Vicious Minds

by J. J. McAvoy

  “What?”

  “My sister can always be upset with someone else. It’s her gift.”

  She chuckled too. “Well, she won’t be angry enough to want to go off the edge and that’s enough, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I conceded, now sure of what I was going to have to do. “I’m going to have to let my enemies grow. They will think they’ve somehow gotten the slip on me, over and over again. Meanwhile, as they grow they crush the small idiots below them and make themselves my singular targets, which can be chopped down at a single command.”

  “That will make you look weak.”

  “Good, the weaker I look, the more concern my parents will have. The more they will want to right my ship. My father had this saying…even when I am losing, I am winning. So I will lose. I will lose over and over again. I will take the hits, and then all those losses will put me at such a high risk, such a danger, they will need to step in.”

  “And then il Triste Mietitore will drag their souls back to the underworld so they will kneel before Hades and beg forgiveness,” she said with a raspy voice as if she were trying to cast a spell.

  I couldn’t hold back my laugh. “You do know that il Triste Mietitore is Italian and the gods in the myth you are using are Greek and not Roman, right?”

  “Don’t go there.”

  “It kills you to admit the Greek gods are better.” Italians were such prideful people.

  “You just had to go there. I never said that.” She opened her mouth to make an excuse but couldn’t. I laughed again. “The Roman myths are very…complicated. They are too serious for this conversation.”

  “Yes, this conversation of family, drama, plots, murder, and betrayals?” I asked.

  “Damn it, Ethan…whose side are you on?”

  “Thor’s.”

  She laughed so hard she snorted and then tried to be serious again. “That’s Viking!”

  “We Irish have Viking in us, where do you think the love of drinking in pubs and clashing cups comes from?”

  “You’re so fucking annoying,” she grumbled, using my hand as pillow, and I kissed her cheek, making her blush.

  I loved her. This was the most fun I’d had in months…since the last time I was with her. She was, just as her name claimed, my muse. My dark and deadly muse.

  “La mia anima, why is your name Greek?”

  “Don’t make me hurt you.” She took off her shirt, and then her bra turning over to look at me. “Unless you’re asking to be hurt right now.”

  Now I was the one speechless.

  Chapter 11

  “Naked I came from my mother's womb,

  And naked I shall return there.

  The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away.”

  * * *

  ~Job 1:21

  ETHAN - AGE 24

  Chicago, Illinois

  Sunday, March 10th

  “Saint Augustine once said the church is a hospital for sinners, not a museum for saints. He said this because there is this mistaken belief that all Christians, all people who go to church are somehow immune from making mistakes, that somehow, they cannot also hurt you. But my fellow brethren, we have all sinned, some more than others...” My eyebrow raised when the Father Macrae’s, who happened to be a guest from Philadelphia, eyes shifted over to me and my family once again. Apparently this sermon was for us. “…and it because we recognize these faults in ourselves that we seek the mercy of the Lord. That is what we should do. You being here in the right choice, the only choice to save your souls. However, if you care, simply for show, if you come here so others can see you here, you are only fooling yourself. For the Lord sees all.”

  “This is the third time he’s looked at us.” My grandmother whispered beside me, however that gentle smile never wavered as she gave him her attention. She looked out of the corner of her eyes. “Apparently the Lord didn’t give him the memo.”

  A small grin appeared, and I focused back on the man of God as he went on. “You need to know…the Lord accepts you as you come, just like a hospital. You come in broken, in need of healing, but once you come inside, you must be on the road to recovery. You should be getting better, not worse.”

  I fought back a yawn, shifting in the pew and it was just a flash in my periphery, but it caught my attention…that smile. I was very familiar with it. I couldn’t believe it. I turned fully and there, holding a bible and rosary in her hand passionately, was Calliope…or better yet Sister Calliope? She sat among the nuns, dressed in black and white, a giant cross around her neck. Her face was covered with freckles, her cheeks were a bit fuller, her nose slightly wider and her eyebrows red. But the real kick was the fact that her eyes were clouded like a blind person. She was completely unrecognizable, so much so I doubted…

  No, it’s not her, it couldn’t be. She was due in a week.

