* * *
We need a lot of glass bottles, which we filch from the deli. I keep the money, even though I’m not sure if I’m going to need it anymore or not. While Josh and the guys are getting things together, I head back to the theater. I check to see that Nonna’s still in the audience. She looks like she’s enjoying the play, so that’s something.
Enough time has passed that Duncan’s already dead, so Brice is backstage. I run through the clutter of sets and props to find him. Toby, the kid who plays Fleance, sees me and wants to know why I’m all covered in blood. I tell him it’s fake. Finally, I find Brice. I pull charms out of my pockets. “I need some kind of protection charm,” I tell him. “Something that would keep people safe from harm.”
He looks confused. “I thought you were stealing money and running.”
“Yeah, new plan,” I say. I explain what we’re planning to do.
His eyes get big. “I’ve never made anything like what you’re talking about, but I’ll do my best.” He considers for a long time, then finally he runs his hands over the charms, blue sparks leaping from his fingers. “Do you want me to help?”
I glance around the backstage area. “You’re in the play.”
“Yeah, but I’m done for a while. I could come along.” He flashes me a grin.
I don’t want Brice to get hurt. Or maybe I don’t want Brice to watch me doing what I’m planning on doing. Or maybe... “You have to stay and keep an eye on Nonna,” I say. Which is the truth. Just maybe not the whole truth.
When I get back to the deli, Josh and the guys have a bunch of glass bottles that we load into the trunk. Josh has already doctored them so that they’ll do what we want them to do. I pass out charms.
We get in my car and we drive back to the subway tunnel.
But when we get to the parking lot, I see two Calabrese men roaming around on top of the manhole cover. “Damn it,” I say. I should have realized my father would never have left the berserkers unguarded. Not while I’m still a threat. I still have my gun, but I never did put any more bullets in it. I should have some more in the glove compartment, though, I think.
I keep driving past the parking lot to the dock. I park in the same place Josh and I did when we brought the stolen car here. To my amusement, it’s still here. Josh notices too. We exchange a short laugh. Then I get bullets out of the glove compartment and start loading my gun.
“The place is guarded,” I say, “so we’ll have to take out the guards.”
Josh doesn’t look happy. “I know those guys pretty well. I don’t want them dead.”
I don’t like the idea of killing them either. I’m not even sure if I can, considering how much I hesitated when I tried to shoot my father earlier. And he really deserved to die. These guys are just cogs in the machine, guys following orders. I shove bullets in the gun. “Maybe I can just disable them somehow.”
“Sure,” says Josh. “Like how? You shoot their legs so they can’t come after you? Then they can still shoot.”
I lean back against the seat of the car. “Well, maybe I could sneak up behind them and knock them out or something.”
“How?” says Josh. He looks skeptical.
Then I remember I have an invisibility charm in my pocket. This is getting confusing. How many of Brice’s charms do I have right now, anyway? And they’ll all go dead at midnight, so it’s important I get this done as quickly as possible. I slide the invisibility charm over my head. “This is how.”
“Yeah,” says Josh. “That will probably work.”
“You guys wait here until they’re out of the picture,” I say to Josh and the guys. “Then you get the stuff out of the trunk and come in.”
And I’m off, scampering back to the men guarding the manhole cover. It’s a little difficult to remember how to run when I’m invisible, but I manage to make it there without falling down or tripping. I approach the guys from behind. I move slowly and make sure not to make noise. I clutch my gun by the barrel.
When I’m close enough, I clobber one of the guys over the head with the butt of my gun as hard as I can.
“Ouch!” the guy says, looking around to figure out what hit him.
I dance out of the way quickly. That didn’t work? Great. So now what?
“What happened?” asks the other guy.
“Something hit my head,” he replies, holding the top of his head in pain.
“What?”
“Well, I don’t know.” He’s still looking around, trying to figure out what happened.
What am I going to do? Should I hit him again? What if I can’t knock him out? Maybe I should just shoot them. No. I don’t want to do that.
Suddenly, I have probably the stupidest idea I’ve ever had. I look on the ground for any object lying around. I see some bottle caps and rocks. I pick them up and hurl them at the other guy. Once they leave my hand they aren’t invisible, but to him it must look like they materialized out of thin air.
“What the—” He whirls. Now both of the guys look confused and worried.
“I am the ghost of Gianna Calabrese,” I say. “I’m here for revenge against my husband, Lucio.”
Both of the guys look at each other. “Did you hear that?” says one.
The other guy nods.
“Go now,” I say, “and no harm will come to you. If you stay, I will be revenged upon you as well.”
“Lucio killed his own wife?” one of the guys says.
“That’s hard, man,” says the other.
I rain more gravel and bottle caps on them both. “Go now!”
They both look around warily.
