Headstone City by Tom Piccirilli

By Tom Piccirilli

The evening Johnny Danetello drove a loss of life woman throughout the streets of Brooklyn in his cab, he used to be attempting to retailer her existence. as an alternative he ran down a cop and misplaced her and his freedom. each day in criminal, Johnny knew that Angie Monticelli’s relations blamed him for her loss of life, and that going domestic will be suicide. yet Johnny has unfinished enterprise together with his former good friend became mob boss, Vinny Monticelli.

Now Johnny has lower back to speak with the doomed and the dead–and look ahead to Vinny to make his circulate. Survivors of a long-ago freak twist of fate, the 2 males percentage entry to trade realities not anyone else can know–and to a earlier and current that might all develop into an identical in a urban just one of them can depart alive. . . .

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I could only lie sprawled on the little table, my feet brushing the floor as my legs dangled over the side. I heard a dull rip, the rending of fabric, and Nathan pressed something into my hand. Half of his T-shirt, I noted with a giggle. ” he asked, out of breath. I smiled, sitting up and winding the shirt around my bleeding palm. “Nothing. ” “I’m glad you feel good,” he said, eyeing me warily. ” I giggled again. I couldn’t help it. ” He bent his arm with a grimace. “No, but it hurt like hell. ” I reached for my jeans and pulled them on.

You’re a pain in the ass, is what you are,” Nathan said, his voice full of relief and love and happiness despite the fact that so much still lay ahead of us. ” I heard Ziggy’s rustling movements, then a small noise of approval. ” Nathan asked. Ziggy yawned. “You two. ” “Ah, well, I knew that, too,” Nathan said offhandedly. ” “I’m glad somebody let me in on it,” I said sleepily, my eyes drifting closed. ” he asked, suddenly alarmed and eager all at once. “Nathan’s my sire,” I responded on a yawn.

He’s alive,” Nathan said, his brow furrowing. ” The friendly vibe fled the scene, replaced by something electric and cold. Something ready to escalate, like the feeling of doom right before you grab the doorknob that gives you a wicked electric shock. ” Max shrugged, then half smiled, but I could tell from the nervous glint in his eyes that he knew he’d said the disastrously wrong thing. Nathan grabbed him by the front of the shirt and pushed him against the wall. Some plaster fell from the ceiling, and the wall creaked ominously.

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