by Katy Rose
“Yes, but where exactly is here?” I ask as I shift over to a sofa and sit Natalia on my lap. Noticing the men in the room, all seem to be focused on our father and us. They hear and see minute details. You can tell based on the focus they are giving us. Their heads swing like watching ping pong as we ask questions and get our answers.
“Here is the headquarters to The Consortium. We are our own business ventures, most of us rivals in one way or another. However, on some matters, we agree and come together. You see, the enemy is never who you think it is. I have had cameras on your brownstone. It was just a matter of time before you figured out who you are. It seems Kaleb here has a penchant for killing those that deserve no mercy, you as well Kora seem apt in murder. I have to say all three deaths were very creative.”
“So, you know what we have been up to and it doesn’t bother you?” Kaleb asks.
“Of course, it doesn’t. Revenge is a very basic emotion and need. Most people will have it at one point in their life or another. Or are you talking about the murder part? The murder part is easy, as well. Did the men deserve to be killed, I see evidence that they did. The fact that you got pleasure from killing them? Well, it is a perverse world. In the end, you did what was needed to get justice and take down serial rapists. Not everyone will see it as such though. You both must be more careful. Even the smartest criminals get cocky and slip up. Be confident in your actions. Do what needs to be done but do it silently. The lion who kills the most isn’t the one with the loudest roar. He is the one who is cunning and quiet.”
“We have a dinner party planned in two days. Professor Elliot and his wife are to attend.” Kaleb says while raising a brow.
“Will they enjoy dinner?” Our father inquires with a tilt of his lips
“They shall find it to die for.” A mirrored grin pulls at my brother’s mouth.
“Make sure you take proper care of the bodies then. If you need anything at all, it is at your disposal. I will require four things, though.” He says while walking to a door off to the side.
“What are your terms?” Kaleb asks while taking in all the men in the room. He is much more skeptical than I. This seems almost too good to be true. Help with our killing streak, what was the cost? Nothing good comes for free.
“Number One, you both, but namely Kaleb will sign a contract to take care of certain people who become a nuisance to me. You will do it discreetly, and in the manner, I see fit. Number two, Kora will start coming down and learning about how to run the books and the children's center. Number three, your grades and social life will not suffer due to your new hobby. If you wish to not be in the public eye, I can help arrange that.
Appearances are important, and you must keep them up. Number four, every Sunday, you will both take time to come and have dinner with your biological father and me. He wants to know you, as do I. Now that I no longer need to hide this aspect of who I am, we shall find much more common ground.”
“You and our biological father? Between the two of you and Kaleb, I doubt there will be any oxygen left for me.” I joke. It is processing that this could be real life. We could not only get away with murder but get help to keep going? And going from a virtual parent to two full-time father figures? What the Hell kinda twilight zone did we stumble upon?
Babbino opens the door to a silver-haired copy of Kaleb; the older man is laughing as he walks in and shakes his finger at me. “You must be Kora. I like your sense of humor. I think the four of us will have a nice time.”
“You must be our sperm donor. Thanks for that. Why now? And don’t lie to me. I have a Ph.D. in bullshit thanks to the background in the system. I can smell a lie before you even spit it out.” Kaleb says this conversationally, but there is a threat there. He is a loaded gun with a cocked trigger. With the slightest pressure and he will go off. Both of our father figures must realize this as they cut to the chase.
“Okay, no bullshit. Hang on,” buzzing a bell. The newcomer presses a button, and a woman comes in. Collecting all three of the children Babbino paid for as well as Dessa. Natalia refuses to leave me until Babbino promises she can come back after a nice bath and food. As the side door shuts Mateo sits behind the desk and lights a cigar. When he is ready, he continues. “You have both proven to become an asset that The Consortium can use. If you agree to it that is.”
