The Minstrel

By Michael Vain

Eddie and Skids are small-time criminals who make their living through shake-downs and petty larceny. Drawn together by circumstance and their mutual addictions, they wander through the streets of the city, searching for potential victims in order to appease their habits. Luckier than most, they have managed to avoid the law during their latest round of illegal activities.
Tonight, however, their luck will take a turn for the worse, when their potential victim turns out to be something much different than what he appears. Armed with nothing but an odd, antique-looking eight-stringed guitar, this man will show these two desperate criminals that music can have the power to entertain, to entrance, and even to kill.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Vain
• Release date: Jun 26, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301966868

Michael Vain

MICHAEL VAIN is a visual artist and author from Elkridge, Maryland. His many interests include writing dark suspense and horror, martial arts, painting, photography, and playing with pointy objects.

Book preview

THE MINSTREL

By Michael Vain

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Michael Vain

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

The Minstrel

About the Author

Connecting with Michael Vain

He didn’t look like much to Eddie, not the kind of person who would pose a threat, certainly not the kind of person he would think of as dangerous. He was tall, but thin, and not physically imposing at all. His hair was long, and tied back in a thick pony tail which flowed from under a wide-brimmed fedora style hat. His clothes looked old, worn, and long out of fashion: a long, worn coat or cloak, a vest that covered a loose, flowing shirt, and comfortable looking pants tucked into tall leather boots. He certainly didn’t look like the type to be carrying a lot of cash, and he said so when Skids first pointed him out. He probably didn’t even have enough on him to get them a bottle of cheap wine, much less pay for their combined drug habits.

Despite all that, something about the guy just didn’t sit right with Eddie. Maybe it was his clothing, maybe it was the way he walked, but there was just something different about him. Eddie had a talent for sizing up the marks; he had been doing it since he first hit the streets at the age of eleven, back when he was running drugs for Bennie Ruiz down on the South Side. Eddie no longer worked for Bennie; his boss had ended up on the wrong side of a deal gone bad two years ago, and his perforated body was found floating in the harbor. Although Eddie’s willpower, his senses, and his usefulness as a member of society were eroded to nothing by his addiction to crack cocaine and methamphetamines, his ability to judge his marks remained as sharp as ever. There was something different about this one. He didn’t look outwardly dangerous, not the type to carry a gun or pull off some Jackie Chan chop-sockey crap, but there was something that felt a bit off about this one, and that worried him.

The little voice of reason was trying to tell him to back off, to just let this one pass. It was a busy city; another potential mark would come their way soon. He should have listened to that voice; his street savvy had saved both their asses on more than one occasion, but the monkey on his back was one big hairy beast, and it was screaming far too loud for him to pay attention.

Besides, Skids was already on the move, and this was his mark, not Eddie’s.

They worked it the way they had countless times: Skids would move around the mark, and intercept them from the front. Eddie would move in from behind, cutting off any possible retreat. Working together, they would pull their victim off the road into a side street or alley, and the shakedown would begin. Rarely did they meet much resistance; most of their victims were too terrified to do anything but shake in their shoes, but they were both prepared for trouble just the same. Skids carried a .32 automatic, and though Eddie himself had never seen his partner shoot anyone, he had no doubts about his willingness to use it. Eddie disdained