PARTI
WRENGRAY
Itake a long drag of my cigarette, breathing in that calming smoke before releasing it into the interior of the car Wispy tendrilscurlaroundthecabinasIstopthevehicleinfrontofamodest,unassuminghouseattheedgesofsuburbia.Behind me, city lights illuminate the skyline beckoning me right back into the glitz, glamor, and typical gore of the Chicago underworld.
EverysecondthathasledmetothisnightisstainedbyeveryhorribleactIhaveevercommitted.Thisnightwillonlyusher mequickertowardsanearlyandgruesomedeath Formyhost,though,itismerelyaneveningdrinkwithagoodfriend Islipoutofthedriver’sseat,puttingthecigaretteoutonthesidewalkbeforeascendingthefew stepstothefrontdoor.It swingsopenasmyfoottouchesdownonthetopstep,andthegrinningfacethatgreetsmeignitesasmallsmileofmyown “Eoin.”Theoldermanhasaninfectioussortofdemeanor.Evenontheworstdays,Seamusalwayshasaquicksmileand off-colorjokesreadyandwaiting
Lookingathimnow,it’shardtobelievehebuiltthegangofmenI’vecometoconsiderfamily.Nottomentionthevarious urbanlegendsattributedtotheman,whowasoncelarger thanlife.ThisversionofSeamusKennedy,BossoftheNorthSide Boys,isthoroughlydomesticatedandsettledintohisroleasafamilyman
When Seamus first came to me with his desire to step away from leading the North Side Boys, I was taken aback. Rightfully so the man had conquered Chicago’s North Side and, to this day, remains an immovable stone in Cristiano Falcone’sshoe.Heisa legend.Yetallhe’severwantedwastogivehiswifeandsonaproperhome,andsettleintoasimpler sortoflife Itwasallameanstoanendforhimwhiletherestofusstillthinkit’sourlife’spurpose
“Dia duit, a sheanchara. ” Hello, old friend.Ournativetonguefallsfrommylips,heavybutsmoothacrossmytongue. The man’s expression softens as if remembering something he’s long ago forgotten. “Not old yet.” He claps me on the shoulder,openingthedoorwideenoughtoallowmetoenter “Notyet”
“Oh,Eoin!It’s sogoodtosee you,dear.” Magda Kennedyappears beside her husbandas iffromthinair.She is a stout littlewoman,overflowingwithloveandaffectionforeveryone
Whileherhusbandisajovialman,Magda’sgoodnatureisablindingforceinaworldsooftenshroudedindarkness.No
onecanrefuseahugfromher,andwithinminutes,she’llsetherselfupasyournewfoundmotherifyoudon’thaveoneofyour own.
“Mrs Kennedy Alwaysapleasure,ma’am”Itakeherhandinmine,plantingatenderkissacrossherknuckles Sheblushes,sendingherhusbandascandalizedexpression,andIswearshegigglestoo.
Joypermeatesthehouse,comfortingandcalming,andasalways,Iwonder whythetwohaven’thadagaggleofchildren insteadofjustoneson.Theyclearlyhaveenoughloveforalargebrood,andthensome.
Magdareachesformycoatwithoutpreamble,tuggingatthecollar “Well,don’tjuststandinthedoorway Comein Come inandgetwarm.Wouldyoulikesomethingtodrink?”
“He’llhavescotch,”Seamusstates,withthatwidesmileofhisstillinplace. Relinquishingmycoattotheladyofthehouse,Ifollowherhusbandintothefamilyroom,findingaglassofbronzeliquid thrustintomyemptyhandsecondslater.Magdamakeshospitalitylooklikeherlife’swork,andaswemoveintotheirmodest familyroom,thesenseofbelongingisimpossibletoignore
SeamussitsinachairoppositetheoneIsettleinto,andhisexpressiongoesserious.Sooftenthroughouttheyear,I’dsee pityintheoldman’seyes asifhestillfeelsbadforgivinghisfamilywhatI’veneverhad Myroughstarthadnothingtodo withhim,butthegriefhesharesformybrothersandmesomehowstillmanagestogutme.
“You’vedonewellovertheyears.”Hisvoicebringsmebacktothemomentasifhe’sreadingmythoughts.“Ihopeyou’ve consideredmyoffer”
Thesuddenmentionofthepossiblechangeinpowerhasmyfullattention.
Inod,leaningforwardandsettingmytumbleronthecoffeetablebetweenus “Ihave”Irunahandovertheshortstubble onmychin.“Therewillbeafewwhowon’tbekeenonthechange.”
Iwasn’tsurethiswaswhathewantedtospeakof,butapparently,it’sweighingheavilyontheman.
“Fuck‘em,”Seamusrepliesnonchalantly,accompaniedbyasoftlaugh.”Youhaveyourboys.Anyonewhofeelsthreatened bymychoicewasn’ttrulyloyaltobeginwith.Feelfreetomakeanexampleofthewanker.”
“YouknowIcan’tsayno,Seamus”
It’s a subtle way of saying “let war come”, but neither one of us really wants that. There is far too much on the line. Governmentprohibitionofalcoholisnolongeramererumor,andsoon,everydistilleryandbrewerywehaveunderourthumb willbeatarget nottomentionthedozensofestablishmentsthatthriveonpublicconsumption.Luckilyforus,wespecialize inillegalactivity.
Soon,businesswillbebooming.
Isettlebackintothecouchcushions,takingonhiscarefreedemeanor.Idon’tknowhowhedoesit,butevenintheworstof situations,SeamusKennedyisacoolbreezeofuttercalm
I was back from France having fought a war I had very little interest in less than a month when he offhandedly mentionedpassingleadershiptome Theemptinessthattookoverintheaftermathofmyreturnspurredmetowardsthisvery conversation. Ifeel war-torn, tired, and I’mitchingto find a purpose thatwill keep me fromdrowninginmyownproduct. Refusinghasneverevencrossedmymind.
Henods,draininghisscotchinonequickswig “Thenit’ssettled” “Lookslikeitis.”
As the confirmation slips off my lips, a swath of white fromthe stairwell behind Seamus catches my attention In the shadowcreatedbehindthebanister,brightgreeneyesstarebackatme.
“Itappears we have a little spy” Leaningforward once more, Ipickup myglass and motionto the stairs for the older man’sbenefit.
Seamustwistsinhisseat,sighingsoftlyandshakinghishead,whenhespotsthesmallfigure.“Evie. ”
Hebreatheshernamewithsomuchaffection,Ican’thelpbutmomentarilyswitchmyattentiontohim ThemanIknowwas aruthlessgangster,butthismanissofullofloveforthislittlegirl hismerevoicesaysitall.
She’sgainedweightsinceIlastsaw her,andhervibrantredhairhangsaroundhershouldersinahalooffireeveninthe dimnessofthestairwell.
Myfirstglimpseofthegirltugsatmyblackenedheart
Starved,freezing,andwanderingthebackalleysoftheItalianSouthSide,shewasallaloneinaworldthatwoulddevour her before she evenhad a chance. Seamus had heard aboutthe girl fromhis ever-reliable rumor mill, and myfirstjob back fromthewarfrontwastofindherandhermother,andbringthemhome WhatwediscoveredinsteadwassomethingIwould neverforget.CatrionaKennedyhaddiedinanabandonedapartmentinItalianterritory causeofdeathwasassumedtobethe worstforawomanofgoodnature AndlittleEvelynwassilentandwary
Thegazeshelevels onmenow holds somuchmorethananychild’s I’veever seen,andtherecognitioninher assessing doeeyesisinstantandintense.
Alifetimeofhurtswims inthoseemeraldpools,whereinnocenceshouldstill takeupresidence.Sheholds mygazelike shewants aglimpseofmysoul,andIknow whatshesees there: deathandendless darkness.Nolittlegirl shouldrecognize
suchthingsinanother.
Like calls to like
“Goodnessgracious,Evelyn!”MagdamusthaveheardSeamussaythegirl’sname Sheappearsfromthekitchen,wringing herhandsinateatowelassherushesupthestairs.“Gettobed,sweetchild!”Hervoiceechoesdownthestairwell,mirroring theoverwhelmingadorationthatlacedherhusband’svoice
“Howisshedoing?”Mygazeflicksbacktotheplaceonthestairsthegirloccupied,andmycuriosityrages.
Idon’tbotheraskingwhyhissisterwaslivinginrivalterritory Thewomanisdead Whatevertroubleshegotherselfinto isn’tbitingatherheelsanylonger.
Seamusshakeshisheadandshiftstotheedgeofhisseat.Hisbrowscreasethespaceabovehislargenose.“Aswellascan be expected, I imagine” His expressionshifts towards somethingresemblingremorse, and he drags a hand downhis face, diggingfingersintodeep-seteyes.“WhichisanotherreasonwhyI’mthankfultoyouforpickingupmymantle.”Seamusforces asoftlaughthatfadesfartooquickly “Ihaveotherthingsholdingmyattentionthesedays”
Inturn, Iforce myownsolemnsmile, glancingatthe stairwell one lasttime before standing. “Justtake care ofyourself, Seamus TheyneedyoumorethanIdo”
Henodsonce,settinghisglassdownbeforestandingaswell.“Theywon’teverletmetrulywalkaway,willthey?”
“No.Theywon’t.”Itisthehardtruthinourworld.Hewillhaveatargetonhisbackfortherestofhislife,anditwillhaunt himintothenextone
Wemoveinunisonbacktowardsthefoyer,Seamusretrievingmycoatforme.Thebittercoldhitsuslikeawallofice,and theporchcreaksunderourweight,thenightsilentaroundus Ishrugmyselfbackintotherelativewarmththewooloffersand pulloutacigarette,offeringonetohim.
Seamusputsahandup,refusingthesmoke.“There’ssomethingelseIneedtoaskyou,Eoin.”
“YouknowIcannotrefuseyouathing,oldman.”Igrin,slippingthebuttbetweenmylipsandlightingitwithamatch. Hedoesn’tlookatmebutupatthebleaknightsky,asthoughtheanswerissomewhereoverhead.“Wouldyoutakecareof her for me? Ifsomethingwere to happento me and Magda? Make sure she has a good life She doesn’tever need to know about ” He motions a hand backand forthbetweenus, indicatingour chosen“profession”. “She’s beenthroughtoo much already”
Silencehangsheavybetweenusashiswordssinkin.TheKennedysareasclosetofamilyasI’veeverknown.Becauseof them,I’vemadeanameformyselfinaworldthatonlywantstodragmethroughthemud.Returningthefavorisn’tamatterof choice.Seamusisaskingmebecausehecan’tbringhimselftotrustanyoneelsewithhisniece.Histrustisaprivilegeveryfew everearn.
Mythoughts go backto the little girl inside and to the nightIheld her inmyarms, so tinyand tremblingwiththe whole worldagainsther.“Ofcourse,Seamus.”
Abarrageofquestionscoursethroughme,butIholdmytongue It’seasytoguesswherehisconcernsstemfrom Afterall, ourmortalityisabeastwetrytooutruneverysecondofourlives.Seamusisn’tasyoungasheoncewas,andthetargethe’sput onhisbackwillonlymultiplywhenhepasseshislegacytomeandnotoneoftheoriginalboys.
Thesmileheoffersinreturnisweakyetbrimmingwithgratitude “Manywouldn’tagree,butyou’reagoodman,Eoin”He huffsasmalllaughandholdsouthishandtome.
Withouthesitation,Itakeitandpullhimintoatighthug “Takecareofyourself,oldman” Hethumpsmybacksoundlyasifthisissomefinalgoodbye.“Stayalive,kid.”
OveradecadehaspassedsinceItookthemantleofBossfromSeamusKennedy,overadecadeofrulingChicago’sNorth End.Prohibitionisinfullswing,andbusinessis good.
