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I wanted to be happy that Dad was dead.

No, I didn't just want to be happy; I really, really wanted to be happy. The urge to feel what the Germans call 'schadenfreude' for the death of my awful father was intoxicating, even more than a cold can of beer or a wild time with a wealthy client. Over the years, I imagined the bastard biting the dust during our arguments. The last time we exchanged hateful words, the last time I ever saw the old man was when he'd kicked me out of the house all those months back.

“Don't come back, or I'll skin your faggot hide off of you!" Were his parting words before the door slammed shut, and he flung incomprehensible curse words out a closed window.

During the trek to Lakertown, my vindictive, angsty teenage mind envisioned Dad suffering or dying various deaths. My favorite involved him getting run over by his own pickup truck after forgetting to park it. The image of him bleeding in the driveway or starving in a homeless encampment after losing what little he had were what helped me in my first month on the streets. It helped give some form of clarity when the stresses of the job crept up on me.

However, after Father Abraham told me the news, the urge to celebrate was drowned by two other emotions; sadness and anger. Sadness at my dad's passing and anger towards those responsible. Instead of imagining the ways my father could die a gruesome death, he was replaced by a dingo I'd never even met, as well as a middle-aged grizzly who used to be a mainstream client I'd shaken off as harmless.

Harmless. I thought to myself. Haha, harmless.

Anyway, once Mass finished, Markus was more than kind enough to help me into my jacket and offer a comforting pat on the shoulder. I did my best to smile at him, despite the thought of the upcoming 'arbitration' weighing heavily on my mind. We moved down the pew's narrow row, allowing some furs to escape for either the parking lot or a word with the priest. In the meantime, Markus opted for us to linger near one of the walls close to the altar.

One by one, the faithful left. The only ones remaining were the church's staff, as well as two unknown figures coming in through the main entrance. One was tall and the other short. A canine and a large mammal. A young dingo…and an older bear. They went to immediately speak with Father Abraham by the donation box.

Without a beat, Markus gripped my shoulder.

“Don't do anything. I have a plan."

“I won't do anything!" I hissed softly.

“Just don't say anything, let me do all of the talking, and by the time this is all over, you'll get your justice," he told me. “I promise. So, can you promise me you won't do anything?" When I didn't reply, trying to move out of his strong grip as it clutched onto my shoulder, the older mammal growled into my ear, “Charlie…"

“Okay, okay, fine!" I conceded, one paw raised defensively. “I won't do anything."

“Even if you're standing right next to Richard Walker?"

“Even if I'm standing right next to Walker," I sighed. Then, my ears perked. “Wait, why would I be doing that?"

“Collateral," he informed me. “At arbitrations like this, it's best to keep the defendants and plaintiffs together, so neither of their hired lawyers can kill one without harming the other."

I wanted to point out to the dark-furred wolf that lawyers didn't murder their clients' enemies. Before I could, however, Markus pulled something from his pocket, that flip phone of his and placed it inside of my pants pocket.

“Just in case this truly goes south," he said. “I'll be able to find you."

The white tiger, the bear, and the dingo approached us. The dingo muttered something to the bear, somewhere along the lines of, “Remember, no talking." He seemed to object, only for the canine to snarl, “Don't. Don't even try to argue with me, Dick. Remember, you're the one that crawled over to me." At those words, the bear continued looking forlorn and silent.

“Gentlemen," Father Abraham spoke up, standing between me, Markus, and the dingo and bear. “I trust that even though this meeting is last-minute, I do not need to explain the rules, do I? No violence, no recording devices, and if an agreement isn't made, then everyone present is still honor-bound not to commit any misdeeds until you've all left far away from the premises."

There were so many other things I wanted to say, to blurt out, but a sharp, intense look from Markus told me to start fulfilling my promise. So, I did that, even as we stiffly walked over to the two men responsible for our ruined lives, and the death of at least one.

The priest glanced between me and Walker, then motioned for us to take a pew together, near the back row. His tired eyes kept down to the floor, even as we strode together and sat down at the exact same time. I smelled Sister Georgina and a couple others cleaning the floor nearby, standing between us and the front entrance, and it didn't take a genius to know the bear wasn't going to do anything. Not with witnesses nearby and a lack of escape, especially in such a guarded place. It made my tail relax enough for me to really look at the bear.

“Hello," I said with venom in my words, “Principal Walker. It's been a while…"

The ursine politician nervously cleared his throat. “It has…" he said, almost on reflex.

