It was past midnight at the North East side of Nashville, in a warehouse complex strategically located at a desirable distance from the city centre, a leftover from the times when Nashville had less that half the current population, a memory valued at a pretty penny. In front of one of the main warehouse a bunch of less than savoury men kept vigil impatiently, they did not pace, instead they observed as men not guarding, but rather as men protecting and waiting, with attentive gazes, looking for any potential danger as they shifted positions, with many of their gazes drifting every now and then to a gray Toyota minivan sitting quietly in a corner that was secluded, and gave a good look to the complex's entrance and central court. Two men stood outside the minivan with opposite demeanour: one, tall, over six foot three easy, of light brown skin, wearing a tailored suit that covered his slender physique yet accentuated his square shoulders and holding an electronic tablet with purpose, he would not have been out of place handling you a lawsuit or destroying your company like in one of those legal dramas; the other man was smaller, a few inches short of five feet five, with nervous eyes and a face and body that made you think of a stoat, thin and noodly, sort of funny, and obvious Napoleon in style and complex.
"Where is he? He should have been here hours ago" the smaller man spoke moving only his lips, his teeth where locked and sharp.
The taller man checked his beautiful yet sober watch, made of stainless steel, classy but not show boating, the sign of an even man. "Calm down Jimmy, it has not been two hours since we called him, he needs time to prepare."
Jimmy glared at two of his men who where chatting as they entered his line of sight; without turning the men could feel the glare and opt to go their separate ways as they continued their patrol.
"With all due respect Mr. Iron, I do not know why you and the boss work with that whack job. The man is clearly a nutcase" pointed Jimmy, doing his best to hold his vitriol towards the absent party.
"The man has helped us deal with issues that nearly destroy our organization more than once, and has chased our enemies away" stated Iron measuredly.
"He only chased away the Chinese and the Italians after we had those sus accidents" Jimmy stated, not hiding an inch of his distrust.
"And what is happening tonight, does it not convince you of what we are dealing with?" asked Iron.
Jimmy turned his worried gaze first to the large warehouse, then to the van, shifting uneasy at what he was dealing with.
"That doesn't mean I have to like him, or trust him" said the shorter man, caressing a large gun in his back holster.
"It is not your job to trust him Jim, just to do what the family asks of you to do for the betterment of the family" Iron pontificated, smooth yet solid, a wisdom that did not match the age of the man.
Jimmy looked around, keeping eyes on all the teams. "Still, I do not think the boss should be here for this. 'S too dangerous".
Iron smirked "Grandfather would not miss it for the world, a chance to see this man working with his own eyes. Such level of superstition on display rejoices his elderly curiosity".
"You make it sound like he is on a god-damn pick-nick. Pardoning my French" stated Jimmy in uneasy worry.
Iron shrugged with the enthusiasm of someone who has already given up on trying to advice his superiors "Grandfather is old enough not to fear death, and he has already set up the chain of succession, so now he just wants to revel in curiosity".
"Still, I wish I had brought more security for the boss."
A radio in Jimmy's pocket flared up "Boss Receiving, the guy is here."
Jimmy pulled the radio out and ordered "Let him in then!"
The large iron gates of the complex opened enough to let the car in. Eyes followed with a mix of awe and desire the vehicle rolling in: an astonishing 1970 Ford Mustang coated in elegant black paint. The car rolled to the spot in front of Iron and Jimmy elegantly, the lights showing each detail of the vehicle to the curious crowd, who knew a car like that was something to see, but not touch.
Men surrounding the car stepped back as the driver's door open, from it two large black sneakers touch the ground, ominously solid looking, the man wearing them stood out and looked at Iron and Jimmy wearing his large coat and undertaker hat, looking more omen than man, his cold green eyes staring at the two gangsters with business in his mind.
"Good night gentlemen, I heard you have a job for me" stated Mortis his voice stoic and definitive, onlookers were reminded of old cowboy movies as he spoke, like a law-man coming to town.
Jimmy's face turned to seeding and marched towards Mortis, with a over one foot of difference, the scene was borderline comical, but no one dared to laugh, those who did never lived long.
"You asshole! You were supposed to be here over an hour ago!" Mortis looked at the small man and then looked past Jimmy, towards Iron with and to the van behind him.
"What appears to be the problem?" asked Mortis, not bothering to even acknowledge Jimmy, which made the short man so angry he verged on frothing out of rage.
