Curse the Day

By Zachary Koala Hardison

After years of struggling to remain indifferent, Azrael has finally lost his patience with the world. One by one, he has started to kill every black-hearted human he can find.

When Eliot, a police detective, inadvertently witnesses his violence firsthand, he walks away with events he can’t explain. When his investigation leads him to Eva, a journalist, they join forces to uncover the truth about Azrael and what he is doing.

But Eliot and Eva aren’t the only ones watching. By releasing a nightmarish monster into the world, Azrael plans to force long hidden secrets into the light of day.

A story told from the perspectives of good, evil, and the grey in between, CURSE THE DAY brings ancient feelings of hatred, love, lust, greed, betrayal, and vengeance into the modern world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zachary Koala Hardison
• Release date: Dec 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9781530773473

Zachary Koala Hardison

Zachary Koala Hardison lives in Columbus, Ohio, with his wife and daughter, and two cats, Dexter and Luna. When he's not frequenting coffee shops around town, he enjoys conversations with aspiring writers, students, and readers.And yes, his middle name really is Koala.

Book preview

CURSE THE DAY

BOOK ONE OF THE UNVEILING

by zachary koala hardison

To Rachael, who brings out my best and forgives my worst.

Chapter 1

The moon was at its peak in the sky having stolen the sun’s light for another day. Cal stopped in the middle of the street to check his phone and noticed the moon’s reflection on the screen. He looked up and watched the clouds slowly move to hide its glow.

He felt more comfortable at night; something about the city being covered in darkness put him at ease. Although this night he felt no comfort from the moon, just cold indifference. The slight worry at the back of his mind lingered for a moment, but he quickly dismissed it as irrational paranoia. There was already a reason this wasn't a good night; no sense in looking for another.

He moved across the street toward a gate to a large construction site. A high wooden wall ran all around the development block with the name Northmore Construction painted on every other section. The company was owned by the Nereza family, more specifically Cal’s uncle, Vittore Nereza. For the most part, this business functioned legitimately from day to day. Money was funneled through where it could easily be hidden, but the industry also provided some unique fringe benefits, one of which Cal was taking advantage of tonight.

Being so late, only the security lights were on inside the lot, guarding the steel skeletons of the new buildings. Several small buildings were being built around one central structure all at the same time. They all surrounded a central courtyard that would serve as a green space when everything was done. Although right now the courtyard was nothing but a hole in the ground.

Cal remembered his uncle saying this would be some kind of research center with the largest section being completely underground, but didn’t remember the details. To be honest, he cared more about the money the contract was generating, not what it was being used for.

As he made his way into the back of the largest building, Cal could hear his men already at work, seeing a few blurred silhouettes through layers of plastic drop cloths. Navigating through them, he pushed aside the final opaque curtain, and the men gathered all turned to face him. The man in the center backed away to the side now, showing another man tied to a chair. He was covered in blood, but it was hard to tell where it was coming from. There were probably more than a few wounds that weren’t visible as well.

Cal took his time lighting a cigarette and surveyed the scene. Did you guys leave any blood in his body? he asked as he spotted several tools sitting nearby on the ground. A couple men nervously laughed, unsure if Cal was making a joke or asking sincerely. The man who was responsible for the damage kicked the chair, causing the beaten man to raise his head with a start. He looked at Cal for a few seconds before his eyes were able to focus long enough to figure out who he was. When the realization hit him, worry and fear spread across his face.

Cal, please … The man in the chair barely choked out a couple words before his voice gave out.

Cal waved his hand and hushed him down with sympathy in his voice. Shhh … it’s all right. I know how much pain you must be in. And since you seem to be having a hard time speaking, I’ll do my best to get straight to the point. You’ve been working for my uncle for … close to two years now? And you’ve been … adequate. But recently it’s come to my attention that your returns do not match your inventory.

The man’s voice was hoarse, but he tried to speak again. Cal … it’s not what you think—

"I doubt you could comprehend what I think, so let me do you a favor and tell you about a detail I’m aware of that you are not," Cal interrupted.

The last shipment you received included a most curious extra ingredient. I say ‘curious’ because anyone who happens to ingest it will die within about twelve hours. Now what I love about this story is that if you’re innocent then I’ll simply administer the antidote to all of your customers and they’ll be absolutely fine. If, however, you have taken what doesn’t belong to you, then you and your customers will die.

The man in the chair stared at Cal through swollen eyes, panting heavily with his mouth hanging open.

I think everyone here would agree I’m a reasonable man … someone who values loyalty and truth? The men around him all nodded or agreed out of fear to do otherwise. So, is there anything you wish to tell me?

