Chapter 5

I let sleep take me, not even wanting to think on what he meant. My whole body hurt, and I knew he was right. Ever since we’d gotten past the ordeal of getting my daughter back I’d been ripped at day and night by the hunger. Ryder’s assurance that Third Blood would make it easier had failed. Fine, I wasn’t the mindless monster I once was, but it was still enough to weaken me, to make it so it was actually dangerous for Ice to leave for long periods of time. Not that I would ever hurt my children, but there were times when I would let the boiling water evaporate and stand there trapped in the overwhelming hunger as the bottle melted in the pot. Times when the babies crying couldn’t reach me. I wished Ryder would come back and help Ice raise them, I was worse then useless, and at times my mind taunted me with wishes for an end. David and Kirsten would be better off without me.

Charlie pulled out his phone as he pulled up in front of the run down apartment he’d been told Cash resided in. He flipped it open, surprised to see the number displayed.

“Miss me already?’ He asked, needing to be a smart ass after the night he’d had. Trying to work out weapons treaties that had been made in his stead with Montreal while appeasing his contacts in Detroit had been draining, and almost pointless. Jack and Tommy had made a real mess of things, and it would take him months to sort it all out. He listened to Ice’s words, serious suddenly. He couldn’t help the dread that filled him, but he agreed immediately. He’d have to get things settled with Cash quickly. Ice was right. This needed to be dealt with now.

Once inside he climbed the stairs to the fifth floor and knocked hard, hoping his information about Cash was wrong, and that the boy would be all too happy to take his place as the East Ends leader. After long moments of silence he turned the knob and found the door unlocked. He stepped into the apartment, looking around. The walls were covered with paintings, a dark Goth style, all black and white, depicting vampires, mortals, The Breed, the Magus. As he continued in he noticed some of the black and white had brash slashes of red among them, a haunting addition. He sighed, wondering how the East End would fair with a leader much more interested in painting out scenes of their death then guiding them to prosperity.

He rounded the long hall and caught sight of someone in the doorway, a muscular boy, about his age give or take two hundred years…probably take. His brown hair was fixed in a close crew cut and his hazel eyes stared at the wall before him as he pulled his body easily up for another chin up. Charlie stopped a few feet away from him, waiting to be acknowledged.

“The answer is no.” Cash said, releasing the bar and turning into the room. Charlie followed him.

“Do I get a reason?” He asked calmly. “The East Enders seem fairly convinced you’d be the best choice.”

Cash lifted some barbells, sitting on a bench and bracing his elbow on his knee. He lowered the weights slowly, then lifted them.

“I don’t like people.” Cash said plainly. Charlie raised an eyebrow.

“So I’ve been told.” He remarked. “So then why do you think they chose you?”

Cash let the weights fall to the floor and looked at him.

“I’m supposed to explain why almost twenty guys have mental deficiencies?” He demanded. Charlie took a steadying, even breath.

“Look, there will be a meeting among the gang leaders tomorrow night. The East End needs a representative You don‘t show then decisions will be made without them in consideration.” Charlie said. He shrugged. “All there is to it really…your choice.”

Cash laughed.

“Clever Charlie. A guilt play.” He stood, facing Charlie. “What if I really don’t care?”

“Join the club.” Charlie replied, walking out without another word. He’d laid out his cards. He could do no more, not with a guy like Cash. It was his call now.