A Beautiful Fate

by Cat Mann

  ****

  We took Julia and Rory to the airport on Saturday. August and Julia hugged about a million times and I am pretty sure I saw him cry when they said their final goodbye.

  “How come you never told me about Julia before? She is so awesome,” August said as we headed out of the airport.

  “Umm, Julia is… nice. She’s a good friend. I guess I didn’t think my past would ever mingle with my present. I am really glad you like her.”

  I didn’t say much more on the cab ride home. A part of me was elated that they had come to see me, but now that they were gone, I felt empty. The anger and sadness started to creep back into my psyche. I felt that old self-hate begin to rise in me again. If I could be any other person in the world, I could just go home and be normal with Ari.

  August and I arrived back at our flat and I went straight back to my room. I eased down on my box springs, covered myself up with a sweater, and let the tears roll down my cheeks.

  That night I had a dream that August had gone to Camden Bar & Kitchen to fetch our drinks. At first, I paid no real attention to the dream; then I noticed a man dressed in black, sitting alone at a small table near the window. I had seen this man before, in another dream. This was No. 4 and the vial in his hand made his plan perfectly clear. Poison.

  By the time the sun peeked through my windows, my plan was already under way. I woke August up by digging through his closet for a ginger-colored, curly-haired wig that I had seen in there a few weeks ago. I also dragged out a pair of fish-net stockings and a leather mini skirt, then headed to the bathroom to get ready. I paired my new outfit with some black leather boots and a black leather jacket. Julia had left her eye make up on the counter, so I put on dark eyeliner and fake eyelashes to go along with the rest of my ensemble.

  August stumbled groggily into the bathroom, looked at me and said, “Okay, Ava, you have seriously lost it.”

  “Shut up and listen,” I snapped as I pushed him down onto the toilet as a makeshift seat. “Here’s the plan. The fourth Kakos is making an appearance today and he has added you to his hit list, so if you want to survive, you will do as I say.”

  I saw that I had his full attention, and continued. “Today, at ten o’clock, No. 4 is going to be at the Camden Bar & Kitchen. He will have paid the cashier to spike the drinks that you order with poison. I am going to head toward Camden's but stop at the little drug store on the corner for a vial just like the one I saw in my dream, fill it with water and get there before you arrive.

  “No. 4 will make a huge mistake right before you walk through the door. He will go to the loo, and when he does, he’ll leave the poison in the inner pocket of his suit jacket. I am going to switch the vials, pour the real poison into his coffee and then leave Camden's, pretending I have a phone call to make. When you see me leave, that is your cue to order our drinks. You need to sit by the counter and act pre-occupied so No. 4 will feel comfortable with the transaction. He will walk from the bathroom, grab the vial out of his pocket, and pretend to make small talk with the cashier as he nonchalantly passes the now fake poison on. As soon as you get the drinks, you need to leave Camden’s and bring the coffee straight back here. No. 4 is going to return to his table and drink that poison and I don’t want you anywhere around when he does.”

  August stared at me for a long while in disbelief.

  “It’s either that, or Nora will find our dead bodies on Monday.”

  “Sick,” he said with a scrunched-up nose.

  “Yeah, tell me about it,” I agreed. “So you’re in?”

  August agreed, and at ten, I arrived at the café, in full costume, and took my place at a table near No. 4. He looked me over with no change of expression and went back to pretending to consider a menu. His jacket was hanging from his chair and I could spy the outline of the vial of clear poison in the inner breast pocket. I ordered a flat white and a few short minutes later, he stood up and walked to the restroom.

  As soon as I heard the door click shut, I got to work, grabbing the vial out of his pocket, and dumping the liquid into his coffee. I worked fast, careful not to be noticed by any of the patrons, most of whom were sipping hot coffee and checking the morning Times. I took my vial, shoved it into his pocket, slid the empty one into my own coat pocket and headed out to the street to make my fake phone call. My heart was pounding and my palms were sweaty. If I messed up this plan, August and I were both goners.

  When No. 4 returned to his table, August walked in and placed our regular order of drinks. He eased onto a stool to wait. No. 4 came up to the counter and asked for a morning paper, palming the fake bottle to the cashier at the same time and then went back to his seat. The cashier handed August our drinks and told him that this time the drinks were on the house. A very kind sort of fellow … giving us coffee that he had just doctored up.

  August did as I had told him to and went straight back to the flat while I waited for No. 4 to take a drink of his coffee.

  Seconds passed. I watched him read the paper.

  Minutes passed.

  Drink.

  Drink.

  Drink, damn it, drink.

  My heart pounded, my breathing hitched in my chest as No. 4 put the cup up to his lips. A few tense moments passed and then suddenly he grabbed his chest in shock and pain. His eyes widened and then slid closed as he slumped out of his chair and onto the floor. Screams and panic broke out in the café. Questions about the Heimlich maneuver and about who would call the paramedics flew in the air and one customer tried to start CPR. I took the chaos as my cue to walk away.

  The next day, August and I went back to Camden Bar & Kitchen and I walked up to the cashier. His nametag told me his name was Keith.

  “Hi Keith, you remember me? I am supposed to be dead, right? Well as you can see I’m not, no thanks to you.” I lowered my voice to a near whisper and gave him an evil smile. “I’m watching you, and someday, when you least expect it, I will give you what you deserve.”

  Keith said not a word nor did he blink an eye as August and I walked away. I didn’t really plan to seek any revenge on him, though. I do think that sometimes silence-induced paranoia is enough torture on its own.

  August and I made our way down the street towards Jake’s. August had a grumpy look on his face.

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Nothing,” he pouted. “It’s just, this stinks. Now we’re going to have to find a new place to get coffee.”

  I laughed, “I know. Bummer, right?”

  After a fourth tally mark was tattooed on my left wrist, I went back to staying at the flat again, wrapped in Ari’s sweatshirt, sick and shaky. The news shows reported No. 4’s death and, detailed another horrible rap sheet. But even though these men had been monsters, the knowledge that I had taken lives that weren’t already on the edge of ending unnerved me. I tried to justify my actions by reminding myself over and over again that, if I had not acted, I would certainly be dead myself. But still I obsessed over what I had done to the point of sickness.

  Killing the Kakos was much different from cutting the threads in my dream. For the most part, my dream involved people who were dying and just needed help making it to the other side. For them, death was a part of life, something neither I nor they could avoid. Killing the Kakos was a cold-blooded act, born of a conscious mind and it took a toll on me, even though I knew it had to be either them or me. August suggested I take my matter up in a church.

  “I’ll go with you, Ava, if you want.”

  “Fine.” Couldn’t hurt, I guessed. We went to a small church on a quiet corner and I made a silent confession and begged for forgiveness. When we left, I was shaking and could not stop the tears from flowing. August had to help me back to the flat.

  “Ok, maybe church was too much. Perhaps you should just go get drunk. I would be more than willing to do that with you.”

  “I don’t drink, August.”

  “Well, maybe you should.”

  “I don’t kno
w if you’ve noticed or not, but I am a complete control freak. I cannot lose control, ever. Drinking is a horrible idea.”

  “Well, I still think you should try it,” he responded.

  Margaux called me to check in shortly after the news reported the death of No. 4. The last time we had spoken was by text, just after No. 3 was found. I let her know that I was fine and on track to graduate. Neither of us actually spoke about No. 4’s death, but we both knew that was why she was calling.