Cal, I’m … I’m sorry. The man in the chair began to beg as blood and tears mixed and streamed down his face. I didn’t mean … I just, I don’t know how it happened. But I’ll … I’ll pay you back for it, all of it! Even more! Just let me—

You see? Cal shouted him down. Don’t you feel better having the truth out in the open? He stood up, and a bright smile stretched across his face as he patiently waited for an answer.

The man in the chair nodded slowly, unsure if the question was rhetorical or not. Does that mean that I … I … ? the man in chair trailed off, his voice trembling so much he wasn’t able to complete the sentence.

That you’ll survive this night somehow? Of course not. Cal smiled innocently. Then he pulled a syringe from his jacket pocket and stabbed it into the man’s neck. The man screamed as the fluid was injected into his veins.

Cal signaled his men and they moved in to pick the man up from the chair. Just behind the chair was a section of the building’s foundation that had yet to be filled in. The group of men forced the man into a nearby wooden box that appeared to have been built to his exact size. He struggled as much as he could, screaming and begging for forgiveness, but he wasn’t able to put up much of a fight at this point. The man’s screams became muffled as the box’s lid was nailed shut. Just before the box was lowered into the pit Cal moved next to the front where the man’s head lay.

He began speaking softly, and the man quieted down to listen. I said I valued truth, and I do. To repay you for your honesty I am giving you time before you die to realize the weight of your mistakes. I could have just killed you instantly, but then how would you be able to learn anything? What kind of person would I be if I didn’t at least allow you that much? I appreciate your understanding in this matter.

With that Cal knocked on the box enthusiastically and had the group of men lower it into the pit. The man’s screaming resumed, louder than before. When the box reached the bottom and they began pouring cement over it, the yelling grew more hysterical, but his voice faded quickly.

One of Cal’s men suddenly had a practical thought. What if he’s still screaming when the crews show up in the morning? Won’t they find him?

Oh, he’ll be dead by then. Cal responded to the question while looking disappointingly at a drop of blood on one of his shoes. Did you know that there’s a combination of chemicals that acts like the exact opposite of anesthesia? Instead of putting you to sleep, it lights every nerve in your body on fire before finally causing your heart to burst under the strain. Our friend has that wonderful mixture moving through his body right at this very moment.

Cal waved his hands as though he were conducting an orchestra in time to the man’s screams coming from below the concrete. Normally a person would black out once physical pain reaches a certain threshold; however, the amphetamine mix he took will keep his adrenaline levels abnormally high forcing him to stay awake and feel every moment. The modern marvels of science, hmm?

Another of his men asked a question. What about anyone he sold to today? I know he made his usual rounds. What do you want to do about them?

Cal’s lightheartedness was replaced by annoyance now. You mean the junkies this thief sold to? You’d like me to show some sympathy toward the addicts? You think I actually bothered to create an antidote? Or perhaps I should inform them that their last injection will cause them to choke on their own blood? That their heart will pump so fast that it will collapse all their veins in seconds? That I should kindly remind them they’re killing themselves?

As he replied to the question, Cal was walking toward the man, causing him to back up so that he was now on the edge of the hole that was being filled in with concrete. The other men stayed silent and looked away.

I didn’t mean—I’m sorry, Mr. Nereza, I just thought—

Cal cocked his head to the side and smirked, Make sure you clean the blood off the tools you used before you leave.

After that, Cal promptly turned and walked away. The men quickly started to clean up, going out of their way to make noise and pointless conversation. Anything to hide the faint cries they could hear coming from below the concrete.

Walking back toward, his car Cal thought about the man he just had buried. What was his name? He couldn’t remember, but he needed to capitalize on his death. By this time tomorrow everyone working for the Nereza family would know what happened—not all the details, but enough to know that theft would not be tolerated.

When he reached the sidewalk outside the construction site, he heard someone call out his name. He put on the same fake smile as before and turned back toward the gate, ready to answer another stupid question from one of his men, but no one was there. He stared out into the shadows for a moment, doubting whether he heard anything at all.

His eyes moved up and down the empty street before turning back to his car and pulling out his keys. He heard his name being spoken again, and this time it was closer than before. He pulled his gun from inside his jacket and walked a few steps away from his car.

Who’s out there?

He heard no reply. He turned back to his car again and now felt someone brush against him. Cal spun around and fired several shots on impulse, but there was no one. He stood fixed in the same spot, pointing his gun out into the pockets of shadows, his eyes transfixed on the darkness.

