Thorne sat in the car thinking the bag was pointless. Why cover his head? He could still use his other senses to work out where he was. Although it would probably not be a good idea to point out the flaws in his abductors plan to his abductors, after all they still had the sense to bind his hands.
Thorne wasn't frightened. I was one thing that he'd learnt during his rise to power. Do not cave-in to fear, use your mind and formulate a plan. He could leave at any point he wanted, but anyone who was desperate to point a gun at an overlord could be turned to his advantage. He remained silent as they continued to drive to their destination, focusing on his other senses for information. He heard a boat horn, could smell salt. The lack of other traffic and who was in the car with him gave Thorne everything he needed to know.
The car rolled to a stop and Arackniss' gun was poked into his ribs.
"Get out."
Thorne was led inside a building and up a flight of metal stairs. The room they entered stank, of cheap cigarettes, whiskey and blood.
"This him?" An Italian baritone asked.
"Yes sir." A lighter voice replied, "And we kept the bag on him the whole way here."
"Which was pointless by the way." Thorne muttered. Getting the gun pressed harder into his ribs.
"Shut it." Arackniss threatened.
"Why pointless" The baritone sneered.
"I know exactly where I am and who I'm with, I could hear a boat siren on the way in. That coupled with the smell of salt, lack of traffic and your Italian accents tells me that I'm in an abandoned warehouse on a pier owned by one of the families." Thorne stated plainly. "The only group that has the power, influence and employs spider demons on this side of the pentagram is the Lastra family. And I have been summoned to someone senior, and the only one who would be addressed as sir would be the man himself. Making you Henry Lastra." Thorne smiled as the bag was pulled off his head revealing the large shirtless grey spider demon, lying on his side on a large couch, blood trickling down his arm.
"Not Henry no more." The hulking man coughed, "Just Henroin."
"How do you know me?" Henroin rumbled. After sending the other spider demons out of the room.
"History." Thorne replied, bent forward to examine Henroin's bullet wound. "The Lastra's are famous even in Hell. But I heard of them when I was alive. With the most well-known head of the Lastra family was its last, Henry Antonio Lastra."
Henroin winced as Thorne poked and prodded his injury. "Think you're so fuckin' clever don't cha?"
"I try."
"Think you could use your cleverness and get the fuckin' bullet outta me?"
Thorne sighed showing Henroin his hands.
"You really think that it is a good idea. To have someone with a tremor operate on you."
Henroin snarled, "Rather you, than some coked-up plastic surgeon."
"I guess my reputation precedes me… it will be painful however. I can give you something to help with…"
"Fuck that." The older spider grunted, shifting his weight till he was sitting up. Wincing with each breath.
"If I start 'operating', you'll start screaming." Thorne complained. "Then your men will come in here and… what's the phrase? Plug me? Or will they give me a pair of concrete shoes and send me to the bottom of the Asphodel? Just think you should know that I'm not looking for…"
"Just do it doc."
Giving a disgruntled and defeated sigh, Thorne sat next to Henroin, placing his trembling hand on the spider's shoulder while willing the claws on his index finger and thumb to grow into a pair of infernal chopsticks.
"Ready?" the feline demon asked, his claws clicking together menacingly.
Henroin gave a sharp nod, bracing himself as the pair of talons were slowly driven into his bullet wound. Snarling, Henroin balled up the white shirt he had in his hands. Thorne moved as quickly as he could, inflicting pain on a mob boss wasn't high on his todo list. Getting the bullet out intact would be tricky, doubly so since he wasn't a trained surgeon.
A few minutes passed, with Henroin breaking the silence with an occasional grunt of discomfort. Thorne had the bullet between his claws and cursed under his breath.
"What?", Henroin barked, his fists now shaking.
"Trying to remove a bullet this way, is like picking up a marble with a pair of scissors."
"Just pull the bastard out!"
Manoeuvring as best he could Thorne started retracting and eventually had the bullet between his bloody digits.
"Say hello to my little friend." Thorne joked, placing the bloodied bullet before Henroin. Getting an annoyed glare in response.
"How long you wanted to say that?"
"Oh, you have no idea."
"If I weren't shot, I'd slap you upside the head.", Henroin grimaced.
"I can still help, with the pain." Thorne suggested, leaning forwards.
"Fuck no! You ain't drugging me with shit."
Pondering for a second in silence, Thorne lifted the locket off from around his neck and started it slowly spinning from its chain between the two demons.
"If that's the case, all you need to do is watch and listen." Thorne murmured gently. "Just watch the light dance, and hold my voice in the centre of your head. Feel your faults fade, and let the pain fall floorwards."
A few minutes of similar phrases from Thorne soon had Henroin's eyes lidded, his face relaxed and his breathing slower.
With a smile Thorne stood. It was time to enjoy himself. Going to the other side of the office, Thorne had a quick look round, floral artwork on the wall, shelves of books on art and cooking, an old record player with a variety of LPs, all very interesting. But to Thorne, if you wanted to learn about a man, look at what he tries to hide. It was time to go rummaging through the drawers, and find what the old mob boss deemed important.
Henroin woke as he felt a slight tapping on his uninjured shoulder. He hadn't felt so rested in years, it was like floating, he remembered his arms rising and falling as he slept. He let his eyes open slowly and was met with Thorne's furry face, looking at him as he nursed a glass of whiskey in his steady hand.
"Though' to help yourself then?" Henroin snarled, the pain in his shoulder slowly returning.
"Consider it payment for my services. And for not killing your son when he pointed a gun at an overlord." Thorne frowned.
Henroin's face fell, his eyes filling with panic as he realised who he was sitting opposite. "We didn't know, we were after any doctor... I wouldn't 'av…"
Thorne waved his concerns away and spoke plainly, "If I wanted to, I would have sent you Arackniss' body and have kept his head for my wall. Instead, I help you. For that I want something in return."