Demandforalcoholhasonlysky-rocketed,muchtothedismayofnearlyalllaw-abidingpoliticiansandGod-fearing mothersacrossthecountry.Yet,theyaren’tmyonlyproblem.MybiggestthreatsarestilltherivalgangsthatcallChicagohome too. Most notably, the fucking Italian trash that controls the South Side with an iron grip. The Falcone Crime Family is a sword-sizedthorninmyside
“Howmuchdidtheydestroy?”SeamusbusieshimselfwithsippingfromhisflaskwhenIjoinhimoutsideoneofourmore profitablebreweries OnetheItalianshaven’thit yet
Itisn’toftenthatImake appearances this far outside the citylimits, butIneed to putanold grudge to rest. Seamus was morethanwillingtosetupthemeeting,howeverskepticalhemaybeovertheentireordeal
“Theentirefuckingstill.Tookanythingthatwasn’tnaileddown,andburnedittotheground.Killedsixofmybestmenjust to drive the point home.” I slide myhands into the pockets of myslacks, leaningagainst the door jamb that leads into the blackenedbarn
Inapreviouslife,itwasatypicalfarm,completewithcowsandchickens.War,Prohibition,andthesubsequentfailureof theeconomyhavemadeaghosttownoftheplace,leavingitforthetakingforbootleggerslikeus
Inside,mybrothersandafewofourmenarebusybottlinghoochforaratherprofitabledropdowntown.Itneverceasesto amazemehowfarthoseinpoweronthelawfulsideofthelinewillgotogettheirhandsonillegalalcohol
Earlyoninlife, Ilearned thattrue, morallyupstanding, and law-abidingcitizens are few and far between. Ihave never botheredtocountmyselfamongstthem.Chicagoisheldtogetherbythetenuousstringsofdiscourse,anditsdarkunderworld ridesafinelineofmoralityandcorruption Myownmoralityhasneverbeeninquestion,though I’mnotsureifIeverhadan ounce to begin with. Fromday one, it’s been my brothers and me, and we did what we had to in order to survive. And survivingmeantplayingthegame
Seamus grimaces, takingyetanother sip ofhis favorite hooch his ownrecipe. “Theyhad to have eyes onitfor quite a
while.I’dtakeitasacompliment.”Adrychucklefollowsasheoffersmeadrink.
Inod,knowingfull-wellthattheywouldn’thavebotheredwithitiftheydidn’tthinkwewereathreat.Itakealongswig fromthesmallsilverflask Untilrecently,activityontheSouthEnddidn’tconcernmemucheither,butthatdrawnlinebetween territoriesisbeginningtoblur,andCristianoFalconeneedstostayonhisfuckingside.
“Ihavearat”Iforcethewordsoutinarushoffury,andSeamusdoesn’tevenbothertodisagree Thereissimplynoother explanation.Falcone wouldn’tdare be sorecklesslyboldwithoutinside knowledge ofmyoperations.Someone has ledhim righttoit “DiggingupafuckingtraitoristhelastthingIneedrightnow”
Loyaltyisworthmorethancashinthislineofwork,anditispaidforinblood.Loyaltyis everything.Andbloodisahigh price to pay. Whoever turned their backonme will paydearlyfor thattransgression. I’ll make themsuffer, and itwon’tbe quicknorpainless
Inever setoutto be a cruel man, buttime and testinghave twisted and corrupted me into somethingIbarelyrecognize. OveradecadeofrunningtheNorthSide,andI’veearnedeveryrumoreverspreadwithmynameattached Inowownthename theywhisperindarkenedalleysoutoffear,anduseittomyadvantageateveryturn.
EoinO’Malleyisagoodman Brother,friend,businessman
TheIrishDevilisamonster.Criminal,murderer,villain.
Ishove a hand throughmyhair, tuggingatthe strands infrustration. Normally, Ikeep myemotions locked awayunder a façadeofcollectedcalmandtotalcontrol,butSeamushasknownmesinceIwasastarvingkidonthestreets Hewastheone topracticallyraisemeandmybrothers heknowsmeinsideandout,likeafatherwould.Likemyfathershouldhave.
Whenit’sjustSeamusandme,Idropthemaskoutofrespectforeverythinghehasdoneforme
“Itmightbeeasiertofindoutwhoitisthanwethink,”Seamusoffers,absentlytuckingthealcoholintohiscoat.“Couldbe justthejobfortheoldboys.Titfortat.They’llwantsomeskininyourgameiftheygiveusanything.”
I’mnotkeenontheideaoflettingthembackinorgivingthemanything.AsfarasI’mconcerned,theyoweittoSeamusto giveupanyknowledgetheyhave.
Inod inunderstanding, knowingfullywell thatthe old manis tryingto kill two birds withone stone “As longas they behavethemselves.”Idon’tseethattrulyhappening,though,whenIamsodirectlyinvolved.
Headlights appear beyond the line oftrees and illuminate the dirtroad thatleads towards us Overhead, the moonhangs highinacloudlesssky,highlightinganyfeatureitcanreach.
“Speakingofthedevils,”hemusesasasleekblackFordcomestoaskiddinghaltinthepackeddirt.
Instinctively,Irunahanddowntheleftsideofmyjacket,feelingthefamiliarbulgeofmygunundermyarm,loadedand ready.
The“oldguys”arethelastremnantsofSeamus’soriginal crew thethreemenwhostoodbyhissideintheearlyyears They claimto want back in, but their one condition is Seamus’s reinstatement as the leader of the North Side Boys. They simplycan’taccepttheinevitable theirtimeisover,andSeamushasmovedonwithoutthem
These days, theyare wastingawayunder the stress and duress of decades’worthof walkingonthe wrongside of the tracks,andtheirmortalityhasalreadybeenknocking.Howanyofthemhaveeludeddeathsofarisbeyondme.
“Whatthefeckis he doinghere?”Atall,lankymanunfoldshimselffrombehindthesteeringwheel,gracingmewithaglare thatholdsasmuchdisdainasIfeelinreturn.He’stheleaderofthislittletrioofmisfits,andheloathestheverygroundIwalk on We’venevergottenalong,buttheissuerestssolelywithhim.HehasnevergottenoverSeamussteppingdownandsureas fuckdoesn’tagreewithmetakinguphisplace Now,Iruntheshow,andevenadecadelater,hestillcan’tletitgo Seamuscrossesthedistancetohim,bothhandsraisedslightlyinresolutedeference.“Ididn’taskyouheretodiscussthe past,Dermot.Youknowthat.”
“Thenyoushouldn’t have let himtagalong” Dermot points a thin, agingfinger at me, but his attentionis solelyonhis formerfriend.“Timeain’tgoingtochangeanything.Youmadeyourchoice.”
Thewordsareashotaimedtowound,butSeamusstraightenshisspineandstepsintotheman Ican’tseehisface,butI knowhe’spissed.Everyoneelsealwaysforgetsthatabouthim Seamus’sangerisalwayswell-placedandruthless.
“Idid,Dermot You’reright”Hisvoiceislowernow,missingthattoneofrespectheusedonlyasecondago “Anditwas yourjobtoacceptit.YousayIhavenoloyalty?Well,wherethefeckisyours?”
“Withmymen.”
“Whoarejustasdisloyalanddishonestasyouare!”Seamusshouts,mereinchesfromtheman’sface,andmayhaveeven spitonhimifthedisgustedgrimacethatmarsDermot’sweatheredfeaturessaysanything.“Yourfallfromgloryhadnothingto dowithmeandeverythingtodowithyourselfishneedtobetopdog Getthefuckoveryourself”
While I commend Seamus for finally saying his piece, none of this is helping. We are even further fromour intended businesswiththesefoolsthanwewerebeforetheyshowedup.
Imoveinbetweenthegatheredmen,forcingSeamusandDermottogiveeachothersomebreathingroom.“Alright,boys.I thinkthat’senoughofthat.”
“Getfucked,O’Malley,”Dermotsneers.
Histwocomradesnodinagreementwiththeirleader’sshoddycurse,justlikethegoodlittleobedientgoonstheyare.Cian, withhisyellowingteeth,andMartin,shortandstocky,flankDermot,graspingforthatdominantairthatsomemenseemtobe bornwith.Thesetwojustdon’thaveit.
Levelingmygazeontheannoyingfuck,Ifeelmyownirritationrisingbythesecond Itiltmyheadeversoslightly,asmall smirktuggingatmylips.MyeyesslipclosedforamomentasItakeasteadyingbreath,holdingbackadecadeofangerthese three have stirred back to life When I open my eyes again, the look on Dermot’s face can’t be described as anything but cautious.
Heknowsme.Therefore,heknowsexactlywhatIamcapableof,andheistestingmylimits.
“Iamnotinthemoodforanyofyourbullshit Soshutthefuckupandlisten,orgetthehelloutofhere Yourchoice After all,youdiddriveallthisway.”
“Icameallthiswaytospeaktoanoldfriend Nottosomegoonlookingtolinehispocketswithour money”
Ican’thelpbutchuckle.Liftingmygazetothepitch-blacksky,Ilickmybottomlipandletlooseanexasperatedbreath.My jawistightwithtension,justlikemyfiststhatIitchtothrowatthefucker’shead That’dshuthimup,yetitwouldn’tsolveany problems.Butdamnwoulditfeelsonice.
Seamus must have noticed how tight of a grip I have onmythinningself-control. He steps backinto mypath, blocking Dermotfromthe simmeringrage he has so easilycoaxed The calmand collected versionofmyselfthatIhold inplace so preciselyhasdissipated,leavingbehindthemanmostaresmartenoughtofear.
Dermothasneverhadthepleasureoflearningthatlesson,andIwantnothingmorethantoteachhimonceandforall Seamusputshishandout,forcingmetokeepmydistanceasifhe’scontrollingagoddamndog,andoneofDermot’sboys catchestheaction.
Ciangrinsfromeartoear,showingoffhiscrooked,yellowteeth.“Youneedtokeepyourslobberin’petonatighterleash, Seamus.He’smakin’youlooklikeachump.”
Martinkeepshistrapshutbutchucklesinhisthroat
“I’d pick my next words very carefully if I were you.” I eye the three men individually, watching Dermot’s two boys shrivelunderthescrutiny “Andtakehisactionforwhatitreallyis hisattemptatprotectingyoufuckingmugs”
Dermotpuffshischestoutlikehehasanychanceintheworldtotakemeon.“Ohyeah?Andwhatyougonnado,boy?”His voicecrankswithtrepidation,andhisgazeisfullofregretthemomentIstepintoSeamus’shand.
Idragmyteethacrossmybottomlip,asmiletuggingatmymouth.Mygazeneverfalters,nevershiftsfromhisworry-filled, bloodshoteyes.Oh,hethinkshe’sbeingstrong,standingfirminthefaceofadversity,buthe’scoweringinside,andIcanseeit. Icanfeel it He’sshakinginhisfuckingshoes
TheflinchthattightenshisfrailframeisoneofthemostamusingthingsI’vewitnessedthismonth.He’sterrifiedofmebut toodamnstupidtoadmitit,andunabletomaskit
Somepartofmecommendshimonhisforcedbravery,butthepartofmethatwantsnothingmorethantoseehimsixfeet underisreadytomakethatareality.Rightnow,nothingwouldmakemehappier.
