Chapter 31: Walking To The Grave

--- Miles Kennedy ---

(“Hold up.”) Kriminel told him, half way back to his house. (“We’re making a detour today.”)

“What? No.” He frowned, side stepping someone on the street that clearly had more space than they needed. “I had to fight my mom and gran just to walk home today. I’m not risking that on some detour.”

His heart stopped beating and the world around him began to blur.

(“Yes, ya are.”) Kriminel growled. (“Ya only alive cause ya workin’ for me.”)

His heart started beating again.

(“Don’t forget that, boy.”)

He swallowed down his terror, his breath coming out in gasps as he leaned against the wall of a building.

(“Well? Ya going to move?”) Krimnel asked with a clear grin to his voice. (“Or was that reminder not enough?”)

He bit down his desire to curse out the spirit that apparently held his life by a string and instead asked, “Where… am I going?”

(“Take a right at the next street and I’ll walk ya there.”)

He grit his teeth before doing what he was told, part of him regretting the fact that he’d agreed to work for Kriminel rather than any of the other Gede.

(“Don’t be pissy just because ya weren’t expectin’ half your family to be killers.”) Kriminel scoffed, unsympathetically.

“I still don’t believe you.” He told the first murderer, having already put together that Kriminel had just been messing with him for the spirit’s own amusement. (Not that keeps me from having dreams about them covered in blood…)

(“Believe what ya will, ya’ll learn I don’t lie about death soon enough.”) Kriminel assured him.

He didn’t bother offering a response as his eyes drifted to the sky, an odd mix of colors due to the bright golden cracks in the sky against the orange of the setting sun. Something that stood out more at night when even with a nearly black sky the whole city was visible beneath the crack’s light. (Though I doubt that’ll do anything for mom if I’m out past dark.)

Deciding to risk the Baron’s ire he went ahead and asked, “What exactly is it you want me to do?”

(“Get to where I’m leadin’ ya for one.”) Kriminel told him.

“And after that?” He frowned as he ended up bumping into someone who didn’t recognize personal space.

Kriminel let out a growl. (“What exactly do ya think yer job is?”)

“You said something about hunting down killers and making them pay.” He remembered, if only because of why he agreed to work for Kriminel over the others. “But how am I supposed to do that? I mean I’m just a high school student.”

(“Ya know yer parents coddled ya, boy.”) Kriminel spat at him. (“If yer predecessor could figure it out then so can ya.”)

“My predecessor?” He repeated in askance.

Kriminel was silent for a moment. (“Prove ya can do the job and maybe I’ll tell ya about ‘im.”)

“And what is my job?” He asked once more.

(“I ain’t yappin’ like this.”) Kriminel snarled when someone else bumped into him. (“Take a left and ya’ll be there.”)

“And where exactly is he…” He paused upon glancing through the fence to his left and finding several stone statues sticking out of the ground, “A graveyard?”

(“Good so yer eyes work even if yer brain don’t.”) Kriminel noted with sarcastic approval. (“Now get in the graveyard.”)

“I thought the graveyard was supposed to be Brav’s domain?” He frowned, making his way to the entrance. “Isn’t this stepping on his toes or something.”

(“They are, but they’re also a place of power for death workers. Which includes you now.”) Kriminel explained as Miles stopped in front of the closed gates. (“As for Brav his job is to protect these places so long as you ain’t pissin’ on anyone’s grave he won’t stop ya from comin’ around. Especially not on my business.”)

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

He glanced down and noticed that there was a chain and padlock on the gate. “Okay, how am I supposed to get past this?”

(“I’m the boss, ya the worker. Figure it out for yourself.”) Kriminel told him, before going quiet. Though given how the faint sensation of eyes on him hadn’t faded he was guessing the Baron was still watching and waiting.

He gave the chain another tug, noting how the actual padlock was inside the yard. (Meaning there’s got to be another entrance.)

Taking a step back he began walking around the yard looking for said entrance all while keeping an eye on the spikey bits that lined the top of the fence. (Don’t want to try jumping that…)

Continuing to trace the perimeter he passed by another gate -once more chained from the inside- before finding an old gray church with a cross on top that, while connected to the fence, wasn't actually within it.

Walking over to the building, he gave the front door a try and found that it was unlocked.

Stepping inside he found the space had been cleared out in the middle with the various benches pushed against the walls. Upon making his way towards the back in the hopes of finding a way into the graveyard he found what looked to be a double shrine of sorts near the altar.

