Children of Redemption

by J. J. McAvoy

  “Looks like a little cunt,” I said looking at the photo of Agar, a shaggy-haired, tan-skinned thin man. But I couldn’t imagine he’d been the one to order Ivy’s death. In all honesty, killing Ivy was insane. Why? To punish Ethan? Even then, Ethan is known for being cold-hearted to almost everyone. If the shooter was on that strip, he should have taken a shot at Dona or even me. Why Ivy? Ethan could replace a wife, but a sibling is impossible—especially knowing how much our family valued family.

  “One unidentified person,” Cain stated, forcing me to look up to the screen there. Near an exit with a dumpster was the back of a white-skinned man. Due to his uniform and the hat he wore, I couldn’t see his face…wait.

  Taking the remote pad, I zoomed into the photo myself, turning the feed slightly until zooming in on his arm.

  “I had a feeling you’d be in here,” Sedric said, breaking my focus as he walked into the room, a towel around his neck. He dried his hair with it as he walked over to me. “You know it’s the first night all the family is together. It wouldn’t kill you to have dinner with everyone—”

  “Dona, Helen, and Ethan aren’t here, so the family isn’t all here. So it’s not any different from any other dinner,” I replied, still concentrating on the image.

  “Jesus fuck.” He laughed, and at that I looked to him.

  “What?”

  “You legitimately sounded like Ethan just then.”

  I froze, my face contorting as I remembered what I said. “I did. Dear God.”

  He laughed so hard it was almost deafening, but then calming himself, he added, “I asked my dad once why he stepped back and let your father take over. And he told me this stuff has a way of consuming you. That your parents spent all their time thinking and plotting, sometimes they’d even forget to eat or sleep. He didn’t want to live like that.”

  “I’m sure Ethan would have some kind of timer set to make sure he ate just so he could stay in tip-top shape for this.” I was only partially kidding.

  Sedric didn’t seem to find it funny. “I hope he doesn’t. He isn’t Cain. He isn’t a computer, or a robot. He needs people, and mental breaks, too. I was thinking as tragic as this is for him…it’s his own lesson, too. He cannot be all knowing all the time. He’s only human…like you are only human—”

  “Sedric, what does this look like to you?” I lifted up a photo to him. He took it, tilting his head to the side as he stared.

  “A gorilla.”

  I nodded and pointed to the screen. “Look similar?”

  He turned all the way around and lifted the picture up to see them both before glancing down to me. “Who does it belong to?”

  “Rocha.”

  They were a southern cartel. Finally, I knew who to kill next.

  “Now that you know, come to dinner,” he pressed, getting up on the edge of the table. “Grandma refuses to let anyone else eat unless she sees your face in the dining room.”

  “So that’s the real reason for your pep talk? Food?” I questioned, gathering up the file and the photo from him as I stood up.

  “Do I need a better reason?” He asked.

  Everyone in this family was ridiculous, but I couldn’t imagine them not being here. When I tried to, I thought of Ethan. Even though I felt like they had left me, I still had family here. What was it like when we weren’t here? When he was alone here?

  “You comin’?”

  “Yeah,” I said, glancing around the room. “Goodbye, Cain.”

  “Goodbye, Wyatt,” Cain replied before the room went dark.

  “Still find that thing creepy,” Sedric muttered, shaking his head as we walked toward the elevators.

  “Don’t let Helen hear that, or she’ll ban you for life,” I said. But the moment I said her name, I felt the same ache and annoyance as before.

  “She’ll come around,” Sedric said as we got on the elevator and the doors closed.

  Looking over to him, I asked him seriously, “If I killed your father, how long would it take you to ‘come around?’”

  He looked back at me, his dark eyes just as serious as mine. “As long as it took me to kill you.”

  “I thought as much.” I put my arm around his shoulder, frowning as I leaned on him. “What do I do, Sedric? Help me? I don’t want her to kill me.”

  He rolled his eyes, trying to shrug me off him. “You and I both know Helen would never kill you. That would be like Dona killing you.”

