Cameron Haley - Skeleton Crew

It was raining when Terrence Cole buried his soldiers. A late summer downpour was the rarest of miracles in Los Angeles, and I watched as the fresh mounds of earth beside the open graves slowly turned to mud.

Terrence stood in the center of the small, black-clad crowd, his head bowed and his hands clasped in front of him. He didnt have an umbrella, and the rain glistened on the coffee-colored skin of his shaved head. It trickled down his forehead and along his temples, and the wetness on his cheeks almost looked like tears.

The service drew to a close, the coffins were lowered into the damp earth and the mourners quickly dispersed. I wasnt sure if they were fleeing the elements or the sense of helplessness and despair that hung over the gathering. Probably both. I went to him when Terrence stood alone by the graves.

Domino, he said, I appreciate you being here. Stylish narrow sunglasses covered his eyes, but his head remained bowed and I didnt think hed looked up as I approached.

Im sorry about your guys, Terrence. I just found out about it today.

He nodded, not at me but at the graves. These two here were my nephews.

Jesus, Terrence, if Id known, maybe I could have-

Their moms was my favorite sister. Used to be. Now she just want to see my funeral.

Youre not responsible for this.

Terrence took off the glasses and lifted his head. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he had the look of a man on the run who knows hes all out of places to hide. I brought them in. Thought it was the best way to keep them safe, thought I could protect them. He shook his head and the corner of his mouth twitched.

What happened?

They didnt even have any juice. Mobley put a posse on them just to send me a message.

Francis Mobley ran the largest Jamaican outfit in the city. Hed been aligned with Terrences former boss, but now he saw the outfit Terrence had inherited as a target, an opportunity to expand his territory. Mobley was brutal, but I knew the executions hadnt just been a message. The hits would have given Mobley a lot of juice and hed be planning to use it for something even worse.

It was old-school gang warfare. With magic returning to the world in force, the stronger outfits had more juice than they knew what to do with. Back in the day it hadnt been like that. There hadnt been enough magic to go around, and the L.A. outfits fought for whatever piece of it they could get. Theyd used tactics like this-one seemingly pointless act of violence feeding juice to the next-to move against their rivals. It was like a game of leapfrog played with murders.

My outfit was the strongest in the city and we didnt have to resort to those tactics to take care of business. But there was still something in it for a smaller, weaker outfit, as long as the guy calling the shots didnt let anything like conscience get in the way. Id never heard Francis Mobley had much of a conscience.

Youre my ally, Terrence. Give the word and Ill crush that motherfucker like a bug.

Then what, Domino? You gonna move on the Koreans? Word is they want a piece of me, too.

I hadnt known about the Koreans, but Terrence was right. As much as I liked the idea of hitting back at Mobley, he was a symptom and not the disease. Taking him out wouldnt make the problem go away. The problem was Terrences outfit was too small and too weak to protect itself. It wouldnt survive for long-and never mind that it was weak mostly because of what Id done to it a couple months ago. If it wasnt Mobley, someone else would move in to cull the herd. Thats the way it worked, and if I put my personal feelings aside, I knew thats the way it should work. There was no room for weakness in the underworld.

Are you ready to lay down, Terrence?

He didnt say anything for a while. It surprised me, but maybe he was thinking about it. Getting your ass handed to you was no fun in any walk of life, but it really sucked in the underworld. I couldnt really blame him.

No fucking way, Terrence said finally. I aint gonna lay down less someone puts me down.

Okay, so what are you going to do about it?

Mobley aint shit. Hes not my problem-motherfuckers just exploiting my problem. I can hit him just like hes hitting me. I can drop bodies on his corners and put blood on his streets, but that just makes it worse. I need soldiers, Domino. Its simple as that.

I know where you can get some.

Terrence narrowed his eyes. Wheres that, D? You cant send me muscle-thats no different than letting you hit the Jamaicans for me. I got to prove my outfit is strong enough to protect itself.

I cant send you troops, but I could let them go if they got the idea on their own.

Who you have in mind?

Simeon Wales crew. The prick likes you a hell of a lot better than me, anyway. Hed cross if you offered him lieutenant. Id let him.

Simeon Wale is a bad nigger and he got juice, but Im not sure I trust the motherfucker any more than you do. Id be watching my back night and day if I brought him in.

Why you think Im letting him go? Nothings free, Terrence. You know that. Question is, is watching your back better than lying down? Im getting pressure. Everyones worried. If you cant hold your ground, something else might move in thatd make the Jamaicans look friendly.

The Turk is on you about this?

No, I dont even know where that son of a bitch is. He said he was going on sabbatical, left routine operational control of the outfit to the heir apparent.

Terrence laughed. Adans making trouble for you. My pops always said, be careful what you wish for-it might just get you.

Your pops sounds like an asshole.

He was, but he might have been right about that.

Adan Rashan was my bosss son. Hed been swapped out with a changeling as a baby and spent the first twenty-plus years of his life in Avalon, the fairy otherworld. A few months earlier, Id killed the changeling and averted a war with the Seelie Court, but not before Id fallen for the fucking guy. Now the real Adan was back and he was turning out to be a major pain in the ass. I couldnt just flip the switch and turn off the attraction, either. I didnt understand it, I didnt much like it, and I sure as hell wasnt going to make the same mistake twice.

Adans got no say in this. Im still the wartime captain, youre my ally and supporting our alliances is part of my job description.

He can still make trouble.

No, all he can do is bitch and moan about it. Hes been doing a lot of that. He cant move on you unless I give the word.

You gonna give the word?

I wouldnt be here if I was ready to push you out. Even if Terrence hadnt been my ally, hed betrayed his former boss to save my life. Maybe saving my ass hadnt been his only motive, but that kind of thing still counted for something. At least to me.

So it got to be Wales crew?

I nodded. Anyone else, it looks like Im propping you up. This way it just looks like youre taking advantage of disloyalty in my ranks. No one will have a problem with that.

Except Mobley. You think you can arrange a sit-down?

I shook my head. Not yet. Mobley thinks he has you by the short ones, Terrence. Youre going to have to hurt him before you sit down.

I can put Wale on him, he said, and laughed. You got all this worked out, dont you? Remind me never to piss you off.

I shrugged. Its time to play hardball. You turn Wale loose, Mobley will come to you. Hell be begging for a sit-down.

Terrence nodded and was about to respond when a sound like a snapping tree limb split the air. The sound came from behind us.

From the graves.

Terrence and I turned together, toward the sound. Splintered wood from one of the coffins lay scattered around the gravesite. As we watched, one of Terrences nephews climbed from his shattered coffin and stood up. He staggered and then braced himself with both hands on the sides of his grave. He looked down at himself, at the dark suit his mother had buried him in, and then he looked around. His gaze landed on us, and his eyes were a dull, filmy gray. They were a dead mans eyes.