by J. J. McAvoy
I stared at her, hoping she knew how dumb that sounded.
She sat up on her knees. “I hate Wuthering Heights because of the characters, especially Heathcliff—”
“Heathcliff is the only one that makes sense to me.”
“Digging up your dead lover to look at her again makes sense to you?” she asked as if I was now dumb.
“Grief makes people do crazy things.”
“It’s creepy. A visit and flower will do.” She cringed.
I opened my mouth to talk then paused, wondering. “What side am I on in this argument again?”
“No side if you’d just read.” She shoved me. “And go back to that line again; read it over. With passion this time.”
I clenched my lips and tried not to laugh. Keeping my composure, I asked, “Sorry, how exactly should I read it? Show me.”
She grinned and put her hand to her heart. “How cruel, your veins are full of ice water, and mine are boiling!” For added effect, she put her palm to her head.
I could help but burst out laughing.
“Shut up!” She laughed with me.
“How cruel,” I repeated, then checked the book. “Where is that? I think you butchered it.”
“No smart ass, theater performers shortened it for plays. I was acting it out like that,” she replied and tried to snatch the book from me.
But I switched hands and held it out farther.
She climbed on top of me, but instead of reaching for it, put her forehead on top of mine.
“May I help you?”
“Do you know why I read this book?”
“Yes, someone died.”
“No…I read it because of you.”
Now I was confused. “What?”
“That quote is what Catherine tells her husband when they are fighting. They don’t match each other. They hate each other. They are married but miserable. I read this book whenever I hear about some pitiful woman who either killed herself or her husband out of misery. I wonder how in the world do you marry someone you don’t love? What does it feel like to be in a miserable marriage? I don’t know. So, it’s your fault. You treat me far too well.”
I stared up her, smiling as I held her face. “I love you, baby, but you are weird. Who does that—ah!” I winced as she head-butted me.
“Forget it!” She rolled over and hopped out of bed.
Rolling over, I hopped off and grabbed her. “Declan!”
“Never!” I grinned. “Hot blood. Cold blood. I don’t care. I’m not letting go. And you aren’t going anywhere.”
She laughed as I lifted her. “Declan!”
DECLAN—PRESENT
Reaching over, I touched her skin again, and it was colder. Dead….my skin was warm. Hers was cold.
Because she was dead.
Reaching up, I clenched my chest; it hurt.
It burned.
Like claws ripping through my flesh.
“Ah…” I leaned over, trying to breathe.
“Dad!”
Looking up, I stared at my Cora…my cold Cora.
“Ahh!”
24
“Does the wolf apologize
when it stands on top?
Should the lion say his grace,
when he takes his mark?”
~Hidden Citizens
CALLIOPE
“Some kills are always hard until they’re done. Then you wash it away with soap and move on,” my grandfather said from behind me as I finished hiding the bruises on my chest with makeup.
I’d changed into a dark, full-sleeved, red dress with a slit up the thigh. It didn’t say wedding, but I wanted something in case the bandages and cloth didn’t hold, and I bled through it. For the cuts on my fingers, I wore invisible bandage tape and diamond rings. I was most worried about the bruise forming under my eye. I couldn’t put on any more makeup without it caking. I was sure no one else could see it, but for some reason, I was sure I would have a black eye in the morning. I was lucky she didn’t rupture a blood vessel. No makeup would be able to cover that.
“You look good; no one will notice,” my grandfather said, coming to my side. “Even I, who saw how you looked before, am shocked.”
Taking the red lipstick, I dabbed it over my lips.
“You are upset with me.”
“Yes,” I finally spoke, rubbing my lips together before looking to him. “This was a lot of effort just for trust, Grandpap. Trust I should already have.”
“Trust you do have,” he assured me gently, putting his hand on my good shoulder. “Though, out of curiosity, why Coraline? Of anyone, I would have thought it’d be the old woman.”
I frowned. “Why go over my notes out loud now? Are you trying to get me killed?”
