by J. J. McAvoy
“You can’t even look at him anymore,” she whispered, reaching over to grab the washcloth from the basin, using it to finish cleaning her father’s hands. “He’s here, suffering, and you went to check on that bitch.”
“What would you have me do, Helen?” It felt as though I were falling deeper and deeper into hell each and every day. “If I didn’t go to help, Ethan would figure it out. Then you would be the next one I lost. I can’t have that. If I have to keep her alive to save you, then I will for as long as it takes, but I need you to take a step back. Please, baby. Please.”
Her lips trembled, and her eyes filled with tears again. “She killed my mother. My mom was kind to her, accepted her, and she trampled all over her like a doormat. She is evil, and I will kill her if it is the last thing I ever do.”
I swallowed hard. Rising up, I kissed Helen’s forehead. “I’ll be back. Okay? Don’t be stupid while I am gone.”
Helen didn’t say anything, and it only caused the fear inside of me to grow.
“Helen, for my sake, please, promise me.”
“For now. I won’t do anything. For now,” Helen muttered. “I need to think anyway.”
That was the best I was going to get, so I said nothing else, grabbing my work bag from the corner and stepping to the door. This…this was the shit I was talking about. Our great family had fallen to this—lies, backstabbing, betrayal, poison. I thought of all the lessons my parents had taught me as I walked out of the room and toward the garage. The way a family fell was when it was divided from the inside. And that was what Calliope had done to us. She had taken Ethan away from us with love, and then Aunt Coraline with hate, leaving the rest of us to pick up the pieces.
What in the hell could any of us do?
Fight back.
That was my instinct.
When someone attacks family, you fight them to the death.
But what was I supposed to do when I was fighting against my brother? My mother had done everything she could to make sure Ethan and I never ended up on opposite sides. And yet here we were, grabbing each other by the throat.
Was this truly how it was supposed to be?
Sitting in my car, I took another deep breath, resting my head against the steering wheel.
“That’s not going to help.”
I knew that voice. It haunted all of us.
Slowly lifting my head, I looked into the rearview mirror to find the brown eyes of my mother, sitting as if it were her car and I were her personal driver. Her hair was black except for a silver-gray streak at the front. She wore an all-black suit but no jewelry. She almost blended in with the interior of the car.
That was exactly how she had done it the first time.
WYATT—TWO MONTH’S EARLIER
“Are you done for the night, Dr. Callahan?” the nurse asked from behind the emergency room station.
“Yep,” I said, sliding off my badge. “Goodnight—”
“Ummm, do you want to get coffee with me?” she called out quickly.
It was almost midnight. Where the hell did she think she could get coffee at this time? That wasn’t the point, I guessed. That was how interested I was.
“My girlfriend would be pissed. But, thank you for the offer.” I did my best to offer a kind smile before turning and walking toward the elevators with my bag over my shoulder. Inside, I hit the basement button before leaning against the panel, searching through my phone.
She hadn’t answered any of my text messages today. Had she eaten? Or even taken a shower today? I wasn’t sure. Helen was heartbroken before, but ever since she’d gotten that package, she was devastated, knowing that I was right. Something did not make sense about how her mother had died. That whole night didn’t make sense. And it didn’t make sense because of fucking Calliope. I knew it. The woman was a snake, a cancer. She was killing us all from the inside out. And Ethan? I didn’t even have words for fucking Ethan.
Stepping out into the garage, I walked to the third parking space—the first two were for the chief of the hospital, and the chairwoman of the board—though I shouldn’t have had a space at all. But rules were different for the Callahans. Unlocking the door, I tossed my bag into the passenger seat and leaned back, closing my eyes.
“Why do people never check the back seat of their cars when they enter?”
That voice.
Whipping around so quickly I nearly hit the steering wheel, I saw them both sitting casually—my mother, dressed in a button-down shirt and jeans, staring back at me with her brown eyes, and my father beside her dressed in a green sweater, and jeans as well.
“You’d think our children would be smarter,” my father said, lifting a spoonful of hospital Jell-O to his mouth.
Was he inside?
“He’s staring. Do you think he’s in shock?” My mother reached forward, putting her hand on my forehead.
At the touch of her palm, I jumped back slightly.
“He seems conscious enough,” my father replied. “If not, we are at the hospital. If we leave him outside, someone will see him eventually.”
“Aren’t you more worried people will see you both?” I snapped. “What the fuck are you two doing here?”
“Is he cursing at me?” my mother asked, looking at my father.
“Yep. That’s why Dona’s my favorite,” he said to my annoyance.
Rolling my eyes, I sat back in my seat turning on the engine.
“Where are we going?” My father questioned.
“I don’t know what you two are doing, but I’m going home.” I replied.
“Isn’t the manor a bit depressing right now?” my mother asked.
I didn’t say anything, pulling out of the parking lot before someone saw me. Never had I been so grateful for tinted windows.
