Femme Fatale

by Kirsty-Anne Still

  I watch as Giovanni holds an item of clothing to the snarling dogs, allowing them to learn the desired scent, and with a sick smirk on his lips, he unclips their leads and steps back. I watch, before the dogs attack, as he begins to wrap the leather around his wrists and watches in glee. As the sound of pain and ripping flesh infiltrates the air, I feel my stomach roil. Hell has just been granted an audience.

  As my gaze floats toward Benji, I instinctively go for Enzo’s hand. The truth of the matter hasn’t settled yet. I look to see him howl in agony, the noise only becoming ever more horrendous. He has one dog tearing into his back, beginning to work its way to gnaw into his shoulder, while the other rips into his bicep.

  “You go behind my back,” my father yells over the top of Benji’s cries and the dogs’ violent attack, “and this is what you get!” And like that, my father’s demeanor cracks and falls away to reveal his inner being – Dio. “My eternal gratitude.” He steps back, his hands splayed out on either side of him in an otherworldly, God-like poise. “Enjoy.” He takes another step back, now surreally calm and poised. “This is the Dio Lavoro. God’s work has only just begun it seems.”

  “What next?” Giovanni asks, not allowing his eyes to leave Benji’s suffering body. “I mean, this is fun, but there’s more to this and Maverick’s still alive.” With that comment, he looks at me, narrowing them into a death glare clearly aware of my loyalties.

  “We now need to deal with the others. I don’t want Big Al around any longer than necessary,” my father speaks, his anger now coming back tenfold. He’s beginning to leave the room, leaving the blooded mess of Benji in the middle of the room. “Enzo, I want you to have full rein on this. Get them gone as soon as, please.” His comment is thrown over his shoulder with no more than a blasé tone. “I expect it done before sunrise.”

  “No,” I announce my presence with a stern, thick voice.

  My father stops retreating from the room and turns fast on his spot. He looks horrified to see me here. Almost as aghast as he is to realize I’ve seen all of this.

  “I want them,” I say and hold my own. I step out from Enzo’s guard and stare directly at my father. “I want all three of them. I want their blood.”

  “No,” my father chortles at me. “I think your loyalty toward Maverick is enough to have me denouncing you of any rights. I really do think you have said and done enough today. Actually, for the last few weeks, you have done nothing but cause a massive rift in this family. So no, Amelia."

  “I will go behind your back if you do not grant me this, Papà,” I threaten, and I’m proud of how fiercely my voice carries through the air.

  "You're being nothing but a child over this. One who needs to be stripped of any and all power. You were the wrong Abbiati to ever drag into this life. I should have listened to your madre. She always told me that you weren't cut out to be what I wanted you to be. I thought she was crazy...I was the only crazy one believing I could make you some heartless beast."

  "But that's the problem," I reply, my ferocious tendencies sparking to life. "You made me into something other than a normal human being, Papà! You made me into someone who blocks everything out to kill in your name."

  He laughs at me, publicly ridiculing me. "So much so, you fell in love, Amelia! You don't blank out at all. You go in with your heart opened wide and hope for some grand ending to the kill. I know all about your facade. You are so incensed by emotions and expectations that your judgment is clouded and always will be. You are everything I never wanted you to be."

  As much as his words penetrate me deep and wound my soul in the process, I keep myself from breaking and my outer appearance toughened up. "Well, now is the time for me to show you what I really am capable of."

  My father begins to shake his head viciously. “No. We are not having this discussion. Bambina, you have one final task then I am revoking all your rights. I should have done this a long time ago. Hell, I should have never allowed you the chance to become a killer. I should have treated you like you were made of glass and made sure you were just a normal Italian daughter.”

  “But you didn’t!” I bellow at him, stepping away from everyone to take my father on directly.

  As he speaks, I feel a rapid fire burst through me. It tears through every cell in my being, destroying it in hateful fire. He ruined my life once already, now he wants to ruin it again. My father took the opportunity to change the course of my life. He decided to do that, no one else. I never had the chance to grow and become my own being because he dictated every step of my life. Now, he wants to tear it all away from me.

