"POLICE STILL ON THE LOOKOUT AFTER GANG SHOOTING"
"SUSPECTS STILL AT LARGE!"
No matter the newspaper, it was more or less the same headline with a little bit rewording here and there. All of them went crazy for weeks following the incident with Abelli's gang. Every journalist in the Manhattan area and beyond just had to get a piece of the pie. Meanwhile, the rest of the folks in the city were up and alert. They ate every article on the matter up like candy. How couldn't they? It was the worst shooting since last year.
Russell, Richie, and I had committed one of the biggest crimes that summer without ever meaning to. We "improvised" a little too much.
The folks in the city were careful afterwards, but not by much. The biggest shooting in the history of this country could happen right in the streets and that wouldn't stop some of them from flooding into speakeasies and dreamwhisps—especially ones owned by gangsters. As long as they got their alcohol, they would be willing to take risks.
As for Russell, he was less than pleased. After all, shooting up at least twenty men had drawn in unwanted attention to the demonic businesses. He knew that the cops couldn't just brush this incident off. Anytime a bunch of low-life gangsters were killed, it should be good news, but it wasn't. They had to do an investigation whether they wanted to or not, and with the mess we left at the scene, it was nearly obvious that the shooting involved demons.
I suppose the good side to that is they usually put the rookie investigators with little experience on the job. Well, this was good for Russell than for me.
Going out was impossible. I couldn't do it; the demon wouldn't let me. He thought it was better if I stayed indoors for a couple of weeks out of sight and away from trouble while he went out and...did things.
Also, I didn't have a body to work around in anymore since Abelli's was definitely unsafe to inhabit.
So there I was, lounging on the chair right next to that demon while he read from the New York Times. Next to his perfect posture, I probably looked like a tired bum who had one too many drinks. I drummed my fingers on the cushiony arms and stared off into space.
"Hey, check this out; you know that monkey trial down in Tennessee? Well, seems like that teacher lost it. Guess he was breaking the law after all."
"Oh, that trial..."
"I would've seen it had it not been for business up here. Got a man of mine down there though. He had a blast with it. Said it was one of the most entertaining things to come out of Tennessee."
I turned my head towards him. "Who was he rooting for?"
"He wasn't rooting for anyone; he was just watching as humans argued with each other over a law. But hey, that's what we demons do," he said and folded the newspaper back up. It was placed on the table between the two of us.
"Speaking of the trial, there are those who take it a step further and believe humans come from monkeys. They're wrong, of course, though the resemblance is incredible. Wouldn't you agree, Bobby?" He looked towards me before leaning into the chair, propping his feet up on the velvet footrest.
I ignored him and he continued.
"I wish they were right though. There's too many people like Bryan running around. Preaching this and that. Going on this 'crusade' to preserve their religion and way of life. It gets sickening after a while with the way they speak out against us."
"Well maybe they've got the right idea," I said. Those kinds of people were the most outspoken when it came to wanting all demons to go back to where they belonged. Although, with me being a demon, they were the same group that I should've been against. Yet, it was hard being against them when I've got a demon forcing me to work for him.
YOU ARE READING
Prohibition hangs over New York like a nauseating smog. Most partygoers escape its presence by getting lost in speakeasies set up around corners of the streets, in basements, attics, etcetera. The more desperate—young or old, rich or poor—flock to t...