  Shaking the thought from my mind, I watched as the priest moved to his seat and I stood saying the Profession of Faith. “I believe in one God, the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth, of all things visible and invisible. I believe in one Lord Jesus Christ, the Only Begotten Son of God…”

  I couldn’t help it; I looked back to the nun, who held on to one of the other nun’s arms, saying the prayer as well. Her robes made it hard to determine if she was pregnant or not. Everything on the outside said it wasn’t her. However, something in me told me it was…and I trusted my instincts even above my own eyes.

  “Ethan?” My grandmother patted my arm and I took her hand helping her kneel before kneeling beside her. “Everything all right?”

  “Just reflecting on the priest’s words,” I whispered and she gave me a look but said nothing more. I looked to the altar. It was the same ol’ same old.

  When she and a few other nuns stepped forward to the altar, I felt that doubt pushing through seeing her walk slowly and carefully with the help. But, it was not so much she could not do her tasks.

  Why was I so sure it was her? Based on a simple expression? A smile? I didn’t know but I was sure. I could sense it, like the grim reaper had walked in. She did things subtly…but she had also told me she had taken a break from her other work.

  Unless she already gave birth? No…She would have told me.

  “The body of Christ.” The priest spoke, and Dona took the bread, taking a step to the side and blessing herself. When the priest looked up to me, he didn’t speak, he just shook his head.

  This son of a bitch wasn’t serious. He turned, about to deny me in front of the whole church.

  “Oh, shit,” Sedric whispered behind me.

  However, the moment he took another step he started to cough. He coughed so forcefully he had to back up. I glanced over to the nun, and she held the bread up, staring blindly in front of her like she didn’t see…or hear.

  “Father?” the altar servers took the bread from him and helped him stand. He waved them off, but when he tried to stand, he couldn’t.

  “Help him to his chair,” another sister said to them.

  It was only when he walked back up to the altar to his seat did she walk in front of me, a soft look on her face as she lifted her hands to present the bread to me.

  “The body of Christ,” she said.

  I stared for a second and she didn’t seem to be phased, leaning in so close she could almost touch my lips.

  “Amen.”

  She placed the bread on my tongue and her cloudy eyes flickered to mine for only a quick second. Her eyebrow raised and her bottom twitched as she fought a smirk. Standing back up, I stepped aside, blessing myself and walking into the pew, my grandmother and sister waited for me to go in first. I took my place on the kneeler.

  “Did that priest just try to deny you Communion or was it just a cough?” my grandmother whispered very low and sternly in Irish.

  “Apparently God was giving him the memo,” I answered, and I kept my eyes forward watching Sister Calliope doing the Lord’s work…again.

  But how did she know? And did she really go
through all of this just to make sure I wasn’t denied at communion? While that would have a major scandal in our community, it wasn’t something I could not get out of. It would have been a pain in the fucking ass but still nothing that required the amount of effort she was exhibiting now.

  Through the rest of service, I was trying to figure it out, but nothing came together. When it ended, I let my grandmother speak with Father Macrae, but that left me with the other families who closed in on me as soon as we got outside.

  “Ethan,” I turned as Savino approached. Beside him was a young petite woman with light brown wavy hair and brown eyes, wearing a questionable dress for church. “I’d like you meet my daughter Klarissa. She’s just moved back home after graduating from Rome.”

  Do parents normally try to set up their children this obviously?

  I looked at her and she smiled tucking her hair behind her ear, not speaking. She got into the University of Rome?

  “Ms. Moretti, welcome back to Chicago.” I nodded to her and before she could speak, someone screamed.

