You return to where you began. And if you are lucky you will be left with one or more black feathers. With these quills of night you may barter for all the meaning in your life. -A.A. Attanasio From the forward to The Crow: Shattered Lives and Broken Dreams The cawing of The Crow outside his window awakened Brian. He checked to make sure Justin was asleep. The even, steady breathing reassured him of it. Brian went to the window, a scowl evident on his face in the pre-dawn light. You should have heeded my advice, mortal. You should not have seen him. “Dammit, bird! Give me a fucking break! Look, the damage is already done, he’s seen me. We’ve fucked. So how about you fuck off and later I’ll take whatever punishment there is for breaking the ‘don’t let them see you’ rule.” Brian started to turn away when the Crow’s voice spoke softly, sadly to him. You misunderstand. The damage you have done cannot be repaired. “What the hell are you squawking about?” I warned you and you failed to listen. The rules, such as they are, are not to protect you, but him. The punishment will not be yours, it will be Justin’s. “That’s bullshit! I’m the one who broke the damn rule, I’m the one who should pay for it.” It makes no difference what you think mortal, that is the way things are. “What will happen to him?” I do not know. Events have already been set in motion. “There has to be something I can do, I’m here to protect him for fuck’s sake!” Then the best thing you can do is leave him, now, before he wakes. Maybe he will remember and think it was a dream…you must hope so. “Damn.” * Justin awoke feeling more content that he had in over a month and he knew exactly why. Brian. He smiled and shifted onto his back, his ribs protesting at the movement. The smile faded when he realized he was alone in the bed. He looked around the loft and listened for sounds that would indicate signs of life, or whatever Brian was, but he was definitely alone. Brian’s smell lingering on the sheets and the delicious soreness of the recent possession of his body were the only indications Justin had that he wasn’t losing his mind and hadn’t imagined the encounter. On the other hand, he thought, Last night I did meet with the next-to-last person to see Brian alive, got the shit kicked out of me by Stockwell’s lackey, and spent the rest of the night making love with my supposedly dead boyfriend. Maybe I’m not the best judge of sanity right now. * “Jim honey, don’t forget to take out the trash when you go” Linda Stockwell called to her husband from the kitchen. “I never do, dear,” he said with a teasing smile, coming up behind her and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Gotta go, I’ve got a meeting with the School Superintendent in less than an hour. He grabbed the bag of garbage by the door in one hand and his briefcase in the other. “Oh, honey, I nearly forgot. You had a visitor while you were in the shower, but he didn’t want to wait, he said he’d catch up with you later.” “A visitor?” “Yes. It was that man from the Vanguard Agency you had fired from your campaign, Mr. Kinney, right? Anyway, I’ll bet he’s looking to get back in your good graces so you’ll get him his job back. Such a shame, about him being gay, I mean. He’s such a handsome man.” Stockwell felt the color drain from his face. “Dear, I think you made a mistake, it couldn’t have been him.” “No, I recognized him right away. Mostly because he looked so different from when he was here filming the commercial. Today he was all disheveled and…I don’t know, crumpled looking. Maybe he’s sleeping in his car. Oh, Jim, you don’t think he’s homeless do you? Maybe you should get him his job back,” she said worriedly. “That’s impossible, Linda. I’m afraid Brian Kinney is dead. Tragic circumstances, but it goes to show how dangerous his sort of lifestyle is. He was mugged and shot, presumably on his way home from one of those clubs he was so fond of. Forensics said he died right away, happened about a month ago. So you see, you had to have made a mistake. It couldn’t have been him.” Linda looked at her husband with wide, stunned eyes for a moment before her rational brain kicked in and she decided she had indeed miss-identified the stranger at the door. “You’re right, I must had made a mistake. He never actually told me his name, I just sort of thought he looked a little like that Mr. Kinney…around the eyes, but of course it couldn’t of been him. The man I saw this morning was very much alive.” “Never mind, darling, I’m sure it was nothing. Otherwise, they would have left a message. Now, I have to run; I’ll see you tonight, dear.” Stockwell drove to City Hall and parked in his reserved space. He took the elevator up to his office and greeted his PA with his usual