“That makes more sense,” I say as I sit back against the sofa and cross my legs, pulling out a sketch pad. I listen as my brother pulls out his cigarette case and lights one, Cloves by the smell of them. He taps the case against his palm repeatedly as he thinks. My pen makes a loop and swoops over fellow lines. I hear Kaleb exhale closer to me and look up to see him standing in front of me protectively, so I focus on my sketch while listening.
“That does make more sense. You need us. Don’t you have better-hit men in your pockets?” He asks. It is a valid question. There probably are others who know more than we do.
“Yes, we do have several hitmen in our pockets. However, none of them have what you two do. Blood. You are my blood. By birthright, you are owed a piece of my empire. By name you are due a portion of Volpe's empire.” Mateo says.
“So, you are both Dons in different Organizations. And you came together because of us. But I thought the DelPrete family was big in prostitution and gentlemen's clubs?” I ask, looking up from my sketch again to meet my biological father’s eyes.
“We do make money from sex, true. However, they are legal, and all participants are age of consent. We do not condone human trafficking. Those clubs are also one of many different businesses we own and operate. If we combine the two families, we will control roughly twenty-nine percent of the world's wealth.” Mateo says.
“What do you think, Babbino? Do you want us to take over your business? What about your other children? Do either of you have them?” I ask. I need information for my own piece of mind.
“I have two daughters. One is twenty-five, and the other is twelve. Gia is engaged to be married to a son in the Franco family. She will be a good wife, but I don’t want a stranger’s family taking over mine in the future. Karissa is a typical twelve-year-old, sequins, and attitude. She is a long way off being married. By birthright, my son is first in line to take over if you want to. Since you and your sister seem to be quite the team, I could see each one of you heading each family.”
“You two were my first children. I was born sterile. Besides the two of you, I have adopted eight other children. Some that I have bought over the years or had my men pay for are old enough to know I am not their father. I helped get them counseling and into schools. Most go on to work in one of my businesses. None have come to me and asked me to be part of the Volpe crime family. Sophia was found at age seventeen. She is now twenty-six and has helped me establish Twin Fox Children’s Center.”
“Twin Fox Children’s Center? You named it after us?” I am touched that Babbino turned something so ugly into something that can help other children like us.
“I did. Until I found you two, it was one drink after another. The only thing I worried about was making money and expanding my businesses. I know that I haven’t been the model father. I wanted to be involved more, but I didn’t want to influence your ultimate decision.” Babbino says softly. It is the most emotion I have ever seen him and in person. He truly means this.
“I need a moment to talk to Kora,” Kaleb says calmly. Giving me a look, he walks over to the other side of the office. Placing my sketch pad down, I get up and walk over to him. Looking up at him, I can see the question in his eyes. I think about what has been said, the amount of responsibility that it entails and all the perks that will come with having Babbino and Mateo involved. This may come back to bite us in the ass.
Thinking hard about my brother, I realize that we are not normal. Not in the slightest. Normal people wouldn't have killed Drake; normal people wouldn't have hunted Trent down, or gotten a thrill out of killing Donovan. None of our life has been normal. Maybe this depraved world did des
erve us. Maybe these disgusting Bastard deserved to have a judge, jury, and executioner all in one set of twins. I know that Kaleb likes killing. I am not blind. I see the way he lights up as he uses his weapon of choice to exact revenge for the women and children, we know that have been or would possibly be harmed by them. I would be lying if I said it didn’t make me happy watching him take them out. Each named crossed off our list is one less victim in the world.
Nodding my head, I look up into Kaleb’s blue eyes so much like my own in a strong voice I give him my answer. “Yes. I think this is what we are supposed to do. I think this makes sense. We would be unstoppable.”
Kaleb looks from me to Babbino and then over to Mateo. “We have decided to accept the terms of your agreement. We would like to one day take over the families. One more thing, though.”
Babbino looks up from my sketch pad. “What are your terms, son?”
“We want to finish our list before we contract for you.” Kaleb answers.
Mateo smiles and nods. “Never leave unfinished business. That is the DelPrete motto.”