Heknowshe’strapped,andthatrealizationflashesacrosshisfaceinaflickerbeforeheoncemoresquareshisshoulders “I’msureyoucanuseyourimagination.”Myvoiceisedgedandharsh,amorbidcontrasttothesmilestilltippingmylips. “IknowIwill”
Horrorglosseshisexpression,aswellasthoseoftheothertwo.Mygringrows,andsomethingsinisterrisesinmychestat thesightofthem soeasyforthepickingwithoutevenrealizingit Well,theysurelydonow “Call offyourdog,Seamus.”Dermotfeignscontrol butgiveshimselfawaybytakingastepbackwardsandbumpinginto CianandMartin,startlingthemastheystaredumblyatme.
I’mdoneplayingnice IstartedthisplayingbySeamus’srules,butnowit’stimeweplayedbymine “Notkeenonfinishingwhatyoustarted?” Istep further into Seamus’s hand, readyto breeze rightpasthimand make an exampleofthesesorryfucks “Youcameheretotalk,butIdon’thearanytalking,Dermot” Seamusmoveshishandtomychest,liftinghisothertoholdDermotbackifhedarestobestupidenoughtochallengeme now “Eoin”Hisvoicefindsmeinmyrage,andIshiftmyattentiontohim “Don’t”
Itisasimpleorder onehefullyexpectsmetoheed.Allmylife,he’sbeentheonlyonewhocouldcallmeoffintheheat ofthemoment,andheknowsthatevennow.HeknowstheexactextremesIwouldgotoforhim,andheisurgingmetostand down Andso,Ido.
My shoulders loosen, fists unfurl, and the anger recedes as Seamus pats my chest and nods His features harden as he returnshisattentiontotheoldboys,justasmuchdonewiththemasIam.Hehasdecadesmoreofexperienceholdinghimself backwhileI’mnotthesorttoevenbothertolearnself-controlinthefirstplace.
“Everyoneneedstocooloff.Noneofyoucameheretodothisshit.Yousaidsoyourself,andyethereweare.Enough.” “Youweren’tsupposedtobringhim,”Dermotsneers,thefinalwordlacedwithsomuchdisdainandangerIcanpractically
feelthemrollingoffhim.
“Fuckingdealwithit!He’shere.Canwemoveon?Ordidyoureallycomeoutheretotellme again howmuchyoudespise thedecisionImadeoveradecadeago?”Seamusstepstotheside,blockingmefromhim
“Youwerenevermyenemy,Dermot Youwerelike family.Youprotectedwhatwasmostdeartome.Ilovedyoulikeabrother.”Hisemotionshangonhissleeveas helamentsaboutpastdays
Iknow ithurts himstill.These menwere withhimsince the beginning,andtheir fallingoutis a woundthatmightnever fullyheal Butforthemtocomehereandshoveitinhisfacealloveragain?Thatisunacceptable
“Youruinedme!Love?”Dermotscoffs,rollinghiseyes.“Family?Brother? Bullshit. ” “Ididwhatwasbestformyfamily.Youshouldhavedonethesame.Ourtimewasup.Iknowyouknowit.”
“You ruined me!”
Twogunshotsreverberatethroughthestill nightair,soclosethatmyearsring.Seamusstumblesbackwards,andIdomy besttocatchhimwhilepullingmyowngun Heslumpstowardstheground,mouthagapeashefumblesforagriponmyjacket inameagerattempttostayupright.Redbloomsacrossthewhiteshirtpeekingoutfromhiscoat.
Andfuryboilsover
IfirebackandMartinscreams,stumblinginhismaddashtowardsthecar.IhopetoGodit’sbecauseabulletislodgedin himsomewhere…Anywhere.
Theyhaphazardlythrowleadourwayandshovethemselvesbackintotheirseats Glassshatters,andtirespopandhissas theair escapes.Amongabarrageofflyingdirtandwhizzingbullets,theydisappear intothetrees,leavingmewithanempty magazine,adyingman,andnohospitalformiles
Thecommotionbringstheboysoutfromthebarnwiththeirweaponspulled.Afew getacoupleofshotsoff,butDermot andhisgoonsarelonggone.
Seamuspullsmedowntothedirtwithhim,hisbodywrackedwithtremorsasshocksettlesin.
“What the fuckhappened?” Aidankneels beside us and reaches out to rip Seamus’s shirt open. Buttons go flyingas he revealstwobleedingholesintheman’schest
“FuckingDermothappened.”Ishouldhaveseenitcoming,shouldhavebeenabletogunhimdownatmyfeetthemoment hereachedforhisgun ifSeamushadn’ttriedtoeasethetension
I’mseething,butIcan’tleaveSeamus.He’stheclosestthingIhavetoafather,andIcan’tknowhediedinthedirtlikea dogwhileIwentonawildchaseinthemiddleofthenight.Ican’tallowmyselftolookhissonandnieceintheeye,knowingI wasn’twithhimuntiltheend.
Andheisn’tdeadyet.
“Where’sthenearesthospital?”Isplayapalmover onebulletholewhileAidandoeshisbestwiththeother Redliquid spillsbeyondmyfingers,darkandhot.
Steamrises fromthe man’s chest as blood meets the chilly night air No one says anything, and when I look up at the variousfaces,eachoneseemsdrawnandworried.
“Where the fuckis the nearesthospital?” Inearlyscreaminfrustration,anda few ofthe menflinchatthe tone,knowing whathappenswhenI’mangry
“Ith-thinkthere’s one aboutthirtymiles eastofhere,” someone finallyspeaks up,butthe hesitationinhis voice has him stuttering
“No hospitals,” Seamus rasps. Grippingmylapel ina tremblingfist, he fights to geteye to eye withme, so focused on makinghiswishesknownevenashe’sbleedingoutinmylap
“Seamus, we have to.” I soften my tone for his sake, holding himtightly with one armwhile still attempting to apply pressuretooneofhiswounds.
BothAidanand Ihave blood up to our elbows Icanfeel itseepinginto myclothes where Seamus’s bodyrests against mine,andIknowenoughtounderstandthat’sabadsign.
“No Hospitals”Hisvoicesoundswet,andhecoughsintomychest,splatteringbloodacrossmyjacketandshirt Heleans intome,strugglingtobreathebutholdingontoconsciousnessinamiraculousshowofstrength.Seamusspasmsthroughanother cough,groaningundertheimmensepain Hisvoiceisstilted,forced,andfadingquickly “Just Takeme Home”
Sunsetcasts the cityina vibrantorange glow, brokenonlybystarkshadows cuttingthroughinharsh, strictlines Atthis time, Chicago looks ruthless and unforgiving. Withinanhour, darkness will envelope the skyline and bringout all the crueltytheshimmeringcityhastooffer Andyet,it’sstillmyfavoriteplace.
Cloud-piercingtowersfadeintosquathousesasIwatchthefamiliartransitionthroughfoggybuswindows.Iloathepublic transportation,butitsusegivesmeasliverofindependenceinaworldwheremyeverymoveisnormallydictatedbysomeone else.UncleSeamushaslongsincegivenupthefightandturnedaneyetotheself-reliantstreakthatremindshimfartoomuchof amotherIneverknew God rest her soul
Once atmystop, a mere twenty-minute walkbrings me home froma dayofagonizingpractice. Myfeetache, one knee twingesinprotest,andexhaustiontugsattheedgesofwhatlittleresolveIhaveremaining
Dayafterday,itisthesameroutine,andeverydayit’sonemoresteptowardsadreamIfeelshouldneverhavebeenmine tobeginwith.InevercanshakethesensationthatI’mmerelyborrowingsomeoneelse’sdream,someoneelse’slife.
Ballet started as a distraction Originally, Aunt Magda’s idea was only meant to give me something to focus on as a rambunctiouschildwithnooutletforwhateverchaosdwelledinside.Withinthefirstfewmonths,hesitantinterestspiraledinto anabsoluteobsessionthatisyettowane Evennow,IfightwithapastIcan’tfullyremember,andtheonlythingkeepingthose monstersatbayisballet.
Turningthecorner,Iquickenmypace Hungerhassettledinhoursearlier,andIknowneitherUncleSeamusnorJameswill take it upon themselves to cook. Neither one of thembelong in the kitchen, and soon after Aunt Magda’s death, I learned firsthandjusthowhopelesstheybotharewherefoodisconcerned.Alongwithmostoftheotherhouseholdduties,Ipickedup AuntMagda’smantleandhandlemostmealtimesaswell
Istopshortattheendofthesidewalkthatleadstothefrontstepsofourquainttwo-storysuburbanhome.WhereIexpect illuminationfromlamplightandmyuncle’sradiofilteringthroughthewindows,Istareatahousedrenchedinshadow Nocar inthedriveway,noporchlighton,nosignsoflifewhatsoever.
Ashiverrunsthroughmeasuneasecreepsdownmyspine.
IcancountontwohandshowmanytimesI’vecomehometoadark,emptyhouse.Someonehasalwaysbeentherewaiting, withoutfail
“They’re justout, Evie.” Evenmyownvoice can’tconvince me somethingisn’toff, butIforce myselfto come up with somelogicalexplanationforsomethingsooutoftheordinaryfortheKennedymen
Withanotherglancedownthestreetandaroundme,Iwarilymakemywaytounlockthedoorandletmyselfin.
Sliversofilluminationfilterthroughthefrontwindowsfromthedimstreetlightsandcaststrangeshadowsacrossthefloor andfurniture.Ifeelforthelampthatsitsjustinsidethelivingroomfromthefoyer,anditfloodsthecozyareainasoftglow.I wanderfromroomtoroom,turningonmorelightstomakeitatleastfeelasifI’mnothomealone.
Witheverystep,anaggingsortofanxiousnesssettleswithinme,andeveryyellowglowonlyseemstomagnifythefactthat thetwomenaren’twheretheyshouldbe.Itcreepsintothebackofmymindanddownmyspinethatsomethingjustisn’tright, andtheonlythingIcandoiswait
Makingmyroundthroughthefirstfloorbringsmetothediningroom,andthesilenceisbecomingmoreandmoreeerie.I turnonUncleSeamus’sradio,sighinginreliefasjazzmusicfillstheroom Tensioneasesthroughoutmybody,butworrystill lingers.
Anemptyhouse is a threat, a promise ofsomethingterrible to come. No amountofpositive self-talkcanrid me ofthat illogicaltruth Thepeoplearemissing,andsomethingmorbidtugsatmythoughts Ihaveneverbeencomfortablealone,always needingtobearoundotherstofeelasemblanceofassurancethattheywerestillpresentintheworld.
Iswept,broughtinthelaundry,tidiedupthehouse,madedinner,setthetable,andnowI’mwaitingasmycousin’sfavorite casserolegrowscold.ThereareadozenothermenialtasksIcoulddo,butinsteadIstareoutthediningroomwindow,willing themtocomehome.
I lean back in my chair, pushing with my toes to balance it on two legs, waiting for someone to scold me for such a reckless,childishhabit.AuntMagda’sgrandfatherclockinthecornerticksthesecondsaway,andIcan’thelpbutglanceatit everyfewminuteswiththehopeitwillbringsomeonehomefaster
Theclockchimesloudly,drowningouttheradio.
Irockforward,thechairlegshittingthefloorwitharesoundingthud Igriptheedgeofthetable,thankfulIdidn’ttipthe otherdirection.
Ninechimestotal muchtoolateforanythingtobealright.
Ireturnto leaningbackinmychair, findingthe slightrockingcomfortingas everyminute onlymultiplies how anxious I feel.Everycarthatdrivesbygetsmyheartracing.Everycreakinthehousehasmelookingtowardsthefrontdoor.
Nothingaboutthisisnormal TheKennedymenarenothingifnotconsistent,andneitherwoulddaremissahome-cooked meal.Jameswastheonetorequestthecurrentdish,sowhatonearthiskeepinghimfromit?
OneofUncleSeamus’sfavoritesongsbeginstoplayontheradio,andworryoverwhelmsmeasthenightinchesbysecond bywearysecond.
