The Perversion Trilogy: Perversion, Possession & Permission

by T. M. Frazier

  “Holy shit,” I say, with my mouth agape. “Where are we?”

  “We are at Egan Castle,” Callum announces as the car stops at the center of the driveway. “Otherwise known as home.”

  “Holy fucking shit,” Gabby whispers, staring up at the five-story castle in wonderment. The brick is a color mix between gray and beige covered sporadically with green moss. “What is that part called?” Gabby asks, pointing to the uneven roofline.

  “Ah, that’s called a battlement,” Callum answers, his face lighting up. “You see where the gaps are? The lower parts? That’s where the soldiers or guards would shoot arrows at intruders.”

  “Did your ancestors live here?” Gabby asks enthusiastically.

  Callum snickers. “No, Ireland was one of the first countries to dismantle the aristocracy. No royalty in my blood. The wife and I bought the castle ourselves and gutted the inside to put in new modern…well, everything. When Imogen was taken from us,” he pauses, “we always knew we’d get her back one day, and when that day came, we needed the safest home we could get our hands on.”

  He looks up to find Gabby and I staring at him. He pulls his frown into a smile. “And there isn’t anything safer than Egan Castle.”

  Gabby scrunches her nose. “Where do you even look to buy a castle? Do you call your local castle realtor?”

  Callum shrugs. “I suppose you could, but we bought this one online.”

  She gasps. “A castle website?”

  “Nae, Craigslist.”

  We don’t have time to laugh because the front doors fly open. The woman who runs out with her hand over her throat, searching with her eyes through the dark-tinted car windows, could be my clone if not for the dark circles lining her eyes.

  My mother.

  The nerves I’d been feeling throughout the entire trip slowly begin to dissipate as a sense of comfort and familiarity wash over me with just one glance at the woman who gave birth to me.

  This definitely isn’t like the last time we were brought to a new home.

  It’s been going on eighteen years now since I’ve seen her last. I can’t wait another minute more. I fling open the car door and race toward her. She sees me and breaks out in a full sprint, flying down the steps. At the bottom of those steps, we crash into each other’s arms with a violent smack of an embrace.

  We stand there sobbing, holding on for dear life. We’re strangers, but we’re not. This person loves me unconditionally. I feel it in my bones, in my hair. I’ve been skeptical of every person I’ve ever laid eyes on, and considering my past, I know it’s foolish to jump into the river...er mote, without a life raft, but this is my mother. My mother.

  “Hi, mom?” I whisper into her neck.

  She smiles into my hair.

  Gabby clears her throat from behind us. We both look up to where she’s standing beside the car with Callum, a reluctant look on her tanned face.

  My mother sniffles and releases one arm from me, holding it open to Gabby. Gabby drops her backpack to the dirt and runs into our hug.

  The three of us soak each other’s clothes with our tears. I don’t know who stumbled first, but rather than let go, we fall to a crumpled heap right there on the driveaway.

  Callum comes over to help his half-crying, half-laughing wife off the driveway. He wraps his arm around her and smiles proudly down at us. His own eyes are both weary from the travel and filled with emotion.

  My mother looks from me and Gabby like she can’t believe we’re really here. She speaks for the first time, and hearing her voice is like a song from the past, filled with nothing but pure joy. “Welcome home, my girls.”

  The inside of the castle looks nothing like the outside. It’s not dark or musty. It’s open and airy. Clean and modern with a white and grey color pallet and stainless-steel fixtures.

  My mother shows Gabby and I to our rooms. They are across the hall from one another on the fifth floor. Each one is clean yet plush and luxurious. Flat screen TVs mounted to the walls above the dressers. A laptop on a well-appointed desk for each of us.

  The closets have several pairs of jeans and t-shirts in different sizes. All new with tags. “I didn’t know what size you were, so I figured I’d just get the basics and the three of us could go shopping for a full wardrobe.”

  From across the hall, Gabby squeals with delight.

  “What was that?” My mother asks.