The guy who I hit on the head rubs it gingerly. “I didn’t sign on to deal with angry ghosts.” He starts to walk away.
“Yeah, me either.” The other guy follows him. I watch as they walk to the parking lot, get in their car and drive away.
It’s only when they’re out of sight that I take my charm off and allow myself to laugh. Josh and the other guys are coming into the parking lot as well, their arms full of glass bottles. Maybe what I said to the men I chased off is almost true anyway. I am the force of revenge for my mother. She never deserved what happened to her.
We move the manhole cover away and begin the slow descent into the depths of the subway tunnel. It’s not easy carrying the glass bottles, and we’re all frightened of jostling them too much. They’re dangerous little containers that we carry with us, and we all know it.
In the tunnel, it’s dark. There aren’t lit torches the way there were when we followed Tommy and Max down here. We feel along the walls of tunnel like blind rats. The stone is cold and clammy under our fingers. The only way we know we’re getting closer is the sounds of the berserkers grunting and whining. When the din gets loud, we know we’ve arrived.
Just to be sure, I walk forward to feel the cold metal of the bars.
A berserker hand darts out in the darkness, grabbing onto mine.
I yank back before it can trap me. “Okay,” I say into the darkness. “Let’s set them up.”
We uncap all the bottles and stuff wicks in them. Each of us has about ten. Working in the darkness, we feel our way around so that we have our bottles within reach. Between all of us, we have at least fifty Molotov cocktails. There should be enough to burn up all of the berserkers. How will my father threaten to take over without his human weapons?
“Charms on,” I say. We all slide Brice’s charms on. Hopefully, they’ll protect us from the blast of explosive fire.
Then we stand in silence, and I realize something important. “Um, no one has a lighter or matches, do they?”
No one says anything.
I feel like the biggest idiot on earth. I got everything ready to blow up the berserkers except for the most important aspect. I didn’t bring anything that would make fire. How could I have forgotten something so key?
“Are we going to have to go back?” says someone, a disembodied voice in the darkness.
“I think
there’s a convenience store a few blocks over,” says someone else. “Anybody got cash?”
No. I don’t want to drag this out any longer than I need to. Who knows when my father will check up on us again? Who knows when the guards I chased off will come back? We can’t waste time.
I remember a spell from my mother’s spell book. It was a spell to make fire. But I don’t remember the words. I can picture the page in my head, but I can’t remember who to call on or if it needed ingredients or anything. Maybe we are going to have to go to a convenience store.
I finger the charm that Brice made. He doesn’t need spells to cast his magic. He says that he just thinks about it, and it happens.
I’m not as powerful as Brice, but maybe...
I concentrate hard on wanting the Molotov cocktails’ wicks to be lit. I scrunch up my face, picturing flames on each of them. Red fire, tongues of orange licking down the cloth wicks...
Nothing.
“Where’s the convenience store exactly?” I say.
“I’m not sure,” says a voice. “You might have to drive there. Who’s got the keys?”
This is ridiculous. How could I have seriously forgotten fire? I glare into the darkness. I want the stupid Molotov cocktails lit, and I want it done now. It’s not hard. It’s just fire, something people have been able to use for their own purposes since we were cavemen. Just fire, for God’s sake!
And suddenly...
Every single Molotov cocktail’s wick bursts into flame. The red, flickering light illuminates the inside of the tunnel. I can see the faces of the guys, the hollows of their faces in shadow. I can see the berserkers, stalking around behind the bars. They seem more animated than last time, perhaps because they’ve tasted freedom. They shriek and shy from the fire, but when they see us, they bare their teeth and growl.
“Whoa,” says Josh. “How’d you do that?”
“I don’t know,” I manage. “But it’s good, right?” I look at the berserkers again. They’re just people. They’re like Brice. They’re innocent, and they don’t deserve to die, but they’re suffering as well. They don’t deserve to be used the way my father is using them either. I remember the berserker who muttered at me to kill him. I remember Nonna pleading with me to put my mother out of her misery.
“Throw ‘em,” I say.
When the first Molotov cocktail shatters inside the berserkers’ cage, a huge fireball erupts out through the bars. Searing heat radiates out at us. I take a step back and begin hurling my own. They explode like fireworks, like big destructive flower blooms, all through the subway tunnel. The berserkers scream. I watch their bodies as they streak past the bars, their limbs and hair on fire. It’s a terrible way to die. I’m not proud of it.
But when we’ve thrown all our makeshift bombs, they are all dead. Dead, charred, and ruined. But out of my father’s reach. Out of his power.
Chapter Seventeen
The roar of applause thunders in my ears as I take my bows with the company on the final performance of Macbeth. The theater is packed. Half of the audience members are wearing charms that Brice made and their faces are enraptured. They’ve had an experience they never could have imagined. They are on their feet, pounding their palms against each other in an ecstasy of clapping.