“Calliope killed your aunt,” my mother went on despite me not responding.
“I know,” I said, gripping the steering wheel.
“Thanks to us, you know.” My mother stressed.
Again, I didn’t say anything because what could I say?
“How is your uncle?” my father asked, his voice now heavy and the mood darkening.
“Broken…still.”
“Tsk,” was all I heard from him, and in the rearview mirror, he glared out the window in fury.
“She needs to be stopped,” my mother said.
“She or they?” I retorted.
“She is the reason he is acting like this—”
“Mother, with all due respect, Ethan is the fucking oldest. He is supposed to lead us. He was supposed to be groomed by you both to lead us, and now you are blaming one woman for bringing him down? No, it’s his fault, too.”
Silence.
So much silence, it was deafening.
“Do you want to kill your brother?” My mother asked flatly.
I breathed deeply, feeling bitterness seep in. “Didn’t you groom me not to ?”
“Apparently, I’m not good at getting my sons to do what I need them to do. So that’s why I’m asking.” she responds.
Stopping at the red light, I rubbed the side of my head. “He’s my brother. He’s helped me…saved me dozens of times before. But, he’s also put my life at risk a dozen times, too. I do not want to kill him. But what if he wants—no, what if that woman wants him to kill me? Or if she goes after Helen next? What then? Am I supposed to roll over and take it?”
“No,” my father finally speaks again.
“So, let’s save him from her.” My mother added.
“How in the hell…” I paused, not want to keep cursing at my mother but honestly. “How?”
“Drive through the underpass.” She nodded up ahead.
I did as she told me, going through the industrial area of the city. She kept directing me until we reached a run-down garage.
“Drive in.”
When I did, the old rusty garage door dropped behind us, with a heavy slam, and my parents opened their doors climbing out.
“I guess
I’m parking, then,” I muttered to myself, putting the car into park and stepping out into a dirty puddle. I glared at the stains at the bottom of my pants.
“Watch your step,” my father said a little too late with an amused grin on his face.
“Thanks!” I hiss.
“You’ve gotten tall,” he said, looking me over.
I’ve been the same height since I was a teenager. A little bit more muscle, but other than that, I was still the same. I guess that wasn’t the point. “Taller and stronger. I think I can take you in one of those boxing matches now.”
His brow raised. “You’d fight an old man?”
“You are not old. Though the gray hair is a good look.”
He chuckled and reached over, pulling me into arms. It had been so long since I’d last hugged my father. So long that I could not remember when the last time really was. He patted the back of my head.
“Missed you, too, kid.”
I hugged him back, and when we broke apart, he turned. He held his arms open wide. “Come on, Mel, we should hug the one who wants to hug us.”
“Ethan will come to his senses.” She glared at him before looking to me and grabbing my face between her palms, before hugging me. “Good thing you are still sensible…at least when you are not in a bloody shoot out! Was that last year? You almost died! Why didn’t you get back up? If your brother isn’t there, you always need someone watching your back—”
“Mom,” I laughed. How did she make me feel like a kid all over again? “Dad said to hug me, not lecture me to death.”
And so, she did. And honestly…I had forgotten how good her hugs were, even after a lecture.
“I…I thought we lost you back then.” She said, concern laced her voice.
“I’m too stubborn to die.”
“Good.” Her voice broke, and she pulled away.
I noticed her lips lip shook. But she pushed passed it and dusted off my shoulders.
“We don’t have much time. Your father and I need your help to help your brother. Can you do this with us?”
“Gladly.”
WYATT—PRESENT
“You are really bold to come back like this,” I muttered. “How did you get in?”
“It’s my house. Even if she changes parts of it and replaces the people inside, it will always be my house, and I can find a way.”
“You shouldn’t have,” I said, pulling out the garage.
“Why should I be afraid of someone who is bedridden?”
“She not bedridden. She’s going to make it through the night. Now please lie down,” I said, and thankfully, she did, as the guards opened the iron gates for me.
“She’s going to make it?” she said as she sat back up again. “Well, I’d be disappointed if she died before I could kill her myself.”
“Then why did you send those texts and information to Helen, exposing that Calliope killed Aunt Cora?” I snapped, annoyed.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
I gripped the steering wheel tightly. “To spare her from becoming reckless! Luckily, Ethan thinks it’s you and not Helen!”
“Luckily?” she snapped. “You think it is lucky that my son thinks I’m the villain in his life story? You think it’s lucky that I am in this position, fighting my son?”
I bit the inside of my cheek as I moved to get onto the highway.
“I gave my heart and soul to this family, Wyatt,” she said, breathing slowly. “I gave him everything on a gold platter, and now he throws it back in my face because of that stupid little bitch who is being used for another little bitch’s revenge? What was the point of it all? All the people we crushed, all the blood and violence, the drugs and power, what was the point if this was how it ends?”
