Queen Of Green Dahlia

One

Smoke filled the star-filled sky as I stared impatiently at the waning moon. I was fascinated by the ring of moonlight that surrounded claw-shaped as thin clouds drifted around it. As I waved away Gianni's cigarette smoke away from my face, I pulled out my phone and held it up toward the sky to snap a photo of the beautiful phenomenon. Once I was sure it was the perfect image to convey the sky's glory, I set it as my new wallpaper and posted it on my social media before hiding my phone away in my pocket and waving the smoke away from my face once again.

"Don't know what you think is so fascinating up there," Gianni shrugged as he threw his cigarette butt to the ground and stomping its embers completely out, "a hell of a lot more interesting things are going on inside, y'know."

I refused to take his eyes off the sky, ignoring my friend's insult to my star-gazing. "You got to take in all the little things in life when you do business like this; you don't want the last thing you see before you die to be your artwork taking its revenge on you from beyond the grave do you?"

"I'll tell you what, Raph," Gianni responded as he took out his third cigarette of the day, "the day any of those bastards come back to haunt my next near death experience, I'll have your precious moon photos hung up in one of my grandfather's galleries so that's all I'll fucking see when I go to visit him."

I chuckled lightly as I lit his cigarette with my black dahlia-etched lighter. I had only received the gift from my uncle in Delaware the morning of and already I loved flicking it open to watch the sparks turn into a glorious flame. He knew that I didn't smoke, but the pyromaniac in me always illuminated my face when I stared into the flames of the fireplace. Not to mention how it would most likely become handy on a night like tonight.

"So, what's the deal this time?" after taking a deep intake of smoke, Gianni turned to the entryway of the dungeons and exhaled his smog down into the darkness. "This guy take some of the contraband for himself?"

My smile immediately faded as I did my best to keep my cool. It wasn't my turn yet. "Nope," I replied with a frustrated sigh, "our guys did some digging on him and they found child pornography on his computer and cell phone."

"Get the fuck out!" Gianni exclaimed as he stood up from leaning on the brick wall of the building. "Did he have the kids hidden somewhere? Where the hell did he get it? Tell me you're going to fuck him up!"

"Unfortunately, at this time, we don't know if the photos and videos were his or if he got them from another source, we're having some of our guys in the force investigate that as we speak," I explained calmly as I turned my gaze down to the black dahlia flower etched into my lighter, the light of the moon illuminating the hidden specks of red within the pitch black paint. "And don't worry," I smiled into my reflection of my lighter, "once I'm done with him Leonardo DaVinci himself will bow down to me in shame of his own work."

The sounds of leather shoes echoing through the halls of the dungeon made me frown once again. I placed my lighter in my pocket as Victor stepped out from the darkness, completely devoid of emotion.

"Raphael," Victor nodded in my direction in his heavy Russian accent, "your father would like to see you."

I nodded to Gianni before following Victor into the dark of the Gothic building. Light fixtures had been put in sometime during the early forties, the ember glow of light bulbs now replacing where torches were once placed to light the way. Stones crunched below my feet as Victor and I approached Orson and Marcellus who were standing guard of the double doors that lead to the dungeon. Once we got close, the two burly men gripped the handles and yanked open the doors to allow us in. The steps that descended down into the pitch darkness of the dungeons were not lit by any light, not even candle; however, the single light bulb that was hung in the dungeon room allowed for us to see enough. As we walked down, Orson and Marcellus shut the doors behind us, awaiting their next orders from my father.

When we walked up behind my father, his back to us as he sat in a small metal chair facing my new canvas, he was finishing his conversation. My fingers twitched as I stared at the battered pedophile chained by his wrists, the cold cuffs attached to chains that hung from the ceiling. The single light bulb of the room hung above his head, swinging slightly. Blood was streaming down his face, painting the floor at his knees, his exposed upper body covered in cuts in bruises, his struggling to keep up head was just as bad, his eye swollen shut and lips cracked. He didn't look as bad as I had hoped, but it did mean I had more to work with.

"I allow you to break bread with my family," my father told the beaten man, most likely having been listing all he had done for him and that what he had done was the thanks our family got for all our troubles, "my nieces, nephews, my son's friends playing as my wife offers our home to you out of the kindness of her God blessed soul."

I flinched, but kept my cool as I glared the chained man up and down, wondering where exactly I should start.

"Tell me, Aleksander," my father continued as he leaned in to be face to face with this monster who didn't deserve the name his mother gave him, "how many?"

Aleksander huffed through painful, raspy breaths. He spit the blood that was building in his mouth out onto the ground, nearly grazing my father's stubbled face. "Does the number matter?" he asked. "I'll take what I know to Hell with me, so you may as well just put an end to me so that you can sleep like a fucking baby tonight!"

My father sighed as he sat back in his seat, his hands gripping the arms of his chair until his knuckles turned white. "Unfortunately for you, tonight is the last I will handle business like you until I get bored," he stood and put his hands behind his back as he began to circle Aleksander, "at midnight, in exactly sixty seconds," he explained as he lifted up his arm and moved his sleeve down to check his watch, "I will be retired and everything handled under my name shall hereby be under my son's control."

I stepped up closer so that Aleksander could see my face lit up by the light and take in every last detail. My fingers itched to begin my work, but I held myself back as best I could.

"I say this is unfortunate news for you, because unlike me, Raphael is not as lenient as I am when it comes to handling issues like you," my father continued, stopping to stand by Aleksander and snapping his fingers. From the dark, one of Dr. Bernd's male nurses dressed in a white lab coat, medical goggles, and a blue hair net stepped into the light, pushing a cart of tools donated to us by the family doctor.

"I'm sure you've heard that my son is an artist," my father picked up a scalpel from the cart, running his finger lightly over the blade, "he enjoys painting a blank canvas with whatever supplies he's given," he then gently placed the blade to a now shaking Aleksander's cheek and slowly glided it down his face, "he likes to take his time too, stepping back to admire his work and see where he can make it a true masterpiece." my father twirled the scalpel in his fingers as he stepped away from Aleksander, who had tears beginning to well up in his good eye and his body soaked in his own sweat. "While I like to get the job done and move on to my next inconvenience, Raphael makes every last second count and has it last for as long as it takes to make something worthy of the Galleria Moretti." he stepped over to me and twirled the scalpel to hand it me handle first. I took it happily as I walked past him to stand over Aleksander. The older man stared up at me with his teary, pleading eye as I stared blankly back.

"Don't worry, Aleksander," my father finished, "while I will personally make it so that every inch of your being is completely eradicated from this world, you will be remembered as a message to the rivals of Black Dahlia, that should you dare cross us again, Raphael Vitale will not be as merciful as Fausto Vitale."

After snapping his fingers and motioning for Victor and Dr. Bernd's nurse to leave the room, my father began to leave, following the other two men up the steps to the beautiful night outside. In the distance, we could hear the nearby church bells ring as I stepped up to loom over Aleksander, knowing exactly where to start. I rolled up my sleeves and kneeled down.

"Happy birthday, Raphael," I heard my father call back before slamming the sound proof doors shut.