“I can see you’re sensitive right now.”
“I wonder why,” I snapped, shrugging his arm off and rising from the chair. I grabbed my phone and began to type in plain language.
“It was either going to be Helen or Coraline. I thought about Helen, but if she died, Wyatt would lose his mind. I do not have time to deal with whatever trouble he’d bring. Coraline was the next best choice because she took over as a mother for most of them growing up. She’s always been seen as the heart of the family. She gets her hands dirty, she stays inside and is the most protected, so losing her is the biggest emotional blow to this family.” I held up the phone for him to read.
His eyebrow raised and he nodded. “Bravo.”
“And the two who got away?”
I deleted the message and retyped the two names.
“Liam and Melody Callahan.”
Showing it to him, his eyes widened. “What?”
“They are alive,” I said aloud.
He took a step back, shaking his head. “I saw—”
“This,” I pointed to my bad shoulder. “Him. Everything else was her…unless you think I’m crazy.”
He gasped. “They are alive.”
“That’s what I said.”
“All these years, Ethan has never said anything? Does he not know?”
“He knows,” I answered. “He told me—”
“When, why didn’t you say anything—”
“Because even he was not fucking sure. If I told you, you’d be hunting ghosts. But then again, maybe that is what I should have done and gotten you off my goddamn back.”
He had the audacity to chuckle. “Those fucking snakes…wait. You did not plan for them?”
“Of course I didn’t plan for them. I made it work. Like I always do,” I grumbled, moving to step back into my Christian Louboutins.
“We are going to need to figure out—”
“No,” I said sternly. “You promised me a year.”
“They will come back.”
“Then protect me for fucking once!” I hollered.
Knock.
Knock.
Before I answered, the door opened, and Ethan stepped inside. He looked at my grandfather and then back to me.
“Why did you knock to enter your own room?” I asked him frowning.
“You have a guest,” he replied coldly, stepping over to me as I tried to rise.
I winced at the pain in my ankles. Normally this would be a breeze, but they were bruised, too. Ethan held me as I began to sway.
“Thanks—”
“Who did this?” he asked me again.
“Who did what? My shoes?”
“Not your fucking shoes, Calliope!” he snapped. “Who were the two that attacked us?”
I glanced in the corner at my grandfather.
“I said I didn’t know.”
“Bullshit. You aren’t just anyone. For them to hurt you this badly, they must be professionals.” He turned over to my grandfather. “Who is after her?”
“I’ll let you two have some privacy—”
“You are in my bedroom. All walls of privacy have been broken already. So, tell me. And do not take me for a fool. I know who you are and what you do…what you both have
done in the past,” he said, looking at me now. “So, who the fuck did this?”
“It’s not our people or me,” I whispered. “Let’s talk in private.”
“Not one of your people.” He let go of my arm, watching me. “So, it’s two of mine. But I do not have enemies as strong or bold enough to try this.”
I said nothing, knowing he now understood.
He clenched his fist. He dropped his head, swallowing hard before relaxing. Inhaling and exhaling once, he lifted his head and faced my grandfather. “Mr. Orsini, exactly how much does it cost to employ your services?”
His eyebrow raised. “My services?”
“Should I ask Calliope about i Libitinarii?”
“Fine.” My grandfather stepped forward. “Who is it you are looking to put into a grave, Mr. Callahan?”
“Liam and Melody Callahan.”
“Your parents?” He chuckled. “Don’t they already have graves?—”
“Grandpa,” I said, seriously glaring at him.
The smile of his face faded, and he stood straighter…chest to chest with Ethan. “You sure about this?”
“They attacked my wife. My people. My house,” he hissed. “I don’t care what their reasons are. No more mercy, no more patience. So, name your fucking price so we can get back to our goddamn wedding.”
“No charge. After all, she is my granddaughter,” he said, smiling at me. “And I’d like her to stay alive. So, please do better next time.”