We bow again.
With the applause still echoing through the theater, we exit the stage. Backstage, everyone is congratulating each other. It was a good show, a good run. Brice finds me and pulls me into his arms. “You were fabulous tonight,” he says and kisses me.
I love the way his arms feel around me, the tingle of his lips against mine.
The actress who plays Lady Macbeth makes her way over to us. “I heard you got the part,” she says to Brice. “You’re doing something commercial in the theater district in the city?”
“Rehearsals started yesterday,” Brice says, beaming. “Thanks for your help.”
She shakes her head. “You didn’t need my help. You’ve got a face. And you’ve got talent. No one’s going to deny that.”
Brice and I don’t stick around for the wrap party. He has to get home before midnight, after all. Plus, we’re still being as careful as we possibly can. It’s been nearly two weeks since the berserkers were destroyed and there hasn’t been any retaliation from my father, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be.
To be on the safe side, we’re escorted back to Brice’s apartment in the city by several of our guys. While we travel, they report to me that the charm business is going well. I’ve officially broken from the Calabrese family, but Josh and his guys weren’t the only people who were loyal to me. I still run a family—not all of us are related, however—and we still sell Brice’s charms. Safe charms that won’t hurt anyone.
Between the money I took from the deli and the money we’ve made, Brice had enough to move out of his parents’ house. I still live with Nonna, but I usually hang around while Brice is locked up to make sure he doesn’t get out. We’ve made him a sort of lock room in his new apartment. It’s sturdy, but it makes Brice feel better if I’m there.
Brice is my boyfriend, which still feels a little strange to admit. I never thought I’d be the kind of girl who had a boyfriend. But I do. And now that it’s official, things aren’t much different between us. Well. Maybe there’s more kissing. Which is absolutely fine with me.
Until I get back to Nonna, she’s guarded by some of my guys. She’s not crazy about the entire arrangement, but her safety is important to me, and I wouldn’t put it past my father to hurt her.
The guys drop Brice and me off at his apartment. We’ve only got a little bit of time before Brice changes, so we spend it sitting on his couch watching TV. I snuggle into him, and I feel small and delicate. But when I lock him up, I know I’m there because Brice trusts me to protect him. It’s a balance between us. I like the push and pull of it. Feeling important, but also feeling cherished.
I go back to the TV while I listen to Brice banging around in his lock room. I’ll wait until he changes back before heading home.
I lean back to get comfortable and feel the unmistakable poke of a gun barrel in my back. I stiffen. No one’s here. Certainly there’s no one behind me. I would have seen someone.
“And to think, it would be this easy,” says a disembodied voice behind me.
I know that voice. My heart thuds. “Dad.”
“You think your Brice is only one who can do magic to that degree?” he inquires, chuckling. “He’s not.”
I remember the way my father controlled the berserkers. He’s powerful. And I’ve been stupid, not thinking that he could strike against me using the very tools I use myself. Invisibility. Charms to open locks. Now, he’s going to kill me. I swallow hard.
“I’m not going to kill you,” says my father. “Last time you had the same chance to kill me, you didn’t, so I’ll extend that same courtesy to you. Of course...” He leans close, and I can feel his breath tickle the back of my neck. “That doesn’t mean I won’t shoot you if I have to. So don’t make any sudden moves, Olivia.”
“If you aren’t going to kill me,” I say, my voice a croak since my throat is suddenly dry, “why are you here?”
“I wanted to tell you I was impressed,” he says. “For so long, I’ve been working with utter imbeciles. You, Olivia, you’re worthy of me. You’ve got a bloodthirsty spirit. You’ll do whatever it takes to get ahead.”
I’m not bloodthirsty. I clench my jaw.
“I think,” says my father, “if someone were to total all the people I’ve shot myself, and all the people who I’ve ordered hits on, it wouldn’t even come close to the number of people you torched in that subway tunnel. So many people dead at your hand, Olivia. That’s the kind of commitment I like to see.”
“They were already as good as dead,” I say to him. “You saw to that.”
He laughs. “Nicely played, Olivia. You’ve created quite a setback for me. But you must realize that killing a bunch
of berserkers won’t stop me. You know me well enough for that, don’t you?”
Maybe some part of me had thought it was over. Had hoped. But I realize now that I was being naïve. My father won’t stop.
“At some point soon,” he says, “you and I will be alone together like this again. And then, one of us will have to die. I think it will be you.”
The gun pulls away from my back. And no matter how I search the apartment, I can’t find him. I lean my head against the wall, listening to Brice shrieking and crashing away in his prison. This isn’t over yet.
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The Toil and Trouble Trilogy, Book Two
by V. J. Chambers
The Toil and Trouble Trilogy, Book One Page 44