“The Ouroboros represents the ever-changing cycle, as well as rebirth and the balance of female and male power. I think this is both a beautiful sketch, and it is true of the two of you. Welcome to the family Kaleb and Kora.” Babbino says as he comes over to hug us.
“Here, here!” Goes around as all of the gentlemen gathered to give their support on having us inducted in their group. Who would have thought?
Looking to a few of the billionaires I wonder out loud about their motives, “Excuse me for asking, but what exactly pulled you all into this merry band of vigilante justice? Kaleb and I were obviously pulled in by my rape, but what about you?”
“I was already out of the system when I developed my first app. However, I, too, was invited to a children’s auction shortly after I earned my first ten million. It was a hard pill to swallow that my colleagues took part in this. As a previous foster kid, I felt it was my duty to try and help. I asked around discreetly and found Alessio. The rest is history.” Mr. Lockhart answers quickly. He is a traditional New Yorker, harsh and straightforward.
The other men have similar backgrounds. They grew up 2q to poverty and were involved in the foster care system at some point all except Mr. Styles. He was born into the Volpe family.
“My father was business associates to yours. I happened to inherit his companies and his connections when he passed. These men are the last line of defense between the neglected children and hopeless fate. I am proud to be one of them.” Mr. Styles speaks quietly with a slow, slight twang. It is an elegant accent, something southern.
Wednesday morning comes by with Kora waking Natalia up and getting her dressed for school. The therapist said it would be beneficial to her if she is with the people who make her feel safest. It seems Natalia was taken from the foster care system like Kora and I were. a social worker named Connie Sanders was in charge of our case. She is the one who got us placed. Connie Sanders got married and is now Connie Elliot and the supervisor for the Department of Child Services over the greater New York area. How wonderful right? I can’t wait to kill that bitch.
While Kora gets Natalia ready and taken to school, I get the place ready for our dinner party. First stop is the grocer, then I must see about a centerpiece. I do hope our guests enjoy the show. I even talked Kora into accompanying me on the piano. Alessio shall be here at six sharp. That will give us plenty of time to plan and make sure his men know exactly what to do. He even sent out four more invitations. If all goes according to plan that will be ten names crossed off the ever-growing list. I am practically giddy as I think about it.
I decide white roses would be best as we want a classy ambiance. I get out the Waterford Crystal and silver flatware. It is a special occasion; it isn’t every day I go through all this trouble to kill someone. I know, I don’t have a long track record of murder, but the other deaths were very quick. These will be more. Better. I have an audience, and like any child, I do want my father’s approval. Both of their approval, if I am honest.
Going over my wardrobe, I check the clock. Two hours and it will be time. I get my suit on and match the tie; red seems fitting. Perfect. The Rolex and cologne come next, and then I am done. Grabbing my top hat and cane, I'm ready and heading to the kitchen, I check on the Quail. It is tender and perfectly cooked. The salad looks divine, as well. Both are specially made. I cannot wait to see how the guests react to them. Hopefully, they stay around for the whole show.
The doorbell chimes as I am pouring glasses of champagne. I grab one of the wait staff and tell them the appetizers are only to be given to guests. None of the family and do not under any circumstances eat any of them. The spices do not sit well with our delicate palates. At six o’clock on the dot, the doorbell chimes. Smiling at the old man and Kora, I strut to the entrance and watch as Professor Elliot and his wife are shown into the house. Professor Elliot is dressed in a nice suit; he probably got from Men's warehouse bargain bin. Mrs. Elliot though, she is dressed in a Versace couture with diamond and jewels to accent it.
Lucas and Wyatt, two boys on the lacrosse team, follow the Elliots into the house. Both boys are in designer dress shirts and ties. Well, at least they used those nice dress clothes one last time. It would be a shame to be lacking on the last night. Guests continue to arrive in all their sequined and fashion designer best. I am thrumming with excitement while I sip my whiskey and watch as they mingle and help themselves to the food.
