.

“I thought of you every day. Every day, Toni. I wanted it all to be a sick fucking dream. Then I’d wake up to my orange jumpsuit, a toilet in the corner that smelled like rotting feet, and a roommate who might knife me in my sleep.”

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