The streetlight above him flickered and then faded out completely. Then he saw all the lights around him follow the same strange pattern. The sign of a storefront across the street; a doorstep lamp; they all lost their light.

With the entire block now dark, Cal began to get nervous, holding his gun out in front of him and waiting to shoot anything that moved. He was leaning against his car’s driver’s side door when he felt a knock on the window coming from inside his car.

He jumped away at the surprise and fired several times through the window, sending shards of glass flying. There was no one inside when he looked.

Now that’s a clever trick, Cal said out loud, trying to overwhelm his fear with forced confidence. He scanned the area around him again, his finger pressing the gun’s trigger halfway down.

He took a few slow steps out in the street. Well, now this is a little rude, don’t you think? Since it appears you already know who I am, I’d very much like to know who you are.

A voice answered just behind his ear, But you already know me quite well.

Cal swung around and managed to pull the trigger once before being thrown through the air. He cleared his car and slammed into the brick wall of the store across the street. He was being lifted off the ground even before he realized what happened.

One hand had pushed him against the wall while another gripped his throat to the point where he had trouble breathing. He tried to break free, but the harder he tried the tighter the hand squeezed. The voice that answered him before belonged to the man now holding him.

Calvino Nereza, I have deemed you more valuable in death than in life. Your actions have earned you my attention … which probably isn’t all that good for you, the man said with a mischievous smile.

Cal tried to speak, but the lack of oxygen was causing his body to shut down his secondary systems as it was trying to protect his vital organs. His vision was beginning to blur around the edges when the man suddenly released the grip he had on his throat. He coughed and doubled over as his lungs desperately sought to fill with air; his body convulsed as it attempted to recover. He rolled over on his back unable to move or speak in between his short, fitful gasps.

"Time may be the commander of all things, but it’s going to take quite a bit more than your demise to force his hand. The man was looking away from Cal, but not at anything in particular. The worshipers of clocks, the white towers of time; they cannot be broken, but they can bend. So I can assure you, there is purpose behind this. I encourage you to feel … blessed, in a way. You have been awarded my personal attention and given me a wonderful idea to test out on the horridly disaffected, detestable, and condemned."

The man bent low to Cal’s face and grinned. Calvino Nereza, I am happy to have met you, but I don’t believe you should be surprised by this end. Dreadful deeds can be found everywhere—from the low and vile corners to the high and beautiful places. Yours just caught my eye. You are not the first and will not be the last …

In between his sputtering of harsh, incoherent sounds, Cal managed to get out, Who … Somehow, he thought if he knew who the man was it would bring some kind of understanding. In response, the man moved one hand behind Cal’s head and tilted it slightly toward him. "My name, black heart, is Azrael. You will be the first of many that I destroy."

Azrael gripped Cal’s hair, holding his head in place, while he began to slowly push down on his chest with his other hand. Cal would have screamed if he’d been able to, but his body was struggling just to pump blood throughout his body. His arms pulsed and flew upward as the pressure on his chest grew more intense. His hands came down and landed on a grey-and-white scarf draped around Azrael’s neck. His fingers tightened around the fabric in response to the agony he was feeling.

As Cal heard his ribs breaking and felt his lungs collapsing, Azrael’s smile grew wide and bright.

Chapter 2

Calvino Nereza was killed tonight, very violently, with what looks like a sledgehammer.

That was the first thing the chief of police said when he called Eliot in the middle of the night. Eliot had to ask him to repeat it a couple times.

It wasn’t the abruptness of being woken up that caught him off guard, but the fact that Cal was murdered at all. The entire city knew he was the nephew of the crime boss, Vittore Nereza, a status that should have protected him. Only someone looking to start a war would have been bold enough to kill him. That, or simply a deranged lunatic. Eliot hoped it was the latter.

As soon as he heard the details from the chief, Eliot immediately headed out to look for an informant he’d used in the past, someone who had ties to the Nereza family. Several hours later the sun was starting to spray light through the spaces in between the buildings, but Eliot wasn’t any closer to finding him. His informant didn’t exactly have a permanent address, which meant locating him almost came down to a matter of luck.

After driving around for the last hour, Eliot finally pulled over and parked his car. He could hear St. Augustine’s bells chiming a few blocks over, signaling the beginning of the early morning Mass. Most of the small shops along the street were still closed, but the coffee house on the corner had a steady stream of customers already filing in. He made his way toward it and headed inside.

Eliot quickly scanned the faces of the customers while making his way to the counter. A surprising amount of people were inside considering the hour, hiding behind laptops or buried in books, but he didn’t find the face he wanted. After Eliot ordered his drink, the girl behind the counter attempted to make small talk with him, but he was distracted by thinking about where to look next.