"Detective Mortis we need..." Iron began his speech, but Jimmy immediately jumped to confront Mortis.
"Don't treat me like I don't exist bastard!" demanded Jimmy.
"Jim, please! This is business!" ordered Iron.
Jimmy turned to Iron with a frustrated expression. "But Boss, he cannot get away with this."
"Time is money, and you are wasting my time, so tell me what the problem is or I am on my way" said Mortis, holding the door of the car as a sign that he was ready to leave.
Iron opened his mouth but he then noticed, Mortis was no longer looking at him, but past him, it was then when the previous words weren't addressed to him either.
"The fact is, we need your expertise to deal with something our methods simply cannot deal with" the voice was that of a proper southern gentleman, emanating from a man that could have quite well pass for the face of a fried chicken company, and swoon off her feet any lady he put his mind on charming. The old man sported an old, elegant moustache, and was dressed in a pristine white suit with a hickory cane that was more for self-defence than motion.
"Grandfather, Boss, Sir" Iron panicked to address the Don, while Jimmy lowered his gaze in shame at the sight of the head of the family.
The old Southern Gentleman sat inside the van feet and cane touching the pavement, he raised his hand to Iron to indicate that it was his time to talk, and that he did with a voice sweet as melasas. "I apologize for my men rude greeting Detective Mortis, the last few days have put the young ones at edge, strange things dwelling out there, and in here."
"I do understand Mr. Mason, I do assume you are calling me to deal with one of set strange things" stated Mortis, keeping his business persona planted firm.
"Right to the point, I like it. Yes, I have insisted on you on seeing this thing personally after a few of my men vanished under mysterious circumstances. Iron here has the details" The older Mason pointed to Iron adding: "When you are ready son".
Iron coughed slightly, he regained his dignified composure, pulled a tablet and began the briefing. Mortis listened intently.
"Over the last month employees at the warehouse have been claiming the sight of strange creatures during the evening hours, a type of worm wiggling around the warehouse; men who have encountered the worms describe them as a semi-translucent creature with a greenish body, and a small face with three holes."
"A worm with a face?" calmly enquire Mortis, denoting a sense of surprise that teetered between disbelief and belief.
"Yes, a worm with a face! What, you do not believe my men? That we are making it all up?" Jimmy interrupted attitude still sore. Mortis remained calm and centred, ignoring Jimmy's accusation.
"Are there any pictures of the things, can anyone describe the worm in detail?" asked Mortis, not so much to Iron directly, but to the small crowd in general.
"We tried using cameras to capture pictures of the creature but it did not work, and they vanished during daylight, does that indicates something?" asked Iron.
Mortis shrugged politely "Sounds like a lesser spirit. Lesser spirits cannot endure the presence of the sun and vanish once enough natural light is shone upon them, spirits cannot be capture by electronic eyes unless they are very powerful. The face is strange, and also the multiple sightings over several days."
Mortis could hear various men murmuring surprised at his accurate statement, Jimmy frowned annoyed at the bullseye, Iron shifted slightly to hide his uneasiness, only the elder Mason remained calm, he even cracked a smile and laughed a very elegant laugh.
"You are a sharp man Mr. Mortis, no wander I like you" stated Stonewall as he moved his hand backwards to grab something from the car. "If you want to know how the critter's look, here is one my men caught earlier this night,"
Mortis did not try to approach Stonewall, he knew protocol dictated that as an outsider to the family he had to keep his distance from one of the heads of the most powerful Mafia's in the country. Stonewall passed the jar to Iron, who then proceeded to pass the jar to Mortis. The Detective was handed a glass container with a rune scratched on it and a small lid, inside of which a small creature crawled against the glass, the critter was less a worm and more like a maggot, with the articulated face of something that was trying to look like a man, his expression was that of a lost soul bound in agony. Mortis saw, and Mortis worried,
"My men saw them through the month, claiming that the faces look more and more human as nights passed, dissolving once the sun raises. When I heard about this I sent one of the glasses you gave us after the incident with that spirit to collect things" stated Stonewall.