"Yes?" Henroin said meekly.
"Confirm something for me." Thorne smiled, placing his glass on the table, standing and moving back over to the desk. "You hated the life you were born into and you detest it even more now you're dead. You love your children equally but you don't tell them so. All of this brings me to a question I want you to answer. Did you hate your wife?"
"How could ya know any of tha'?"
"Everything here, screams an artistic individual; the painting of bluebells, the books on cooking, art and your LPs of Italian opera. So, a soul who likes to create. Not someone who takes pleasure in running drug operations, extortion and murder for hire."
"Could just be there to fill space."
"No Henroin, the spines on the books are cracked, you read them repeatedly. The LPs are neatly stacked and your fingers smelt like garlic and herbs when I sniffed them earlier."
"How ya know about my kids?", Henroin asked desperate to change the subject.
"These" Thorne said, picking up the framed images of three spider demons. Giving a toothy grin at the older spider's shock. "Yes, I know that you hid them in the draw of your desk. But you really should rearrange your desk after you take something off it, that way it's almost impossible to see that something is missing. The fact you have pictures of your children and how highly polished the frames are, tells me that you love them dearly, Although I doubt you tell them so judging by Arackniss' stern face, and the fact that the only image you have of Angel Dust is a covert distance shot."
"Anthony" the spider muttered.
"And that confirms how you feel, the fact you gave your youngest son your middle name and still refer to him by it."
"I didn't show him much love when alive."
"'Cuz of his homosexuality. Why not apologise?" Thorne asked.
"He wont talk to me, the last time I saw him, we were alive and I was throwing him out. I said some shitty, fucked-up stuff."
"If I could get him to meet with you, what would you say?
"That I still love him."
Thorne nodded with approval. "You love him because he had the strength to leave a life you felt trapped by. Would you say the same to Arackniss?"
"Yer, but why would he need to…", Henroin's eyes widened slightly, "Oh."
"Yes, unless he likes wearing two different types of cologne... And his man is a snake, judging by the shape of the love-bites he's trying to hide."
A few minutes passed till Henroin broke the silence.
"Doctor Thorne, how y'know 'bout my wife, that I hated her."
"Figured there'd be a picture of her."
"Puttana." Henroin muttered, "rovinato mi la vita."
"All the more reason to talk to Ang-Anthony. At this point he could really do with someone…"
"Whose the fucker hurting him!" Henroin roared, rising to his feet. Before Thorne's hand was on his shoulder pressing him back onto the couch.
"Don't worry" Thorne insisted, "I have a plan. But I will need something from you."
"Name it."
Thorne smiled, "A car. To take me back to the Hotel."
Charlie was pacing, and despite Vaggie's best intentions, was not calm. Where was Thorne? He should have returned hours ago. Angel had returned without complications, but sans doctor. Did something happen? Was he hurt? Did he abandon them? The message she received earlier didn't help either and needed attention.
"Charlie, please. I'm sure it won't be that bad." The moth urged.
"But Vaggie, this is huge, he hasn't done this in ages."
"Uh…" Angel chimed, "Maybe he's telling you he's dying and leaving you a lotta' money."
"You're not helping Angel." Vaggie snapped, putting her arms around her girlfriend.
Charlie smiled at the contact, and looked around the room, Nifty was busy dusting, Alastor was seated in his chair, smiling sardonically. Angel was browsing his phone with Nuggets on his lap and Husk was passed out at the bar again. She glanced down at the card in her hand, embossed in gold. Three had arrived earlier in the day, one for her, Alastor and Thorne, after the disaster on the news, she had a good idea why.
A soft click came from the front door. Nuggets lifted his head, made a few short sniffs then bounded off his master's lap and trotted over to Thorne having just entered and making his way to the bar.
"Why is it?!" Thorne asked, "That the only one here that shows any interest in me when I come in late is the ham?"
Thorne picked the pig up and stared longingly into his eyes.
"You know Nuggets." Thorne cooed, sitting at the bar, "If you weren't so damn cute, I'd have eaten you already."
"Thorne, where have you been?" Charlie asked concerned.
"Fixing up Angel's father at gun point."
"THE FUCK?!" Angel shouted.
"Yes." Thorne said, "Don't worry, he's fine, worried about you though. Your brother's a real peach to."
Angel blinked, "Wait, he's worried about me?"
"Hmmmm", Thorne nodded.
Thorne glanced at the snoring Husk, and frowned. Before noticing the lanky frame of Angel next to him.
"Wanna go back to Angel?" Thorne asked Nuggets, who padded on Thorne's lap contentedly.
"Come to mama, Nugsy." Angel whispered, lifting the hell-pig off the cat's lap. "Thanks doc." He continued, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.
"Hey Angel," Thorne reached out grabbing the spider's hand. "Watch this."
With his free hand, he stretches out and starts scratching behind Husk's ear. Getting a happy gurgling and twitching.
"Awwww" Angel squealed. Reaching over and joining in the scratching.
Husk, continued gurgling and grunting, before rolling over and crashing to the floor.
"Uh-oh, kitty down." Thorne smirked.
"Thorne, please." Charlie insisted. Handing him his card. "We have to talk."
"What about?"
"The shit you and Cherri Bomb pulled last night." Vagatha barked, her eyes glowing. "What the HELL were you thinking?"
"Oh, you just got Vag'd" Angel taunted, "She did that to me in the limo."
"It's my father." Charlie muttered anxiously, "He's summoning his court for tomorrow morning. And you, Alastor and I are 'requested' to attend."
Hope you enjoyed this one… please let me know.