Eliot knew Billy wasn’t the type to frequent coffee houses, but it couldn’t hurt to keep an eye out. Considering how Billy kept a constant stream of drugs pumped into himself, Eliot was half expecting to find him lying dead in a ditch somewhere.

A few years ago, Eliot got Billy out of a possession charge in exchange for providing information. As a low-level runner for the Nereza family, he didn’t have intimate details on all their operations, but every now and then he had something worthwhile. Honestly, it was his insignificance in a room that often caused him to be overlooked when things were being discussed. As Billy was fond of saying, Water always finds a way to reach the dirt.

Under normal circumstances, Billy would contact Eliot when he had something to share, and they would set up a time and place to meet. However, Cal’s murder had everyone in the Organized Crime Control Bureau out working their contacts for any information. Considering how Vittore Nereza would likely react to his nephew’s murder, the next forty-eight hours had the potential to be incredibly violent.

At least Eliot knew Vittore’s rival, Adriano Lucia, wasn’t responsible for Cal’s murder. For one, Adriano would have never authorized a hit on him, and he certainly wouldn’t have been so careless as to leave his body lying broken and bleeding in the street. Eliot feared that Vittore wouldn’t rationalize it the same way.

A few years ago, at the height of the war between the Nereza and the Lucia families, violent confrontations between the two became unnervingly common. An unstable truce finally put a stop to that kind of collateral damage.

To be fair, Vittore was responsible for most of the violence at the time. The type of person ruled by his emotions, Vittore chose to eliminate anything that was an obstacle, and didn’t care who he harmed in the process. Eliot was worried Vittore would reignite his war with Adriano over his nephew’s death. In terms of retaliation, Vittore would take Cal’s death as the highest offense.

On the other side of things, Adriano operated on old-world principles and made sure everyone in his family ran by a strict set of rules and ethics. Cunning and cruel, the old man had never seen a day in court for even so much as a parking ticket. His ability to stay ahead in the business world, operate in the criminal world, all while staying out of jail was his trademark.

Adriano would be happy that Cal was dead of course, but not with how publicly he was executed. His death would likely just cause him more problems in the long run. Even if no one in the Lucia family was responsible for Cal’s murder, Vittore would still blame them, and Adriano would be expecting that. Eliot knew Adriano would be preparing his men just in case he had to respond to Vittore’s own rash actions.

The way in which Cal was murdered didn’t help anything either. The chief had told Eliot that Cal’s heart had been crushed … while he was still alive no less. Despite how messy the crime scene must have been, they hadn’t found any evidence from the murderer. Cal’s own gun had been lying just a few inches from his hand with the clip half empty.

The problem was the tension between Vittore and Adriano. Every officer in the O.C.C.B. was now tasked with finding answers before the two families began openly warring again. The best Eliot could hope for was that Cal’s death was just a random homicide—perhaps some lunatic who got the jump on him. He wasn’t sure how likely that was, but if he could at least prove that Adriano wasn’t responsible, then hopefully he could stop them from fighting in the streets.

To be fair, Eliot didn’t mind Nereza and Lucia thinning each other’s ranks. He really had no moral issue with the two families killing themselves as much as they wanted, but he knew their fighting would spread to the innocent. Vittore didn’t care who he had to bribe, blackmail, or kill to get what he wanted. Adriano would at least refrain from doing anything that would draw negative attention to him and his family, but if it came down to it, he would be no less violent than Vittore.

After politely ending the conversation with the barista behind the counter, Eliot made his way out of the coffee house and headed down the street. Vittore had claim over the part of town Eliot was in now, but there was still tension in the air.

Everyone would probably be on edge with Cal getting killed. Fingers would be reaching for triggers a little quicker. Sure enough, Eliot spotted a few nervous-looking Nereza enforcers a little ways down the road. They were standing outside one of the bars the family frequented on the opposite side of the street.

From the look of them, Eliot figured the news about Cal had already filtered through the ranks. The men kept shifting their weight and habitually touching certain areas of their clothing, reassuring themselves with the guns they had hidden underneath.

Eliot took note of them and continued down the sidewalk. He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced when he realized the girl behind the counter had completely forgotten to put espresso in it. He perked up a bit, though, when he noticed that "call me – Brooke" was written on the cup next to a phone number and a hand-drawn heart.

