Brothers

by Helena Newbury

  I hung my head but his eyes didn’t leave me. They burned into me until I was screaming inside, barely able to breathe. Stop it! I’m sorry! I’ll do anything!

  “We have to assume they got what they came for,” said Dad. “That could lead them right back here. They could threaten us. They could stop us bringing Beautiful Order.”

  The way he said those last two words was so perfect, like music in my brain. The idea that everything he’d worked for could be destroyed was horrific; the idea that it would be my fault made me want to throw up. “No!” I croaked.

  He went quiet. I didn’t dare look up for a long time but, when I did, he was looking at me with great sadness...and a hint of forgiveness. He lifted his hand and I raced forward and clasped it in mine.

  “You can fix this,” he said. “But it needs to be done right, this time. No mistakes.” His eyes looked deep into me. Could they see? Could they see the weakness I’d been feeling, since this whole thing started? Did he know about the memories banging on the other side of the glass?

  “No mistakes,” I echoed firmly. I’ll make it right. I’ll please him. If I pleased him enough, maybe he’d even say those words I needed to hear so much.

  “Go to their house,” he told me. “And kill every one of them.” His gaze pinned me. “Even their women, Bradan. Kill them all.”

  42

  Sean

  “Follow the light,” said the doctor.

  I followed his penlight as it went back and forth in front of me. Behind the doctor, Kian, Carrick and Aedan were watching, worried. Kian, especially, had gone white when we’d come into the bright lights of the ER and he’d seen the sheer quantity of blood that had dripped onto my neck and back. I knew where part of the concern came from: he’d always been the responsible one, looking after us all, and I was the youngest. I understood that but it still made me a little mad: when was he going to realize I wasn’t a baby anymore?

  “He’ll be fine,” said the doctor at last. “Head wounds always bleed a lot, but there’s no damage to the skull.”

  The others let out long sighs of relief. “You inherited the O’Harra hard head,” Aedan told me. “We should have made a boxer out of you.”

  By the time we arrived, it was the early hours. But the girls had waited up for us. As soon as the Mustang’s roar echoed off the windows, they flooded out of the door. Almost before Aedan had brought us to a stop, they had the doors open and were pulling us out like anxious mothers. It was chaos for a few minutes: four female voices all talking at once: they told us how worried they’d been, berated us for being in danger, fussed over our injuries...and then they started all over again.

  Wait...four voices? Then I saw that Kayley was there too, long, long after her bedtime, and was worrying and berating and fussing with the rest of them. They hustled us up the driveway and into the house: Annabelle pulling Carrick, Sylvie pulling Aedan, Louise and Kayley taking one of my arms each. It was overpowering...and wonderful.

  Then I heard the car doors slam behind us. Kian had stopped to close them because...my stomach twisted guiltily. Because there’s no one for him to come home to.

  I grabbed hold of Kayley’s t-shirt. “Kian needs you,” I whispered in her ear.

  She got it straightaway and ran off, grabbing hold of him and pulling him to the house, too. She had her sister’s caring nature. I hope our daughter inherits that, too.

  That thought made me stop in my tracks. Our daughter. Or son. God…. It was the first time I’d thought of it in those terms: not just a pregnancy and a baby but a child to raise. Louise was pulled up short by my sudden stop and turned to look at me in concern, worried I was going to collapse.

  I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile and, unable to help myself, slid a hand under her tank top and laid it on her smooth belly. She smiled too, blushing, but pushed my hand away before someone saw. She hasn’t told the other girls, then. I realized that, at some point, I’d better tell my brothers. But first I had to get my own head around the whole thing.

  The girls bundled us inside the house and into chairs. The living room became a hive of activity as wounds were cleaned and bandaged. “We need a steak, to put on your eye,” Annabelle told Carrick.

  Sylvie shook her head. “That’s a myth. Just put ice on it.”

  Behind her, I saw Aedan reach into his pocket and close his fist around something, as if he was about to pull it out. But at that second, Sylvie turned to face him. “Oh, Jesus! Look at you!”