He did not look at me. He couldn't dare. The recent years had not been kind towards my former principal. He had already been graying and possessed a beer belly stuffed inside a button-up shirt and pants when I graduated high school, but it seemed like the stomach had gotten rounder. His fur was less mahogany on that wrinkled muzzle. Whatever his campaign required him to do at endless hours, it wasn't worth it in my eyes.

To think that I could have once called him handsome. When he didn't call me once or twice to the principal's office, lock the door, then eagerly have me suck his cock under the desk during lunch period at school, Mr. Walker went so far as to book a nice hotel room last October. Walker made me wait until midnight before entering his unlocked room, then undressed me and whispered sweet nothings into my ear as he fucked me senseless into the bed. I even got a little into it, letting the Daddy grizzly love me and French me senseless to a memorable climax.

Compared to students or other school faculty, he'd been more passionate and downright romantic. Here, he was ashamed, almost like the bear wanted to crawl inside his own fur.

It didn't surprise me though when Walker dropped the act afterward. Without warning, he paid me and instructed that I left the hotel room without drawing any attention. He wouldn't even acknowledge my presence at school in the following weeks, let alone look me in the eye. It would be weeks later when he would find the bravery to call me to his office again, asking for some 'assistance' once more. The final time we did it had been the week before graduation, before his retirement as principal. It'd just been a usual handjob session in his office after hours and didn't think much of it.

I could never have predicted that such a man would be indifferent to having me and another student like Becky Mullin murdered. And for what? A mayoral campaign?

What was he thinking then, as we sat together in that pew? The awkward silence divided us as Markus and Mitchell Corbin, also dressed in professional clothing no similar to an office yes-man, animatedly spoke at the front of the row of pews, near the altar. Their echoing voices were more than easy to hear due to echolocation and the architecture of the church.

“This is my only offer," Markus told the dingo. “If you want your mayoral candidate to succeed without it being posthumous, you'll take it, Mr. Corbin."

Sitting beside me, Walker appeared to pale, and hunch further where we sat together.

Corbin rested his paws in front, legs rigid. “Go on," the dingo said, visibly fighting back a snarl. He didn't sound Australian, but maybe I wasn't close enough to notice it slipping just yet. “What are your terms, Mr. Faoláin?"

I could see Markus give his trademark scowl. “Take down the bounty on Reaper's Row," he explained. “Give a sacred vow to Father Abraham here that you'll never harm Cherry or his remaining family ever again, you'll never approach them or so much as speak their names. Do that, and we will go away. You'll never find us again, and Richard Walker can run for governor for all that we'll care. He won't have those skeletons in his closet."

“No," the dingo stated simply. “It will only be beneficial if that hooker is dead."

“That is non-negotiable, Corbin," he replied, scowling further. “Take the offer. It's all that you're going to get. Otherwise, Becky Mullin died for absolutely nothing."

“It won't be for nothing." The dingo sent a momentary glare in my direction. I tried looking him dead straight on, but faltered, and the older canine turned back to Markus. “My mentor has connections. He knows the right people not just in this city, but across the country. Not only will he be mayor at the end of the election, but he'll one day become governor and perhaps President. If not, he'll help me rise through the ranks in his place. And I'll be damned if our potential is ruined because of some dropout hooker and a jailbait rent boy. Becky Mullin and Charlie Rochford are just obstacles for us, and he's yours too."

In the corner of my eye, I noticed Walker shake with revulsion at the names and descriptions mentioned. Specifically, 'dropout hooker' and 'jailbait rent boy', alongside the names. Again, the grizzly bear refused to look in my direction, boring his eyes at the floor as if they told him what the future held.

“He's not an obstacle for me," Markus growled.

“Isn't he?" The dingo smirked.

“You're the one who tried to have us killed," he reminded the dog.

“I'll admit," Corbin shrugged, “I only sent the Mckenna and Solomon brats to silence Charlie. The hit had nothing to do with you. My mistake. It was also my mistake to think you were just another mob killer in a tracksuit who wouldn't be missed. Like the Rochford brat."

“Sending DeadEx after his family was a big risk, wasn't it?"

“So was waiting around with a thumb up my ass for you two to show up," he said. “It turned you into my obstacle, but it doesn't have to be that way. Just modify the terms of your offer. Kill Charlie Rochford, and I'll never do anything else to his remaining family."

