Barcelona

Another dilemma occurred in the small busy city of Barcelona. It is usually packed with a clash of barbers and shops being rummaged in and out for their latest novelties as smells of pounded soil and manure meet your nose. Today, the streets are quiet and still; tiny puddles of water begin to fill up little dents on the patterned streets. Markets had been shut down early. I had watched the merchants quickly cover valuables and accessories with a large cloth and lock up their stores once word had gone out.

"The child-killer's been caught! It's a woman! The devil has consumed her!" People had gathered round a shaded corner medicine shop as I arrived on time for my next task. A crowd of city folk surround the medicine shop for an attempt to get a glimpse of this child-killer. Each of these folks want to deal with this woman in their own ways. An old man spits at a bodyguard who struggles to hold the crowd away from the main entrance.

I walk through the doorway with a smile to my face as I straighten my brow with a licked finger. Adjusting my lint-less black coat I had swapped for clean-pressed robes, I put on my fedora hat and begin humming out a playful tune. The warrant I had hired was focused on their tasks. Clearing out areas where there are smudges of blood and hair. Grabbing books and jars of strange objects being pickled in a yellow serum and carefully placed inside carts to wheel away as evidence. A young Rottweiler, new to this rough labor, began to gag after taking a closer look inside one of the jars. I sigh as he leans forward in a corner and empties out his stomach.

Placing my hanky over my mouth and nose, I point at the crewman leaning over and coughing, "Aldo, out," I snap and watch my crew dodge Rottweiler Aldo as he zooms out the door with his hand over his mouth. Silencing a chuckle, I examine the main room that once thought to have been the workplace of a doctor. Potions and flasks with frogs and cut-open birds lay all over the table. There were a few papers left on the table apart from crumpled scrolls of papyrus lying underneath a stool. My eyes rest on a bowl of teeth in the corner. Picking it up, I count them and name each tooth of where it once belonged in the skull. They were all small and had been pulled out by the root; clean and merciless.

I feel tiny shove against my back that warms the spine and neck. The gentle nudge I always feel in my line of work. It's what I wait for when there is something in need of attention. My eyes scan the room from where that aura had hit. In the corner of the room behind the wooden desk and stool, ignored by everyone stood a group of tiny figures.

Children. Sad, confused, and frightened until I showed up. I tip my fedora hat at the little unhappy boys and girls who watch me with undivided attention, knowing that I was here for them. Not the killer.

"La encontramos! She's here!" yells one of my men from the upstairs attic. The doorway to the other room revealed shaggy red-carpet stairs leading up to a single doorway. I could hear the savage shuffling of the two men trying to secure or restrain someone. Pulling out a cigar from my front pocket, I place it in my mouth. A worker closest to me drops the cart full of rusted tools from his arms and immediately runs over with a lit match. I gratefully accept and lean my cigar into the lit flame. The bowl of teeth in hand, the cigar in the other, I lean my head back I release smoke with exhale.

"Keep a good grip on her, boys," I recommend, "She's stronger than she looks." Both men walk through the doorway with a ragged ebony-haired woman. She came with no struggle and frozen expression.

"Thought she could hide behind the commode from us!" yells one of the men. The other says nothing as he rubs his shin from where he had been kicked. I step forward until I am just inches close to her face to examine this roughly deformed woman.

So ragged and angry. I thought. Her eyes show a cunning type of soul; quite crafty with her equipment. She stares back; un-amused with a look of defeat.

"Tut, Tut, Senora," I raise an eyebrow, "the children have been scattered everywhere. You made quite a mess in your basement. Have you anything to say?" I inhale my cigar and blow out the smoke into her face. She purses her lips from fear of letting out any sort of answer. She has lost and knows the consequences.

I reach out and grab the bowl of teeth and shake it in front of her, "How many were there? Seven? Twenty? Were they your favorite? I heard you have your favorite ones sent to your customers first before they reach your home and dragged down in the basement. Your new brothel had been under suspicion for quite some time when one of your customers has reported sightings of children with your regular clients." The shaggy woman avoids eye contact.

"No sin can be hidden from me, Senora," I creep around the edges of the pride she so desperately clings onto. It's beginning to crack.