Mortis's mind drifted slightly into memory lane, down to the first few jobs he did to secure a deal with the Mafia, one of the cases was a haunting on a building the Nashville branch had acquired near the river, turned out the place had been once the house of a prolific serial killer no one ever caught, and thus his victims remained mournful. Mortis made the glass less of a gift, and more for the entertainment of the head of the organization, who reveled in childish curiosity whenever Mortis could be involved. The old Mafioso began collecting cursed object just to see Mortis work. The Detective found the situation annoying, but the old man paid well, could get his hands on stuff Mortis could not, and keeping the old man happy meant the group was easier to handle for Mortis. Mafia dealt with death, and many Mafia groups, particularly newer, unhinge, or supremacists ones, sometimes a combination of two or three things put together, were willing to use more extreme methods to get their way, the upper hand, or both, and if so they may deal with things they do not understand, and make bystanders suffer heavily because of it; there are stories of Mafia groups using things that wiped towns, and worst.
Back into the present Mortis focused again on the maggot, crawling, opening its humanoid mouth in strange shapes that suggested mournful cries.
"My boys and I hope you can tell what this is, and if it is related to the disappearance of some of my men a few nights ago" stated the Southern Gentleman.
Mortis began to talk, he was blunt, to the point, and concise on what he thought was going on: "I have heard stories of things like this in China and Japan, if I am right you may have a big problem in your hands, and your men may not be alive any more".
There was a major murmur among the small crowd of men, Iron and Stonewall remained calm at the analysis, Jimmy was not happy with it.
"Are you telling me that some sort of Chink bug came all the way here to live in our warehouse and kill my men?" the short angry man stated, his face frowning in confusion and anger. Jimmy turned to the head of the family with exasperation "With all due respect boss, you can't be buying this crap! A rival gang must be behind this".
"True, this creature is not native to the land, and this type of spirits are usually bound to specific lands and people, meaning that someone else put it inside your warehouse" stated Mortis.
The murmur raised, Iron asked: "You mean that the warehouse is cursed?"
"Basically, problem is that this is not your garden variety curse, this is a grudge curse from a foreign land. Whoever did this to you is expecting to do some major damage" said Mortis.
"How bad are we talking about?" asked Iron.
Mortis looked at the spectral maggot and pondered for a moment before he gave a proper answer: "If this is what I think this is then if nothing is done you may find yourself loosing this entire warehouse complex within a few months due to high mortality rates".
More murmur erupted, Stonewall took charge on calming the men. "Then getting rid of this thing is priority, which leads to the question: Detective, can you get rid of that thing?"
Mortis nodded, "For a man of my expertise it should be an easy task, but it will not be cheap."
"How much we are talking about?"
"Fifty Thousand, that will cover time, energy and equipment, plus extras. But since you are regulars I will leave it at forty thousands up front" asked Mortis.
Silence felt on the warehouse like a sledgehammer, a few men whistled and gave few whistles and the classic "what a load of horse-shit", Iron remained static, frozen with his eyes shrinking as the only sign of shock, Stonewall Mason remained serious and neutral as one would expect from a veteran; Jimmy took the cake, with a harsher frown and a twitch in the left eye that could have easily lead to a wire snapping in his brain when he finally opened his mouth.
"Forty fucking thousand! You are making a mockery of us!" cussed Jimmy as he postured like an angry weasel.
"There are options that do not involve me though" said Mortis, eyes flared and eyes focused.
Jimmy and Iron produced a loud "What!?" and a stressed "How?" respectively.
Mortis pointed to the ceiling of the warehouse "Remove the ceiling and the daylight would kill everything hiding, even indirect sunlight can be deadly for specters, though the source of the curse is still and issue. To get rid of it for sure without me you can burn down the place, which will weaken the spirit and the daylight will do the rest".
Jimmy was seeding, Mortis could feel the short Mafioso itching to point his weapon at the Detective.
Stonewall sighted "That would be costly and cumbersome".
Mortis locked his eyes with the silent Stonewall, he was the final word in the deal after all. Arms crossed, voice solid Mortis proposed his deal: "What do you say Mr. Stonewall, do we have a deal?"
The old Mafioso frowned "You are getting rid of that thing for good?"
"I wouldn't do it any other way" stated Mortis.
"Very well: Iron, wire the money to the good man here" was the order. Both Iron and Jimmy look at each other in surprise.
"Boss…"
"Grandfather…"
The pleads began, and soon they met with Stonewall's will and anger, which trampled both subordinates.
"I gave you an order boy! I did not ask for your sassafrasing opinion not anyone else's! I am running this show so do as I say!" The words where swift, sharp, and cut to the core of both men. Jimmy pouted like an angry child about to cry, while Iron limited to lower his gaze and utter a "Yes grandfather" as he transferred the money.
"Done" announced the suit, Mortis checked his phone and nodded.
"Time to work" announced Mortis.