Dragonfly by Jax Hill
Chapter Thirty-eight
Franz went snooping and came back with the report that Nikolai was uneasy about what he heard was happening downtown. People giving money to Torstein to give away. People making homes for runaway strippers to get real jobs. People arranging for crack addicts to go into charity rehab programs. All of this, in Nikolai’s opinion, stunk. Crack addicts fueled his drug operations. Strippers filled his nightclubs. If Torstein somehow started getting people to throw away guns, he would be biting into Nikolai’s final cash cow: arms dealing. The mobster had been only too happy to have an excuse to get rid of the Dunker. He wouldn’t balk at taking Torstein out, too, if his followers became a problem. 
When Torstein came back, we told him what Waverling had said, and what Franz had discovered. He didn’t care. He said:
“That night Sig came, with Tartan’s broken leg, he accused us of doing nothing to combat evil. But in that little laundry list of things Nikolai is mad about, you can see what we’re doing to combat evil. We’re opening our hearts to people ensnared in evil. It’s bound to make someone mad.”
“Someone evil,” Franz said.
“Someone else entangled in evil. Someone else who could be set free.”
Franz cocked his head to look at Torstein in disbelief and said, “You still think Nikolai could stop being evil? After your cousin and all?”
Torstein laughed then, the last thing we’d expected, a ringing laugh.
“Franz, if I didn’t think that Nikolai could change, I wouldn’t even bother. If I didn’t know that love is the most powerful agent for change we have or could ever have, I wouldn’t keep on doing what I’m doing. We wouldn’t keep doing what we’re doing.”
“What are we doing?” Franz said.
It was late afternoon. Sully had come from school to Story Hour, and now he was sitting with Tawny, Mari, Maggie, Bruiser and some of the old homeless guys who’d come for the story. They were telling more stories, I supposed.
“We’re raising one boy who sees value and dignity in every human being,” Torstein said. “Maybe that’s all it takes.”
“What, Sully’s gonna be the Messiah?”
“No,” Torstein said. “Sully’s going to be a husband, and a father, and his children will know that love is their strength, and that all people are worthy of respect. And that it’s more blessed to give than receive.”
“You’re talking 30, 40 years down the road,” Franz said.
“What’s the difference?” Torstein asked.
“Well, Nikolai might come gunning for you any time.”
“If he does, if anything happens to me, I expect you guys to carry on. And if I can, I’ll come back to you.”
“No coming back from where the Dunker went,” Franz said flatly.
Torstein laughed again. “I’ll find you,” he said. “Here’s the thing, boys. Evil can’t stamp out good. Good is older, and stronger. Nikolai might snuff out one of us, but the rest of us will keep shining.”
Pete didn’t like the thread of this conversation at all. He was a cool guy, but he was sort of a man of action type, my brother. Strength and loyalty were character traits he prized, and he felt he had them in abundance. He didn’t see how Torstein could talk about being snuffed so easily.
“Look here,” he said. “There’s no reason Nikolai should come after you. What have you done to him? Nothing. And if he did come, well, there’s a few of us here who aren’t any too easily intimidated. I guess we could stand him off. We can knock a few heads together, anyway.”
“You’re missing the point, Pete,” Torstein said. “Violence can’t stop violence. Violence can only escalate violence. If they come gunning for me, no one is to try to save me. If you fight them, you feed the evil. I don’t want that. Don’t choose evil, Pete.”