Her arms are gripped firm behind her back as she begins to squirm. The edges of her mouth begin to frown. The gravity of guilt along with heavy secrets are now dawning on her. She will talk. No crime can be hidden from me.

"Enriqueta Marti Ripolles, you are under arrest for the murder and prostitution of all the children you've abducted. You may as well open you're damn mouth and say whatever you have to say."

"Maldito seas al infierno! Damn you to hell!" she bursts out and begins to thrash around. "You pig of a man! I am not going to prison, you can't stop me! My god is greater than yours! He has spoken, he is the one and only! He will reward me with gifts of the afterlife! You will all burn, all of you will be ashes!"

I shake my head at her as she hurls out insults and spells to curse my infidel self for eternity. Funny.

"I must say m'lady," I lick my smoked lips, "your tactics were impressive from the start as well as your plans. Yet you made a mistake," I lean in close to match her eyes, "you were too bold after many successes and began to forget things. You lost your care for being careful and let down your guard." She glares as I continue my lecture.

"A real shame too," I shake my head in displeasure, "your process of medicine was sloppy and feckless, but you improved time after time. Such a waste, a damn shame..." I trail off and inhale smoke. The two guards holding Enriqueta turn their heads towards each other and then back.

A pale-faced co-worker approaches me from behind with sweat shining on his forehead. The pupils in his eyes have shrunk as his shortness of breath has been turned into whispers, "Senor, there are over one-hundred and fifty-six bodies down there. All have been mutilated. We found out what she does with all of their parts."

One-hundred and sixty-one; that's the right number, I think to myself. A few of the bodies have been thrown out a little while back. No use in looking for them since they'd be fertilizer for future plantations. I already knew what she did with every single one of them. The smell of decay dances around the walls of the shop. I had touched the walls the moment I entered through the doorway only to have been touched back by my most favored and memorable scent; human soul.

"No need to worry, my friend." I slap my hand onto the young man's shoulder, almost losing the balance of his clipboard. "There are worse fates than being mutilated inside an old woman's basement." I chuckle at the horrified look on his face. He shuts his eyes and crosses himself several times, "Heaven forbid the Ancient Ones ever hear such vulgar humor. The punishment you receive would be so severe-"

"Oh, they do. I haven't been invited to their grand dinners ever since," I shrug.

I turn back to the woman. Then at the bowl of teeth in my hand. They rattle as I gently sway the bowl. I take another hit of my half-used cigar; time for the grand deliver.

I gesture at my men to take her away. She will have no trial. I will make sure of that.

A sad sensation washes over me once again. They want attention. I look over to smile at the little light figures standing in the corner of the room. Nodding my head at them I turn back to the doorway and leave, puffing on my cigar. The sick man, Aldo had recovered and is now helping the crew dig up all the shoes of the children from the yard. I inform one of the crewman to pull apart the walls of the shop for any human cartilage; he tilts his head up to catch my deadly stare and immediately drops the shovel to run inside. Once everything is dug, discovered, and removed the shop will be burned down.

Everyone is at work, unearthing the ground as if searching for the core of the earth just to pull the plug and put an end to this misery. I feel the emotions of mothers and fathers who have been abandoned from society; the lowest of class. They had nothing but the hatchlings they produced and ever so loved. I nod in approval of their dedication to finding their lost children.

Even though it's torture, they will be fine.

I watch from a distance as the two officers drag Enriqueta outside. Her eyes are down once she comes face-to-face with the people of Barcelona. Dragged outside, shoved into a carriage and strutted away. Everything is going just as it should. The people that surrounded the shop now begin to chase the carriage as it speeds away.

"You are all good to call it a day," the men and women covered in dirt from head to toe look up from the grounds and watch me. "Go home, just remember you have found what you were looking for." I drop my cigar and squish it with my foot. Adjusting my coat and fedora I decide it is time to leave.

"Barcelona is nothing sweet. Stay close to your loved ones. Or find someone to love and cherish. You will not be treated kindly by this society for the remainder of your lives. It won't get better even after your expiration." They do not have any sort of power to change their lives for the better; nor will I help them in any way.

It is the last bit of knowledge I gift them with as take my leave.

