Page 28 of Patching Over

“What kind of sorry, good-for-nothing assholes trade their daughter to pay off a drug debt?” I casually inquire, even though my body is vibrating with so much anger I can feel my blood pressure rising.

Dave sneers at me through bloodied lips but doesn’t answer, while Laura starts laughing maniacally. She, too, doesn’t respond to my question, causing Scythe to step forward and backhand each of them. “When Pres speaks, you answer, motherfuckers,” he rumbles out.

Once again, the smell of urine permeates the air as each of them piss themselves. At this rate, the ammonia smell is going to singe off my nose hairs, for fuck’s sake. “Swear to Christ, getting tired of cowards thinking they can piss in our rooms,” I state. “Now, either of you feel like answering?”

“I could likely get them to say something,” Phoenix advises, his little flames dancing in his palm once again. “Of course, they’re so wet now, they’d probably be able to put them out, who knows?”

Again, sinister chuckles reverberate around me as each of my brothers stand around the couple, arms crossed over their chests with the exception of Phoenix, who now appears to be juggling several small fireballs.

“They can’t speak on what they don’t know,” Madame Laveaux states, walking into the room.

This is another first for me because women never come in when we’re interrogating people. However, as I’ve learned, when she wants to do something, she does it. “Madame Laveaux, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you but whatever you see or hear here has to stay in this room to ensure all of our safety.”

“I completely understand, young man. Now, may I speak with your guests?”

Stepping back, I wave for her to come forward, interested in hearing what she has to say. What happens next completely blows my mind. Instead of uttering a word, she lightly touches their foreheads with her fingers, a frown marring her surprisingly smooth, youthful face. A slight ‘hmph’ can be heard and I see both of them start swaying. Turning to us, she says, “Look to your past for the answers you seek. They were pawns in the whole thing, however, their treatment of your woman is abhorrent.” She looks over her shoulder and tells the pair, “You have much to answer for in the afterlife.”

With that, she calmly walks out of the room, leaving all of us just standing there, mouths agape.

“She coulda phoned that one in,” Banshee quietly says.

“She had to put hands on them, dumbass,” Brew retorts, eyeing Laura and Dave as they appear to be lost inside their own minds.

“Wonder what she did?” Phantom muses.

“She probably confirmed what she already knew,” Voodoo says, smirking. “I stopped questioning her motives years ago in order to keep my sanity and wits.”

“So, back to the questions, assholes. You gonna answer Pres yet?” Rooster asks, glaring menacingly at the couple.

“In case you forgot the question, and just to let you know, I don’t normally repeat myself, what kind of sorry, good-for-nothing assholes trade their daughter to pay off a drug debt?”

Both start shaking as though they’re having some kind of seizure. Brew reaches over and slaps Laura while Rooster backhands Dave, but instead of answering, they start foaming at the mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Grim bellows. “Did she pickle their brains?” he asks Voodoo, who merely shrugs.

“No fucking clue. Bet it’s got more to do with the fact they’re heavy users who were cut off from their supply,” he replies. “Angel?”

I see Angel grimace before lightly touching each of their heads, keeping his distance as best as possible considering body fluids are surrounding each of them. “That should help. At least long enough for you to hopefully get the answers you’re looking for,” he says, glancing in my direction.

Lifting my chin in response, I move closer to the pair then crouch down so I can stare into their eyes. “One last time. Why?”

“B-b-because she had been around long enough. We weren’t supposed to…” Laura starts only to stop when Dave glares in her direction.

“Weren’t supposed to what?” Scythe questions, his voice low and menacing. “Raise your child? Make sure she would become a productive member of society? Take care of her? Tell us, you pieces of shit, what weren’t you supposed to do?”

“Have her to begin with,” Laura rushes out despite Dave’s protests to keep her mouth shut.

“Wait a second,” Banshee muses. “We may not have members around any longer who have kids, but growing up, I remember how excited the ol’ ladies would get when they’d find out they were expecting. Don’t you, Brick? Hell, my own mother was beyond ecstatic especially because she was told she couldn’t have any more kids. My little sister was doted on by not only myfolks, but everyone in the fucking club. Up until the day we found out she was killed, anything she wanted, she got.”

I close my eyes, remembering the days after the club was sent proof by the Demon Devils MC they’d killed the little girl. Their actions started a war between the two clubs, but when they took out hers and Banshee’s parents, we had annihilated them. Not a trace of any of the members was left by the time we were done raining hell on them. Still, the memories of how somber the club was for a long time after she was taken then killed rise to the surface. Even our most hardened member, Angst, walked around with reddened eyes.

“What you’re saying makes absolutely no sense at all,” Voodoo advises. “If you weren’t supposed to be able to have her to begin with, you should’ve been overjoyed when she was born.”

“Most folks are,” Rael says, agreeing with Voodoo’s assessment. “At least, that’s how real parents react, anyhow.”

“Who says we’re her real parents?” Dave intones, a smirk on his bloodied face.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I bellow out, now totally confused.

But despite continually peppering, first with questions then with our fists, they remain mute, refusing to clarify what Dave said. After doing everything short of slitting their miserable throats, I finally throw my hands in the air.

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