Burn Falls

by Kimberly Knight

  “Stop fussing around him. I want to know where he’s been for the past month,” Dad spat.

  My sister rolled her grey eyes as she finally spoke, “He’s probably been drunk at the whorehouse.”

  “Watch your mouth, young lady,” my father told her. “Answer my question, Draven.”

  “I went to Chicago to run the tables,” I partially lied. I was in Chicago, but that wasn’t where I went voluntarily. That was where Samuel had taken me, and now it was where I was under Renzo’s control.

  “You need to stay away from Chicago. It’s dangerous there,” Mother cried.

  “Look, Draven. You need to get your act together. You can’t disappear for days on end like this.” My father’s face and tone were stern. “Maybe it’s time to help me, become a bank teller like your old man? It brings in a steady income and doesn’t attract the wrong kind of people.”

  “Yeah, about that,” I said running a hand through my slicked back brown hair. “I got a job in Chicago, and I’ve come to tell you that I’m moving out. I’ll be getting all of my belongings after I’ve eaten.”

  “What?” My mother gasped.

  My father shook his head in disbelief. “What sort of job?”

  “Working for a man named Renzo Cavalli,” I replied around a mouthful of food.

  “Who’s this Cavalli fella?” Dad asked. “What does he do?”

  There was no way I could tell my family the truth, that I worked for a man who bootlegged alcohol and controlled prostitutes while giving kill orders to Al Capone. However, my primary job was making sure the house won when it came to Cavalli’s underground gambling operations.

  I turned to my father. “I’m working the door at a jazz club, and I’m making a lot of dough. It’s time I grew up and got a real job, right?”

  Dad stared at me and, having sensitive hearing, I could hear my mother’s silent cries as she washed dishes in the sink. “You’re right,” he finally said. “It is time you grow up. You’re a man now. You’re twenty-four, and you should think about settling down.”

  Thoughts of Mary raced through my head, and I smiled tightly at the memory of her. Little did my father know I had almost been a father. But now, I’d never have my own family, and I’d never age past twenty-four.

  “I will,” I lied.

  I could sense him before I turned around to see Renzo standing in the doorway of the room I shared with a fellow coven member, Athan, in Renzo’s mansion or what the coven called his compound. “How’s the family?”

  I hadn’t told him I’d went to see them. Given my speed, I thought I could run the distance and back before he knew. Apparently, I was wrong.

  “Well …” I hesitated, still not turning to look at him.

  “You’re never to see them again.”

  I spun around finally. “Why?”

  Renzo’s arms were crossed over his suit covered chest as he leaned against the doorjamb. “You belong to me now.”

  “They’re my family.”

  “They’ll die before you.”

  “So?” I knew they would. I could live forever.

  “Don’t you think they’ll notice you not aging?” I stared at him, and Renzo smirked. “It’s better to get rid of them now.”

  “What?” I was on him before I blinked, my hands clenching his lapel. “Don’t you fucking touch them!”

  His grin widened. “I won’t, but you will.”

  I growled deep in my throat, my fangs deciding. “Over my dead body.”

  Renzo pushed me, and I flew across the room, crashing into the chest of drawers that held my clothes. It shattered, the wood slicing into my skin that quickly healed before I stood.

  “Don’t fucking tempt me to end you, Draven. I’m your master, and I will always be your master. You do as I say, no questions asked.”

  “It’s my family,” I pleaded.

  “It’s the rules,” he stated and then he was gone.

  I was in my room, trying to come up with a plan on how to escape and save my family, when the door opened, and Athan entered. Since I’d arrived at Renzo’s mansion, Athan had been my closest ally. He was turned three months before I was, and was a guard who worked the door of the casino. Renzo wanted an entire army, and he was quickly forming one. By my calculations, there were at least one hundred of us living on his farm outside of Chicago, learning how to be killers while making him money in illegal dealings.

  Athan didn’t say a word. Instead, he handed me a piece of paper and pointed to his ear. I knew he meant that Renzo or Samuel could hear us and that was why he was putting it in writing. If we spoke telepathically, others could hear too because we could only turn the ability off completely or not at all. I grabbed the note, blocked my thoughts from being read, and then started to read it.

  “Get dressed. We’re getting a few bearcats tonight,” Athan said. Bearcats were also known as fiery women.

  Ren ordered Sam to go with you to take out your folks.

  My eyes widened, and I knew that he was warning me that no matter what, my family wasn’t long for this world.

  “When?” I asked, interrupting him.

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Did you?” I asked, referring to his family.

  “Everyone has.”

  I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Why?”

  “Just the rules.”

  I needed to talk to him more and find out why. “Leave. I’ll change, and then we can be on our way.”

  Athan and I went to a club that we knew had no other vampires around because most of the vampires stayed in Chicago. This club was closer to Rockford, and soon it would be overtaken by Renzo, but for the night, it was a place that Athan and I could drink and not have to worry about anyone listening to us.

  The bartender poured us each two fingers of the amber whiskey we ordered, and I spoke to Athan telepathically as we both sipped our drinks.