I grabbed Ethan’s arm.
“Your invitation has expired, Grandfather. You should go.”
He nodded and stepped forward, but because he could not help himself, he turned back just to say, “Oh, right—I’m sorry for your loss.”
Ethan stood like he was crafted from ice.
It was only when the doors closed that he let out the breath he was holding. Pushing him back, I helped him sit on the bed. He sat there silently for almost a minute before finally speaking.
“I knew,” he whispered, clenching his fist. “I knew when my father came to me, tried to convince me that they wouldn’t just trust me. That they would stop at nothing. Their way is always right. Their methods are always right. I’m the child. They are the parents. So when I say I know what I am doing, they ignore me. And go ahead with this…this clusterfuck of a half-ass plan. Fucking idiots! Senile, no good, fuckers!”
“Ethan—”
“They still think they are twenty-six-year-olds—that they are the smartest people in the room. Other parents retire to a beach in Florida. Mine? They bloody break into my house during my wedding and try to murder my wife, with the whole world in the backyard! Why? Because they are Liam and Melody Callahan, and of course, they can. Zugzwang? I forgot. If any possible move worsens their position, then they will just bomb the whole goddamn table and see what pieces are left.”
“Ethan—”
“They fucked up. Their plan fucked up and now my aunt is dead, and, like snakes, they slithered back underground—”
“Ethan! I have maybe two hours before I bleed through this dress!” Wincing at how loud I was, he looked over my shoulder. Grabbing his face, I held it close to mine. “I will listen to you vent and scream as long as you like. But that is going to have to come after we save the rest of our wedding night. Okay? Put the masks back on.”
He shook from my hands, pausing for only a second longer before rising. He looked me over before offering me his arm. Taking it, I held on tightly. Slowly he led me to the door and opened it. There, I came face to face with Darcy, and all of hell was locked behind his eyes. The rage wasn’t boiling, but it was alive and waiting for the time to strike.
There were two types of people in this world.
Those that killed first and weren’t sure what questions to ask later.
And those who knew the questions and wanted every answer, before they slowly and painfully destroyed their enemies.
Who would have thought Wyatt would have been part of the first, and Darcy would have been part of the second?
“Store it well,” I said to him. “That feeling, that deep broken anger and hate and rage. Store it in you like honey, so when you need it the most, you won’t waste a single bit of it.”
He nodded.
“Let’s go,” Ethan said.
And as we walked, as I saw the grim look on every face that knew, I held my head higher. To them, it might have looked like indifference or maybe just a façade.
But to me, this was different.
This was my victory.
I held my head up because I’d won this round again.
They just didn’t know it yet.
It was going to hit them like a thousand semi-trucks from the sky one day. How I, little, pitiful, abused, abandoned, unwanted Calliope, not only captured the Callahan family but broke it only to rebuild it—not as Melody’s legacy, but mine.
I was going to keep rising, guiltless over the people underneath my feet because I had to survive, and in this world, the only people who made it were the ones at the very top. And the only way to get to the top was to step on a few heads.
So, thank you, Coraline. Thank you for dying. I am one step closer now.
MELODY
I thought about it over and over again, and only one thing made sense. “She planned this,” I whispered, looking over the blueprints for the house. Bringing the blueprint forward, I circled the guest bedroom. “Of all the guest rooms she could have used, why did she choose this one to change? Because it’s closest to the secret exit. She knew we’d be able to come in through here. From the intercepted messages from her grandfather, we knew she had to kill someone by today—by last night. But how could she do that without exposing herself? She lured one of them into the room and killed them there. How did she know we would know, though?”
Grabbing my tablet, I searched the cameras, but they were disconnected. “Fucking bitch found the cameras but left them for us to keep watching. I thought it was going to be Helen, so I relaxed a bit when Coraline came to them. But she had just used Coraline. I’m not sure if that was her goal from the beginning. Either way, it didn’t matter. She knew we’d get there. She had other guns under that bed. But she chose the one with one bullet? She could’ve hidden a much bigger gun and blown me away. But she didn’t because she needed me alive. She needed to fight with someone just as strong. That way, Ethan would believe she was innocent. That she didn’t kill Cora, that we did by mistake. He would already think we were after her since we had confronted him.”