Every guest that was invited showed up. Everyone is in fancy dress with either suit or dress. It makes for an elegant party. Apparently, these people took “you can’t take it when you go” to heart. That is fine. There is nothing wrong with dressing to impress; it is a waste on your death day, though. I wonder if their souls will be elegantly dressed in Hell?
My father sits directly across from me at the other end of the table. My sister to my right. I make sure that everything they eat is clean, and from the special food, I made for us. It mirrors what everyone else will be eating except not potent. At six-thirty I raise a glass.
“I would like to make a toast to Kora, my beloved sister, and twin. This dinner and the show are all in your honor, darling. Enjoy your night, as I am sure to enjoy mine.” I pause, and everyone takes a drink to Kora. After I set my untouched glass down, I continue. "And finally, make sure you try the roast Quail. It is truly to die for."
Watching poisoned food take effect is similar to watching paint drying. I will give it a few more minutes before I start my show. While waiting, I notice how quickly all the pretentious prudes shove their mouths full, ten minutes later and time. I grab my top hat and cane off the sideboard. Jumping up on the table, I kick the professor's Champaign glass over into his lap while getting on my stage. He watches as it spills on his lap before shattering on the floor. Helpless to react or stop it. Every guest’s eyes grow round slowly. They watch me make my grand entrance to my makeshift stage in abject horror.
"It is so nice to have a captive audience. Today's performance stars moi. And as you guessed, I will be singing a little Sinatra to you all as the life slowly drains from your sad, pathetic bodies." I announce myself before watching the next glass I kick tip over. I enjoy the slow roll of the wine staining the tablecloth, and Mrs. Elliot's champagne-colored silk dress. She struggles to move or scream, but her muscles are failing her, so sad.
Striking up the stereo, I make sure to emphasize my voice at the beginning and making a show tapping my cane into each person’s head. Some get a gentle tap while others, namely Lucas and Professor Elliot, I strike a golfer’s pose before drawing back I yell “four” while making sure I follow through across their faces. The copper smell hits my nose as blood splatters across the crystal in the chandelier, and some gets on Kora and father. Whoops. But as I watch Kora giggle at my antics, I haven’t the slightest care.
"And now, the end is near
And so, I face the final curtain,
My friend
, I'll say it clear,
I'll state my case,
of which I'm certain,
I’ve lived a life that's full,
I've traveled each and every highway,
And more, much more than this,
I did it my way."
Pausing the song, I sit myself down in front of Connie, patting her cheek, I look into her terrified eyes and smile warmly. I pull out a cigarette and light it as I settle in to have an important conversation. The tobacco scent mixing with the blood is growing to be one of my favorites. I wish that fancy candle store Kora likes so much could make me a death candle. Looking over at Connie, I can see the strain from the effort to move or speak. Nothing more than slight mumbles and irrelevant sounds escapes her droopy mouth. She looks like the after-effects of a stroke. Poor thing, reassuring her I explain,
“It is all right darling. The poison should be well absorbed by now. It is making its way through your bloodstream and soon it should be settling in your heart. You see the Quail were fed Hemlock seeds. Deadly little plant. It starts the paralysis within thirty minutes of ingestion. Then, slowly, it weakens your muscles and kills you. I hear it can be quite painful. It will be a few hours until your heart finally stops. So that is plenty of time for us to have a few songs and explain why it is we decided to kill you. For you must die, you see? You have been a very naughty girl and not the fun kind. No, the fun kind of naughty ends in bondage and crops. You will end up at the bottom of the Atlantic.”
Laughing I get back on stage and serenade our guests with several songs. When I finish the last bars of the fifth song, I take a bow to my audience. Kora and father give me a standing ovation. Even speckled in blood, they are a sight that warms my evil heart. “Encore,” They say! Who am I to deny my audience? "The Best Is Yet to Come" begins playing and I sing to a captive audience until I realize vacant eyes stare back at me. Wyatt’s face is starting to lose color where a few of the smaller guests are already an ashen color.