Changing Sides and Heaving Sighs

14

     "You're a what? You- how do you know my name?"

     "Well, there's more to it than just that, but yeah. I'm a serial killer. Nabbed my one-hundred-thirty-seventh victim today, actually. Also, I know your name because I know everything that goes on in this gang, duh." Her grin returned, "no telling the others, ok? I'll keep your secrets, you'll keep mine."

     "Why didn't you tell us that after we hired you? It's not like you would have been turned in."

     "Because I want to avoid just getting tossed into a fight and used as a hit-man whenever needed. Sure, Anton enjoys it, but I'd get so bored just doing that."

     "That victim was the security guard you met, wasn't it?" Virgil felt like the tables had turned. With Anton, he knew he needed to be careful. He had bullied Circe for some time, only to discover that he'd been messing with way more than he could handle. "You killed him for the jewelry."

     "What, do you want me to give it back to his body? Yeah, I killed him. Chopped him up into pieces, this little beauty went right through his joints." She pulled a hatchet out of another inner pocket of her hoodie. An etching- maybe at one point a circle?- had been almost entirely scratched off the side. "Things have been slow since I joined the Dark Sides, but I'd honestly rather know Remus than chop up someone every day."

     "You joined the gang and pretended you weren't a murderer... to hang out with Remus?"

     "With all due respect, no shit. I literally stopped a bullet for the guy." Circe shrugged. "I think he's funny and we have way more in common than he knows. Besides, he's not the first person I've worked for on a whim."

     Circe pulled up her left sleeve, revealing a mark there. Several images made a circle around a triangle, looking almost like a demonic summoning symbol. The design had been carved into her skin and cauterized so it wouldn't heal properly. Virgil couldn't help a small noise of disgust and a bit of fear; who had done that?

     "You guys mark your henchmen so much more humanely than my last boss, tattoos are nothing in comparison to this thing."

     "Who the hell did you work for, Satan?"

     "Close enough, but that's not important. What's important is that you know my secret now, but I also know all of your secrets. Mutual discretion is probably the best course of action."

     "You don't want me to tell the others you're a serial killer, that's fine, but how much exactly do you know about me?"

     "For starters, I know you're right." Circe fixed her sleeve. "The twins were manipulated into hating each other by their parents. They wanted a perfect heir with only the best qualities of a Royal, and Remus didn't cut it. I also know that you're scared to tell Remus how you figured it out, and rightly so."

     "That's more what you know about Remus."

     "I'm not done. I know about your mom, I know how long you've known the others, I know about the cafe, I know you want to befriend Patton's trio, and I know you haven't eaten anything but the cookie Patton gave you in two weeks. I don't know how to shut down a GPS either, though, if that makes you feel a little more comfortable."

     "You officially know too much about me, but..." Virgil let out a distressed sigh. "At least I can tell you everything instead of half-truths. I hate lying to people I know."

     "Only two days and your life's gone even more to shit than usual. That's the true high school experience, don't'cha think?" Circe walked around Virgil, going back into her slight slouch and letting her eyes go dull. The enthusiasm left her voice. "Talk to Remy about this, you can trust him much more than you should trust me; I'm not necessarily always going to be on your side of an issue."

     Processing that exchange, Virgil returned to Remus' car. Music blared in the vehicle, Remus violently played air-guitar in the drivers' seat. Virgil slid into shotgun as casually as possible whilst Circe got in behind him. The distinct scent of Deceit's vape overwhelmed Virgil almost as much as the loud music piercing his brain.

     "Hey, nerd!" Remus called back to Circe as he screamed down the street. "Where do we drop you off?"

     "By the docks," she replied, barely raising her voice enough to be heard. "If I don't die in this car first."

     "Where do we drop you if you die?"

     "A shallow grave."

     Virgil didn't say a word, he probably wouldn't be able to speak loud enough to be heard anyway. Circe had recommended seeing Remy and, despite the cryptic and vaguely threatening comment about not always being on his side, that had been very sound advice. He resolved to go see his cousin immediately, pulling out his phone as Circe jumped out of Remus' car.

     you busy?

     Bitch, it is approximately two in the damn morning. Remy replied instantly.

     that doesnt answer my question

     I'm on my fifth cup of seasonal depression at the Starbucks across the street from the bar. See you in a few?

     yeah, bye

     One fantastic thing about Remy Sloth is the fact that, like Virgil, the man almost never slept. This trait is also an amusing thing about him, seeing as his nickname in every circle but the other motorcycle racers is 'Sleep'. The nickname either stemmed from a joke about his non-existent sleeping habits or from his constantly vaguely sleepy nature. Either way, Virgil could contact his cousin whenever he needed him and vice verse.

     "Well, Paranoia," Deceit leaned forward in the backseat, "you headed home?"

     "Nope."

     "Nope?"

     "Drop me at the bar first," Virgil told Remus. "I am not in the mood to go home sober and I need a minute to myself." A lie, but much less suspicious than getting dropped at a Starbucks. If Virgil was going somewhere for Remy and not for the drinks, something was obviously wrong.

     "Yeah, sure." Remus swerved. "What'd you and Circe talk about back there anyway? How long it would take before Anton kills her?"

     "Pretty close," completely off, "that and a reminder of where she stands in our ranks." 

     "Does she stand on an egg?"

     "No, but she does walk on eggshells."

     "Ah, I see." 

     After Virgil got out of the car, he waited until Remus' spray painted monstrosity skidded out of sight before crossing the street. Getting to the Starbucks, he immediately made a beeline for the back of the building, easily finding Remy perched primly atop a dumpster lid. He had his sunglasses on, his iced coffee in hand, and his phone out. Upon seeing Virgil, he looked over his sunglasses.

     "Alright, cuz; talk to me. What's up?"