Gangs Aren't My Style (A Black Death Novel)

Chapter 53 - Burned at the Stake

Gangs Aren't My Style

Book I of the Black Death Trilogy

PART THREE :: Cast Your Armor Down

Chapter 53 - Burned At The Stake

James' nostrils flared. His temper stormed and his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides as he stared, unblinking, at the human remains before him.

A timid youth, presumably some lower level member of the gang, approached James with trepidation. "A hiker found him earlier this morning. It would seem that he has been here for quite some time."

James was livid and made no efforts to rein in his ire as he turned his glare to the young man, sending him scampering away in fright.

The vengeful leader crouched down at the feet of his fallen comrade, remorse filling him. He should have done a better job of locating his second in command. Even with the current state of the remains hiding such evidence, James knew that his friend had been tortured before he had suffered a cruel and torpid death. A string of what if's flitted through his mind, taunting him with possibilities.

Yet nothing would bring Daniil back; James attempted to understand that as he stared at the long stake his friend have been bound to as he burned alive. Even then, DaniIl's charred skeleton was slumped against that wretched wooden rod, held up by the frayed and scorched remains of a thick rope. He had been set a fire at the proverbial stake, as if he had been one of the accursed witches from the Salem of old.

James moved away from the graphic scene with a curse, running his fingers through his wing-tousled hair. As he stared down at the forest floor beneath his feet, however, a flash of movement caught his attention. Something was moving amidst the black sinew and flesh that had been melted to Daniil's skeleton. James paused and took a second glance, sure that he had imagined the disturbance, but found that he had not.

What seemed to be a piece of paper was pinned to the breast of his friend's remains. James stepped forward to take a closer look.

There, James was able to determine that what he had originally assumed was only a piece of paper, was in fact a picture. More specifically, a picture of him. The photo had been taken only a few years ago; Daniil and Kyle stood on either side of him. Now, a large red X had been drawn over Daniil's head. It was a sign of elimination, a sign of success for the other side. Soverage had won this round, but he was not yet finished. He had just named his next targets.

James ripped the picture from the corpse angrily, his eyes still trained on the dark red ink that covered the third figure. It was only when he noticed its weight, though, that he realized what had been keeping the photo up. A small metal Iraqi crest was attached to the upper corner of the picture. It had been left there on purpose and it had been left there for him to find.

It was a trap. James knew it was a trap, but he also knew that his only hopes of keeping his sister safe were to find and eliminate the man hunting her. James sighed, running over each option in his mind. But there was no way around it. He would have to travel to Iraq, ultimately following Soverage's lead into an obvious trap.

It seemed that the only way James might ever find the elusive blackguard was to play by his rules, hoping that he would slip up eventually.

It was with this knowledge in mind that he turned from the scene and stormed his way back through the forest to where his Jeep waited.

Rage coated his voice as he pulled out his cell phone and spoke five short words. "Abdul, I need a favor..."