cheery, “morning, Donald.” But as soon as he was alone in his office, he let the chill that he had been holding at bay run through his body. Kinney is dead, he reminded himself logically. It’s that damn Taylor kid. He’s set this up, he’s fucking with me. Stockwell slammed his fist down on the desk and let out a curse. He couldn’t afford this distraction; he only had a few minutes to pull himself together before his meeting. “Enough of this,” he said aloud and reached for his cell phone. He dialed the number slowly, relishing the moment that would put all this behind him once and for all. “Yeah?” “The message didn’t get through. I need you to deal with the problem. Permanently.” “Two for one, then. I’m on it, boss.” Stockwell smiled as he punched the button to end the call. He didn’t notice the slight tremor in his hand, or hear the whispered comments as he made his way to the boardroom to meet with the Superintendent. “What’s wrong with Jim? He looks like he’s seen a ghost.” * Dutton sighed as he prepared for his next step of the job. He almost wished it hadn’t come to this, he wasn’t a killer by nature, and he liked the Taylor kid’s moxy. But a deal was a deal. He would off Blondie and dispose of the body, then he could kick back and collect his regular pay for a job well done. He did a quick inventory of the contents of his bag- gloves, rope, duct tape, check. And the plastic was already spread out over the concrete floor in the warehouse. All he had to do was pick Taylor up, bring him back here and do the job. It shouldn’t be this easy, he thought, somewhat philosophically followed by, Ah well, all in a day’s work. He knew where to find Justin. He had everything he needed. Everything was in place. He flipped on the safety of the gun Stockwell had shot Kinney with. It seemed poetic to him that it would also be the weapon used to kill his boyfriend. * Justin checked the address on slip of paper in his hand against the numbers on the buildings. He was close. Another half a block and he came to the apartment complex where he was supposed to meet Matt, the contact from the night before. Justin was surprised to hear from him, he had thought for sure when the guy turned down his offer of more money the night before that he had seen the last of him. Guess his greed overcame his fear after all. Justin walked around the gate and to the back of the complex to 12 D where he knocked on the door. “Come in.” Justin turned the knob and pushed open the door. The small room reeked of cooking odors and mildew. He blinked as his eyes adjusted from the harsh sunlight outside to the murky glow cast by the single, bare bulb in the center of the room. Matt was sitting on the ratty couch, his posture oddly angled. He looked up at Justin miserably, dark rings under his bloodshot eyes. “Sorry, man…so sorry,” he mumbled as his head lolled to the side. The flight instinct kicked in and Justin turned to flee, but the door slammed shut and Dutton stepped out of the shadows. “Good of you to show up on time, Blondie. Another twenty minutes or so and our friend over there wouldn’t have been able to play his part. Only one line, but it was rather important.” “What have you done to him?” “Me? Hey, can’t hold me responsible if the kid has developed a sudden and unfortunately deadly taste for drugs.” Justin looked back to Matt and noticed the rubber bands around the guy’s skinny upper arm. A trickle of dried blood stained the inside of his elbow and trailed down to his wrist. An empty syringe lay on the cushion beside him. “Shit. Stay awake, Matt. I’ll call an ambulance.” Justin took a quick look around for the phone and spotted it on a small table by the wall. He made a move towards it, but Dutton stopped him by grabbing the back of his shirt. “Not so fast there, sweetheart. You and I have other plans.” “Let me go! He needs help.” “Kid, he’s beyond help. Start worrying about yourself.” Dutton punched Justin in his already damaged ribs with his gloved fist and when he went down, Dutton reached for the roll of duct tape in his bag. He tore a piece off and covered Justin’s mouth, then pulled his arms in front of him and taped them together. He did the same with Justin’s ankles. “Time to get this show on the road.” He put the tape back in the bag and threw the strap over his head before picking Justin up and tossing him over his shoulder, fireman style. He carried him through the apartment and out the back door where a blue van was waiting. Justin struggled against his bonds to no avail. He had no idea where Dutton was taking him; he was face down in the back of the cargo van and couldn’t see where they were heading. When the van finally came to a stop, Justin managed to roll over on his back. A gun was shoved in his