  At first, I was angered by the calculated death of Zane at someone else’s hands other than mine. I still am, but after watching Benji’s bloodied demise, I’m filled with more hate fire than ever. However, now my father wants to rid me off any and all of the power he forced upon me and I am becoming a live wire of agitated nerves and disgruntled bursts of anger just waiting to be released. I would gladly release them all in his direction if the end result was incentive for me.

  “You do not get to force me to be your little killer and then take it all away! You do not get to steal my fucking life from me like this. I allowed you the first time, but you do not get to do it again!” I tell myself inwardly to calm, but I’m becoming an unraveled mess. “I am twenty-four years old, and I have no prospects out of this fucking hell because of you. Don’t you dare begin to think I’m going to let you take away my opportunity to get some sort of revenge on the men who tried to kill the man I love!”

  “This is what I mean, Amelia!” My father roars to life, taking gradual steps toward me. “You were never this sort of girl,” he belittles with his wording, but I don’t show any outward signs of him winning. I won’t grant him such gratification. “In the last year, you did the Dio Lavoro, you worked hard to be a part of this family and all it stood for. Now, I barely recognize you! A conscience is bad enough in my eyes, but a damaged one from loving a man is even worse! You knew what Zane Maverick was capable of where you were concerned. He reeled you in, made you love him, only to have him callously throw it back at you. Amelia, had you never experienced that love with him, I believe you could’ve shone. But you, much like your mother, think too much with your heart. All the while you lived with a broken one, it was fine. I thought killing Maverick would have been an excellent show of getting vengeance for yourself. However, it backfired quickly on me. He, once again, changed you.”

  Thank fuck for Zane Maverick – a voice echoes in me, and I am pleased I found love with him. I cannot think of anything worse than being a killing machine with no hope of salvation.

  “Well, thank fuck he did!” I let it slip, and I don’t stop. “Because if he didn’t and you carried on your bidding then I would be royally screwed, Papà. I might love him, but you and I are at an agreement where he is concerned. This, right here,” I take my pause to point to Benji before I continue, “this is about showing four stupid men they cannot change the path the Dio Lavoro has laid. You have shown one how wrong it was. I want the last to show that even though he has to die, I want Zane Maverick dead at my call. No one else gets to undermine me with that.”

  I have been perched on this pedestal for years, guarded by all those around. Never allowed to leave, always expected to perform the Abbiati way. But if this is falling from grace, then I never want it to stop. I'm in love with this danger, this freefall, and this rush of absolute pure adrenaline that is fixing my addiction. I'm in love with being in love. It makes me wild and unpredictable. At worst, it makes me volatile and territorial. It fills me with howls of protection, needs of vengeance, and opens up the dark recesses of me. I would do anything for love – even kill. My love for Zane has driven me crazy, but I am after blood, after revenge, after the chance of getting Zane spared. My father doesn’t get to rid me of that opportunity first.

  This feels like my only way to come into my own. This will, no doubt, seal my fate and enable me to show my father I am not the letdow
n he has currently defined me as.

  "You let me have them," I begin to speak again, this time at a lower key. I tell myself to be calm, to not be a loose cannon. "These are three hits I want my mark all over. I want my face to be the last they see."

  “Why?” my father’s response is a bark of a word, but he awaits my justification casually.

  “Because I don’t like being undermined by my own family, let alone people like Benji and Big Al, Papà. I wanted blood the moment Enzo announced Zane’s shooting. I wanted revenge on the son of a bitch who tried to ruin this. If I’m going to lose my status in the family and lose the love of my life with it, I want to go out with a bang. Grant me some last glory if you’re going to throw me aside.” I don’t deter from my armored tirade against my father. If anything, I’m stoic and push forward fearlessly. “You ruined every aspect of my upbringing, at least grant me this before I try to find some sort of life after being your secret weapon.”