  “But—”

  “Uncle Wyatt!” A small high-pitched voiced screamed, and all I saw was a blur of pink as she jumped toward me as we came out of the elevator.

  Letting go of Sedric quickly, I grabbed onto her and spun her around my waist, her tutu puffing up.

  “Quick, Sedric, call animal control! I’m being attacked by a pink chipmunk!” I yelled out.

  “I’m not a chipmunk!” She giggled while trying to escape.

  Lifting her upright, I stared into her round eyes closely. She tried to be serious, but it made her white cheeks puff up. I couldn’t help but grin. “Are you sure you aren’t a chipmunk?”

  “Uncle Wyatt, it’s me Saura!” she replied, as if I could really forget who she was.

  “Oh, Saura?!” I gasped, and she grinned widely, showing her little white teeth. “My favorite niece, Saura?”

  “Yep! I missed you, Uncle!” She hugged me tightly, and I hugged her back while I looked over her shoulder to Nari as she handed her and Saura’s coats to the maid.

  “I see how it is, Saura,” Sedric said as he walked by us, crossing his arms and frowning at her. “It’s fine. I’ll just find another niece seeing as I’m not important to you.”

  “Uncle Sedric, no!”

  “Don’t let him trick you, Saura. The only niece is you, and anyone else wouldn’t even be half as special.” I kissed her big cheeks.

  “She’ll be more special with the gifts I got her.” Sedric held his head higher, and Saura’s eyes went wide at the words “gifts.”

  “You got me something, Uncle?”

  “Don’t the best uncles get stuff? What did Uncle Wyatt bring you?”

  I shot him a glare before grinning and saying, “You and I can go get anything you want—”

  “You all are spoiling her!” Nari snapped at us.

  Sedric and I replied in unison. “So?”

  “Yeah, Mommy, so?” Saura questioned, and Nari gave her the mother of all looks. It even made me worry. Saura was only five, but she knew what she had to do. Slowly she wiggled until I set her back down on the ground, and quickly, and cutely, she said, “Sorry, Mommy.”

  “I thought so,” Nari replied, bending down to fix Saura’s bangs and straightening her dress. “Now let’s go see grandmamma and grandpa.”

  “No need, I’m already here!” Uncle Neal hollered, his voice booming as he walked out of the dining room and wrapped his arms around her.

  “Grandpa!” She hugged him tightly. “I missed you the most!”

  “What about me?” I gasped, my hand over my heart.

  “What about you?” Uncle Neal questioned, hugging her, eyebrow raised. “I’m Saura’s favorite, right?”

  “Right!” She nodded, kissing his cheek.

  Shaking my head, I watched Sedric walk over to me. He put his arm around me as he spoke, “Hurts doesn’t it?”

  “You two are old enough to have kids of your own,” my own grandmother stated as she came out of the kitchen.

  “Nope. I’m good.” Sedric said before I could, letting go of me at the same time.

  And so, as she looked to me, all I could do was smile. “Nana, children shouldn’t have children.”

  “You’re twenty-six, Wyatt.”

  “And sixteen at heart,” I replied, making my hands into a heart for her.

  She just shook her head at me and walked over to her great-granddaughter. Watching them all together…our family, it felt like old times. The laughter, the silliness…the simpleness of just existing with family. For a brief second, I wond
ered why we weren’t together more often…but that moment was only brief because the answer came a second later. Good times like this were few and far between.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir.” Greyson came up beside me.

  “If you’re sorry, don’t?” I said, and he stayed still, the look on his face told me that I wasn’t going to enjoy dinner tonight. “Say it.”

  He came up closely, whispering into my ear. “Emilio wants to talk.”

  Defiantly not making dinner. Just like that, I’d need to go from Uncle Wyatt, sixteen-year-old Wyatt, to interim boss. Maybe that’s why Ethan pushed everyone else away…it was the way he coped with being the person he needed to be.

  “Get Darcy,” I said to Sedric before walking off. My Uncle Neal gave me a quick look, questioning if I needed his help. I merely shook my head. My brother’s burden was mine alone to carry.

