“Well, well, well. What have we got here?” Snowman smiled as she looked at the three men tied up in the middle of the room, each of their eyes trained on her in turn. Boxcars sat in the middle, Deuce and Droog on either side of him, with their hands and feet trussed tightly together. A long, thick rope bound them all together, looping around their middles thrice.
“Found them snooping around the mansion,” Crowbar said, tapping his red crowbar in the open palm of his hand. “Probably looking for our safe again.”
“I saw them heading there half an hour before they even walked in the door,” Fin said proudly. He bared his sharp teeth in a nasty grin and added, “Took just one bite to get the little one to give in.”
Snowman puffed on her cigarette, eyeing the three members of the Midnight Crew. Deuce did indeed have a bleeding shoulder, his suit ripped from where Fin’s teeth had shredded it. He was looking around wildly, as if in hope of a rescue. Boxcars, mouth pulled into a deep scowl, had a rather nasty bruise on his forehead. Droog appeared to be bleeding from the back of the head. He gave Snowman nothing more than a slight, disapproving frown as she looked at him.
“Slick got away,” she noted as she took another drag of her cigarette.
“Trace is tailing him now,” Crowbar told her.
“He won’t be enough,” Snowman said, turning away from the captives to look Crowbar in the eye. “Send more muscle after him.” She narrowed her eyes as her lips quirked into a small grin. “I want his head.”
It didn’t take long for Crowbar and Cans to catch up with Slick. In fact, they’d found him a solid minute before Trace did. Slick had gotten turned around, effectively trapping himself in a small room with no other exit. He’d tried to scurry out the door before Crowbar stepped in his path.
“Looks like your luck ran out, Slick,” Crowbar said, lashing out with his crowbar until Slick backed against the far wall. He smiled. “Dead end. No more running.”
“Try sayin’ that after I’ve stabbed ya full of holes,” Slick growled. He clutched a knife in each hand, and he likely had more hidden in his pockets and up his sleeves. It didn’t matter; he wouldn’t be needing any of them.
“Cans,” Crowbar barked, standing aside. When the huge man entered the room, Slick’s eyes widened and his jaw went slack. On a good day, with the other three members of his crew backing him up, taking Cans down would be difficult. All alone and cornered like he was now, the odds seemed to be drastically stacked against Slick.
“Take him down,” Crowbar ordered. Cans moved to obey, a cruel smile appearing on his face. Slick cursed and pressed himself against the wall, trying to ready himself for a fight.
Just then, Trace walked in the room. He took a moment to observe the situation, then said, “I would have thought Fin would get here ahead of me.”
“He wanted to stay and cajole the other captives,” Crowbar said, then paused. Wait. “Ahead,” he repeated in a whisper. A head...
A new idea formed in his mind. “Cans, stop,” he said, just as the big guy was about to knock Slick into who knew where. Cans’s fist stopped just inches from Slick’s face. Crowbar walked over to where Slick was cowering against the wall, gripping his knives so tightly that his knuckles were white. Crowbar smiled, smacking Slick’s hand hard with his crowbar. The man howled and cursed in pain, dropping his knife.
“Hold him for me,” Crowbar said as he picked up Slick’s knife. “This may take a while.”
Snowman exhaled slowly. Tendrils of smoke escaping from her lips curled against Droog’s face, causing his eyes to water. But he didn’t blink, and his face remained inexpressive except for the hint of a frown. His eyes, though, were full of such hate that Snowman chuckled. It reminded her so much of someone else.
“He won’t escape, you know,” she said, patting Droog’s cheek lightly.
“We’ll see about that,” she heard Boxcars snarl. Droog himself said nothing, but he refused to turn his glare from her.
“I guess we shall,” Snowman said, straightening up as she heard the creak of an opening door. She turned to see Cans and Trace walk in the room. Snowman arched a brow, about to say something, but then Crowbar walked in. He was carrying a silver platter with a round lid covering it.
“Hey, Crowbar, I thought she wanted a mobster, not a sandwich,” Fin called, but Crowbar ignored him.
Snowman watched Crowbar silently as he strode up to her, bending on one knee and bowing his head. Without a word, he lifted the lid to reveal what was underneath.
Slick’s severed head stared back at her with his one good eye. His mouth was open slightly, blood trickling down from the lips that were still twisted in the sneer she knew so well.
Behind her, she heard the sharp intake of breath from the three members of the Crew. There was a stunned silence throughout the room, then Fin began to cackle as if he found the whole situation hilarious. Boxcars roared incoherently at him and from there, everybody joined in; the Felt members were laughing and making loud, snide remarks to their captives, while Boxcars and Deuce yelled back at them. Snowman turned slightly to see that only Droog remained quiet, although his eyes were opened wide and his face was as white as a ghost. So, it was possible to faze that one after all.
“Ah, Slick,” she said, turning back to face the head that seemed to be glaring right at her. “You’ve made me a happy woman today.” She reached out to caress his cheeks, a fond smile appearing on her face. His skin was still warm. “You and I, we’ve made so many good memories. It’s almost a shame that this is goodbye.”
Snowman lifted Slick’s head from the platter. She didn’t care that blood from his severed neck was dripping onto her hands and dress. In fact, she relished the warmth of the blood oozing into the fabric and sliding against her skin. The clamor in the room dwindled somewhat as she pulled Slick’s head closer to her own so that their lips met. His lips were slick with blood and cooling quickly. Delicious.
“What should we do with the others?” she heard Crowbar ask. “You want them dead, too?”
Snowman pulled back and ran her tongue along her lips, slowly, savoring the taste of Slick’s blood. She smiled, her eyes fixed on Slick’s open, glaring one. “Let them live. For now.”