  “Fine,” my father speaks and then looks down at Benji’s body. He points at it before he speaks again. “That’s one down, three to go where they’re concerned. Zane is another casualty in your end game, Amelia.”

  “I don’t think this is a wise idea,” Enzo interjects finally, showing his disapproval. “I think we’re exhausted and thinking irrationally over the matter here.”

  “This is what your sister wants.” My father cuts Enzo off with a sharp tone. “What she wants, she gets this time.” He then looks away from his son and levels a gaze upon me. “Four more kills and you’re done, Amelia.”

  Three wanted murders, one unwanted, and I’m out of a job – this just got real.

  ***

  I go outside into the darkened backyard. I do the one thing I’ve been itching to do all day – light up a cigarette. It’s a dirty habit, I know, but my stresses are rolling tides waiting to consume me whole. I rarely turn to smoking as a way to ease my anxieties, but for now, it feels like the right thing to do. I allow the small cancer-inducing stick to take my worries and burn them away into wisps of white puffs of smoke.

  I lean forward against the black iron railing and look out over the night covered yard. I can see shapes in the blackness, shadows cast around, but other than that, I am looking at absolute nothingness and I couldn’t care. My thoughts are so crowded and running a million miles a minute, I don’t need anything visually stimulating to look at.

  Enzo and Carlo have been given the dirty job of hiding Benji’s body. I have to work fast so that Big Al and his other goons do not catch wind that my father knows of their death ploy against Zane. I’m down with that. I will work on Jimmy and Marius tomorrow. Big Al can wait for a grand finale. I have no plans for their deaths, but I know that it starts at sunrise.

  “You’re stupid, you know that?” Giovanni announces from behind me, and I turn to watch him approach me across the back porch.

  I laugh and take another delicious drag of nicotine. “And you’re a pain in my ass, Gio, but I tolerate you being around.” I lean against the railing behind me and look at him. “What do you want?”

  He steps toward me, arrogance marring him wholly, and I would just love to steal a slice of his smugness one day; to somehow knock him down a few pegs. I know my wishful thinking is going into overdrive, but you can’t blame me for being a fucking optimistic. He plucks the cigarette from my hand and takes a leisurely drag from it.

  “I was watching you earlier and wondering how you got to be so fucking weak, Amelia. I used to admire you in the beginning. You’d seduce these men and do Papà’s will so easily. It was literally like breathing. Then there was Zane and you were granted the ability to live a little, but then he left and you came back harsher and more greedy to just bury yourself in the kind of male attention you could kill. Now, you’re just a mess.”

  I snatch the cigarette back and shake my head. “It’s easier to kill a man after sex than it is after he’s made an impression.”

  “Ah, like Zane?” he asks and turns to look at me. “His impression is pretty fucking deep, right?”

  “We’ve made that observation already, Gio,” I sneer and try my damndest not to lose my temper with him. Around Giovanni, my nerves are ruined and my anger has no restraint. I just bounce off him, and it becomes a regretful exchange between the two of us.

  “How could you let him in again, Amelia?” Giovanni’s question travels with a softness about it, a haze of confusion clinching it tightly. “He hurt you once, why are you allowing yourself to be set up for the ultimate hurt? I know it has nothing to do with revenge. The way you responded to him being shot told us all how you really fucking feel about him. There’s no way to dispute it. So why are you messing the family around by telling us you’ll kill him once you’ve had whatever twisted fairytale you want? Why are you giving him time when he doesn’t deserve it? Why are you putting yourself through this when it is never going to end the way you want it to? Why are you granting him this?”

  “Like I would tell you anything. It’s not like you’d have some grand understanding of me. You just want something to go back to Papà with.” I laugh skeptically at him and his ulterior motives. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but he knows everything there is to know.”

  “You’re a stupid girl, Amelia. It’s about time Papà began to see it. You over think everything, and look where it’s gotten you.” His pause is only used to look at me. “Stupid in love and it’s tearing you apart. Can’t you see that?”