Headlightssweepacrossthefrontofthehouseasacarturnsintothedriveway.Twoothersparkinthestreetoutfront.The backdoorswingsopenviolently,themetalknobsmashingintothewallandcrackingtheplasterwithitsforce
Thistime,mychairdoestiltinthewrongdirection,splayingmeacrossthewoodenfloorandatthefeetofthehalfadozen menstreaminginfromthe kitchen Painradiates across myshoulder and downmyarmwhile orders are barked overhead Everynerve comes to attentionatthe suddencommotion, and for a moment, I’malmosttoo disoriented to feel anythingbut confusion
Themusiccutsoutassomethingheavyhitsthefloor,andIpraytheradiosurvivedthefalloffthebuffet.Morecrashesecho overaharsh,commandingvoiceasItrytogetmybearingsandcrawltomyhandsandknees.Chaosengulfsthehousearound me,andreliefbarelyevenregistersinitswake
“Puthimonthetable!”
“SomeoneringforDoc, now!”
“Findcleantowels.”
Thehouseisteemingwithmeninlessthanasecond,butonlyoneisshoutingalltheorders It’savoiceI’veheardalltoo often,butIcan’tseethemanwhoownsit.
Someonepausesinfrontofme,andIliftmygazetoahazilyfamiliarface.Themangentlypullsmetomyfeetamongstthe crowd,hisgriplooseningbutnotshiftingashegaugesmyabilitytostandonmyown “Sorry,Miss”
Theroomspinsfor amoment,butIstayonmyfeetaspeoplerusharoundus.BeforeIcanremember whothemanis,he brushespastme,asdoafewothers
“Iwanteveryone’sflasksonthesideboard,now!”Thevoicecomesfromdirectlybehindme,andIturntofaceit.
StandinginthekitchendoorwayisEoinO’Malley theIrishDevil coveredinblood.Andonthediningroomtableliesa paleandbloodyUncleSeamus.
“Abowl ofwarmwatertoo!”Eoincrossestheroom amaninabsolutecontrol ofhimselfandthemoment gracingme
with only a quick glance while my world swirls around me in a cacophony of horror. His brothers brush past me just as quickly.
“Icannafindabiggerbowl!”avoicefromthekitchenyellsbackasthesoundofdishesfallingtothefloorechoesthrough theroom.Ishiftmygazeintothekitchentoastrangemanwavingasmallmetalbowl,apileofothersathisfeet.
Afteramoment’shesitation,IleavetheconfusingsceneandtakeoverthetaskoffetchingwatertocleanUncleSeamus’s obviouslydirewoundsasfearedgesitswayintomymind.Ihavetohelp,andsoIfindthelargestmixingbowlwehavewhile themengatherintheotherroom,mostlysilentexceptforoneIrish-lacedvoice
Withalargemetalmixingbowlfilledtothebrimwithwarmwater,Icrossthethresholdbackintothediningroomandstop deadinmytracks.Theruckushasdieddown,witheveryonestandingaroundmyunclewho’slaidoutonthediningroomtable. Dinnerandallthedisheshavebeenswipedfromthetabletopinhaste Brokenporcelainandfoodcoverthefloorattheirfeet Asdoestheblood.
Icanseeiteverywhere,drippingoffthetablefromaroundhisbodyandbubblingupoutofhisthroattocascadedownone cheekashetriestoforceheartfeltwordsfromdyinglips.
Eoin’shandsarestainedredashetriestostaunchthewoundinmyuncle’schest Hisshirtclingstohim,thewhitefabric soakedcrimson.
“Eoin.”Myuncle’svoiceisstrainedwithpainandurgency,wordsbrokenbetweenrackingbreathsthatwon’tfillhislungs. “Promiseme”Hestrugglestospeak,usinghisentirebodyintheeffort “Take Care Evie” Myhorrifiedgazeflickstothemanleaningovermyuncleinthesamemomenthiseyesmeetmine.
Hetakesmyuncle’shandinhis,bloodcoveringboth,buthisgazeisonlyformeasthewordssliptooeasilyfromhislips “Ipromise,Seamus.Withmylife.”Hisvoiceissoft,almostgentle,butthewordscomewithaforcemeantonlyforthesortof promisessomeoneisdeterminedtokeep.
Andthencompletesilencefallsontheroom.
UncleSeamusisn’tfightingforeverygasp;thesickening,wetraspofhiseverybreathhasceased.Onlythesoundofblood drippingtothefloorfillsthevoidhisfinalbreathhasleftbehind
Myfingersgonumb,andonlythesoundofmetalhittingthewoodenfloormakesmerealizeI’vedroppedthebowl.Warm waterrushesacrossmybarefeetwhereI’mrootedtothespot
“No.”Mychestconstricts,awellofinstantaneousgriefdrowningme.“No. No. No.”
Myfeetpull me forward fromthe doorway, myhands intentto revive the manwho’s loved me like a daughter, who has beenthatguidinglightwhentheworldonlywantedtoforgetaboutme.
IwatchinwretchedhorrorasJameskisseshisfather’sforeheadandcloseshiseyesgently.Inallthecommotion,Ihaven’t noticedhimcome home No one else moves Ionlywanttoscream, and oftheir ownwill, myfeetforce me to take another step.
Awallofamanstepsintome,stoppingeveryounceofmomentumthatpropelledme “Evelyn”Hisvoiceissosoft,sofull ofsorrowandheartache.Hecupsmyjawwithhislargehands,forcingmetolookupathim.
Istare into Eoin’s darkeyes, visionedged withthe blur ofimpendingtears as the entire world is reduced to this single room,thismoment,andtheburningachethatiscomingtolifeinmychest Myfingersdigintohisbiceps,tremblingwitheffort toholdmyselftogetherasmylifeshattersaroundme.
“He hecan’tbedead Hecan’tbe”Tearsfall,streakingmyface theevidenceofmysoul-shatteringdespair Eoin swipes his thumbs across my cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Evelyn.” His voice is gentle, tenderly soothing amid such catastrophe
Iforcemyeyesclosed,wantingtojusthearmyuncle’svoiceagain.Tohearhimsayitwillallbeokay,justonemoretime. Buthe’sgone.
JustlikeAuntMagda
Justlikemymother.
Panicseizesme MyheartthumpssofastandhardIswearit’sgoingtobreakfreeofmychestandfallatEoin’sfeet “Evelyn.Pleaselookatme.”Eoin’svoicewashesoverme,butthecomfortIknowhewantstoinvokecan’tpenetratethe oceanofagonythat’stakenover
Islidemyeyesopen,myvisionblurryandnarrowasIsearchhisfaceforanythingthatmightmakethisallbetter.Mystare fallstohischest,findingnothingthatcansavemefromthispaininhisunusuallycompassionategaze.AndallIseeis red. Myfingers are stickywithit fromwhere theygrip Eoin’s arms, and while his tall frame fills myvision, it’s a wall of burgundyichor eatingup white cotton. Terror fills mynerves, and the ease withwhichitcomes onlyserves to multiplythe panicIcannolongercontrol Darknesstugsattheedgesofmyconsciousness,andeverymuscleinmybodytakestotrembling Theurgetorunisoverwhelmingandall-consuming.
Andyet,myfeetdon’tmove.I’mheldtothespotindreadofwhatcouldhappennext,andmymindraceswiththeendless possibilities.They’refamiliarthoughtsfromadifferentlifetime atimeIcanbarelyrecallanymore.
Trembling shifts into tremors. My knees quake underneath the weight of my body, no longer able to hold me up. They
buckle,pullingmetothefloorasIscrambletoholdontoEoin’sstrong,unmovingform.Mynailsbiteintohisarms,desperate toabsorbhisresiliencytothemoment.Heappearssocalmandunaffected,andIcan’tstandhimforit.
Whyisn’thefallingapartattheseams?Whyisn’tthistragedykillinghiminsidelikeitisme? “Ican’tbreathe.”Isounddistanteventomyself.ThepanicinmyvoicechokesmeasItrytogulpairintomyachinglungs. Myhandsandfeetfeelfrozen Actually,myentirebodyissomehowfreezingandoverheatingatthesametime IletgoofEoin,tuggingatmydressasifIcouldpullthestrangesensationawaywiththefabric.There’sbloodonitnow, andtheredonceagainenvelopsmeastheblacknessinthebackofmymindtriestopullmeawayfromtheroom
Theonlycoherentthoughtinmyheadis: Uncle Seamus is dead.
IletEvelyngentlyslumptotheflooronherknees,slippingmyhandstohershoulderstokeepherupright There’snodenying howclosesheistopassingout.“Getmeatowelandcoldwater.Now!”
As Ikneel infrontofher, the horror inher dimgaze flicks betweenthe blood onher hands, her dress, and me The longershestaresatitall,thequickerherbreathcomes,andthetremblingwrackinghersmallframeisnearlyoutofcontrol.
“Evelyn,Ineedyoutolookatme.”Igentlytouchtheundersideofherchinwithmyfingertips,tiltingherheadback.“Look atmyface,sweetheart”
Shefinallyfocusesonmeandstaresupintomyeyeswithalifetimeofagonywithinhers.AllIfeelisanunrelentingneed toseethechaosbehindthemeradicated Iwoulddoanythingtoeasethepainwrittenall overherbeautiful features,andthat singularthoughtterrifiesme.Becauseofonesinglelook,I’ddoterriblethingsforheralready,ifonlytoerasetheblankhorror fromhergaze
Someonetapsmeontheshoulder,andItearmygazefromhers,findingRianstandingtherewithatowelandsmallbowlof water,agrimexpressiononhisface.
“Putthemonthecoffeetable”Inodinthedirectionofthelivingroom,shiftingtogatherEvelynintomyarms
Sheresists,pushingbackandkeepingmeatarm’slength,glassyeyesonceagainnarrowedinonmybloodyshirt,wholly repulsedbythesight
“Issheokay?”Rianglancesdownatherwithacurioussortofconcern.He’dalwayshadasoftspotforthegirl,justasall usO’Malleyboysdo Theexpressionspreadacrosshisfaceisgenuineandfullofworry Inodonce,grittingmyteethandturningbacktoEvelyn.
“Wecan’tgetaholdofDoc,”Rianadmitsafteramomentofawkwardsilence.“Patwenttogofindhim,butit’s…” It’s too late Evenhecan’tfinishthestatement “GetaholdofCallumHannigan.”
“Themortician?”Hesetsthetowelandbowldown,shootingmeaconfusedlook Iturnaglareatmyyoungestbrother.“Hecertainlydoesn’tneedadoctoranylonger,doeshe?”Thewordsarefarharsher
thanIintended,butthekidtakesitinstride.
Heglancesoverhisshoulder,noddingsolemnly.“Right.”
“Number’sinmyjacket,inthecar”Justasheturnstoleave,Istophimbythesleeve “Andgrabmeacleanshirt” HedisappearsfrommysideasIreturnmyfocusonthegirlbeforeme.
“Let’sgetyoucleanedup,okay?”
Shedoesn’tseemtoregisterwhatI’msaying,andthistime,Idon’tletherpushmeaway.Islipanarmunderherkneesto cradleherinmyembrace Withease,Iliftheroffthefloorandcarryhertothelivingroom,whereIsettleherontothecouch Onceagain,dimgreeneyesfocusonthebloodstainingus,andherhandsshakeviolentlywherethey’vetangledinmyshirt. SlowlyandasgentlyasIcan,Ipryhergripfromthefabric,fingerbyfinger.Isitdownonthecoffeetableinfrontofherand shiftto dip the towel inthe water, one hand never lettinggo ofhers Irunthe towel over her palms, up her arms, and back down,wipingthebloodfromhersoft,porcelainskin.