On the wall was a mural to Jesus that he’d been expecting given how he was clearly in a christian church of some kind, but on the altar itself was a small statue of what looked to be the grim reaper in a colorful robe while surrounded by flowers and burnt out candles next to a box of matches.

“Uh, is this something we should be worried about?” He asked, looking at what appeared to be a shrine to death. (Which would explain why Kriminel wanted me to come here…)

(“Nah, Santa Muerta ain’t goin’ to cause us any problems.”) Kriminel assured him, almost sounding respectful. (“Unlike the other halves of our dumbass pantheons we death deities know to keep it professional when we cross… Also light one of her candles, boy.”)

“Why?” He frowned, surprised the Baron would ask him to do that for another deity.

(“We’re all equal in Death’s eyes kid, from the highest Baron to the lowest murderer.”) Kriminel explained with no small amount of reverence before immediately dropping it, for irritation. (“Also, didn’t ya mama teach ya any manners?! Ya don’t fuckin’ enter a woman’s house without her blessin’, even if ya comin’ to kill her husband, ya get? If ya have to, ya sit on the damn street and wait for him to come out and die like a man.”)

“And what do you do if he doesn’t come out?” He wondered, picking up the pack of matches and lighting one.

(“Then you burn the fuckin’ house down.”) Kriminel answered as if it was as simple as that.

He couldn’t help but grimace as he lit the candle. “You, uh, you want me to say a prayer or something?”

(“Why the fuck would we do that?”) Kriminel scoffed. (“Just because I believe in some professional courtesy with the ladies don’t mean I’m a fuckin’ boot licker. I ain’t no Brav Cimetière.”)

He rolled his eyes, “Right, what was I thinking…” He glanced up at the mural of Jesus looking down on him sadly. “Uh, do… do we need to do anything for him?” (If one god is real then…)

(“Wha? Nah, the J-man’s cool like that.”) Kriminel waved him off, before seeming to consider something. (“Though if ya see his Da, run. We still got plex over the whole Caine thing.”)

“Right, just going to move past that.” He swallowed, not sure how his gran would feel about this whole conversation.

(“Probably for the best, ya not quite at that pay grade yet.”) The Baron admitted. (“And ya never will be if ya don’t get a fuckin’ move on it!”)

He shook his head before continuing into the back of the church where he found a small living area with the lights out, (guess this is where the priest of the place used to live or something…)

Eventually he found the door to the graveyard, though it had a couch in front of it for some reason as if whoever put it there was trying to lock the graveyard in rather than keeping people out.

Given the last couple of weeks he felt completely reasonable asking, “There aren’t going to be any zombies in this graveyard are there? That isn’t what this is about right?”

(“That’s Brav’s job to deal with. Not mine.”) Kriminel answered. (“We need a graveyard because it’s a hotspot for death. Figured it’d be easier to get into than a morgue or dumping site.”)

“Dumping… site?” He repeated as he started pushing the couch.

(“For corpses? Unless ya know where the local criminals dump their bodies, which would speed a lot of thangs up for us.”) The Baron elaborated sarcastically. (“No? Then show me how you’re useful instead of how you’re useless.”)

He bit back his response as he gave the last push necessary to have enough space to open the door, before opening it and stepping out into the cemetery proper.

“Alright, now what?” He sighed, unable to help but notice how it was starting to get dark. (Don’t have long before mom and gran start worrying…)

(“Mmm, ya see that angel statue near the mausoleums? Head over there.”) Kriminel ordered.

He narrowed his eyes looking for what the Baron was talking about before realizing, “The one on the other side of the graveyard? Fine…” He ran a hand down his face, before heading that way. “Let’s just get this over with.”

After spending a good five, ten minutes hiking towards the statue in question -all while avoiding stepping on anyone’s actual grave- he eventually made his way to the spot Kriminel wanted him to get to.

“Okay, I’m here.” He told the spirit haunting him as he looked around the empty graveyard. “Why exactly did you need me to find a death hotspot?”

(“Earlier ya mentioned not knowin’ how to do your job. Now I ain’t goin’ to coddle ya but I am willin’ to get ya the tools of the trade… or at least the most basic tool.”) Kriminel explained.

“And what exactly are the tools of the trade?” He frowned, not sure he wanted anything he’d be picking up from a graveyard.

(“Ya really are slow boy.”) Kriminel laughed, and for once he could swear it wasn’t inside his head but instead seemed to carry on the wind rustling the world around him. (“Well,for ya simple mind, let me remind ya, that we Gede are the Voodoo Barons of Death.”)