face, followed by Dutton’s yellow smile. “Just so you know, I’ve got a gun,” he pressed the barrel under Justin’s chin. “And I will be using it.” He pulled Justin up and once again slung him over his shoulder and carried him into the empty warehouse he had already prepared for their arrival. He took Justin over to the plastic sheeting he had spread out and stood him up on his feet. Then he reached up for the huge pulley with a hook on the end above them. He put Justin’s bound hands over the hook and walked the few feet over to the crank and hoisted Justin up onto his tiptoes. “I’m guessing you already know what this is about, don’t you?” Justin’s eyes blazed with hate. “My boss, Stockwell, is fed up with you. He’s done with playing nice…so, here we are.” Dutton raised the gun and fired, shooting Justin in the stomach. It felt like a hot poker had been shoved through his gut. Justin screamed but it came out muffled behind the gag. He could see the wound. At the angle he was trussed, he couldn’t avoid seeing it. Blood welled as if in slow motion and oozed out of the hole. Justin felt sick, but willed the bile back. After a few seconds the blood became a steady stream. He closed his eyes to shut out the sight but opened them again almost immediately when he felt himself moving. Dutton was lowering his feet. “Don’t go passing out on me now, you hear? We’re just getting started,” Dutton said, removing Justin’s arms from the hook. He lowered the bleeding man to the floor and cut the tape from his ankles and wrists. “I’m trusting you won’t try to run…because then I’d have to shoot you in the back, and I don’t consider that very honorable.” He leaned over and stripped the tape from Justin’s mouth. Justin screamed again. * “I can’t believe you leave your car unlocked, Jim. And you a former cop. I’d think you of all people would know better.” Brian smiled when the lighter popped, causing Jim to jump. He reached for it and touched the glowing end to the tip of the cigarette in his mouth, inhaling and blowing a stream of smoke, sighing in delight. “You don’t mind do you?” he asked raising an eyebrow. “I know they’re a bad habit…always thought they’d kill me one day. Guess I don’t have to worry about that now, huh Jim?” “What the fuck is going on?” Stockwell demanded, his face ashen. “You can’t be him…Kinney’s dead.” Brian laughed. “Dead is such a subjective term these days.” “Who are you?” “Let’s cut the fucking melodramatics, okay?” Brian brushed back the hair from his forehead and showed Stockwell the scar from the bullet hole. “It can’t be…” “You’ve been a naughty boy, Jim. First you cover up Jason Kemp’s death, then when the guilt got to Reichert and he wanted to turn himself in…you killed him. Not a very friendly thing to do. Not to mention how you blew me away,” Brian pointed his index and middle fingers at Stockwell’s temple and made a firing sound. Stockwell flinched but keep his eyes trained on Brian. “And now you’re gunning for Justin. I’m not happy about that, Jim. Well, maybe I am just a tad gleeful. See, Jim, you were going to die anyway,” Brian smiled, “but thanks to those bruises Justin’s sporting, you get to die much, much more painfully.” “Fuck you, whoever the hell you are!” Stockwell reached for the door handle but Brian was quicker. His hand closed like a steel band around Stockwell’s wrist. “What’s you hurry, Jim? The fun’s just starting.” He leaned over and pulled the seatbelt across Stockwell. It fastened with a loud ‘click’. “What’s say we go somewhere a little more private?” “I’m not going anywhere with you,” he ground out. “There’s that anti-social attitude again. Where’s it coming from? You used to be such a people person, Jim.” Brian put out his cigarette in the ashtray then reached in his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of white paper. “It doesn’t really matter to me where we do this…I can start by severing your vocal chords so no one can hear you scream.” Brian spoke as if discussing the weather, but the unholy gleam in his eye bespoke the violence he was truly capable of. He unfolded the paper, one handed, still holding Stockwell’s wrist firmly in his other, and held it up proudly. “This was my favorite. Justin’s imagination is apparently as limitless as his talent.” It was one of the drawings Justin had done the previous night. In it, Stockwell was staked out on the desert floor by large spikes through his hands and feet. His body cavity was open wide; his organs glistened wetly in the white-hot light of the blazing sun. A large black bird was sitting on his exposed ribcage, sucking up a loop of intestine like a fat, juicy worm. But the most disturbing thing about the scene was that in it, Stockwell was still alive. Terror glazed his eyes and his