  “Why did you do it?”

  It took him a second to understand my question. “If I didn’t, Samuel wouldn’t have given them a peaceful death.”

  “Why does he care if my parents are alive?”

  “If we have ties, then they will recognize us, and the bull would come looking for us, which would lead back to Capone and Cavalli and cause another war.”

  A little over ten years prior, the Great War in Europe had ended. I was only nine when it started, and thirteen when it ended, so I didn’t know much about it. Now, being twenty-four and under the control of a madman, I might be sent into a new war if Renzo didn’t get his way. If that were the case, what would a world full of vampires be like? What would it be like to never feel the warm, naked body of a woman beneath me again? What would it feel like to never taste human blood again?

  “At this rate, all of Chicago will become one of us,” I stated. “Or dead.”

  Athan shook his head. “Then the scratch would be gone.”

  Of course it came down to money. Everything came down to rubes, and that was why we were bootlegging whiskey, running brothels, and having underground card games.

  “Look at it this way, Draven. We don’t know what the future holds, and it’s better if our family doesn’t see it. Do you want to see the look on your mother’s face as she watches you reach into a man’s chest and pull out his heart? To know you’re a murderer now?”

  I’d only killed in the beginning when I couldn’t control the hunger. Now I could, and when I fed, I knew when to stop. “That would never happen.”

  “It might. Renzo would make it happen. He killed your pregnant—”

  “I’d compel my ma to forget if that were to ever happen,” I said, cutting him off because I didn’t want to think about Mary.

  “Or the look on her face when Renzo pulls your heart from your chest,” he countered. “You know he’d just kill them after you were dead.”
r />   “You like living this life?” I asked instead of answering his questions. He knew my answer. Of course, I wouldn’t want to see the pain on my mother’s face. It broke me to hear her silent cries when I told her I was moving to Chicago and away from Peoria.

  “Is it really living?”

  I shook my head and took another sip of my whiskey. It wasn’t living. We were no longer breathing, but we weren’t six feet under either. “No, but I can’t kill my family.”

  “It’s either you give them a peaceful death where they feel no pain, or Samuel rips their hearts out one by one while your father looks on before doing the same to him.”

  Present Day – Anchorage

  The moment I turned off the machines that were keeping Miles alive was the first time I’d ever wished, since my turning, that I didn’t have super hearing. Calla’s sobs were like an ice pick stabbing my un-beating heart. It was all I could focus on in the tiny hospital room, and I had to fight everything inside of me not to dart to her and hold her tight—to take all of her hurt away.

  I needed to figure out who the fucking vamp was that killed her father. Usually, vampires didn’t go around killing people because it led to questions, but that was what Renzo made us do in Chicago and why he turned almost four hundred of us. To this day, people assume Capone ran Chicago, but the truth was, Renzo Cavalli was the one making the orders, and Al Capone was just the face. Athan and I had escaped before Capone died, and while people assumed he had a heart attack, I knew Renzo had killed him. I just didn’t know why.

  I hadn’t seen Renzo in eighty-six years.

  When Athan and I were traveling city to city, town to town, after escaping Renzo and his mob, I stopped in Seattle before moving onto Alaska. That was where I met my human friend, Lieutenant Martin Ellwood, in Seattle. Over the course of the past fifteen years, we’d formed a bond and an understanding. I never thought being a vampire would turn into something useful, but I had a monthly commitment to him, and I wasn’t going to let the one human who truly knew who I was down.

  My gaze met Calla’s, and I smiled tightly then turned and left the room so she and her family could grieve in privacy. I knew what it was like to lose a parent. I’d killed my entire family in their sleep to spare them, but it was that day, eighty-six years ago, when I vowed I’d never kill an innocent person again.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  On the way home from the hospital, my family and I rode in silence. Numb. I never imagined having to say goodbye to my father, and I wasn’t prepared for it.

  Minutes from the house, I took out my cell and texted Valencia.

  We took my dad off of life support this afternoon. I’ll call you in a couple of days once I can function.

  A text came through quickly.

  I’m so sorry, Calla. If you need me just say the word and I’ll fly out. Give my love and condolences to your family.

  I will. Thank you.

  As I walked through the front door of my childhood home, the jolliness of the Christmas decorations caused sadness to hit me like a freight train once again. I saw all of our gifts still under the tree, and it struck me, as I stared at the colorful lights, that I would never see my father again, never get to spend another holiday with him. He’d never pick me up at the airport and welcome me with open arms. He’d never sit at the dining room table and cheat at board games, causing me and my siblings to playfully argue with him. He’d never kiss my mom on the cheek and slap her butt in affection again, saying he loved her as much now as he did the day they married.

  And he’d never tell me that he loved me again.

  After I took a deep breath and wiped my tears, I shrugged off my coat and headed to the kitchen to pour myself a giant glass of OBB. If it wasn’t for my mother and her scolding me about everything, I’d drink straight from the bottle at this point. Everything was surreal, and to be honest, I didn’t know what to do or how to be. I wanted to fling myself on my bed and cry until I had no more tears left in me, but I had my mom and my brother and sister to think about. I was the oldest, and I felt as though it was my duty to take care of everyone now.