I shifted to check all the other cameras in the house; they were all disconnected. The video’s record went back to an hour ago. I was sure it was her way of taking a victory lap, allowing me to watch how they all believed her. How Ethan believed her….it was only now that her words came back to mind.
“Do you even know what game you are playing?”
Slamming the tablet on the table, I wanted to rip it in half! “We’re motherfucking scapegoats! She set us up to take the fall for Coraline’s death and to turn Ethan against us for sure. We walked into a trap!”
I was going to kill her, even if it was the last thing I did on this earth. I was going to kill her.
“Genius.”
Glancing up from the maps, I looked at him. “What?”
He sat against the couch, his bloody shirt now off, a bandage over his arm from the bullet he caught while escaping. His medical kit sprawled out all over the ground around us both. With half a bottle of Camus Cuvee in one hand. We were both more than a little beaten up. The effort it took to set my shoulder really made me feel old this time around.
He took a long drink before answering my question. “Calliope—she’s a genius.”
“Is that really what you want to focus on right now?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “I wanna focus on that, Mel, because…because that makes me less pissed with my son. You know, the one that let the homicidal, pretty little genius into our house only for her to kill my cousin’s…no, my brother
’s wife in our goddamn guest room.”
“Ethan—”
“Oh, are you going to defend him?” His eyebrow raised. “Don’t bother, Mel. That’s why I’m focusing on Calliope. So I can defend him. She’s a genius. Like him. I always knew Ethan was different. The boy was reading Eggo Waffle boxes from his highchair as an infant. He always remembered everything. Every rule, every instruction, every damn thing. It was fucking annoying. I looked forward to the moments he would fucking fuck up so I could feel like a damn father. I was proud the first time he hesitated when I told him to kill someone. ‘Aw,’ I thought. ‘He is still just a boy.’ He was still innocent. Still a child. My child. Then that day at the church with that priest…the day he became Mani di Forbice. Remember?”
How could I ever forget that? “He did it to protect us.”
He nodded, drinking again before speaking. “Of course, we already knew. But I’d taught him to kill our enemies, and so he did just that, all his previous hesitation gone. All innocence gone. So, I sat him down and tried to talk to him like a man. Told him to use that blood of mine to think before he acted and to have a plan—because he is Ethan, he listened. And he became il burattinaio, the puppet master, because of just how fucking good he was. But it was a double-edged sword. The better, the deadlier he became, more and more people doubted his intentions, his thoughts. People were scared of him by the time he was sixteen. No one even knew how to have a real conversation with him. Not even me. And you weren’t there then. I can only imagine how it feels to know everyone sees you as an inhumane computer murderer. I had charm, so even when people knew I was dangerous, they still wanted to talk…you…well, you’re a woman and pretty, so naturally, they underestimated you. But Ethan…”
“Was left alone,” I finished for him gently. I remembered how many times I’d watched from afar as Ethan stood by himself, or at a distance from the family. Even if they were at dinner, he’d barely speak, and the rest of the family would just go on talking as if he was not there.
“Exactly. All alone…Until one day, Calliope appears.” Again, he drank, and it spilled over the corners of his mouth. “Another genius. She was not afraid to talk to him. She’s not afraid when he was silent. In fact, she looks as if she is having the time of her life beside him. She’s beautiful and damaged so badly she had to become a warrior to survive. On top of that, she’s odd, eccentric, quirky, and good with people. She makes him look softer. People feel free to talk to him when she’s there. Who else in the world could do that for him? But as if…” He laughed and groaned at his wound. “As if she didn’t already have everything in her to make him fall headfirst in love with her, she’s the mother of his child.”