  “Watch out!” Someone shouted up ahead. I saw the body of man land on the top of a car. The crowd rushed forward. I felt that phone vibrate against my chest. I read the first and only text message I’d gotten from her.

  ATTIC NOW. She also texted a map

  I turned and looked up at the top of the church. She isn’t…she couldn’t be…no…

  YES, IT’S THAT, she replied like she could read my mind….and I hope she could because I was fucking pissed.

  Goddamn it, Calliope!

  * * *

  CALLIOPE - AGE 22

  Chicago, Illinois

  Sunday, March 10th

  “Oh…oh…” I exhaled through my mouth, sitting up against the headboard.

  “Breathe. Don’t forget to breathe.” The elder nun, Sister Barbara, sat in front of me and wiped my forehead. Her wrinkled arm held me in place while the other nun, Sister Karen, with a large mole on her chin, spread my legs.

  What the fuck do you think I’m doing? I wanted to say, but I held my tongue and instead exhaled through my nose. Soon…fucking soon. “AHH!”

  “You’re already crowning?” Sister Karen looked up to me, her blue eyes wide with surprise. “How long have you been in labor?”

  “What kind of fucking question is that? Does that matter?” I hollered at her, and Sister Barbara squeezed my arm tighter.

  “Now, now. Stay calm.” Sister Barbara gave me her fake smile and she was so motherfucking lucky I was pushing out another human being or I’d be shoving her fat head up Sister Karen’s fat ass!

  “On three.”

  “THREE!” I screamed, pushing…fuck…and then fell back again.

  “Go! Breathe! Just a few more pushes. One, two…”

  “AHH!!!” Fuck! ETHAN! Oh, I wanted to kill him too. I was going to kill him. I was going to kill everyone.

  “Oh…oh…” I exhaled, leaning back once more.

  “Okay, one more! Just one more and she’s here! Just one more.”

  I didn’t want to, but I sat back up, feeling as if I was being ripped open. And then I heard it.

  “Whaaahhh!” she cried, and I wanted to too. Sister Karen cleaned her gently, looking her over.

  “She’s so small,” Sister Barbara said, letting go of me when she moved to let Sister Karen cut the umbilical cord and then wrapped what had to be my heart in a small white blanket.

  “Can I hold her?” They both looked at me. “Please, just once.”

  The old swamp monster in a habit made a condescending face “It will be easier if you let go cleanly.”

  Ethan, where the fuck are you?

  “Please, I just want to know what she feels like, since I can’t see her.” I said to them. They looked at each other. Sister Karen frowned. She had a soft spot for my “disability.” Sister Barbara nodded, and she came to my bedside. I held my arms out and she carefully put my little girl in my arms. She was covered in blood, her skin was a little wrinkled, but she was beautiful…so beautiful.

  “Excuse me. You can go—” I heard a voice as the doors opened.

  He stood there in his dark grey three-piece suit and burgundy tie, surveying the space before looking at the angel in my arm.

  “Mr. Callahan?” Sister Barbara called out. “You do not have permission to be—”

  “I gave him permission, Sister.” I looked up from my daughter to her.

  “You?” she stammered, shaking her head. “But you said—”

  “I lied.” Before she could say another word, I reached under my pillow pulling out my gun and fired right into her head.

  “O—” Sister Karen tried to scream before I turned to her and fired twice. Her body fell back on the wooden beam before hitting the ground.

  I looked to Ethan and he stared at me, his body tense with rage, confusion clear on his face.

  “One more. Can you help?”

  I nodded to the one behind him who stood in horrified shock. It was only when she saw me nod to her did she try to run, but Ethan dragged her into the room, closing the door. He held his hand over her mouth and she tried to struggle, but he was so much bigger. He lifted her easily and snapped her neck. She fell to the ground like someone had cut the strings off her back…a useless puppet. He turned back to me, still pissed, but I exhaled wearily, letting the gun slip from my hands and relaxed back against the bed frame.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he snapped at me.