gaping mouth and straining tongue portrayed his soundless screams. “Nice likeness, don’t you think? Unfortunately, we don’t have any desert nearby…but we do have the bird. Just then, The Crow landed on the hood of the car and cawed a warning to Brian. Justin needs you. Panic welled up inside Stockwell and came out as hysterical laughter. He grabbed the drawing from Brian’s fingers and ripped it to shreds. “You don’t scare me, you fucking freak. And your little piece of artist ass is being taken care of right now. “You can kill me, maybe I’m already dead, but I’ll see you both in hell. You can’t save him…you’re too late,” Stockwell laughed. “Where is he?” Brian asked The Crow. “You’re fucking crazier than I thought if you think I’m telling you anything,” Stockwell said, assuming Brian was asking him. Brian’s lip curled into a snarl as he turned to Stockwell. “Shut the fuck up!” he shouted, grabbing the man by a handful of hair and smashing the side of his head into the driver’s side window with enough force behind the single blow to knock him unconscious. He unfastened the seatbelt and switched places with Stockwell, throwing the man into the passenger seat like a rag doll. “Where is he?” he repeated to the bird perched on the hood of the car. This way. Brian started the car and followed The Crow who flew high above the streets, guiding Brian to the place where Justin was. The Crow flew towards the river front, to the old warehouse district, where most of the buildings stood empty except for the few laid claim to by the homeless population and the odd self-starter looking to save a buck or two on rent by leasing the places long since abandoned by new industry boom in the late eighties. The Crow did a sudden, stunningly acrobatic dive pulling up neatly to land on fence outside of the building he was directing Brian to. In there. Desperation was beginning to take hold of Brian as he jumped out of the car and pulled out the loaded gun hidden in the back of his waistband. He reached in the car and grabbed Stockwell by the collar, dragging the unconscious man behind him with no effort at all. * Justin was dying. He knew he was dying and the knowledge held no fear for him. He had regrets- he hated what the people who loved him were going to go through, and he felt a slight pang at knowing he would never paint another canvas, or ever see his work hanging in a New York gallery. But mostly he regretted not bringing Stockwell down. “Gunshot wounds to the stomach are a bitch, aren’t they?” Dutton asked in mock sympathy. He kneeled down beside Justin and brushed the hair out of his face gently. “I could make it stop, you know. All you have to do is ask me to end it.” “Fuck. You.” Justin said with great difficultly. Breathing was getting harder and a thin trickle of blood ran out of his mouth when he spoke. Dutton stood. “That kind of talk will only get you more pain, sweetheart.” He aimed the gun once more and shot Justin in the left shoulder. Pain seared his flesh and white spots danced before his eyes. He was cold, so very cold. “I could leave you here. Who knows how long you’d last in this condition? Few minutes, few hours…do you really want to chance it? All that suffering. Now, I’ll ask you again…do you want me to end it?” Justin knew the joke was on Dutton. He could no longer feel his feet and his left arm was paralyzed. He lifted his right arm and flipped Dutton the bird. Then he smiled, or at least, he thought he did. He couldn’t really tell if his mouth moved or not. “Oh, now that’s gonna cost you.” He raised the gun once more and Justin closed his eyes, glad it was almost over. It didn’t matter where Dutton was aiming; Justin knew the truth was one more bullet would end it. Gunfire rang out, followed by a grunt and a dull thudding sound. Justin tensed for the new bout of pain that never came. Slowly he opened his eyes. Dutton was gone from his line of vision. Suddenly a different face filled his vision. Brian, he mouthed, but no sound came out. “Justin!” He dropped to his knees and put pressure on the bleeding wounds. Please, please don’t let this be happening, his mind screamed. The memory of another night like this, another cold concrete floor, and Justin covered in blood. Icy cold fear gripped him as he looked down into Justin’s cloudy blue eyes. “Hang on, just hang on and you’ll be fine.” He wanted to tell Brian it was okay, he wasn’t afraid to die…after all, he’d be with Brian. But it was too much effort to speak. Justin contented himself with looking up into his lover’s beautiful face. Something moved behind Brian’s shoulder but Justin couldn’t make out the shadowy shape, in fact, he was rapidly losing the ability to focus at all. “Come on, hang on, Justin!” Brian demanded. He