“Did I stutter when I said it was non-negotiable?" Markus asked. “Follow me to the parking lot, and I can show you just what I want to 'modify'."

The dingo looked up at the taller canine with a dark smile. “Is that a promise?"

“If I may interject, this situation reminds me of Romans 15:4," Father Abraham spoke up. “'For everything that was written in the past—'"

“I'm not here to hear you recite scripture," Corbin interrupted with a scoff. “You're here to make sure your future mayor and his aide stay alive. I didn't agree to this farce so you could lecture us a fairy tale."

The white tiger revealed his fangs, frowning as he said, “I would suggest you watch your tongue there, Mitchell. So long as you're within these walls, you will be respectful."

“Things change, Father Abe," he chuckled. “Do you think I'm afraid of you? Either of you? This isn't a war, Markus. It's extermination, and the moment either you or that ocelot slut step foot outside of this church, you're both dead." He coyly looked to the unamused tiger. “And who knows? Imagine if an honest health inspector in a foul mood decided to condemn this building, claim it has mold…and condemn it for safety reasons."

“Mr. Corbin!" Father Abraham warned, eyes wide. His fangs bared. “Is that a threat?"

“No, a hypothetical scenario, that's all…" he trailed off. “I am just stating the obvious to you and to your war criminal wolf here: the future is inevitable. Thanks to this morning, my mentor over there's going to become the next Mayor of Lakertown." My wolf and the white tiger went silent, and I arched an eyebrow. “What? Did neither of you hear the news?"

“What news? Markus asked, grimacing.

“About our opponent, George Waters," Corbin explained, acting smug. “Apparently, a police raid was conducted on the city councilman's headquarters yesterday evening. They acted on a tip that his personal computer contained some…very violent, very illegal pornography. The old jaguar claims the evidence was planted, but whether it's true or not won't matter. At least DeadEx completed at least one of his tasks before dying."

“You didn't think to mention this to me, Father?" Markus asked the tiger.

Abraham shook his whiskered muzzle. “I did not know either."

“There might as well be no election at this point. Money and favors are going to flow like wine directly into our pockets." The dingo subsequently gave a hideous, even more satisfied grin directed at them, and at me. “And by the time that Richard Walker III is sworn into office, you and your cat will either be long dead by assassins the minute you step foot outside these walls, or you'll be forced out should things get…desperate. You can't deny that they can't stay here forever, can they, Abe?"

For the first time, I spotted simmering fury behind the white tiger's eyes. He looked like he absolutely wanted to deck the dingo in the muzzle. Even more than Markus did, who stood stoic and unmoving, like one of the stone statues of a saint. Unlike him though, Father Abraham seemed less like a man on a warpath and more like an animal about to attack an intruder. His tail thrashed behind his robes. The way his large left paw clenched, claws extended, and I thought I'd spotted droplets of blood drip from his enclosed fist. It went to the cobblestone floor without him or the other canines noticing.

Then, it vanished. Father Abraham's rigid expression melted into an eerie calm that still unsettled me. “Maybe so, my son," he spoke in a tranquil tone, “but you're not the candidate for mayor, are you? Also, it is 'Father Abraham' to you. If you cannot be respectful—"

“No worries, Father," he spat that word out in condescension. My stomach flip-flopped at hearing his next words. “We're done here, Mr. Faoláin."

The dingo briskly turned away from the altar towards me and Walker, who looked up in time to catch his apprentice nodding in his direction. The old bear nodded back.

For a single moment, Corbin and I locked eyes. “You and the brute should keep enjoying your checkers game while you can," he said calmly, smiling like a leech. “And have a Happy Halloween. It could be the last holiday you ever celebrate."

Without another word, Walker abruptly stood up and scooted away from me, joining the dingo behind him like a shadow as they walked over. I practically cowered at the hateful glare Corbin directed at me as he passed, then disappeared out the church doors.

With that, it was over. My ears caught the sound of Markus lumbering my way.

My eyes didn't look away from the entrance. A few seconds later though, I released my held breath, exhaling many emotions; relief, fear, uncertainty, and confusion as to why Markus wasn't scowling anymore. Why did he look very…pleased with himself? Uncurling my tail as I stood, I almost asked that same question aloud when Father Abraham joined us from the altar.

“Why are you smiling, my son?" the tiger asked.

“Because," he stepped over to reach in my pocket, where the phone sat. “We won the war."