Chapter 27: Reforming a Gang

A lot had changed since Renzo and little Nira entered Lydia’s life. The children she once spoiled out of pity were now free from the grip of gang control, able to rely on her without fear of retribution. Her situation had improved as well, since she now had enough wealth to ensure the children were fed without wondering where the next meal would come from. Depending solely on donations for her healing magic had always been a shaky plan at best.

And then there was the church. Once little more than a ruin with crumbling walls, it had been refurbished into something that resembled its old glory. It no longer looked abandoned, though that was thanks to Lydia’s insistence that Renzo avoid making it appear too pristine. If the exterior suddenly gleamed like it had been rebuilt overnight, people would ask questions they couldn’t afford to answer.

What she found strange was how easily she had come to tolerate, perhaps even encourage, what could only be described as a ghostly gang boss. Maybe it was her nature as a witch, or the years she’d spent hiding among the clergy, that made her more accepting of someone like Renzo.

“Sister Lydia, where’s Dad?” Nira’s small voice broke her thoughts.

“He’ll be back soon,” Lydia replied gently.

The rear of the church, which had once been an awkward mess hall with mismatched furniture, now looked like a proper cafeteria. Tables and chairs stood sturdy and whole, and a functional kitchen had been built just days ago. The aroma of fresh bread and warm stew clung to the air.

“It’s already lunch time,” Nira said, frowning. “And he’s not back yet.”

Lydia studied the girl. She had long suspected Nira might be a witchspawn, though there was never any concrete proof. There were no marks or features that gave such heritage away. Still, the strangeness of a ghost being bound to her, protective, even paternal, had fueled her suspicions. It wasn’t something she had recognized immediately; it was too subtle, too intertwined with their day-to-day lives.

Her own position was hardly safer now. Revealing herself as a witch living among the clergy had been a risk, one that put her life squarely in Renzo’s hands. She couldn’t explain why she had done it. Loneliness had followed her for as long as she could remember, and knowing Nira might be like her stirred a longing she hadn’t felt in years.

“Did Ren leave? He… doesn’t want me anymore?” Nira asked, voice trembling.

It was worrying, the way Nira shifted from calling him ‘Dad’ to simply ‘Ren’ whenever her composure faltered. Each time, her eyes would glisten, her small frame curling inward as if to shield herself from disappointment.

“No, Nira… He will come back. Of course he will,” Lydia assured her, placing a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder.

Right on cue, Renzo’s voice called from behind, casual yet warm. “Is Nira giving you a bit of trouble?”

“No, I am not…” Nira said quickly, pouting.

Renzo crouched slightly to meet her eyes. “Go eat with the others.”

Without another word, Nira darted off toward the long table where the other children were already laughing and eating, the hem of her dress fluttering behind her.

“Can we talk?” Renzo’s voice cut through the low murmur of the cafeteria. He didn’t wait for her answer before turning toward the sanctuary, his steps soundless on the polished floor.

Lydia followed, the familiar weight of his presence urging her forward. They took their usual spot in the front-most pew, the giant silver cross looming above them, cold and luminous in the afternoon light.

She let out a sigh. “If it’s about witches, then I’m sorry. I can’t find much about them from my books. I tried the library, but there’s hardly anything there either. I know, I’m a witch myself, but it isn’t like I ever had a witch teacher. Everything I’ve learned came from the church.”

Her gaze drifted to the cross as memory stirred. “If there’s anyone who knew more about witches than anyone else, it was Irene. I’ve traveled a lot, joined different parties, met all kinds of people… but when it came to lore, no one could compare to her.”

Renzo’s reply was blunt, almost casual. “Sorry for killing her.”

“Ah, no… that’s not what I mean,” Lydia said, shaking her head. “She made her bed when she tried to take one of my charges. If I’d been there, and I had the chance to stop her, I would’ve done the same.”

“You mean, kill them,” Renzo said, the words flat.

“Y-yes.”

“Do you think it’s worth it? What makes murder justifiable? If it’s ordered by a state? A religious institution? If it’s done in good will?”

“There’s no such thing as good will in murder,” Lydia answered, her tone heavy.

“What if it makes the world a better place?”

“Define better place.”

“A world without gangs, for a start. Maybe?”

She frowned. “Where is this coming from, Renzo?”

“The Twinfist Gang.”

Her expression tightened. Technically, Renzo now owned the gang, having killed its boss and taken control for himself.

“Are you… going to kill all of them?” she asked cautiously.

“Oh my g—No!” He sounded genuinely offended. “Why does everyone think that’s where my mind always goes? Kill ’em all?”

“It’s you who started it with the kill them question. And the Irene situation? The Twinfist Gang? Those are two very different things. Irene was an immediate threat to a life. The gang is an organization committing ongoing crimes… yes, they need to be stopped, but that’s layered over layered. In Irene’s case, it was self-defense. An entire gang getting slaughtered? That’s something else entirely. I can’t believe this, I’m talking murder with a ghost…”

Renzo muttered, “Fair is fair. While murder would be convenient, I decided against it. I don’t know if I’m being opportunistic or naive, but I want to help the Twinfist Gang to reform them and use their resources for my own good. Of course, my greed’s in the mix.”

“I want to try,” Lydia said suddenly.

“What?”

“Reform them.”

“Huh?”

“It wasn’t just my talent for white magic I discovered in the church. I found my faith too. I believe there’s good in people, even in you, Renzo. That’s why I want to try. Let me help you.”

He looked at her, thoughtful, one hand on his chin. “Here’s the thing. The Twinfist Gang’s under threat. Three lieutenants might break off and chase their own interests, which would cause infighting. My first instinct was to bulldoze my way through, like their old boss, and bind them together through violence. But that’s not enough, not if my goal is to reform them. Honestly, I have no idea where to start. I want to keep them in line, and the only way I know is by hurting them. I don’t have the ‘nuance’ a gang boss needs to charm and persuade a bunch of misfits to change their ways.”

“That’s it?”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Yeah. I mean, changing their ways with a few conversations would be too much to expect. Starting small is fine.”

“You mean, hurt them?”

“Well, the Mother Superior back in the monastery did it plenty. Physical punishments, heavy labor… Guess what, I was forced to change my ways and now I’m a very convincing nun.”

Renzo stared at her. “Huh?”

“I imagine you’ve thought of that already, but felt something was missing.”

“Yeah. In the end, it all comes down to violence. But these are hardened criminals. I’ll need more than that.”

“You came to me for advice?”

“Specifically, your unlimited magic.”

“You can rely on me.”

“And here I thought I’d have to ease you into the subject. Suggestions?”

“Flair.”

“How?”

Lydia’s lips curved into a slow smile. “I have an idea.”

“Care to share?”

“Put the fear of God in them.”