  His injuries were nothing compared to how the cult guy must look, but they were still pretty nasty: a cut over one eye and a big, shiny bruised cheek that had swelled up even more since the hospital. “You poor thing,” Sylvie said, hugging him. “You’re a mess!”

  I saw Aedan open his fist and the thing—whatever it was—dropped back into his pocket. “I got him, though,” he told her. “I got the fucker.”

  She laid her cheek on his chest and squeezed him tight, a silent thank you. “What happened?” she asked. “Tell us everything.”

  We filled them in on the man in the hooded top. “Tough bastard,” muttered Carrick, gingerly probing his swollen eye.

  “He’d been trained,” said Kian. “Trained well.”

  Something connected in my mind. My head was still throbbing and it hurt to speak but I wanted to get the idea out. “Remember they told Sylvie in the cult that people who could fight could become Primes?” I asked. “I think we just ran into one of them.”

  Carrick pulled the folded-up file from a pocket inside his cut. “The personality tests were ordered by a business. GTRL Holdings. There’s an address and a phone number.”

  “Probably a front company,” said Kian. “Emily’s good at cutting through those. I’ll fill her in in the morning.”

  We all looked at each other. As quickly as it had started, the chaos calmed. The wounds were all dressed, everyone was up to speed...and, as the adrenaline wore off, it suddenly started to feel like four in the morning. I was utterly exhausted. We all were.

  “Come on,” Louise told me, dragging me to my feet. “The best thing for you is sleep. None of us have to be up in the morning. It’s Saturday: even Kayley can sleep in.”

  That was true. There was nothing else we could do until Emily had had a chance to look into the front company. We’d all earned some rest. I followed her willingly to the stairs and let her lead me up them. Behind me, I could hear the others doing the same, yawning and cursing about how much their bruises hurt.

  In our room, Louise carefully stripped my bloodied t-shirt off me, groaning in horror as she saw the caked blood on my neck and shoulders.

  “It looks worse than it is,” I mumbled guiltily.

  “It better! I knew I shouldn’t have let you go!”

  I grabbed her shoulders. “I’ll be fine. And we got what we needed. I’m glad I was there.” I wrapped her in my arms and held her close. But as I stroked her hair, I was inwardly fuming at myself. Once again, my brute strength hadn’t been enough to help my brothers. They’d all managed to at least have a crack at the cult member: Kian with his Secret Service training, Carrick with his chain, Aedan with his fists. I’d been taken out of the fight in the first five seconds, too slow and clumsy.

  Meanwhile, the rest of my life was about to get even more complicated. I’m going to be a dad, for fuck’s sake.

  When she’d told me, I’d been shocked but then delighted. Motherhood seemed to fit Louise, somehow. And having gotten her pregnant filled me with a weird sort of caveman pride.

  But now it was sinking in that the baby would be the first of a new generation of O’Harras. How the hell did it wind up being me, the youngest? It should have been Kian or Carrick. And then I realized something else: all my rage, that whole section of my life when I did nothing but destroy...that had all been caused by my foster dad and what he did to me. What if I do the same to our kid? What if I fuck this up?

  What if the violence was too deeply ingrained in me? What if I somehow passe
d it on?

  “Come on,” said Louise, and pulled me into the bathroom. “You can’t sleep like that.” I stumbled along beside her, still troubled, my head throbbing.

  Like the rest of the house, the bathroom was old, with an ancient roll-top tub. She stood me in it, my back to her, and started to sponge me down. Each spongeful of water washed a little blood away, a small pink waterfall. It took forever but Louise was patient and determined. She believed she could get me clean, just like she’d believed I could change.

  What if she was wrong? I tried to imagine raising a kid, teaching it how to do right...when for so much of my life, I’d done wrong. For years, I’d been the guy people were scared of. My chest closed up. What if our kid is scared of me?