She watches everymovementindazed interest Everyswipe thatleaves her skincleaneases the tensioninher body, as wellasmyown.Hershouldersslump,herbreathingrelaxes,andforamoment,hereyesslipshutinwhatIhopeisrelief.
“Thankyou”Hervoiceissohushedandfaintthat,forasecond,IwonderifI’mhearingthings Iliftmygazetoher facetofindher staringrightatme.“You’rewelcome.”Myownvoiceisjustawhisper inresponse, afraidthatanylouderwillbreakwhateverthisspellisbetweenus.
She’s no longer fixated onthe blood butwatchingmyface withthe intensityofsomeone who wants to memorize every contourandfeature.
Mygazeflickstohersfromtimetotime,seeingthosebrightgreeneyeswatchingmyhandsasIlazilyworkoncleaningthe dryingbloodoffofher.Idragthewettowel nowstainedpink acrosshercollarbone,uphernecktoherchin,whereIleft tworedfingerprints.
Evelyn’s eyes grow heavy, the shockofthe eveningbearingdownonher. Whatlittle energyand resolve she had ather disposal was usedupbefore she evenhada chance todecipher what’s happening,leavingbehindthe monumental weightof grief It’s evident ineverymuscle, everymovement, everytear emotional and physical painalways go hand inhand, and she’shurting.
Everysliverofemotionshe’sfeelingrightnowismyfault,andittearsapartmyhearttoseeherfightingwithit Iwantto givehergentlereassurance,buttherearenowordsthatcanhelphernow,andI’mamanofaction.
I’mwitness to her breakingand canonlypickup the pieces onher waydown. There is nothingIhate more thanfeeling helpless,andasshefallsapartinmyhands,Ionlywanttofittheshardsbackinplaceuntilshe’swholeagain.
“Stillwithme,sweetheart?”
Asmall, sad sort of smile tugs at her lips, barely perceptible but still trying to make an appearance She doesn’t say anythingbutinsteadnodsinresignedconfirmation.
Iofferhermyowntight-lipped,sorrowfulsmile “Goodgirl”
Droppingthetowelintothebowlofnowredwater,Itakeherdelicatehandsinmine,runningmythumbsacrossthebacks oftheminslow,deliberatecircles.Shelookssorelaxednow,butIknow itisn’tapeacefulmomentofrest.Icanpractically seethewheelsturningbehindherclosedlids Everynow andthen,shegripsmyhandsinreturnasthetremblingthreatensto takeoveragain.
Andit’sallmyfault
Footsteps alert me to my brother’s return, but I don’t move a muscle, far too enthralled by the quiet moment at my fingertips I’veonlytouchedEvelynlikethisoncebefore
Onthatfatefuldayelevenyearsago,Iheldhertinybodytomychestandcomfortedaterrifiedchildwhohadwitnessedthe worstofourworld.Iwasadifferentpersonbackthen,freshfromwarandconvincedIwouldbeagoodman.ButInevercould stayawayfromthefamilythathadpulledmefromthegutter
TheEvelynI’mcomfortingisamereimpressionofthatlittlegirl.Sheisagrownwomannow,onewhodoesherbestto fight the demons witheveryounce of willpower she canmuster She is absolutelystunning, ina wayonlythe tortured and brokencaneverbe asoldier,battlingawarsheneveraskedfor.WhereasIunapologeticallyembracedthesortofdarkness thatnipsatherheels
“Eoin.”Rian’svoicepullsmeaway,andhesetsacleanbutton-downnexttomeonthelowtable.“Hanniganisonhisway, andtheboyshavebeencleaningupthediningroom.”
“Thankyou”IletmyfingersslideoutfromEvelyn’sasIstand Itugmyshirtfreeofmyslacksandbegintounbuttonit “Makesuresomeonehasstoppedalltheclocksonthisfloor,andatleastonewindowneedstobeopened.”
Itis Irishtradition our wayofensuringthe soul won’tbe trapped and leftbehind Seamus deserves everlastingpeace now,nolonger helddownbythechainsofour world.Normally,someonewouldalsocover all themirrorsinthehouse,but I’mnot keenonlettinganyone wander througheveryroomof the Kennedys’home just lookingfor mirrors. We’ve already invadedandtaintedtheirspacetoomuchasitis.
“Onit.”Heimmediatelystartstodelegatethetasks,leavingmetocontinuemyowntaskofcaringforEvelyn.
Idon’tfeelasliverofguiltinfocusingonherandnotSeamus’sbody.Afterall,hercarewashisdyingwish.Iletmygaze wanderacrossSeamus’slifelessform,silentlythankinghimforeverythinghe’severdoneformeandmybrothers.Now,Iwill repayhimbycaringforwhatwasmostimportanttohim ThisishowIhonorhim bygivingEvelynafightingchanceinany wayIcan.Fromthismomenton,sheisminetocarefor.
Evelynstirs onthe couch, inspectingher hands thatnow restinher lap as ifshe’s alreadyforgottenIwashed them She pushes strayauburnstrands fromher face and lifts greeneyes to me. Her eyes widena bitwhenshe notices myopenshirt, quicklyavertinghersorrow-filledgaze Butsheturnsinthewrongdirection,andIknowtheexactmomentsheseesheruncle stilllaidoutonthediningtable.He’scoveredinthequiltfromhisbed,butdeepredhasblossomedacrossthecolorfulpattern. Evelynstaresatitalmostabsently.
Itstarts inher hands, thatterrible tremblingIonlymoments ago eased, and carries up into her shoulders and downher spine.Hereyesgrowwet,thediningroomchandelierreflectingofftearsthatthreatentofallalloveragain.
IdiscardmystainedshirtandgrabthecleanoneasImoveintoherlineofsight Islidetheshirtovermyshouldersanddo upacoupleofbuttons.
Tearsstreakhercheeks,remakingthetrackstheytracedearlier,butthistimeshelooksdirectlyatmeofherownfreewill “It’sokay,Evelyn.”Ireachforherhands,seeingthepainandturmoilbehindherblank,dampstare.“Areyouokaystaying heretonight?Themorticianisonhisway,andeverythingwillbecleaninthemorning.”
Shenodsonce,thoseshininggreenirisesswitchingbackandforthbetweenmydarkones
“Then,let’sgetyouupstairsandoutofthisdress.”Ikeepmyvoicesoftforher,worriedthatanythingaboveabarewhisper willstartlethegirl “Wouldyoulikemetohelpyou?”
Anothervaguenod.Shehasn’tsaidawordsincethankingme,andconcernmultipliesbeneathherwarysilence.Shockhas takenover,butitcan’tlastforever.Itcouldbehours,itcouldbedays,andherfallcouldbedevastating.
AsgentlyasIcan,Islipmyarmsunderherkneesandbehindhertogatherherintomyembrace.Ihalfexpecthertoprotest, butinstead,shecurlsinonherselfagainstmychest.Shelookssmallerandmorevulnerablethanever justascaredlittlegirl, surrounded by monsters She’ll remember that fact about me another day For now, I’m more than happy to let her seek whatevercomfortandsafetysheneedsfromme.
Itakethestairstwoatatime,carefulnottojostlehertoomuchasIgo
Thehousefeelslikeanoldfriend,evenafterallthistime.Asakid,Ispentmanyofmydayshere,attheverytablewhere Seamus now rests. Itis bittersweetto witness the dwindlingofa familytree firsthand. Especiallya familythathas beenso muchlikemyown.
Ishoulder-opentheseconddoorontherightandsetEvelynontheedgeofherbedbeforeturningonthenearestlamp.Light floodsthesmallroom,andI’mmetwithanoverdressedbedandspacepackedwithherentirelife
Pillows are piled up against the ironheadboard, withformal and lace fabric coveringthe mattress invarious layers of color Photosinelegantlittleframesadorntheexpanseaboveherbed Awardrobelooksnearlybustingwithall theclothing piecesreadytoexplodefromitshalf-openeddoor.Andhervanityrestsacrossfromus,oddlyorganizedamongstthegeneral chaos.Evenarockingchairsitsbythewindow,withapairofwell-wornballetslippershangingfromitsback.
Itall screams EvelynKennedy sweet, feminine, innocent Ifeel like aninvader to some private, holysanctuarymeant onlyforher.
Ipeelmyeyesawayfromthemyriaddetailsandkneelinfrontofher Shestaresdownatherhandsagain,pickingatstray blood underneatha fingernail. Islide a hand fromher calfto her knee, squeezinggently. Muscles jump under mytouch, the strengthofhertonedlegsobviousunderneathsoft,paleskin
Hereyesflicktomine,widewithquestion.
“CanIhelpyouwithyourdress?”
Shedoestheonlythingshe’sdoneallalong nods
I stand to myfull height and pull her to her feet while gatheringthe hemof her dress. She reaches behind her neckto unbuttonthetinypearlbeforeliftingherarmsaboveherheadasifwe’vedonethisathousandtimes
AndGoddoIwantto.Fortherestofherfuckinglife.
Nothingaboutthisfeelsright thewantingher andyetIdon’tthinkI’ll ever beabletostopmyselfnow Inamatter of minutes,she’sbecomemyentireworld.
Thisisthebeginningoftheend.Shejustdoesn’tknowityet.
Islipherdressoverherhead,droppingittothefloorbesideus Thesecondit’sgone,shefoldsherarmsoverher chest, fiststuckedunderherchin,andshe’snolongerlookingupatme.
“I’llgetitcleaned”Ikeepmyvoicesoftandlowinthesilenceofherroom “It’llbeasgoodasnew” Evelynnods,hergazefixatedonsomespotonthefloor.
“I’llgetabathgoing.”
Anotherdamnnod.
Shedoesn’tmove,doesn’tevenlookatme.AndIknow exactlywhat’sgoingoninthatgorgeousheadofhers
devastation.
Mycold,deadheartachesjustwatchingher.
Ileaveherstandingthereinhersorrowtoturnonthebath,lettingsteamfillthesmallbathroomconnectedtoherroom The weightoftheeveningfullysettlesonmyshoulders,weighingdownmyalreadyheavyconscious.Lettinglooseadeepbreath,I runbothhandsdownmyfaceandupintomyhair,tuggingatthestrandstoforcemyselftogetittogether
Evelynneedsme,andIneedtokeepmycoolbeforetheinevitablerampageIwillgooninthemorning.
Ireturnto the bedroomand find Evelynstill standingwhere Ilefther She glances atme before shiftingher eyes to the bloodstillunderhernails.
“I’ll giveyouafew minutestogetoutofyour underthings.”Abitofbloodseepedthroughthecottonfabricofher dress, andthesilksoakeditrightup “I’llgetthosecleanedforyouaswell”
Sheseemstorememberthatsheishalfundressedandmakesafutileattempttocoverherself.Idesperatelywanttogather herbackupinmyarms,butthewaryexpressiononherhaggardfaceisenoughtomakemethinktwice
“It’salright,Evelyn.Youdon’thavetohidefromme.”
Her hands still in their urgency to cover up anything I shouldn’t be seeing A flicker of understanding crosses her expression,andhershouldersrelaxjustatouch.
“Just hand themto me through the door.” I step to the side, holding the door open for her until she disappears in the bathroom,nolongerwastingtheenergytohide
Ilistenassheshufflesoutofthesilkontheothersideofthedoorandhandsmeeachpiece,onebyone.Thefabricisstill warmfromherbody,andwhilethesmellofbloodpermeatestheair,hersweetscentlingersbeneathitall Vanillaandhoney Sweet,likelittleEvieherself.
IwaituntilIhearherslipintothetubbeforeIgatherherclothes.“I’llbebackinafewminutes.”