The small euphoria Eliot felt from the flattery lasted only a moment, as the quiet morning was suddenly jarred by a gunshot about a block down from where he was standing. In that moment, Eliot had been lost in thought trying to remember what the girl at the coffee shop looked like, so he was a little unprepared when the shot rang out. He ducked down out of instinct, but awkwardly spun in a half circle trying to see where the shot came from, all while still holding his coffee. In the back of his mind he was cursing himself for deciding to hold onto the cup with the girl’s phone number instead of immediately pulling his gun.

The Nereza enforcers in front of the bar drew their guns, ready to start firing bullets into whoever might be threatening them. Eliot moved into a nearby doorway and peered out. He saw a man run out onto the street from an alleyway, crashing into a few trash cans on the curb. The man immediately turned back to the alley and fired several more shots in the direction he had just come from.

It wasn’t until the gunman turned that Eliot recognized him as his informant, Billy. The Nereza enforcers recognized him as well, calling out to ask if the Lucia’s were attempting to make a move. Billy clawed his way back to his feet but didn’t stop looking down that alley.

Something had him scared. Eliot had seen Billy act this way before but not since the last time he was using heavily. By the time Billy made his way across the street, the other guys had put their guns away, thinking he was just drugged out of his mind. One of the men moved to take Billy’s gun away from him before he could fire it again.

But in that moment Billy was somewhere else, lost in a state of panic. He wasn’t even aware that anyone else was around him. When the man reached out and touched his shoulder, Billy screamed in genuine fear and shot him right through his forehead. The other two men stood frozen in disbelief, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

Billy came back to his senses long enough to threaten the other two, looked back across the street from the direction he’d come from, and then took off down another alley along the side of the bar. Everything happened too quickly for Eliot to do anything to stop him, but he couldn’t let Billy get away now.

Eliot took off after him, running past the two men still standing in front of the bar. One of them was shaking and trying to wipe the blood off his face. The other had run inside to inform whomever he could about what had just happened, but no one was going to call the cops. Even when members of the family were legitimately killed, they often chose to leave the authorities out of it. It was just easier to handle everything themselves, punishment and cleanup alike.

Eliot turned a corner in the alley and saw Billy thrashing and yelling wildly to himself about twenty yards farther down.

He’d been able to talk Billy down from a high before, but he’d never seen him be violent.

Eliot glanced behind him, checking to see if any of the Nereza guys were following. At this point they wouldn’t care if they had to kill anyone else in order to stop Billy. They would have taken it as an insult, a lowlife like Billy shooting one of their guys, in front of their own property, and just after Cal had been killed. It would look like order was breaking down and Vittore couldn’t control his own men.

Even if Billy came out of this alive, Eliot knew he’d end up in prison, but he felt a responsibility toward him. He’d put him in danger more times than he could count over the years, pressing him for information. If Billy was willing to risk killing one of Nereza’s men, there was no telling what he’d do to Eliot, but he had to try something.

Billy! It’s Eliot! he called out to him, raising his hands in the air.

Billy either didn’t hear him or simply ignored him all together. He was pacing back and forth between each wall of the alley and mumbling incoherently to himself. He kept raising the gun to his temple, threatening to kill himself. Eliot took a few more steps toward him and tried again. Billy … I need you to talk to me now. I’m here to—

Billy rounded on Eliot and aimed the gun directly at him. In that moment, there were two thoughts running through Eliot’s mind. The first was wondering how he had ever thought this was a good idea, being less than ten feet from an unstable drug addict with a gun. The second thought was how still Billy’s hand was while holding the gun.

For as long as Eliot knew him, Billy had a constant problem with his hands shaking. Years of using had caused Billy to develop several ticks. It could take him five minutes and both hands to get a key into a lock, and yet now, his hands were perfectly still. In fact, his whole body was rigid.

Billy slowly turned his head to the side without blinking, his eyes fixed on Eliot. He looked as though he had forgotten Eliot and was trying to remember who he was.

Billy kept the gun aimed at him, but finally spoke up. When he did, his hands began shaking like normal. Eliot? No, no, Eliot is gone. Everyone is gone. So who are you? You’re not the monster. I know because he’s still talking to me … telling me not to kill you.

Billy lowered the gun, hung his head, and stared blankly at the ground. If there was going to be an opportunity, Eliot thought this was it. He moved toward him and grabbed Billy’s shoulders, looking right into his eyes.

Billy! Billy, it’s Eliot—you know me. I’m your friend. I’m here to help you, but right now we’ve got to get you away from here.

And the hero enters. Billy’s mouth opened, but it wasn’t his voice that came out. It was darker and more intense than Billy’s usually high and shrill tone.

Eliot took a step back as he watched Billy’s personality, body language, and facial expression all change to something else. His pupils doubled in size, even in