  As the water finally ran clear, I turned to face Louise...and saw how worried she was. I cursed myself. The whole time I’d been away, she must have been worrying about how she’d raise the kid alone if I didn’t come back. Now I understood why she’d tried so hard to stop me going.

  The hell with my worries: I had to look after my girl.

  “We’re going to be okay,” I told her firmly. I slid my damp fingers deep into that mane of copper hair and pressed my palm to her cheek.

  She nestled into my hand but her eyes were huge. “How do you know? How do you know I’ll make a good mom?”

  “Louise, that’s the one thing I’m sure of. You’re the kindest, most caring person I’ve ever met.” And it was true. It was me I was worried about.

  She looked up at me, her eyes huge with fear. “Don’t...don’t leave me again, okay?” She put a hand on my chest, her voice tight. “Please?”

  I nodded but I didn’t say I promise. I could feel myself being tugged in two directions: my brothers needed me; she needed me….

  But there’d be time to think about that tomorrow. Right now, we needed each other. I grabbed Louise around the waist and pulled her into the tub with me. She mmfed and then slowly relaxed into it, her arms going around my neck and her sneakers squeaking on the porcelain as we twisted and moved. Immediately, it felt like a weight had lifted from me. Just touching her made me feel better.

  My chest had gotten wet and the water soaked through her t-shirt, then her bra. I could feel the soft warmth of her breasts pressing against me, and I growled, burying my face in that sweet-smelling hair. She yelped again as I lifted her into my arms and stepped from the tub.

  And wobbled a little.

  “Careful!” said Louise, grabbing tight hold of my shoulders.

  She had a point. I was still a little woozy and my head was still pounding. I managed to carry her over to the bed, though, and she leapt off me to safety, relieved.

  “You lie back,” she told me, pushing me down on the pillows and peeling off her tank top. “Let me do all the work.”

  I nodded weakly and grinned, my problems forgotten for now.

  43

  Bradan

  The lock was old, its pins sliding into position almost as soon as I started picking. I could have been inside in seconds but I forced myself to wait on the doorstep and listen.

  Nothing. The house was silent, save for a weird rustling.

  I crept inside and closed the door. Dawn was still a way off and the whole house seemed to be asleep. Now I could see what had made the rustling: a full-size tree, growing up through the house. I stopped for a second. I’d never seen anything like it. At home, everything was functional and efficient. This was...whimsy. It was ridiculous: no one had a tree in their house. So why was I standing there, gazing up at it?

  I shook my head. I’m losing it. I’d already messed up once and disappointed Dad. I wasn’t going to do it again.

  I crept up the stairs. It was risky, but I wanted to check they were all there before I did this. I made no noise as I climbed. I’d learned to be good at that.

  After four years of the water treatment works, training by day and sleeping in the terrifying Room 9 at night, they’d moved me to a different facility. Still underground, but this one had a maze of rooms over several floors. I suspected it was to be some sort of military bunker from the Cold War. I’d slept in a windowless, concrete dormitory with ten other Primes, five floors beneath the ground. Sometimes I’d have nightmares that this was all there was, that the world above had disappeared and the few concrete chambers I could see were all that existed. When that happened, the only way to calm myself was to creep silently up five flights of stairs, without being caught by a Guide, to where there was a tiny window. Then I could look out over the moonlit wheat fields and reassure myself that the world was still there.

  I reached the hallway and checked the first room. A man with bandages wrapped around his head: the first one I’d taken down. Atop him, her skin creamy-white in the moonlight, a red-haired woman. Both of them were sleeping peacefully.

  The next room: the fighter who’d almost killed me. He was with a woman, too, a little dark-haired thing, his arms protectively cradling her.

  Across the hallway I found the biker, snoring on his back. A red-haired woman slept next to him, her head on his chest. I hesitated before closing the door. Something about the scene, the way she looked so serene beside him, the way he looked so peaceful and happy, despite how vicious and angry he’d been at the printing works...I’d never slept like that with anyone.