  EIGHT

  “A mighty flame followeth a tiny spark.”

  ~ Dante Alighieri

  WYATT

  “I hope this isn’t your death bed confession,” I told him as Greyson placed a chair for me to sit on next to the medical bed my new dog was chained to. He still smelled like burnt flesh, and both of his legs were in thick casts. “Because I haven’t given you permission to die yet, Emilio,” I added as I took a seat.

  Trembling, his burnt hand reached up to pull the oxygen mask down. “You really are like your father. He also enjoyed kicking others when they were down.”

  “Thank you, I’ll take that as a compliment,” I replied, fixing the handcuffs. “And I hardly call this kicking…haven’t I been an exceptional host? I provided you with a room, medicine, food, and all you do is sleep.”

  He huffed and then grimaced. “You’re letting me gather my strength before you torture me.”

  “You think too highly of me,” I said, leaning back. “I haven’t tortured you because I’ve been busy and forgot about you. I could care less how much strength you have. I’m a doctor after all, I could keep you alive through the pain.”

  “Didn’t you pledge to do no harm?”

  “I lied. Shocking.”

  He was silent.

  “Emilio, they told me you had something to say. If you find yourself no longer able to say it, should I help you?” I looked to Greyson, who brought over my medical bag and placed it at my feet. “Because if need be, I can help you.”

  Reaching into the bag, I pulled out a pair of black surgical gloves. Emilio tried to remain calm, but no matter how emotionless his face, he couldn’t hide the fear in his heart, the monitor beeping as his heart rate rose.

  “Well? I’m all ears.” I slid the gloves onto my hands.

  “There is a shipment my brother had coming in,” he said.

  “Coming in where? Here?” I questioned.

  He nodded.

  Feeling my own heart rate rise, my hands balled into fists as I clarified, “Your brother was going to have a shipment sent to Chicago? Our Chicago. My Chicago. That’s what you’re telling me?”

  Again, he nodded.

  “What was it? Coke? Crystal? Heroin?”

  “Heroin.”

  It’s always heroin. “What made him think he could outsell us in our own backyard?”

  He wouldn’t have done something so stupid unless he was, in fact, that stupid, or unless he had a reason to believe he could get away with it. I doubted the former, so it had to be the latter. Emilio didn’t reply, obliviously not understanding the delicate situation he was in.

  “Emilio,” I looked up at the concrete ceiling and inhaled. The moment I exhaled, I was out of the chair so quickly it tipped over. My hands were around his neck, lifting him up off the bed and throwing him on the ground, the wires and monitors crashed down along with him. Gripping on to the side of his skull, which still somehow had hair, I lifted his head so he could see. “Did I not tell you I was busy! Do busy people have time to listen to dogs take dramatic pauses? SPEAK!”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Hold him up!” I yelled, letting go of his head and standing straighter. Two other men beside Greyson lifted the ingrate as I reached into my bag, pulling out a pair of scissors and a scalpel.

  “I don’t know! I swear! I SWEAR!”

  “You see, I want to believe you, Emilio,” I said as I walked closer to him while holding onto his jaw.

  “I swear—”

  “But I don’t believe you, Emilio. After all, you’ve been keeping this secret for so long now. Who knows what other secrets are going around in that brain of yours?” I whispered as I placed my scalpel on his forehead and started to cut into his flesh. “Should I open it up and see for myself?”

  His mouth opened, but he couldn’t speak. And so I kept cutting, carving a massive C on his forehead. Tears came out of his eyes, mingling with the blood dripping down from his forehead. Gently, almost kindly, I said to him, “Emilio, don’t you want to rest? I can let you rest. You can lay back down, no one will bother you again.”

  “P…please,” he begged.

  “Just tell me what I need to know, and you can go back to bed,” I said lifting my blade from his skin, putting one of my gloved hands on the side of his face. “It’s okay. Go on. When is this shipment?”

