Chapter 379 - Funeral (1/2)
Long, slow, woeful, the weather matched the setting. Passing the hospital and driven further inside; they came upon a modest-looking house. One with no additional floors, a six-room hideout. He soon parked next to the curb of the walkway into where the funeral was hosted. Dressed formally, Godfather Renaud stepped out with a cold visage. Crowds were gathered outside for the inside was too heavy a burden to bear. The whimpering of family members forcefully called to assist the parting of those close. It was a feeling Staxius knew all too well, flashbacks of Lizzie's and the other's death came in waves.
”Shadow,” said Renaud paused before a mask-wearing figure.
”Godfather,” she replied with a nod, ”-good to see thou art in good health.”
”For the most part I'm fit as a youth, yet, the vexing old-age creeps ever-so-close.”
Leaving the two to converse, Staxius headed inside to pay respects. The bodies were cleaned and rested in coffins. It was requested for them to be cremated rather than being buried. The ashes would be taken back to Hidros and released at sea.
”So, Shadow,” said the Godfather coldly with prying eyes staring up and down, ”-let's head to a more private location,” in a whiff, he turned and reached for the door. Fedora off, respect was paid as well as the exchange of a few words to those who grieved. The way he moved, spoke, and acted, was a telling sign of experience. It wasn't his first nor last funeral; each week, a fellow DG member would die. Funerals were as common as going to the store. Yet, today felt different, the way the eyebrows knotted together, the way the clean-shaven chin strained; there was anger hidden deep within. Anger waiting to pounce on the next target.
”Staxius, Shadow,” he spoke under a tree not far off the property, ”-I know I'm responsible for this tragedy,” gone were the compose words, gone was the cool attitude – his true emotions came to light, ��-I ain't gonna say none about it. My fault, my shit to deal with,” faced away, ”-should 'av seen this coming. I'm a fool, good for nothin' fool,” the accent grew overbearing, a side-effect of the fast-paced speech. ”Listen to me,” the trail of words stopped, ”-I want ya to find who did this. Inside, sitting at the right of the boy's corpse is a man from Stanley's team. I doubt he has that much gut to send a pawn to assist the funeral he caused. It's fishy, I don't like it one bit.”
”It's true,” added Courtney, ”-during my encounter with their guards, none seemed to know what had happened. Ask as I might, nothing came from the slaughter.”
”Don't sell yourself short yet,” smiled Staxius, ”-there's more here than I expected. I can say for certain that Godfather Stanley is involved, whether directly or indirectly, I know not yet.”
”The dead ain't coming to life,” heavy palms landed on the shoulder affectionately, ”-take how much time ya need, I'm waiting,” and off he went to meet the others present.
”Any clues to go off of?”
”I got my source, just need time. What about you, I got a message saying the return to Hidros?”
”Cake told you, did she. Guess it's not much of a surprise. Shadow is needed to handle a transaction off-shore, you know, the ones with millions on the line. She wants to have the best at the ready, Elliot is readied to move.”
”The life of an arm's dealer isn't easy, I hope tis not hard.”
”Not hard?” she snickered, ”-I'm always on the verge of being killed, always fighting, and always killing. In that aspect, this job is the worst shit one can ever do,” her head tilted ominously, ”-that's why I adore it. I'm thy sword, remember, I'll do what is must, my lord,” here moved another figure down the green-yard traversing the few flower-plots with ease. Back to the tree, arms crossed – the breeze blew as the coffins were moved. Heavy on their shoulders, the number of people present grew apparent. Little from the first glance and an endless number of individuals in formal clothes walked. Gathered around, the procession left after a few words of prayer from the priest. Long, slow, and woeful, he followed at a much slower pace. Fingers tapped the steering wheel; the greyish sky was thunderous.
'The sweet scent of death,' came a whisper that tickled the ears. 'How's it going, Lord Death,' and again came the same voice in a more devilish tone.
”What do you want?”
”Tis not the way to speak to an old friend,” materialized a translucent figure on the passenger seat.
”Please,” replied Staxius, ”-Creation, I do think jokes like are not becoming the all-mighty, at all.”
”Whatever, suppose the god of death has no interest in humor,” it took on the appearance of Cake.
”I do enjoy humor,” he refuted, ”-good humor, not the kinds that make one want to die of cringe of awkwardness. It does strain the mouth to give a fake grin.”
”Calm down,” said Creation shocked by the words, ”-I only came to pay visit and homage to an elder-soul.”
”Elder-soul?” he asked.
”Yes, Elder-soul, the head of the Lerado family is next in line to being chosen for reincarnation or ascension to divinity. Unlike you, if the soul is deemed worthy, he'll be reborn with knowledge and power of all.”
”You're the one in charge of that process, right?”