  “That was Gabby, opening the closet.”

  She laughs and watches me as I take in the well-appointed bathroom. “There’s everything you need as far as toiletries go. Again, I didn’t know what you liked, so I didn’t get any makeup or things of the sort. We’ll add it to our list when we go into town.”

  I sit on the edge of the bed. “You don’t have to do all this for us. We’ve never had anything like… it’s too much.”

  My mother sits next to me and puts her arms around me. “Nonsense. Think of it like this. I’ve missed years of spoiling you. I’m going to make up for lost time. Will you please indulge your ma and allow me to spoil her daughter?”

  “And there’s a tub in the bathroom!” Gabby’s shout echoes into the room.

  “Daughters,” she corrects herself with a happy sigh.

  “Thank you,” I say, giving in.

  “What else might you want to do? What are your interests?”

  I frown. “Do you want to hear the truth, or would you rather I come up with a less unsettling lie?” I ask.

  “The truth, my dear.”

  I inhale deeply. “I’m a con artist. A master liar. I can pick pockets with the best of them and make people believe obvious lies. I passed a lie detector test once with the sheer force of my talent.”

  My mother frowns.

  “I should have gone with the lie.”

  Her lips twitch, a dimple forcing its way to the surface of her cheek, and I realize she’s holding back laughter. And failing.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Oh, wait until I tell Callum.” She slaps her leg.

  “What’s so funny?”

  She clears her throat and lays a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “When Callum and I met, he was working as a guard at the local jail and me? Well, I was the first inmate to ever give him trouble.”

  “You were an inmate?”

  “It was a local jail. Just an overnight jaunt.”

  “What were you there for?” I ask, already knowing the answer when my mother’s smile turns into a full-face beam of bright white teeth.

  “Pick pocketing.”

  This time I join her in her laughter, and when Gabby comes in to ask what’s going on, we recover just enough to tell her before starting all over again.

  I can’t sleep. It’s after midnight, and I’ve tossed and turned. The bed is the most comfortable I’d ever been in, but it’s my restless mind not my level of comfort that keeps me awake.

  Finally, after trying for hours, I get up. I’m not thirsty or hungry or in search of anything. I find myself wondering the halls of the massive castle, shuffling my feet against the plush carpet. I see a light on in the living room. I peek around the corner and there’s my mother, staring off into the fire. I step into the room, and she looks up at me with tear-filled eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, crouching before her.

  She wipes at her eyes as she shakes her head, her curls sway softly against her face. She closes her robe tighter. “Nothin’ I’m just…I’m so happy your home I’m afraid if I go to sleep I’ll wake to discover it all just a lovely dream.”

  “I’m here. I’m real,” I assure her taking her hand.

  She pulls me down onto the sofa next to her.

  “Now, why don’t you tell me all about this beau of yours.”

  “I’ve never met him but for the one video call. I’m familiar with Belly and Marci, though, and never heard a bad word spoken about the man.”

  “I didn’t know him long, but Belly was great. Grim loved him very much.” I hesitate, unsure exactly of
what to say about Grim. About what we have. About where we stand now.

  We sit in silence for a few moments, staring at the fire. “Do you know what Imogen means?” she asks, breaking the silence.

  I shake my head.

  “It means ‘last born daughter’. Because you were a miracle, and we knew there would be no more coming after you.” She sighs. “I downright hated your father for so long after you were taken from us. But he grew up in this life, and I knew what I was getting into when I married him, so it was as much my fault as it was his.”

  “No, you can’t blame yourself for things that happen to you.”

  She gives me a squeeze. “And neither can you.”

  She has a point.

  My mother nudges my side. “Go on then. Tell me all about your beau.”

  Having experienced a lifetime of little comfort, I find it odd now to be as at ease with her as I am in my own skin. I take a deep breath and tell her all about Grim. How we met as kids. How we had an instant connection. How we were apart for years but had never forgotten about one another. I don’t even realize I’m crying until she wraps her arm around me and pulls me in, tucking me into her body.