  But part of me wanted to.

  I closed the door and checked the next room. The guy who’d worn the suit, stretched out on his own in the big bed. His sleep was troubled: he was muttering to himself. A nightmare.

  I left him and was about to go downstairs when I realized there was one door I hadn’t checked. I cracked it quietly open.

  A teenage girl.

  I stopped, staring at her. I hadn’t planned on this. She had short, curly blonde hair. A phone lay next to her on the pillow, right by her hand: she’d probably fallen asleep in the middle of messaging someone, most likely a boyfriend.

  Without knowing why, I stepped closer, right up to her bed, and looked down at her. The moonlight coming through the drapes lit up her face in silver.

  I can’t. Not a kid.

  I felt the thought pulling at me, tearing down my resolve. But just as the walls started to fall. I found my focus again.

  The world needed us to bring Beautiful Order.

  I stared at the teenager’s sleeping face, committing it to memory. When I got home, I would hold hands with a Guide and share my sadness and we would remember the girl and her sacrifice.

  I retreated into the hallway and closed her door. Then I made a tour of the house, locating each smoke alarm. I opened up each one, took the battery out and dropped them into my left jeans pocket. Then I inserted one of the dead batteries I’d brought with me from my right pocket.

  I was good at this. I’d had lots of practice.

  In the living room, I picked out the best place: on the edge of a table, next to some drapes. I found a candle and lit it, then held the drapes over it until they caught. I made sure that, as the fabric burned, some pieces fell onto the rug. I kept the door closed so that the crackling of flames wouldn’t wake anyone.

  I squatted down and watched as the flames licked across the rug and set fire to the old-fashioned wooden furniture. I’ve always loved fire. It’s one of the few beautiful things I get to see.

  Far away, in that dark hallway in my mind, I could sense frantic banging on the glass. Some other part of me awoke, a weak part, the same part which had stirred when I’d heard the men speak in that strange, foreign accent. It told me I was doing something wrong.

  I closed my eyes for a second and focused, as I’d been taught. And the certainty of The Group returned. When I opened my eyes, the room was ablaze.

  Now I opened the door and watched the smoke start to churn and billow up the stairs. They’d choke to death in their sleep.

  The fire crept across the hallway, licking up the walls, spreading from room to room.

  I quietly slipped out of the door and drove away.

  44


  Louise

  The baby woke me.

  Or, rather, being pregnant woke me. The thought of it being there sometimes roused me in the middle of the night when I moved and my belly pressed against Sean. I did what I always did: I reached down with one hand and stroked it, and then nestled closer to my man.

  I was in that warm, dreamy state when you can still pull sleep up around you like a comforter. I was still half on top of Sean, my legs straddling the hardness of his left thigh, and if I twisted just so, like that, I could press against my…I smiled like a contented cat, wrapped my arms a little tighter around him and took a slow, deep breath.

  And something filled my throat, like I’d just inhaled mud, not air. It caught in my lungs and I coughed. I gulped in more air but that was thick, too.

  I fumbled around and managed to switch the bedside lamp on, then frowned bleary-eyed at the ceiling. The ceiling was moving, rolling and shifting and pressing lower. I focused and the movement resolved into thick white smoke.

  I drew in a shuddering, terrified breath so I could scream for help, but that just started me coughing again. And each time I inhaled, it just made it worse: I was taking in heat and roughness but no actual air. Beneath the smoke I could see there must be another, thinner layer. I looked around, still coughing. It’s all around me! I can’t breathe!

  I looked down at Sean and had a horrifying thought: with all my coughing, he should have woken up by now. I grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “Sean!” I rasped.

  He didn’t move.

  I dug my fingers into his bare shoulders and shook him harder. Nothing.

  Already, the room seemed to be getting darker. I felt floaty, like my brain was retreating up into the top of my head. Just shaking him was using up what little oxygen my body had: I felt like a mountain climber struggling to reach the top of Everest.