Shedoesn’tsayanythingforthelongesttime,andIresisttheurgetopressaneartothedoor.
Finally,soundingsosmall,anexhausted,“Okay,”echoessoftlyfromtheotherroom.
It’shardseeingher likethis sobeatendownanddrowningingrief Evelynisabrightlightinadarkworld,butfor the moment,thatdarknessispullingherunderfasterthanIcanstopit.
Removingmyselffromthebedroom,Imakemywaybackdownstairs Therearetoomanythingsthatneedtobedone,too manythingsupintheair.Seamusshouldhavebeenallowedtopasspeacefullyinhissleep.Instead,Imustfacehismurderers andenactjusticeofmyownvariety.Buttheywon’tbefindingpearlygateswaitingforthemwhenallthisisdone.
ThediningroomtableisnolongerplayingbedforSeamus,andonelookoutthewindowshowsmehisfinaldeparture he’swrappedinthecomforterhiswifelovinglymadefortheirmartialbed.
Realitycrashesdownaroundmeforamereblipofasecond
He’sdead.Thelegendofamanwhotookmeandmybrothersoffthestreetis dead.TheonlyfatherfigureI’veeverknown isgone,shotincoldblood
Furyticklesitswayupmyspinebutwithadeep,steadyingbreath,Iletthefeelingshiftintosomethingmoremanageable for the moment.There is nopointinlettingmyanger getthe bestofme.Notwhenthere is a girl upstairs whoneeds a calm presenceandgentlehand
Aidansidles upnexttome,his hands shovedintohis pockets inhis usual nonchalantmanner.Verylittle rattles him,and deathdoesn’trufflehimonebit nomatterwhoitisonthereceivingend I’llleavethedirtyworktohimfornow “Hannigan hashimfromhere.”
Inod,asolemnsortofacceptancesettlingin “Good Tomorrow,westartthehunt”
“Thankfuck.”AidantipshisheadbackasifrejoicinginaLordherarelyspeaksof.Hesighs,pullinghishandsfromhis pockets,andstartspattinghisjacketinsearchofacigarette.“How’sthedoll?Neverseenhersodamnrattled.”
I glare at him, turning around to face the room and remaining men scrubbing Seamus’s blood from the floorboards pretendingtheycan’thearadamnword.
“She’llbeokay”
Henods,finallypullingoutacigaretteandamatch.“Staying?”
“Mm-hmm”Idon’tgivehimanythingelseonthetopic “Beforeyoutakethecar,Ineedclothes,andgetsomeonetosend theseoutforcleaning.”IpasshimEvelyn’sclothingasIrakemygazeoverthesideboardandthehalfadozenemptyflasks allusedinourhastyattempttosaveSeamus’slife.“Leavemesomehooch.”
Withasnapofhisfingers,oneoftheboysscrubbingthefloorimmediatelypopstohisfeet
“Getthe boss his sleepover bag.” Aidannever evenlooks atthe guy, givingme the widestsmile he canmuster instead. “Makesureyougetsomesleeptonight”Hewinks,hisshit-eatinggrinslippingintoaslysmirk
Aftersettingmythingsonthebed,Itaponthedoorlightlysoastonotopenanywiderthanthefewinchesofgapsheleft.No lightilluminatestheedges,meaningshedecidedtobatheinthedark.
“Evelyn.”Hernameslipsoffmytonguefartootenderlyforamanlikeme.“MayIcomein?”
IknowI’mcrossingaboundary,enteringterritoryIhavenorighttostepfootinwithher.Ican’tstopmyselfthough.Ineed toseeher,tohelpher,makesureshe’saswellasshecanbeconsideringthegapingholeIleftinherlifetonight.
Becauseitwasme IaskedSeamustohelpme,togetintouchwithhisoldbuddieswhoI knew loathedmyveryexistence Seamusshouldhaveneversaidyes.Hishesitancyinthebeginningshouldhavebeenmywarningsign.Ishouldhavelefthim be,lethimcontinuemakinghisboozeinpeacewherehewashappiest Ishouldhaveneverexpectedhimtostepbackintothis world,evenforasecond.
Andnow,Evelynis payingthe price Hell,evenJames is,buthe understands whatwe do,whowe are He doesn’tlive behindrose-coloredglasses,andhisinnocenceislonggone.
Evelyn’sanswering,“Yes,”ismutedandinatoneI’veneverheardfromherbeforethisnight.
Iease the door open, lettingmyeyes adjustto the lackoflightas Ipushinto the roomstep bycareful step She doesn’t moveorsayawordasIclosethedistancebetweenusandcrouchdownnexttotheclawfoottub.Herkneesarepulledupto herchest,chinrestingthere,andherlong,soaking-wethairhangslimplydownherbackandaroundherface
“Didyouwashyet?”Iwhisperthequestion,onceagainfeelingasifmymerevoicewilldisruptthespacearoundus. Sheshakesherhead,shiftingtoresthercheekatoponekneetolookatme
Ireachforawashclothlayingoverthelipofthetub.“MayI?”
Anothersimplenod.
Ihatethis Hersilencespeaksvolumes,andIitchtofixtheentiredamnworldjustsothecarefreeversionofthisgirlcan inhabititagain.Iknowshehasstrengthandresiliencetospare,buteventhatcan’ttamperthegrief.
Grabbingthebarofvanilla-scentedsoap,Ilatherupthewashclothandmovetokneelatherback,armsrestingonthetub forbalance.
Moonlightfromthenearbywindowisenoughtoilluminatetheroomnowthatmyeyeshaveadjusted.Herskinpractically glowsunderthebrightlunarlight,butafewdarksplotchesaroundherupperarmscatchmyattention. Bruises.
Somethingakintoragewellswithinmychestatthesight,andittakeseveryounceofcontrolIpossesstonotdemandtheir cause. Instead, I gently run my fingers down the back of her arm, tracing the purple shapes that look suspiciously like fingerprints
Igritmyteethandswallowdowntheanger.Iwanttoask,needtoknowwhodidsuchathingsothatIcantearthemlimb fromlimbfortouchingher.Butthemorelogicalpartofmybeingunderstandsshe’sbeenthroughenough.Idon’tneedtopoint outanythingelse.Fornow.
Shedoesn’tflinchatmytouchor evenseemtonoticewhatI’mseeing.Shefeels amillionmiles away,stuckinher own mind She’ssostill,eyesclosed,withherheadstilltiltedandrestingonherknees
Irunthewashclothupherarm,coveringthebruisesinsudsasIdragitacrosshershoulderstoherotherarm. Hervoicesuddenlybreaksthroughthecloudaroundus “Whodidit?”
Mygazeflickstoherface,butsheisn’tlookingatme.Ipause,thesoapywashclothhoveringoverhershoulderassilence stretchesbetweenus.AfewheartbeatspasswhileIdecidewhattotellher.
Idipmyhandintothehotwater,bringingtheclothtoherbackagain “Threedeadmenwalking” “Who?”Evelyngripstheedgeofthetubandturnstofacemewithafierceexpression,browfurrowedandlipsdrawninto aline
Thesuddenmovementcatchesmeoffguard,andIstopmyselffromleaningbacktoofarwithahandonthetubedge. Ishakemyhead “Ican’ttellyou,Evelyn” “Whynot? Don’tIdeserve to know who murdered myuncle?” Her voice is almostangry, butthe edge she hoped for is nothingmorethanher chokingonthewords.Thatonequestionismorethanshe’sspokenall evening,andIknow she’sbeen rollingmoreofthemaroundthatprettyheadsinceshefirstsawherunclebleedingout “Youdo.”Inod,runningthewashclothoverhershoulderagain.“Butthemoreyouknow,themoredangeryou’rein.” Sheturnsbackaround,abitofdefianceintheaction “That’smyproblemtodealwith” I’mrelievedshe’sspeakingtomeopposedtotheshockedsilencethathasovercomeher,butIdidn’texpecthertemperso soon
Iwrapahandaroundthebackofherneck nottightly,butwithenoughforcetogetherattention toremindherwhoshe’s dealingwith.Mykindnesswillalwaysbereservedforher,butIamstillavilemonsterofaman.“Lookatme.” Andshedoes,angerpresentinheremeraldgazenow Good,sheshouldbeangry.
“It’s my problembecauseyou’re my responsibility” Shestraightensherbackbutsetshermouthinathinlineandsaysnothing,onceagainslippingintosilence. “Iwilltakecareofit.”Ireleaseher,lettingmyhandlingeratophershoulder. Shakingmeoff,sheturnsbackaround,andthistimepressesherforeheadtoherknees.Herfaceismerecentimetersfrom thewater,butshecertainlydoesn’tseemtocare.
Ireturntothetaskofhelpingherbathe.Evelynisfartooconsumedbyherthoughtsandthedevastationoflosingyetanother family member to be concerned with modesty. She’s trapped inside her head again, back to the silence and numbness, not botheringtoevenattempttohideherselffrommenow Thatsliveroftimiditywasafleetingthing,andI’msoclosetofeeling likesomesortofviolatortohervirtue,butatleastshedoesn’thavetoseeSeamus’sbloodonhernow.
Sheshiftshereandtheretoletmescrubnearlyeveryinchofherlithebodybutsaysnothinganddoesn’tmakeeyecontact “Comehere.”
Sheglancesupatme Icrookafingerather.
Whileshestillwon’tlookmeintheeye,shenoticesthemotionandstandstostepoutofthelukewarmbath.Waterbeads downhersmooth,softskin,reflectingthemoonintinypearlsofwhiteandblue
For a split second, I allow myself the selfish act of appreciating her beauty uninhibited by clothing and makeup the leannessofherbody,thewaythemusclesshe’shonedthroughdancingshiftunderhersoftskin,andhoweverycurvebegsme totouchher.
Thedaybefore,shewouldhavebeenhorrifiedatanymanseeingherthisway Today,though,itsimplydoesn’tmatteranymore.
I’mwitness tosomethingnomanhas ever seenbefore.Ionlywishitwas under better circumstances,thatshe would’ve madethechoicetorevealherselfinsuchaway
Butthisisanactofcare.Evenamanlikemecansummonupenoughofaconscioustoknowwhensomeoneneedslooking after Evelynclearlyneedssomeonetotendtoher,andIammorethanwillingtobeofthatservice I’dbathehereverydayfor therestofmylifeifsheallowedit.
Thatnewrevelationonlyexcitesmenow.
She’smine.ImadeapromiseI’llkeepuntilthedayIdie,andI’mnotgoingtohesitatetoputthatintoaction.
Withafluffytowelinhand,Idryheroff,highlyawareofthefactthatnoneofthiselicitsareactionfromher.Eveninher momentofanger,shedoesn’taddresstheissueofmeseeinghernaked Iwrapthetowelaroundher,tuckingacornerintightly toholditinplace.
Sheshufflesthroughthedoorway,andImovewithherassheriflesthroughherclothingandpullsoutaflannelnightgown It’sexactlythesortofthingIexpectedhertoweartobed modestandcute.
“Letme.”Itakethearticlefromher,bunchingitupatthenecklineandslippingitoverherhead.
As I gather her hair and pull it free, she lets the towel drop to the floor and forces her arms into the sleeves. I’m overwhelmed by vanilla and honey, and everything Evelyn. The stench of blood is an afterthought to the heady scent. Her nightgownsettlesoverherframe,engulfingherinsoftflannelandmakingherappearevenyounger
I’mremindedofthechildIcarriedoutofadingysouthsideapartment,coveredinbloodanddisturbinglysilent.She’sstill thatsamelittlegirldeepdownandplungedrightbackintothedarkness I’mnotgoingtoletherdrownthistimeeither “Thankyou.”Thattinyvoicecontinuestotugatmydamned,darksoul.