  “There there, now. No need for tears darling. You’ll see your beau again. I know it.”

  “How can you be so sure?” I sniffle.

  “Because true love cannot be separated by time or space.” She tips my chin up, and I find myself looking into an almost identical pair of eyes. “Do you truly love this boy?”

  I answer honestly. “With all that I am.”

  “Then, you’ll find a way back to one another,” she says, like it’s a fact.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because,” she smiles. “You’re here now, aren’t you?”

  My heart warms.

  She lifts the blanket over my shoulders. “And because I’m your mother. You’ll learn soon enough that mothers know everything, and we are always right.”

  I relax against my mother, and after a few moments of comfortable silence, we both fall peacefully asleep.

  Eighteen

  Levi Cohen, along with his wife Leigh, own the only deli in Lacking. It doesn’t have a name, or at least, I don’t think it does. The sign above the barred door simply reads DELI. Belly, my brothers, and I used to take up residence at one of only two tables inside most Sunday afternoons. We’d stuff our faces with Levi’s famous pastrami sandwiches while Belly and Levi laughed or argued about football or something that happened during their weekly poker game.

  Although the deli is positioned between Immortal Kings and Bedlam Territory, Levi and Leigh aren’t affiliated with any particular organization. However, they’re friends, not just of Bedlam, but to my family. Which is why Sandy and I are here now, taking in the aftermath of this morning’s drive-by.

  “Holy shit,” I mutter, crouching low in the passenger seat, pulling my hood further over my face. “It’s worse than I thought.”

  Sandy grumbles his agreement as he slows the van to a crawl.

  The front windows are blown out, glass shards scattered all over the street and sidewalk, twinkling as they reflect the last rays of the fading afternoon sun. The thick metal DELI sign now hangs sideways, swaying back and forth like a dying man calling out one last time for help. Glass crunches underneath the weight of the tires just as the sign drops face-first onto the sidewalk below.

  Sandy parks the van in the alley behind the butcher shop and cuts the engine. We look around to make sure we aren’t spotted before heading inside the deli using the back entrance through the small prep area.

  There’s a long trail of smeared red leading behind the counter where Sandy and I find Levi, sitting up with his back against a cabinet, clutching a bottle of whiskey by the neck. His dead wife draped over his lap.

  “Fuck, Levi,” I start, unsure of what to say next.

  Levi’s grey and black hair is tousled. His white beard is stained red at the ends. His eyes are glassy and unfocused. He takes a long pull from the bottle, but doesn’t look up at us.

  “You know,” he starts. “There used to be a such a thing called honor amongst thieves. Where innocents weren’t subjected to the violence between organizations. I served in the Israeli army for two years, as did my wife. We both saw death on a daily basis, and caused much death ourselves. But that was a fight against an enemy who fought back. It was soldier against soldier. Our bullets never strayed far from their intended targets.”

  “Fuck,” Sandy curses, pulling at his hair and puffing out his cheeks. “Shit is bad, Grim.”

  At the mention of my name Levi finally looks up. He looks over my shoulder. I turn to see what he’s looking at, but no one is there. “I guess you really are the reaper,” he says, unblinking. He looks over my shoulder once more.

  Still no one.

  “What is it?” I ask. Crouching down beside him I pull my hood from my face. “What are you looking for?”

  “I’m looking for her,” he says, gently smoothing down his wife’s hair with a shaky hand.

  “She’s gone,” I remind him.

  “Yes, but you’re dead. If you’re here, then I must dead too. Which means that Leigh is probably looking for me. She’ll be cross if she thinks I’m hiding from her. Although, when I find her I have to tell her that I never expected the Grim Reaper to actually be Grim the reaper of Bedlam.” He chuckles. “She’ll get a kick out of it.”

  I place my hand on his shoulder. “Levi, you’re not dead, and neither am I.”

  “I’m not?” he asks, his words weighted with the sound of disappointment.

  “No, I’m sorry. You’re not.”

