In the Classroom

Chapter Seventeen: Fang

I strolled through the dark streets, the shadows covering the area blocking out even the brightness of a moon. An old, abandoned office complex loomed over me. I shifted the jacket up over my shoulder. I saw a man hidden in the shadows watch me approach. At his side, I could the the unmistakable shadow of a gun. He crossed his arms at me in irritation. "You're late," said the voice in the shadows. I approached him guilelessly, unafraid for my life.

"I wouldn't be if you paid me enough to buy a car," I told him calmly. The person scowled at me.

"If you didn't do such unsatisfactory work for us, we wouldn't have that problem," he retorted. He turned his back on me.

"Come...Keenan does not like to be kept waiting, as you well know," said the man, leading me farther into the darkness. I followed him nonchalantly, my hands delving into my pockets. The gun inside the fabric calmed my nerves. The smooth steel was cold on my fingertips. I always had it with me, even at school. No one would keep me from my best friends—an automatic and twelve bullets. I was not afraid as I walked through the darkness with this unknown man. He could not hurt me. More likely, he would not.

"Keenan has been waiting for you," the man informed me coldly.

Now I was afraid.

* * *

"Tell me, Pied Piper," said the woman standing at the top of the stairs. Next to her was her husband. Keenan, the man, was not the most menacing of the couple, Halie was. Her eyes were smoothed out with black make-up, making it almost impossible to distinguish her physical features. She wore a silk robe with a dragon tattoo, entwining up her right arm, over her neckline and breasts, and ending at her left arm. Her nails were golden and long. Her hair was pulled up in a tight bun. At her side—a gun, as lethal and as beautiful as she was. In comparison, Keenan was not very impressive in looks. He wore a black jacket, baggy in every place you looked at him. Ripped jeans and black sunglasses also adorned him. He was also barefoot. He looked more like a homeless man than the threatening lord of the mafia The only thing that credited him to being a mafia leader was the tattoo he had on his left temple: the sign of a rose stabbed through with a knife covered in blood. Rumor has it—he carved that tattoo into himself with his own knife.

"Pied Piper," said Halie, returning my attention to her. "Why have you been absent for the meetings?" I felt my stomach clench. She stared down at me, as cold and as regal as an ice queen, or the White Witch from the Tales of Narnia. Standing in the stone auditorium, lit with only a few wall lights, was terrifying enough. I had never been one for ghost stories, even though my whole life was like one. But standing in the middle of a crowd, where everyone had backed away from me so I was standing in a circular gap, with one spotlight shining down on me—that made my heart flood with fear. That was Halie for you. She loved theatrics. Anyone who needed to be appraised and scrutinized, was to be put on stage for all to see.

"Refusal would have been much worse for you, so I will let your insolence slide," she told me. She glared down at me.

"Still, I must know why you denied the meetings so foolishly," she told me. I swallowed hard.

"I was simply preoccupied, Halie," I told her in as steady a voice I could manage. She chuckled at me.

"Surely you're not thinking on leaving the mafia," she told me sternly. The crowd gave a harsh chuckle. The throaty roars of men mixed with the insane squealing of women that mixed together, creating a kind of din very akin to the roaring of a lion. Halie allowed herself to smirk at my discomfort before returning to icy stare. The crowd quieted immeidately. "That would be suicide. You know how we do things here," she told me. I looked her straight in the eye, forcing away my fear.

"Of course not, Halie. I would have to be disillusioned to think to do that kind of thing," I told her slowly. She smirked at me.

"Still, you know the penalty for missing the meeting," she told me. I felt my blood run cold, but I forced away the chill that had crept into my bones. She pointed at a man in the back. He stumbled up. It was the same man that had called me at Sam's house, nicknamed Fang. Not the most original, I know, but considering he had personally filed down his teeth to the shape of fangs, it was most fitting for him. Fang was usually an icon of terror for most people. We had a few pleasantries, but that was it. Fang and I were acquaintances, no more, no less. It was no good to have friends in the mafia, in case you are forced to battle to the death, as it was now.

"Fang has also been missing the meetings," said Halie. Her eyes had flashed with the words, and I could only guess that Fang had refused to take part in mafia activities. Poor soul, I thought without pity. Fang, the arrogant, loud, and obnoxious mafia member was now twitchy, paranoid, and jumpy. The fifty three years old man now looked dirty and crippled, like a rotten, old beggar. I gave him a crooked smile.

"Hello, Fang," I said to him sinisterly. His eyes flicked to me and he gave me a toothless grin. All of his teeth had already been knocked out. Apparently the other mafia members had already had their way with him.

"Fang has been talking of desertion," said Keenan softly. At these words, the mafia crowd erupted into roars of indignation. Garbage erupted from the crowd. One woman threw an empty soup can at him and the ridged lid hit Fang's temple, slicing a thin line across his forehead. He grunted in pain, but stood his ground.

"Silence!" ordered Halie. The crowd was quiet almost instantly. Everyone's eyes were trailed on the four of us, to see what would happen next, even though we all know what came next.

"Fight," ordered Keenan, his quiet voice echoing within the silent chamber. "Fight, and the winner will be pardoned of all sins against the mafia," he ordered. He looked at Fang, who flinched away from the wretched man who's voice was filled with undeniable power. "If you win, you can leave our ranks," he told him. He looked at me. I stiffened under his gaze, but otherwise, gave no move to acknowledge his attention. "If you win, Pied Piper, to the victor goes the spoils," he told me. I smirked as the thought of riches filled my mind with tantalizing thoughts. The victory was so sweet I could almost taste it on my tongue.

There was no denying it. One of us would die. Unable to go against orders, Fang and I put ourselves in our fighting positions. Normally, since Fang wasn't in good shape, this fight would be mine in a matter of minutes. However, considering Fang was my superior, and he was more on-guard that usual, the fight might drag on for a while. I cracked my knuckled, staring at Fang.