Page 37 of Total Carnage
“So what do we got then?” Shiv looked down at his own hands like he could see whatever beast lay dormant beneath his skin.
“Could be anythin’,” Mama Celeste said leaning back. “The spirit chooses ya—ya don’t choose it.”
Moab raised an eyebrow skeptically .“And how exactly does this ‘spirit’ decide?”
Mama Celeste shrugged nonchalantly “Could be somethin’ tied t’who ya were before all this mess started,” she said.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table, the weight of her words settling over me like a storm cloud. "So we’re just supposed to sit around and wait for some animal spirit to take the wheel?" My voice was low, edged with frustration. This wasn’t exactly the kind of plan I was used to. I liked action, not cryptic voodoo riddles. Why had she not mentioned this back at the swamp? I knew why. I would never have believed her before seeing Toolie’s transformation.
Mama Celeste gave me that look—the one that made it clear she wasn’t about to entertain my bullshit. "Patience, Vin," she said, her voice steady but laced with a warning. "You’ll know when it happens. It ain’t somethin’ you can force."
Raven stepped in, her voice cutting through the tension. "And what about me?" she asked, her dark eyes locking onto Mama Celeste. "I don’t have any marks. No scars. Does that mean I’m not part of this... whatever this is?"
Mama Celeste studied her for a moment, her expression unreadable. "You’re here for a reason, child," she said finally. "But your path ain’t the same as theirs." She gestured to the rest of us, her gaze lingering on Raven like she was trying to piece together a puzzle. "You got your own role to play."
Toolie chuckled, breaking the tension as he stretched lazily in his chair. "Guess that makes you the wild card," he said, shooting Raven a grin that was equal parts charming and dangerous.
Before Raven could respond, Moab slammed his fist on the table, the sound like a gunshot in the room. “Enough of this cryptic bullshit,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I ain’t waiting around to turn into some critter. If we’re gonna take down Stansfield, we need a plan, not a damn zoo exhibit.”
Canon leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “He’s got a point,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “We’ve got numbers now—Bump, Toolie, the Prospects—but we still don’t know what we’re dealing with. Stansfield’s got resources and connections. We can’t just charge in blind.”
Shivs smirked, running a hand through his hair. “Blind ain’t always bad,” he said, his voice dripping with that cocky swagger I knew too well. “Sometimes it’s better not to see what’s coming.”
I shot him a look that shut him up quickly. “This isn’t some weekend brawl,” I snapped. “Stansfield’s got blood on his hands, and we’re walking right into his crosshairs. If Mama Celeste says we’re changing, we need to be ready for whatever the hell that means.”
Toolie stretched again, his muscles rippling under his skin like he was already halfway to wolf again. “Relax,” he said, his tone easy. “It ain’t so bad once you get used to it. Hell, it kinda grows on you.” He flashed a grin, sharp and wild, and for a second, I could see the animal lurking just beneath the surface. "Besides, being able to tear a man apart with your bare hands has its perks."
Raven’s eyes narrowed, her gaze locked on Toolie. “You’re not helping,” she said flatly, her voice like ice. “This isn’t some game. My father isn’t just some corrupt politician—he’s a monster. And if we’re going to stop him, we need to be smarter than he is.”
I nodded, my jaw tightening. Raven was right. Stansfield wasn’t just a threat; he was a predator, and he’d already proven he was willing to kill to protect his secrets. “We’ll figure it out,” I said, my voice steady. “But first, we need to know whatwe’re dealing with. Mama Celeste—” I turned to her, my tone hardening. “What exactly are we looking at here? You said we’d transform. How? When? And what the hell does that mean for us?”
Mama Celeste leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable as she studied me like she was weighing my soul. “Patience, Vin,” she said softly, her voice carrying a weight that made the room feel smaller. “The change comes when it comes. It’s not something you can force or control. But when it does...” She paused, her eyes flickering to each of us in turn. “You’ll feel it in your bones. It’ll burn through you like fire, and when it’s done, you won’t be the same. None of you will.” Her words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, no one spoke. The gravity of what she was saying settled over us like a storm cloud, dark and unstoppable.
Moab broke the silence first, his voice low and gruff. “So we’re just supposed to sit around and wait for this... whatever it is to happen? No warning? No way to prepare?” He seemed to relax and accept the change would happen when it happened.
Mama Celeste’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. “Prepare as you would for any battle,” she said simply. “Train your bodies, sharpen your minds. But know this—when the change comes, it will test you in ways you cannot imagine.”
Shivs leaned forward, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “And what if we don’t want it? What if we decide this is too damn much and walk away?”
The room went quiet again, every eye on Mama Celeste. She didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. Her voice was calm but laced with an edge that made my skin crawl. “There is no walking away,” she said, her tone final. “The path has been set. The threads of fate have woven you into this tapestry. To leave now would be to unravel everything—and the consequences dire.” She pushedaway from the table. “I must rest now.” And with that, she got up and returned to her room.
“Who thought returning from the dead would be so complicated,” I said flatly and looked around the table. And then, all at once, the group of us, including the naked Toolie, broke out into laughter.
Vin
The air was thick enough to choke on, the kind of tense you could cut with a knife and spread on toast. We were all hunkered down around the old oak table that was about to see more strategies and spilled beer than most bars. Moab was running his fingers through his beard like he was trying to divine our next move from its tangled depths. Shivs had that twitch in his eye, the one that said shit was about to hit the fan. Canon just sat back, arms crossed, watching everything like a hawk sizing up field mice. Toolie cracked his knuckles, a nervous tick I'd come to recognize, while Bump kept bouncing his knee under the table, enough to rattle the shot glasses. Luckily, we’d found something to fit Toolie so he wasn’t walking around ass-naked.
Moab patted Megan, his latest old lady, on the ass and left his hand there. He introduced each of us to the very young woman and then sent her on her way. “She’s a senior at the university,”he said which meant he was twice her age. “Horticulture, I think.” He looked back at the door. “Sweet thing.”
Shivs motioned over at our poorly stocked bar and the young blonde he showed up with in the middle of the night brought over a round of beers. He pulled the cigarette from her mouth and took a long drag. When he removed the cancer stick, the chick bent over and kissed him long and hard, her ass cheeks square in Canon’s face when she did. She went back to the bar and her phone screen. Shivs winked at us.
"Everyone done playing with their pussy?” They nodded and I continued. “Okay, so here's how we play it," I started, laying out the plan as clearly as I could make it, considering none of us knew if we'd see another sunrise. “We find Stansfield’s supply chains that are moving up and down the Interstate. Hit them every time they pass through. He’s getting his shit from somewhere.” My words were swallowed by a sound no biker ever wants to hear while plotting a mission: pounding on the front door like the end of the world wanted in. Shit.
"Five-0," Canon muttered, jaw set hard as concrete.
In burst the local boys in blue, their badges polished but their intentions anything but. They crashed through the door with the finesse of a bull in a china shop, tactical boots stomping over the threshold like they owned the damn place, all in black, faces covered so there’d be no retribution. They knew what the fuck they were dealing with.
"Hands where I can see 'em!" the lead cop barked, a sneer twisting his lips beneath the shadow of his mask.