  He closes his eyes tightly. “Grim, the innocent shouldn’t have to suffer. Not like this.”

  I agree.

  Either Marco doesn’t believe me and my brothers are dead, or my plan has backfired and he’s pecking at what he thinks are the dying bones of Bedlam in an attempt to take over our business. It’s not just Bedlam he wants to destroy. The Kings have been under attack, as well as anyone who’s ever been associated with Bedlam, all while Marco remains in hiding while his soldiers slaughter innocents.

  “Life can’t go on like this,” Levi sobs.

  “It won’t.” I assure him, standing up and glancing over the warn torn deli. The table where we used to sit is one of the only things left untouched by a bullet.

  Levi’s head falls back against the cabinet. “You can’t take over a town if there isn’t a town left.” He looks to his wife again and sobs. “I have nothing left.”

  And I mean it—it won’t go on—even if it I have to show my face to get to Marco.

  I look to Sandy who’s staring at Leigh’s lifeless body with a pained look on his face.

  “Sandy,” I say. His eyes snap to mine.

  He follows me over to the other side of the deli. “Make some calls. I want a brother of Bedlam posted inside every business in this town whose doors are still open. They’ll stay from open ‘til close, and offer people rides to and from work.”

  Sandy pulls his phone from his pocket “On it,” he says, tapping away at the screen as he moves to the center of the room.

  A loud, popping sound pierces the quiet. A picture on the wall behind Sandy cracks and falls to the ground, followed by a barrage of bullets.

  “Shit,” Sandy shouts.

  I leap over a table and shove him violently, landing on top of him behind a refrigerated case. Bullets pepper the walls until the sound of tires screeching against the pavement outside signal the end.

  Sandy grabs his gun and runs to the front door. I race over to the counter on the other side. Before I see Levi, I spot the bottle of whiskey several feet from the counter, broken. What’s left of it is spinning in a spilt pool of amber-colored liquid.

  I crouch beside him once more. “Levi,” I say. He doesn’t move.

  I pull on his shoulder gently. His head rolls to face me. His eyes are wide open, as is his mouth. The side of his neck is covered in blood
.

  Levi is dead.

  “Fuck!” I roar, punching my hand through the cabinet door. This war needs to end, and it won’t unless we do something more than point and shoot. We need to be cleverer. We need…”

  Trick’s beautiful face comes to mind.

  We need a con.

  Sandy is winded as he approaches, tucking his gun away. “The car was too far away by the time I got out there. I blew out the back windshield, but I don’t think I hit—” he stops abruptly when he sees Levi and my bleeding knuckles.

  I reach out and close Levi’s lifeless eyes. “Go,” I tell him softly. “Go find her.”

  Fresh from the hell I’ve just witnessed, I burst into the chief’s office.

  He looks up, startled, then relaxes once he realizes it’s me. “You’re going to give an old man a heart attack if you keep entering my office like you’ve got a bomb strapped under your jacket.”

  I stand next to the chief’s desk. “After you found out that Emma Jean isn’t of tribal blood, what did you do with the application?”

  The chief raises his eyebrows. He opens a drawer and digs through to the bottom. “We normally send out a letter of denial, but I figured I’d hang tight on this one, given the circumstances.”

  I shake my head. “No, send it, but not a denial. An approval.”

  “Why would I do…” the chief pauses. “Oh, I see. And by chance, do you want me to ask him to come in to receive his first check?”

  “He’s probably learned by now that I’m dead.” I shrug. “If he believes it, then there’s no reason for him to think he’s not welcome on the reservation.”

  “He’ll wonder why we aren’t asking him to bring his wife along,” the chief says, turning in his chair.

  “Write the letter personally, as Emma Jean’s father. Tell him that, as he must know by now, she’s disappeared after being taken into custody by Lemming, but in her absence, you want to bless your new son -in -law with all that he’s entitled to by tribal law.”

  He steeples his hands and purses his lips. “I don’t know. He knows I’ve had trouble with his old man. You think he’ll buy it?”