  “Don’t judge me,” I snarl at him and drop my cigarette onto the floor. I push my foot onto it, extinguishing it. “Just because you were born without a conscience, doesn’t mean I was, Gio. You can have your fun being truly sadistic and trying to win Papà over, but I will do this my way. Yes, I love Zane, and yes, I am well aware of how he left me before. But things change, people change.” I shake my head, stopping myself from continuing with this. Giovanni and I are not the siblings who have heart to hearts, but near misses, like this one, make me remember when he was so fucked up in the head. “I remember there was a time I actually used to like you. What the fuck happened?”

  “He killed our madre.” Giovanni’s response is spoken dryly, and he doesn’t look at me as he says it. “A part of me does hate him for what he did, hell, what he still does to you, but I want his status and I will fight my way to the top. This family needs a re-invention.”

  “And you’re the one to do it?” I scoff dubiously and try to withhold my laughter, but it doesn’t work out and I chuckle a little. “You’re actually crazier than I thought. You’d kill us all before your first week was up.” I lean in a little close to him, making sure to invade his personal space. “I hope to God Enzo makes it and you finally get what you deserve. You sick, perverse wannabe.” As I step back, I can see I’ve rattled him. “How about, from this point onwards, you stay away from my business with Zane, and I’ll stay away from whatever murderous business you’re up to. I’m fine pretending you don’t exist, because in my eyes, siblings are the ones who are there for each other. Not ones that offer their little sisters up as bait to traffickers. I’m perfectly okay with four brothers, Giovanni. I learned a long time ago, you are no loss to my life.”

  “You’ll regret saying that, Amelia,” he declares, and the threat hits me square on, but I don’t quake with fear.

  “Maybe I will, but it feels fucking good right now,” I announce and turn to leave. “Gio, you’re nothing but my supplier now. You aren’t a part of my family. What I do isn’t to impress you or keep you civil anymore.” My comment is chucked over my shoulder with a blasé tone, and I casually make my way back into the house.

  I know what I’ve done is not productive or good for the family, but my association with Giovanni doesn’t feel like it’s obligated because he’s family. He is a puppet my father loves to use. He, long ago, left the family. He wants to have an opinion in my life, but he’s too late for that. That ship sailed a long time ago, and I won’t miss him trying to have a say in how I should conduct my own busi
ness when he doesn’t respect our input in his.

  I head through the house – it’s all silent now, a stark contrast from before. I make my way up the grand staircase, taking my time as I do so. I’m in no rush, but cannot wait to wash the day away and crawl into my bed. When I make it to the top landing, I walk down the corridor, bypassing Carlo’s and Manuel’s rooms. They’re silent, too, and I realize I have no idea if they’re even in the house. If I know Carlo, he will have left the house to find his latest sexual conquest. Manuel keeps to himself a lot, so I can easily assume he’s in his room, locked away with a book.

  When I reach my bedroom, I push the door open and quickly enter only to slam it shut. Locked away in my room, I stand still for a moment as a rush of tranquility invades my system. In all the horrors of this evening, I haven’t taken a moment to think about Zane. Looking at the clock on my bedside table, I realize it’s now nearing two AM. So much for that seven hours of sleep I had so craved before I head back to the hospital first thing in the morning.

  Driving myself toward the bathroom, I head straight for the shower. I turn it on and allow the water to warm. While I wait, I strip and begin to mentally plan my next three assassinations. Jimmy, Marius, and Big Al – they will be my best and worst kills. I don’t know if I’ll stick to my normal Femme Fatale ways of poisoning or if I’ll address them with a Giovanni influence, but whatever happens, they will all end up six feet under. I want them to regret ever underestimating me and my plans.

  As I finally stand under the shower, I feel like I’m being showered with droplets of weighted iron. Each one makes me feel heavier and heavier as my thoughts consume me in one. I thought a shower would help me relax, allow my notions to fall away and wash away with the water. However, here I’m trapped with my inner philosophies and working plans of murderous intent.