“We are not ending this way.” I would not allow it.
“That is why I sent those text messages to Helen,” Mother stated. “So she’d show it to you. And you’d know it was me who sent them even if she didn’t. You are the one your father and I are counting on to save Ethan.”
“Mother, there is no saving Ethan.” Could she not see that? “He’s in love with her.”
“Then he can love the dead her and get over it. Like he did with the other one.”
“Ivy. And that situation still confuses me. Since when did Ethan become such a good actor? It was like he was a different person. But whatever. Let’s say it was all fake. What he has with Calliope is different. It’s darker and deeper. When has anyone in this family been good at getting over any of our loved ones dying?”
To this day, my grandmother still mourned the loss of my grandfather. My uncle was nearly on his own deathbed because of the loss of my aunt. I could remember back to the time when my own mother had supposedly died and how heartbroken my father was at that time. I still didn’t know if he was acting or not back then, but the image of him in tears was still burned into my memory.
“Your brother is strong; he’ll get past it.” That was her only answer.
I shook my head. This really was hell. No one was listening to reason, only the demons on their shoulders.
“Where is Dad?” It had been two months since they had first reached out to me via Helen. And they rarely ever showed up apart from each other, if they showed up at all.
“Healing.”
“Healing from what?”
“A shot to the shoulder via one of Calliope’s little snipers,” she muttered bitterly.
“Should I come—”
“No, She interrupted. “You should go to work and keep going about life as you normally do. Your father is fine. He’s bitching at me all the same. With this attempt on her life, though, Ethan’s likely to get paranoid.”
I couldn’t believe this was the same brother I had always known. Ethan, the puppet master, was now Ethan, the puppet. The king of ice and snow was melted into a puddle by a chick.
“What happens if Ethan can’t be saved, Mom? What do we do then?”
She didn’t answer. I had always said that I was her favorite. But right now, it seemed as if it had been Ethan all along.
“Your wanting to save him so badly is making me a little bit jealous here, Mom,” I admitted when I pulled off the highway toward Callahan Hospital Avenue.
From the rearview mirror, I saw the corner of her lips turn up. “I would fight just as hard for any of you. I have fought just as hard for all of you. But you all are spoiled and ungrateful, so you do not notice all my fucking hard work.”
“Spoiled and ungrateful…ouch. Tell us how you really feel.”
“You’d say more than ouch after I was finished.”
I snickered at that. Part of me wondered if this was how it could have been if they had “lived”—if they hadn’t disappeared. If we’d grown up with her and Father until this very moment, would she and I have had more conversations like this? Would Ethan ever have even fallen into Calliope’s trap, to begin with?
“Do you ever regret it?” I asked as I parked in my spot at the hospital.
“Regret what?”
“Leaving us?”
Again, she didn’t answer the question. She placed a cellphone on the console between the front seats. “We act tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I had wanted to wait a few more days before acting. “Why tomorrow and not the grand opening of the new church?”
“Because she was poisoned today. She won’t expect a back-to-back hit on her life,” she replied. “We will do it at the governor’s ball.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think she is going to go. She barely had the energy to keep her eyes open tonight, let alone go to some fancy ball and pretend to be a socialite.”
“She’s not pretending. She is a socialite. She thrives on that type of scene. She likes it, everyone’s eyes on her. She is going to go even if she has to crawl inside.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“We stick to the original plan. Calliope will most likely be better in a few days.”
“Okay,” I nodded.
> “Good, have a good night at work.”
“Am I supposed to just leave you in here?”
“Yes, now go.”
I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Ethan gets it from you.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said, getting out of the car as if she were not there, locking the doors as I normally would before walking toward the elevators. I had no idea how she’d get out. But then again, I didn’t know how she had gotten in.
That was what Ethan had gotten from her—the ability to keep secrets and do the impossible.
4
“Childhood is a long, long road,
from which that dark, whispering forest of death
seems an impossible destination.”
~Lauren DeStefano
ETHAN
“But Mommy said so!” Gigi huffed angrily at me, not at all pleased that I was the one helping her get ready today. She had refused when the maids came, saying she was going to wait for her mother. Even my grandmother said she’d help her, but Gigi was adamant that the only person she wanted was Calliope. The only problem with that was her mother was still in bed.
“Gigi,” I said, kneeling in front of her. “Mommy is a little sick. She needs her rest. I know you are excited about your school play, but don’t you want Mommy to get better?”
She frowned, crossing her arms. “Mommy never gets sick, Papa.”
“Well, she is now—”
“Then I want to see her. Now!” she ordered.
My eyebrow rose at the change in her tone of voice. Was she copying her mother? Or me? Okay. Fine. “I do not care what you want,” I said as well, standing taller.
Her mouth dropped open like she had not expected that. “Papa, you do not say no.”