Iliftherchinwithtwofingers,waitinguntilsherelentsandlooksatme.“Youdon’tneedtothankmeforanything.”Iletmy handfallfromherface,gratefulthatshedoesn’taverthergazejustyet “Youneededsomeone SoI’mhere” Shenods,butitisn’tdrenchedinanythingbutsolemnacceptance. “Doyouthinkyou’llbeabletosleep?”
“IthinkthatistheonlythingIamcapableofrightnow.”
Inod,fullyunderstandingthesortofbone-deepexhaustionsheisexperiencing Itakeherhandandleadhertothebed,and pullbackthecovers.Withoutprompting,sheslidesontothemattressandpushesherfeetunderthelayersofblankets.Ituckher inwiththesortofreverenceI’veneverfeltbefore,butrightnow,it’stheonlythingimportanttome.Hercomfortandcareare paramounttoeverythingelseinmyworld Tomorrowmyfocuswillhavetoshift,butfornowsheisfrontandcenter Herhanddartsoutfromtheblankets,grabbingmywrist.“Areyouleaving?”
Ilaymyfreehandoverhers,andhergriprelaxes,asdoesherentirebody Ishakemyheadslightly,andsheeasesdeeperintoherpillow.“I’llstay.”
Lickingherlips,Iknowshe’sgettingreadytothankme,butshereframesfromlettingthewordsslipoutandinsteadnods Sheshiftsontoherside,facingthewindow,butkeepshereyesonmeasIroundtheendofthebedtotheotherside.
Onceoutofhersight,Iunhookmybeltanddiscardmytrousersandunderwear.Thebloodhasmostlydried,buttheironlacedscentlingers Itosstheoffendingpiecesintothehallafterslippingintocleanclothing Evelynglancesoverhershoulderatmeandreachesbacktopattheemptyspacebehindher.“Youshouldsleeptoo.” It’sthemostinnocentofsuggestions,butmymindgoestoeverydarkcornerthereis,andimagesofEvelyninwaysIshould notbethinkingofflickerthroughmyconsciousness.Thoughtsofhersplayedoutacrossherbed,beggingmetotouchandtaste her,aremomentarilyparamounttoanyother.Hersoftlipsmoaningmyname,howherbodywouldfeelwrappedaroundmine, and a dozenother immoral ideas flitacross mymind. Ishutthemdown, remindingmyselfthatshe is irrevocablyoff-limits. Although,Ican’tpossiblyresisttheofferofsomeshuteye in her bed.
Turningoffthebesidelamp,Isettlemyselfontothebed,notdaringtoclimbunder thecoverswithher.Tomyrelief,she saysnothingaboutitandtwistsbackintothecomfortofherpillowwhileIgetsituatedwiththeother.Thesilencethatstretches betweenusnowiscomfortable,companionable
Acar pulls outofthedriveway,theheadlights trackingaroundthe room,before iteases offdownthe street,leavingjust silverymoonlightbehind
“DoyouthinkUncleSeamuswenttoHeaven?”Sheasksthequestionasifitreallymatterstoher,andIsuddenlywishit couldmeansomethingtomeaswell
Itrytonotthinkofwhathappenstoour kindintheafterlifeandsooftenhopetherejustisn’tone.Her unclewasagood man,butonlytothosehebelieveddeservedit.
Irollontomysidetowardsher,makingsureIdon’ttouchherasIdoso AdeepsighfiltersthroughmychestbeforeIfind thenervetorespond.“Youareaskingthewrongman,Evelyn.”
MenlikeSeamusandmedon’tbothertoholdontosuchidealizations WearemadeonlytoresideinHellwhenourtimeon Earthisdone.
Shemullsoverthatforafewminutes,onlythesoundofhergentlebreathingandmythuddingheartbetweenus Finally,she nodsintothefluffunderherhead.
“You’reprobablyright.”Thewayshesaysitisalmostheartbreaking.Hersoftvoiceisdevoidofallemotion,asifshehas justrealizedI’mnotthemanshewantsmetobe Likeshe’srememberedwho’sshetalkingto “Goodnight,Evie.”ThenicknamefallsfrommytonguesoquietlyI’mcertainshedidn’thearit,andconsideringmydutyto hernow,itfeelsonlyfairtoclaimitformyownuse
“Hello, Evelyn ” I kneel down, planting one knee on the dirty, stained floor, reaching out with one hand, just praying she’ll come to me of her own free will.
Violent green eyes level me with a stare I’ve seen more than I can count Shell-shocked soldiers have the same distrustful blankness to their gaze, empty and void of all things except the memory of terror and horror. But behind all that, she stares me down with full understanding inside those deep emerald pools Whatever she’s witnessed has stained her once-innocent view of the world, and her child-like gaze screams it, loud and clear
She’s just a child, though. Just a slip of a thing in a torn, grimy floral dress with dingy, greasy hair wild around her shoulders, shivering in her own skin Bare toes curl under her feet, digging into the worn floorboards as she pulls her shoulders in on herself.
She stares at my hand, and I can’t tell if she even sees it or recognizes it for what it is help The light in her eyes has been dimmed, darkened by the evil surrounding her, molding her into a frightened, distrustful, and eerily silent little girl.
“I won’t hurt you ” I say the words so softly I’m certain they’re the gentlest thing I’ve ever spoken
A handful of seconds pass, her glassy gaze focused on my outstretched hand as if she’s looking right through it, unable to comprehend the kind gesture.
“You’re safe now ”
As soon as the word “safe” slips from my lips, those vibrant irises zero in on my face with a flash of shock shuttering across her innocent features The startled expression matches the shock in my veins
Whatever she’s been through, safety has clearly never been a word tossed around freely in her presence.
So, I say it again. “You’re safe with me, Evelyn.”
That’s when I see it
What I thought were red flowers on the dirty dress are actually splatters of fresh blood. Her tiny fingers are painted with it too, and a wash of color stains the side of her neck
“What happened?” I reach down to lift the hem of her dress, showing her the red blotch staining the fabric.
Her gaze follows my hand, one foot taking a hesitant step backwards, but she doesn’t dare move otherwise. She stares at it for the longest time before lifting her eyes back to mine, no words on her tongue to explain
“Are you hurt, sweetheart?”
She blinks at me. It’s as if she isn’t really there a ghost of a girl lingering between life and death, and unsure on which side she belongs If I don’t hold her soon enough, she’ll surely fade away right before my eyes “Boss.” Astrained, hesitant voice breaks me free from her endless gaze.
I tear my eyes away for just a second, and Evelyn uses the distraction to bolt for the kitchen, knocking away chairs in her effort to hide underneath a small card table masquerading as a dining table.
Gaining my full height, I wave a hand for the man to continue, most of my focus still lingering on the girl “I think we found Ms Kennedy, sir She’s Uh She’s no longer among the living ” I flick my gaze to the shadowy man who materializes fully at my side. He wrings his hat brim between large, trembling fingers, and he starts up this counting thing, his voice just a mumble around the numbers that echo off worn wallpaper
Meanwhile, Evelyn cowers underneath the table, her knees tucked up under her chin, but her attention isn’t fixed on me. Her worried gaze is on the open doorway and the stout man now filling the broken frame
“What the hell are you doing here?” His deep baritone erupts from a fleshy, fish-like mouth while his beady eyes survey the room. Heavy footsteps thunder through the building, bringing others up the decrepit stairwell behind him. “Of course, it’s the Irish trash, always stepping in where you aren’t welcome ”
“Gian. Apleasure, as always.” I turn on my heel, blocking Evelyn from his prying view.
“Oh ho! If it isn’t the great war hero, Eoin O’Malley! I’d hoped you’d find your end in some French ditch Such a shame.” He waves a pistol around like it’s a damn toy.
I focus my attention on the gun, just waiting for it to be pointed directly at me “I couldn’t agree with you more France would have been a mighty fine place to rest my head.”
Laughter erupts from the newcomers standing in the hall, crowding their leader in the doorway in a mass of shadow and smoke Their faces are torn into wide, leering grins that fade in and out as light glints off the silver pistol
“What do you want, Gian? We didn’t come here to start trouble. Just looking for one of our own. ”
“Ah, but she ain’t one of yours anymore, O’Malley Miss Catriona prefers men of superior breeding ” The slimy grin plastered across his face incites a boiling rage in my blood, and there is nothing I want more than to see him dead at my feet, just for offending the dead woman and being ugly as fuck
Another familiar presence forms behind me, speaking out of turn as a bloody finger is pointed in Gian’s direction “Are you the piece of shit that left her for dead? We should gut you right here, right now!”
Where did all the blood come from?
“The bitch got what was coming for her. We’re really just here for the bastard girl.” Gian steps into the room, spreading both arms in an arrogant expression of surrender, ignoring the threat from my men, who manifest behind me and at my side in a crowd of a dozen or more. “As it is clearly none of your business, I’d appreciate you and your goons skipping out of here like the good little laddies you are How ‘bout it, boys?”
Before I can even think of responding to his patronizing bullshit, every man present pulls a gun, reflecting light from some unknown source glaringly violent in the tiny room. Gunshots ricochet around us in a hail of lead, splintered wood, and broken glass Sound is all but muffled Shouts and pained screams reverberate around the room, mirroring the trajectory of flying bullets.
I lift my hand to return fire, but there is nothing gripped between my blood-soaked fingers I stand there, staring at my empty, red hands amid the chaos of the gunfight.
“Eoin ” Asoft voice calls my name, summoning me from the depths of my consciousness, forcing me to turn towards the small figure under the table, who couldn’t have possibly said my name
I find those piercing emerald eyes searing a hole into my soul, begging to be saved.
I pull her from her hiding place and envelop her small frame in mine She covers her ears with tiny, trembling hands, and she crushes her eyelids closed, forcing long lashes down on reddened cheeks.
The firefight dies behind us, the barrage of noise coming to a sudden and startling end
I scoop her into my lap, planting my ass on the creaky floor as I turn to face the room. A room that is now empty, and Evelyn’s voice fills the void instead.
Her eyes are still closed with her little red brows furrowed from the effort, and she’s singing softly to herself
Distortedmemoriesthatfeellikeanotherlifetimehaveinvadedmydreamsforyears,butnoneasvividlyasthefirsttimeI’ve everlaideyesonthatbrokenlittlegirl,whowasnowsomuchmore
OnemomentI’mlookingdownataterrifiedlittleEvie,andthenextI’mstaringupatherbedroomceiling.She’scurledinto myside,hersoftbreathagentlerhythmalongsidemypoundingheart.
“Jesus,Evie,”Iwhispertomyselfinthedark,rakingmyhairbackwithmyavailablehandasexhaustiontugsatmyracing
Brightbeamsofsunlightcutacrossthebedinthick,warmlines Myeyesareheavyandslow toadjustwhileexhaustion stilltugsatme.WitheverybitofstrengthIcanmuster,Isitup.MymusclesprotestevensuchasimpletaskasifIdidn’t move once after fallingasleep The brightroom, the arrayoffabrics and décor inshades ofpinks and greens, and all thingsfamiliarglarebackatmeinstarkcontrasttothecomfortabledarknessbehindmyeyelids.
Mygazeflickstotheexpanseoffloralbeddingnexttome,onlytofinditempty.
Eoinleft
Iknowhecouldn’tstayforever,andthedisappointmentfeelsmisplacedconsideringwhothemanreallyis.EvenIknowof hisreputation Andyet,themanIfacedovermyuncle’slifelessbodywasnothingliketheonesomanyfear
Hewasso sweet.
Memories trickle into myconsciousness inflashes ofred, and Eoin’s kindness Butmymind is slow to reconstructlast night,leavingoutmuchofthecontextneededtoformasolidimage.