  “The nineteenth,” he answered, and I felt the urge to rip his mouth from his face. Today was the nineteenth.

  Breathing in with a grace that had to be divine in nature, I asked, “What time?”

  “10 pm.”

  I glanced down at my watch. It was 10:49 pm because, apparently, I had to be the last to know about every goddamn thing.

  “Where?”

  He paused again…and I called upon all the angels in heaven to stop me from losing my shit.

  “Emilio, your brother is dead,” I said softly. “You can’t betray the dead. Think about yourself. Aren’t you in pain?” His fear had been blocking the pain, but me reminding him I could make it go away—or make it worse—left him trembling as panic set in. “Tell me, and I can take the pain away. Where?”

  “Chicago PD,” he managed to spit out.

  “Chicago PD?” The moment I couldn’t help but grin and soon that grin broke into full blown laughter. “The police? Bloody brilliant! Man, I gotta give it your brother. He had balls.”

  I waved my hands and released him, letting him fall back onto the ground. Looking down at him, I still couldn’t wipe the smile from my lips. “It’s hard being the second brother, believe me, I know, but look at us now. Everything is on our shoulders.”

  Not waiting to hear his reply, I walked over toward the door as Greyson spoke to the others. “Put him back on the bed—”

  “Did I say put him back on the bed?” I questioned, all humor gone from my voice as I handed Greyson the scalpel and scissors in my hands.

  Greyson stared back at me. “You said you’d let him—”

  “I lied. I’ve been known to do that. Everyone learns through suffering.”

  He nodded, moving to go pick up my medical bag. As he did, I picked up the chair he’d brought for me and slammed it into his back, sending him onto the ground, before kicking into his ribs. “Apparently you haven’t suffered, Greyson.”

  Before he could get up, I pulled my foot back again, kicking into his teeth. “HOW THE FUCK DID WE NOT ALREADY KNOW THE MOTHERFUCKING POLICE ARE NOW WORKING AGAISNT US?!”

  Annoyed, I yanked the pole that had connected Emilio’s IV drip, lifting it high in the air before beating Greyson’s body with it repeatedly. “Do we not have people in the Chicago PD? Did they betray us, too? How does everyone in our world lose their GODDAMN MINDS AND WE DON’T HEAR ABOUT IT! What are you good for? WHAT ARE ANY OF YOU GOOD FOR?!”

  I wanted to beat him to death. But instead, when he stopped responding, I dropped the pole before walking into the viewing room. There, leaning back on the chair eating an apple was Darcy, his feet propped up on the table.

  “Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got serious anger issues?” Darcy asked before taking another b
ite of the apple.

  “All of us have serious anger issues. It’s in our DNA,” Sedric replied as he did a sit-up on the ground next to Darcy.

  “I see you two are just having a grand old time,” I snapped. Both paused—one mid-bite and the other mid-crunch—to glance at each other before looking over at me, smiles forming on their faces. In an instant, I knew what was going through their minds. “If either of you compare me to Ethan one more time, I will find the highest bridge to throw you off.”

  “Yeah, definitely not Ethan-like at all.” Darcy fought back a laugh.

  “I’m already getting goosebumps,” Sedric replied as he pushed himself off the ground. “Once he starts giving us the silent treatment and the cold stare, we’ve lost him.”

  I stared at them for a moment, all of me still tense, before inhaling deeply. Taking the gloves off, I glared at them both. “You mean this cold stare? Or do I need Ethan’s pretty green eyes to really cut you deep?”

  Darcy grinned.

  Sedric sighed in mock relief. “There you are, Wyatt…you disappeared for a little bit in there.”

  “No, it was still him. Just dark Wyatt. You know they call him the Mahdoc now,” Darcy replied.

  I grinned at that, walking toward them and taking a seat on the coffee table. “Mahdoc…mad doctor…you’d think they’d be a little more creative.”

  “At least they aren’t referring to you as kid anymore,” Darcy reminded me, and it was true.

  “The secret to their respect is apparently abuse, the savages,” Sedric joked as he handed me a small sliver flask.