Page 4 of Azrael

“‘Bout an hour.Stripes came in with news from town, then Samurai showed up.Charming’s still in his office.”

I nodded and headed for the clubhouse.The two-story building had been renovated recently.Now it was somewhere between a fortress and headquarters.

The heavy door opened to the sound of classic rock and the smell of whiskey, smoke, and leather.Our main room sprawled before me, all exposed brick and worn hardwood floors.The long bar against the far wall gleamed with decades of polishing.Trophy pipes and old photos covered the walls, history and legacy looking down on each new generation.

Three of my brothers played pool in the corner, their laughter cutting through Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Simple Man” pumping from the speakers.A couple of club girls lounged on the couches, one stretching like a cat as I walked in.She smiled, inviting.I gave her a nod but kept moving.Business first.

Stripes and Samurai sat at the bar, hunched over amber-filled glasses, their heads close in conversation.Stripes spotted me first.

“The hunter returns,” he said, his Russian accent thick as always.“Was beginning to think you’d fallen into trouble, brother.”

I slid onto the stool beside him.“Takes more than a few Minion punks to cause me trouble.”

The Prospect behind the bar, Harland, had a glass of Jack in front of me before I could ask.Smart kid.I took a long swallow, the burn a welcome friend after the night’s work.

“You find what Charming sent you for?”Samurai asked, his voice quiet.

“Found it and handled it.”I set my glass down.“Three of them doing a weapons exchange in the alley behind Murphy’s.High-end stuff – Glocks and AR-15s.Not street-level shit.Bag is on my bike.”

Stripes whistled low.“They’re arming for war, then.”

“Looks that way.I sent the message Charming wanted delivered.”I flexed my hand, knuckles still tender beneath the skin.“Left them where someone will find them.”

“Good.”Samurai nodded once.“What else did you learn?”

“Looks like the Minions’ base of operations is some strip joint.Velvet something.One of them spilled before I cut his throat.”

“Velver Cage,” Stripes supplied, his face darkening.“Da, we know this place.Very bad business happening there.”

“What kind of bad business?”I asked, already guessing.

Samurai glanced around, then leaned closer.“Girls.Young ones.Word is they’re not all working by choice.”

My stomach tightened.Human trafficking.The line no respectable club crossed.Even in our world, there were rules.Lines you didn’t step over unless you wanted war.Hadn’t always been that way, but there were more and more of us ready to put our lives on the line to keep this shit from happening.Not just here, but across the country.

“We’re sure about this?”I asked.

Stripes nodded gravely.“My contact in sheriff’s office, he says three girls reported missing last month.All last seen at this club.Deputies go to investigate, suddenly they find nothing wrong.Girls who made complaints withdraw statements, say they just went on vacation.”He held my gaze.“Meanwhile, one of the deputies buys new boat.Very convenient timing,da?”

“Fucking bought and paid for,” I muttered.“So the cops are useless.”

“Worse than useless,” Samurai added.“They’re protecting the Minions’ operation.”

I drained my glass and gestured for another.“What does Charming want to do about it?”

“That,” came a deep voice from behind us, “is what we’re about to discuss.”

We all turned as Charming strode into the room.At sixty-three, his hair had gone mostly gray, but he moved with the same authority he always had.The club president’s patch on his cut commanded immediate respect.The room went quiet, even the music seeming to drop in volume.

“Church,” he announced.“Now.”

The three brothers at the pool table immediately set down their cues.The club women stood and headed for the door without being told.They knew it was time to get the hell out.Church meant members only, and it meant serious business.

I followed Stripes and Samurai through the door at the back of the main room, into our chapel.The long wooden table dominated the space, scarred from decades of meetings just like this one.The horned skull carved into its center stared up at us, silent witness to all our decisions, good and bad.

Charming took his place at the head of the table.I sat in my usual spot halfway down, watching as the rest of the club filed in.We waited until everyone had a chance to get here, since some had been at home or out having fun.The door closed with finality after the last brother walked in, and Charming brought down the gavel.

“We’ve got a problem,” he began without preamble.“Devil’s Minions have moved from inconvenience to threat.”

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