Onethingcomesfloodingbackingreatdetailthough:UncleSeamusdiedagruesomedeath. He’sdead
Withbloodeverywhere.
Onthetable,thefloor me
I pull my legs out fromunder the blankets, setting bare feet on the wood floor. The shock of the cold air distracts me momentarily,butmyhandsshakeviolentlywherethey’refistedintothefabricaroundme Ireininmyemotionsandforcedown thewellingoftearsthatarealltooreadytostartagain.
Eoinwipedmytearslastnight,andIonlywantedhimtodoitallover.Istuffthatdownaswell.
Aheavyknocknearlystartlesmeoutofmyskin
“Evelyn.” James’s roughvoice echoes onthe other side ofthe bedroomdoor. “Are youawake? We need to leave inan hour”
Irushtoopenthedoor,findinghistallframefillingthehallandamiserableexpressiononhisface.Seeinghimlookingas
haggardandworn-outasIfeelbringsbacktheinsurmountableurgetoburstintotears.
Iswallowdowntheknotofemotioninmythroat.“Wherearewegoing?”
James furrows his brow and digs his palms into his eyes as he takes ina heavingbreath We’re bothstrugglingto keep ourselvestogether,silentlysufferingintheother’spresence.
“Thefuneralhome”Hedisappearsdownthestairs
Turningbackintomyroom,Iclosethedoorandleanashoulderagainstit.ThetearsItriedtoholdbackbreakfree,andI clampmyhandsovermylipswhileIloseeverysliverofself-controlIhavegathered Ican’tdoit.
Ican’tgetdressedandgodownstairsforbreakfastlikeitisjustanyotherday.UncleSeamusissupposedtobedownthere, hummingtohisradiowhilehereadsthenewspaper He’daskforthreeeggs over-easy mushroomsandtomatoes,onepiece oftoast butteronly andfiveslicesofbacon,withahealthyhelpingofpotatoes.He’ddowntheentiremealwithcupafter cupofhisfavoritetea
Mealtimeshavealwaysbeenafamilyaffair joyous,withlaughterfillingthediningroom.Icanseeitnow:Jamesandme staringateachotherovertheexpanseofwood,silentinourgrief IneverwanttomakebreakfastagainifUncleSeamusisn’t there to kiss me onthe cheekinthanks. I’ve onlyjustgottenused to beingthe one tasked withall thatsince AuntMagda’s passing.
Iwipeawaythewetnessacrossmycheeks,suckinginasteadyingbreathandsquaringmyshoulders Openingmyarmoire,I flip throughthe clothinghangingwithinand find myselfstaringata simple blackdress. The lasttime Iwore itwas to Aunt Magda’sfuneral,andsuddenlyI’moverwhelmedalloveragain
Withnew tearscresting,Ichangeclothes.Icatchmyselfinthemirroroverthevanity cryinginablackdress,myhaira mess of unruly, auburn waves. I try to tame my hair but give up the effort, not really caring how I look. Moving closer, I grimaceatmyselfandmyappearance.Darkcircleshangundertear-filledgreeneyes,andmycomplexionispallideveninthe softsunlight.
HowIfeelistooenormoustocareaboutanythingastrivialashairormakeup BareminimumisallIhavelefttogiveatthe moment.
Itakethestairsslowly,oneterriblestepatatime Thehouseisstillandtoosilent,emptyofanythingresemblingcomfort, asifUncleSeamustookeverythingthatmadethehouseahomewithhimindeath.
Withone final step down, I stop. It all looks … normal and untouched. Whoever cleaned up the mess must have been meticulousaboutit.Notonethingisoutofplace.Icanevenseefromherethattheradioisbackonthesideboardfromwhereit hadfallen.Idon’twanttofindanythingwrongor different,butIcan’tkeepmyselflookingfor something anything outof place
Ieasethroughthelivingroom,keepingmyfootfallssmoothandquiet.IhearJamescomeinthroughthebackdoorandmove aroundinthekitchen,hisheavyfootstepsandthebangingofcabinetsalmostviolentwithintheotherwisesoundlessspace My gazesettlesonthediningroomtable,andmystepsfalter.Istandjustbeforethethresholdaspanicinchesitswayupmyspine.
There’snoblood.Thedishesandfoodhaveallbeencleanedup. As if nothing ever happened.
Ican’tmovenorlookaway I’mrivetedtothefloor,myeyesgluedtothetablewhilemymindconjuresupthehorrorthat occupied it. Igo numb, everynerve inmybodyworn-outand unable to feel anythingnow. It’s almostcomfortable, butthat gappingvoidinmychestsomehowstillaches “Evelyn.”
Ihear James saymyname, but Ican’t tear myselfawayfrommymemories, bothvisual and emotional I’mbackto the evening,standingintheroomaschaosreignsaroundmeandUncleSeamustakeshislastbreath.
“Evelyn?” James sets a warmhand onmyshoulder, startlingme into glancingup athim. His sharp features the strong browandhawk-likenose,thelargegreeneyessomuchlikehisfather’s permeatewithworry
Itisn’toftenheworriesaboutanything,especiallyme.ToJames,I’vealwaysbeenanafterthought justanotherpersonin thehousetododgeinthehallway I’veoftenwonderedifhefeelsresentfulovermyplaceinhisparents’life Theytookmein andgavemeeverythingIneededandwanted.Theyalways madecertaintogivetheir onlychildthesamecareandlove.He wasjustakid Actually,hewasanarrogantfourteen-year-oldwhothoughthekneweverythingheneededtoknow Notmuchhas changed.Yetthe personstaringdownatme isn’tthe pompous,patronizingmanI’ve come toacceptas my cousin.Hisconcernfeelsreal.
Andthenhegathersmeintohisarms,settinghischinonthetopofmyheadandenvelopingmewithhishug Inow know thisversionofhimisveryreal,justburiedbeneathyearsofbeingsecond-besttohislarger-than-lifefather.
“Areyouready?”heasksbutdoesn’tletgo Inod,speakingintohischest,“Ineedtogetmyshoeson.”
“Okay.”Looseninghisgrip,heeasesbacktolookdownatme.“I’llgostartthecar.It’sfreezingout.”
NeitheroneofusspeaksasJamesfocusesondrivingandIstareoutthewindow.Therearesomanypeoplegoingabouttheir
normalday-to-daylives,notknowingthatminehasbeentornapart Jealousyrisestothesurface,andIcan’thelpbuthatethem fortheirinnocenceandseeminglyblissfulexistence.Nothingfeelsfairorrightanymore.
Iclose myeyes and leanbackinto the headrest, still exhausted Kneadingmypurse handle betweenmyfingers, IwishI wasdoinganythingbutwhatweare.Itdoesn’tfeelreal,andIcan’thelpbutkeepwishingitweren’t.
Andyet,asmuchasIwillitnottobe,Iknowwithoutadoubtthatnothingcangobacktothewayitwas Nothingwillever bethesameagain.
The funeral home looms over us as James parks the car We bothstare outthe windshield atthe unassumingbuildingin silence,neitherquicktofacewhatawaitsus.
Minutes tickbyand he’s the firstto move, openinghis door and plantingone footonthe concrete. “Come on.” His face turnsawayfrommeashebeginstofumblewithacigaretteandlighter “Let’sgetthisoverwith”
Mydoor opens witha grindingcreakthatseems to echo far too loudlyas Ipull myselfoutofthe seat, the weightofthe worldbearingdownonmewhilethedoubledoorsofthefuneralhomefeelmorelikethegatestosomesortofearthlyhell
Goinginsidewill makethis all real.Planningthefuneral andpickingoutacasketandflowers will beconcreteproofof whatI’mstillstrugglingtobelieve,toaccept Thisisonesteptowardstruegrieving,andI’mjustnotreadyforthat
Icometoahaltinthemiddleoftheparkinglot.“Idon’twanttodothis.”Igripmypurseinonehandwhiletheotherholds mycoatclosedagainstthewind.
Jamesstopsinfrontofmebutdoesn’tturnaroundrightaway Instead,hetakesadeepbreathandlooksupintothecold, greysky.Hisheadcomesdown,andIcantellhe’spullingouthiscigarettefrombetweenhislips.
Slowly,clearlyexasperated,heturnstofaceme “AndyouthinkIdo?”Thelookhecastsmywayisoneofabsolutetorture andthefirstthattrulyshowshowdeephisowngriefgoes.“Twice,Evelyn.I’vedonethistwiceinlessthansixmonths.” “Iwastheretoo.”Iwanttoscreamitbutmanagetokeepmyvoicewithinanappropriatevolume.“Notforasecondhave youdonethisalone.”
Wearefallingapart,butwearedoingittogether.
Heheavesanotherdeepsigh,hisshouldersliftingwiththeeffort,andhenodssominutelyI’mnotquitesureIevensawit “Iknow,Iknow.It’sjust ” “Harderthistime”
“Mm-hmm.Mommagoingwasamercy.”Jamesdragsahanddownhisface,scrubbingfingersoverhisscruffychin.“He wasfuckingmurdered.Fineoneminute.Dyingthenext.”
I swallow hard, pushingdowneveryurge I have to burst into tears and climb backinthe car. “We’re inthis together, okay?”
NotoncehaveIseenJamesshowsomuchemotion,notevenathismother’sfuneral Somehow,itmakesmyall-consuming emotionsfeelfarmorerelevantthanmyownmindcould.Iwanttoclosethedistancebetweenusandgatherhimupinahug. ButwhenItakethatstepinhisdirection,heturnstoo,tossinghishalf-smokedcigarettetotheconcrete
Heleadsustowardsthoseominousdoubledoors,pausingasifhetoodoesn’twantanypartinthis.Withaheavingofhis shouldersandasoftsigh,heopensthedoorforme,andIstepintothefoyer,feelingasifImightboltatanysecond.
Hanniganand Sons Funeral Home is nothingif not depressing Flowers are sittingonnearlyeveryflat surface, clearly meantforgravestonesandnotdecoration.Marblefloorsandpillarssupporthighplasterceilings,andthesoftclassicalmusic echoesthroughthemainfoyer
Anolder gentlemanappears fromanopendoor toour right,witha brightsmile spreadacross his wrinkledface.“Good afternoon Name’sCallumHannigan HowmayIhelpyou?”
“I’mJamesKennedy.”Jamesmotionsinmydirection.“Andthisismycousin,Evelyn.We’reheretomakearrangementsfor SeamusKennedy.”
Mr Hannigantiltshisheadtotheside,furrowinghisbrows “Sir Miss Wereyounotinformedthatall thearrangements havealreadybeenmade?”
“When?”Iforcethewordsoutandtakeasteptowardshim,notunderstandinghowthatwouldbepossible “Yesterday,MissKennedy.”
Mymindreels,andbasedonhisexpression,myutterconfusionisasplainasday “Yesterday?That’simpossible!” “Evelyn.”Jamestugsonmyarm,tryingtogetmyattention.
Iyankmyselffreeofhisgrip,overwhelmedwiththeconfusionandaswellingofirritation.“Hedied yesterday!”I’mclose toyelling,butIcan’tstopmyself “Howcouldsomeonehavemadethearrangementsifhediedyesterdayevening?”
Mr.Hanniganlooksatmewithastartledexpressionbutdoesn’tsayaword.HisdarkeyesflicktoJames,whichgetsmeto lookathimtoo
Hisgazeissoftbutstrained,asifthisentireordealisphysicallypainful.“Evelyn.”Hesaysmynamegently,coaxingdown myirritation.“Todayisthefifth.”
UncleSeamuswasshotonthesecond.IknowthatbecauseitwasaSundayandheonceagaindecidedtoskipchurchthat morning notunusualforhimlately.