  I carried my glass, the bottle, and three extra glasses, and then joined everyone in the living room. As I set the items on the coffee table, I noticed my mother rummaging in her purse by the front door. She pulled out her cell phone, then walked over to the desk and picked up her address book.

  “Mom, have a glass of OBB. You’ll need to call everyone in Ireland tomorrow because it’s too late there now.” We were eight hours behind my grandma and my parent’s friends in Dublin, so it was the middle of the night there.

  “Right.” She sighed and closed her eyes, a tear sliding down her cheek.

  “We’ll call everyone in the morning for you, Mom. Let us do it.” Alastair walked over and placed his arm around her shoulders, hugging her against his lean frame. “Just tell us who to call besides Grandma, and we’ll take care of it in the morning.”

  She nodded and handed him the address book. “Okay, thank you. Call … everyone.”

  Betha poured both herself and Mom a few fingers each of the whiskey, while Alastair went to the kitchen to grab a beer. Sometimes he and my father would sit on the deck in the backyard and drink beers while shooting the shit. We all had our way of coping. Once he was back, we sat in silence until Mother spoke again.

  “Calla, can you call Ted and let him know?” I realized my mother was so much softer in how she spoke to me since Draven told me he would speak with her. Whatever he’d said to her at the hospital had apparently helped with her hatred toward me. I hadn’t seen him since he left the hospital room, giving us time to grieve alone, and that thought made me realize I needed to call or text him to thank him for everything—even if he couldn’t save my father.

  I nodded. “Yes, of course. I’ll handle OBB.”

  Everyone at O’Bannion Burn was like family to us. Each one had worked for my father for many years, some since he’d opened OBB, and I wanted to make sure that they all knew they were safe and so were their jobs. I would also need to talk to Ted to see if he could get security cameras installed and run things until we found a replacement for my father. No one would ever replace him, but we needed someone to run the warehouse even if we had to promote from within.

  I decided that even though it was late, Ted needed to know my father had passed. Carrying my whiskey, I went into the kitchen to make the call. After taking a big gulp of the sweet and spicy liquid, I took a deep breath before dialing his number.

  “Hi, Uncle Ted. It’s Calla.”

  “Hey, Calla. How’s your father doing?”

  I closed my eyes as fresh tears slid down my cheeks. “He ... he passed this evening.”

  “Oh, Calla. I’m so sorry for your loss.” After a few beats, his voice broke, “I’m going to miss your dad. He was an amazing man.”

  “Yes, he was.” I paused before continuing, “The other reason for my call is that I was wondering if you could have cameras installed and let the staff know that they’re safe and we’ll be in touch soon about the funeral arrangements.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Thank you, and please assure them that their jobs are safe too.” I didn’t know how at this point, but it was better not to worry anyone.

  “I will, and don’t worry about the business right now. I’ll take care of things there and keep the doors locked for now. I’ll see about hiring a guard for the door or something. Go be with your family, and please pass on my condolences to your mom.”

  “I will. Thank you for everything.”

  “I’ll come by tomorrow, and please, if there’s anything I can do, call me.”

  I thanked him again, ended the call, and then returned to the living room. Everyone was still in their own heads, silently remembering my father or what had transpired. I started to think about what would happen to the business. Dad had always joked
he was going to leave me in charge because Mom wouldn’t have a clue what to do. At least I thought he was joking. It wasn’t the kind of thing we talked about when the family got together. Now he’d passed before we were ready, and I was definitely uncertain of what the future would hold regardless of telling Ted not to worry.

  “Oh! What did Ted say?” Mom asked as though she’d just remembered I’d called him and I was back in the room.

  “He’s going to let the staff know, and he’ll come by tomorrow. He also told me to pass on his condolences to you.”

  “Okay. Thank you for doing that, Calla.” She sat back on the couch.

  Alastair switched the television on, and we all stared at it. No one was w watching, but it drowned out the silence.

  “I can’t believe he’s gone,” Mom said, a fresh batch of tears surfacing.

  Betha hugged her as they cried together, and I leaned against the back of the couch, picturing my handsome dad as my own tears rolled down my face, splashing onto my top as they dripped off my chin, and before I knew it, I was dreaming.

  Dreaming of my father alive.

  My eyes felt as if I’d had been in a fight. They were swollen and tender as I showered the next morning. I let the water run over my face, wanting it to wash the grief away. How would today go? I knew there would be many tears and many phone calls to be made, and I was dreading it all because I just wanted to stay in bed and be alone.

  I dressed comfortably in sweatpants and a baggy tee, and I tied my long brown hair up off my face. My body craved caffeine, so I headed downstairs to start a pot of coffee. The rest of the house woke not long after me, each grabbing a cup of coffee and not saying anything because it wasn’t a “good morning.”

  We sat at the kitchen table for a long period of time before Mom spoke. “I guess I’d better start arranging the funeral.”

  I placed a hand over hers. “Let us handle that.”

  She smiled tightly. “Thank you.”