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merciless heat singed Giallo’s features as his prized collection went up in thick, oily clouds of black smoke. Tears streamed down his face, fury boiling inside of him as he bore witness to the inferno. If he were younger, he would’ve made a go at the black-clad assassin. The man had destroyed everything.
    They both stood outside the warehouse, and the assassin’s gloved hand kept the Glock fixed on his head in case he should get any foolish ideas. The bastard wanted him to witness the destruction of his collection. What did he think he was doing? Punishing him for past crimes? What sort of mercenary was he dealing with here?
    Nevertheless, one piece had survived Giallo’s collection: Zamora’s coffin .  
    The assassin had made sure to remove the casket from the warehouse before setting the charges that triggered the raging blaze. The fact that the coffin had been spared gave him hope. There was still a chance he might be able to start over again. If reborn through the coffin’s magic, he could enjoy all his wealth inside a fresh, young body. He could begin building a new collection. The assassin’s words cycled through his mind.  
    “ And when this place is nothing but ashes, I’m going give you what you want the most.”
      Was he implying he could be bought for a price? That Zamora’s coffin could be his for a price?  
    Controlling his anger, Giallo said, “Whatever you employer is paying you, I can offer you more. Much more. Name your price.”
    The assassin’s swift answer left little room for negotiation. Giallo felt the handle of the pistol bite into his head…and the world turned black.
    When he woke up, stars sparkled overhead, and for a moment he felt disoriented.  
    He tried to move but found himself confined, his hands cuffed. Craning his neck, he saw piles of dirt on either side of him. Instant realization hit him. He was looking up at the brilliant night sky from inside a wooden box. Not any box. Zamora’s coffin, which now rested in a shallow grave.
    Above him, a shape stepped up to the grave. The assassin loomed like an angel of death. He removed his balaclava, revealing rugged, handsome features. Giallo choked back a wave of terror. The assassin didn’t seem worried he’d ever get to pick him out of a police line-up. This was the end of the road.
    “What are you doing?’ Giallo croaked, his heart hammering away.
    “You wanted to be buried in Zamora’s coffin. I’m making your wish come true.”  
    The assassin picked up the lid of the coffin.
    Giallo’s bit his lips with terror, grasping the fiend’s plan. The American was going to bury him alive. He would indeed escape death, but he would remain trapped in the box in the same way Zamora’s spirit had. Even if he should be lucky enough to have someone stumble upon his makeshift grave someday in the future, they would have no idea how to release him and bring him back from the dead.
    “Please… you can’t do this,” Giallo said.
    “How many of the people in your collection begged for their lives? How many did you spare?”
    The question hung accusingly in the air.
    Giallo’s mind went blank as the heavy lid closed over the coffin, entombing him in blackness. He was suddenly six years old again and at the mercy of his father’s madness. But this time there would no reprieve. Light would not make way for the darkness. His interment would be permanent.
    The sound of dirt piling up on top of the coffin wasn’t loud enough to drown out the coffin collector’s horrified screams.  

    THE END

    Mark Talon returns this winter in SOUL JACKER.

    A brutal crime lord plans on unleashing an ancient horror upon Paris and only one man stands in his way.  

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
    William Massa is a