  I smiled and lifted the girl in my arms to show him. “She’s here…finally.”

  His expression softened but he kept frowning as he walked over to me. It looked like he stopped breathing when he saw her. He reached out, touching her head gently.

  “She’s beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes glazed over as he stared at her. He kissed the top of her forehead. “So beautiful.”

  “I know. She’s like a little angel.” I smiled, leaning back and pulling bits and pieces of the mask from my skin. I was so tired, but I wanted it off. I didn’t want my daughter to open her eyes to see this monstrous getup. I pulled off the wig too and finally took out the contacts, dropping them to the side one by one. I took off the nun’s habit, leaving me in my bra. When I looked back to Ethan, I could see his anger dissipating.

  His jaw was set but he did his best to speak without yelling. “I own hospitals and clinics all over the world. I have so many personal doctors on call. Any place you wanted, any place you could have dreamed, and you chose a church attic to give birth in?”

  “Some would call that a blessing.”

  “Calliope!” His voice made our daughter startle and she started to cry. I took her from his hands and laid her on my chest. He looked shocked and hurt like he wasn’t expecting her to cry or leave his arms so soon.

  “First,” I said in a low, stern voice, “do not yell at me. I have been in active labor for hours and the drugs started to wear off after communion. I do not have the patience for your attitude right now. Secondly, do not yell like that near her, it must have felt like a sonic blast in her ear…isn’t that right?” I asked my daughter, softly brushing the side of her face.

  He sighed, rubbing his eyes, and it was only after he calmed himself did he speak again, this time much more gently. “Calliope, you were labor and yet you…all of this? Make me understand. Is this work? I thought you took a break.”

  I was so tired I didn’t even know how to begin to explain so I just hit the main points. “People at work were asking questions. It’s not like I get maternity leave so I took a job. The Vatican wanted a few people taken care of for a baby selling operation. I did it. I chose here because you could also come see and…Ethan, in all honesty, I’m too tired to keep talking right now. You’re just going to have to wait for me to explain.”

  When I looked down at the baby, I could see her lips start to suckle and she moved her head around my chest. I shifted, trying to take my bra off, but Ethan reached up and pulled it down, unhooking it in the back. I looked up t
o him and he was still frowning, but the anger was gone.

  “Ask me for help, la mia anima. You are so quick to jump in and do what you think needs to be done and save me…let me do the same for you. You’re free to use me too. Stop being so selfish. You’re starting to make me feel like I am in your debt and not your partner.” He helped place our daughter at my breast. I winced a little as she latched on but then smiled down at her.

  I think that was the first time anyone had called me their partner. It was strange.

  “Okay,” I replied slowly and then remembered. “Can you take care of them?”

  I motioned to the bodies on the ground. He looked and snickered, shaking his head. “This isn’t how parents normally welcome their children into the world. Father Macrae would disapprove.”

  I laughed softly. “Father Macrae won’t be around for much longer.”

  “Him too?” He rose from the bed.

  “I’ll explain later.” I brushed her cheek as she nursed. She reached up to me and when her little hand grasped my finger I felt something strange in my eyes. I blinked a few times trying to get it out but when I touched my face I realized I was crying. Me? Crying? For real? What?

  “Thank you…for her…for you…thank you,” he whispered, kissing the top of my head.

  I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I wiped my face and nodded.

  I watched her feed, feeling myself slowly give into the exhaustion. I just needed to close my eyes for a little bit.

  I’d done a lot of hard things in my life, but nothing compared to this.

  Sunday, March 10th

  “Calliope? Calliope?”

  I heard the voice. I heard my name and I think I knew it was him, but I felt so confused and dizzy. I pulled the blade from my hair and held it out to attack but he gripped my wrist quickly. The weapon nearly grazed his eye, but he wasn’t scared. He just squeezed my wrist tighter.

  “It’s me, la mia anima, it’s me,” he said softly. “Relax.”