took a deep breath and said the thing that he only wished he’d had the guts to say sooner. “Justin, I love you.” Blue eyes flickered and Justin’s lips twitched. Brian smiled at him, but his heart sank. He had failed. He should have listened to the damn bird and not wasted any time getting to Stockwell. His weakness had cost Justin his life. The shadowy figure behind Brian moved closer, picked Dutton’s gun up, and aimed. The sound of the shot registered with Brian just as the bullet tore through his back, plunged through his heart, and busted out the front of his chest and straight into Justin’s. With a primitive cry of rage, Brian spun and pounced on Stockwell, pushing the stunned man down to the floor with a resounding ‘thud’ and straddling him. The last thing Justin saw through his dying eyes was Brian tearing out Stockwell’s beating heart with his bare hands. * “Where am I?” Justin asked, unable to see anything in the darkness surrounding him. In between, came the disembodied response. “What does that mean?” It means we have a decision to make. “We? Who are you?” A light began to manifest in front of Justin, a tiny spark that grew and shimmered until Justin could make out the shape of a sleek, black bird in front of him. The ethereal light seemed to radiate from within the bird. I am your guide. “Guide, guide to where?” To the place you are meant to be. The bird hopped from foot to foot. Your soul is troubled by things left unfinished, things left unsaid. “I don’t understand.” Child, do you believe in eternal love? “Yes,” he answered honestly. Do you feel this kind of love for your Brian? “Yes,” Justin said without hesitation. The Crow studied Justin intently. Then it reached around, and with its beak, plucked a feather from beneath its wing. The Crow flew over and landed at Justin’s feet. It dropped the feather and looked up at Justin. Take it. With my feather you may barter for the past, and ultimately, the future. “What do you mean?” Justin asked, reaching down for the shiny black feather. You may use it to return to where this all began. With this gift you can save yourself…or you can save Brian. I am sorry young one, but I can only give you one feather for one soul, so you must choose between restoring your own life, or the life of your lover. Justin smiled. “That isn’t a choice at all. Send Brian back. Give him his life.” Very well, if that is your wish. “It is.” No doubts, young one? “None at all. I love him,” Justin said by way of explanation. The Crow eyed Justin thoughtfully with his head cocked to the side. Love. The one power strong enough to overcome death. Consider your boon granted; Brian will live again. * The first thing to dawn on Justin was the pain was gone. One good thing so far about the afterlife, he thought. Taking a deep breath he opened his eyes slowly. “Brian,” he gasped, looking up into the face he thought he’d never see again. “Hey, Sunshine, welcome back.” Justin sat up and looked around. This was all wrong. They were still in the warehouse, the copper smell of blood still hung heavy in the musty air. He glanced down and saw the Crow’s feather clutched in his hand. “I don’t understand. I’m not supposed to be here.” Brian took Justin’s chin in his hand and gently titled his lover’s face up to meet his eyes. He spoke softly, his eyes shinning with a light Justin had never seen. “You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.” He held up a sleek black feather that matched the one in Justin’s hand. “You saved me.” It was a statement. “And you saved me,” Brian replied. He smiled and answered the unspoken question between them. “The only thing stronger than death-” “Is love,” Justin finished, a radiant smile transforming his face. Brian pulled Justin to him and their lips met softly. A new sensation of wonder opened for them with the kiss, an understanding of ties deeper than flesh and blood, Erm. Pardon us, but our part in this is not over just yet. Brian and Justin looked up at the two Crows perched on the catwalk above them. We are glad to have been right about you both, the gift we bestow is not to be taken lightly. Too true, sister, too true, said the other Crow. But you see, children, this is the end…and now the two of you must return to the beginning. “What do you mean?” Brian asked. You must find another path, another way to reach your objective. “Stockwell…” Brian muttered. Precisely, said the Crow. “But, he’s dead,” Justin said. So were you a short while ago, both of you were. Justin’s Crow hopped down and approached the men sitting on the floor. Children, things will go back to the way they were before any of this happened. You will have a second chance…do not squander it. The bird spoke directly to Brian, Find another way to stop him.