I leave behind the scenery of workers digging, the shop being emptied out of its satanic contents and its aura of rotting decay. I pull out another cigar from the chest of my pocket and light it with a match. I hold it near my lips.

How odd, I think. I've smoked more in this assignment than any other time I've worked.

Inhale, exhale. Smoke blocks the scenery of the cramped homes that have been built into one long line of colored apartments to the clumsy patchwork of the street. The street lamps blink as my presence draws near.

Smiling, I look behind my shoulder, "Come now little ones, walk beside me. I do enjoy company when I am working."

Children of all ages who had been slowly walking behind me suddenly jolt into a run by my side. I give them all a warm smile; it's what children like. They were all unfamiliar with compassion and gestures of kindness, yet their guards have been down since they left the shop. There were many of them. I examine all of their faces. We continue to walk together as the streets curl around the sleeping hills patched with pebbled gardens of park guella. All of them remain quiet except one.

"Senor," a girl with a dented head and battered eye asks, "Why is Padre digging up my shoes and scarf?" Another girl asks the same question except it was her mother digging up her ratted dress. Her hair had been shaven off and a long line of incision wrapped around her scalp. An older boy with missing ears and nose wanted to know if his father found his hat that had been buried in the grounds. They all felt curious and wanted answers.

"Because it's what they wanted, little ones." I exhale smoke, "I had been listening to their pleas for months. They stopped searching for food and performed many heart-felt prayers. They all wanted to know what happened to their children. I put them to work so they could find out themselves. Now they will know and can finally take their time to grieve." We pass alleys with lamp posts that blink as I walk past and enter another cramped alleyway that heads to the outer bits of the city. The smell of seawater is in the air as it washes over my suit and coats my tongue.

They follow my every step as we head towards a large body of water where no abandoned street-rat was ever allowed; a place where the wealthy decide who matters in society. The children stare at the giant waves crashing in a violent rhythm. They take in the scenery; the breeze of the fresh salt with the softness of the sand under their feet.

A little boy with a missing arm chirps out, "Mama would have loved this." I say nothing. My hands are stuffed into my coat, examining their expressions of this large body of water.

A girl with a shaven head and missing eyebrows looks away from the ocean and stares at my whole figure. I do not enjoy being stared at; I begin to play with a dried up tooth inside my pocket that I had taken from Enriqueta's shop.

She then asks, "Eres el angel de la muerte?" I shake my head.

"No, child. I am not an angel of death. But I do know of the Grim Reaper. I work with him. You will see him in a bit. He's very kind. And merciful."

"Then who are you, Senor?" another asks.

"I am someone who no being likes. In fact, I am the one who put you through all of this."

There was no hate, no anger from any of them. They had asked enough questions to understand who I was and go back to watching the waves dance under the bright moon.

A perfect time for a full moon. I think to myself. I watch a little boy with missing flesh on his cheek tend to the white sand. Drawing a circle with his finger, he keeps his eyes locked onto the ocean.

"I'll take it from here," a voice from behind me says. An all too familiar scent of extinction hits my nose. I turn to face a figure in darker clothing than mine.

The Grim Reaper examines his surroundings and chuckles, "What's this, you brought them to a beach? Is this compassion that I am seeing for the first time?" I turn back to watch the water.

The children turn away from the ocean and stare at the tall dark figure. Without hesitation, they run past me with excitement. None of them look back. The Reaper extends his cloaked arms out and embraces them, "Come. Come. Little ones. I have been waiting for you all. Oh my, you are indeed the sweetest of gifts!"

"She'll be behind prison bars for a year and three months," I interrupt the Reaper's cooing, "I've written her time of death. Don't be late." I blow out smoke.

The Reaper looks up with a glint in his eye, "I look forward to meeting with this wretched creature when the time comes," he gestures at the children huddling underneath his cloak, "justice will come."

With that, they all vanish. I am alone with the smell of tobacco to accompany my side. I watch the waves bounce and stir around. The salted air mixes in with the smoke. I can hear the voices, the screams, the pleas of every being in this universe. Begging for help, asking for mercy. I take off my hat and throw it into the wind as I watch the full moon stare me down with its diamond-like appearance.

Back to work. I head back to entrance of the alleyway and leave the beach.

The End.