by Bo Reid
I walk back outside as Ranger is throwing another empty gas can into the bushes that line the bar. I walk down the stairs, and when my feet hit the dirt, the bar is sent up in flames. We take a moment, but just one, to watch the flames dance across the bar, burning the place to the ground. Turning around, we make our way to the SUV parked around the back of the bar. I dial Nash and Emma and get the last known location of Morana and Aether.
Matthew Shay’s home. I punch the address into the GPS, and Ranger lays his foot into the accelerator. I shoot off a text to Talin telling him to drop everything and meet us over at the Shay home.
If I find out that Kesden had anything to do with this — if it is a setup — his father won’t be the only Shay to find themselves in a shallow grave before the day is over.
Chapter 20: Famiglia
Aether
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, enlisting the help of a monster was not my brightest decision, but desperate times call for desperate measures. As much as I want to hate Morana, hate that we’re cut from the same cloth, and hate that I see pieces of myself in her, I just can’t. Being around her has taught me that maybe it's okay to be a little off. Maybe there will still be people who love you even if you are.
I grew up here in Calliope, and I watched as the Shay’s ruled over everything. At one time, Kesden and I were friends — at least as much as two people with a six-year age gap can be — but I think it was best for the town that we didn’t remain close. I’m not sure the people of Calliope could have survived two monsters.
I walked through Calliope and witnessed Kesden Shay rule over it all, but he walked away alone every day. Girls flocked to him, but never stayed long enough to love him.
I knew why, because he is a little off, like Morana, like me. We’re three peas in a pod; the difference is they don’t know that I’ve always wanted to know what it would feel like to take someone's life. The constant fascination with blood and pain has followed me everywhere I went, but I’ve always fought it, always knew it was wrong, that I was wrong.
Yet here I stand, side by side with my big sister trying to figure out how to tell her I know what it's like to be a monster too. I could just say it, confess everything to her, but would she even believe me? Would it really matter if she did?
As much as I wish I didn’t want to be a part of her fucked-up family, I do. How do you tell that to someone who is Hell-bent on casting you aside as soon as she’s done with her bloodbath?
I want to ask her so many things; I want to know about our dad; is he where the crazy comes from? I want to know about Hades, was he like us, or not? I want to know how she felt the first time she killed someone, and I want to know when she knew she was different. I want to ask her what it was like never having to hide who she truly is. I want her to teach me things like a big sister should.
I just want to know what it’s like to have a family.
We’re standing in the shadows on the edge of the sheriff's property, watching him lock up all his doors. It's actually pretty cute how worried he is now, and all it took was my big sister to bare her teeth and taunt him with how untouchable she is. There are ten names on our list, five law enforcement and five Shay members — including Matthew Shay. If I had to guess, I’m betting Morana did that on purpose.
The last of the lights flick off as the sheriff settles in for the night. “Twelve hours, one every hour, give or take?” I ask.
“Yup, we’ll have to be quick too, no torture,” she says, sounding very disappointed by that.
I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed too. Man, just being around her is already making me into more of a monster, or it’s releasing the monster I already was. Yeah, that’s it, I feel safe with her. Safe to be myself. Safe to be a monster. Safe knowing that she would protect me, even if she hates me, I know in my gut she wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me.
She might be a monster, but at the end of the day, she’s more like a fierce mama bear, willing to protect her cubs at all cost; and as it stands, we’re her cubs.
“We will hit all the officers tonight, and Shay in the early morning,” she instructs.
“Early morning?”
“Yeah, cops are going to be up early, but bikers are going to either be still drunk, hungover, or sleeping soundly. Best to get them in the morning. If we had to wait for them to be asleep, we would be waiting all night,” she motions for me to follow her across the darkened yard.
“And with any luck, we’ll get Matthew just after sunrise.”
“Then we have to find Mom,” I say, making sure she realizes what the plan is.
“She’s at Matthew's house,” she says firmly without looking back at me.
I stop and grip her arm, spinning her back, so she has to look at me, but that was the wrong move. Before I even have a grip on the situation, she is already behind me, twisting my arm back, and up, nearly popping it from the socket. She shoves her foot into the back of my knees, sending me tumbling to the ground. When she lands on top of me, she rams her knee into my back, and I feel the cold blade of her knife against my throat.
“Little Brother, I suggest you remember who you’re dealing with,” she growls into my ear.
I try to throw her off — I should be able to, I’m twice her size — but she just shoves my arm up more, and I have to bite down on my lip to keep from screaming at the pain radiating through my shoulder.
“Next time you think about giving me orders, just remember I’m still not your biggest fan,” she grits before letting me go, and climbing to her feet.
She doesn’t wait for me to regain my composure before waltzing across the yard like she owns the place. I groan and haul myself onto my feet, jogging across the yard to meet up with her. She bends down and checks under the welcome mat, but stands up empty-handed. She moves to look through a potted plant and huffs.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Looking for his spare key,” she says, motioning around the back door.
I reach behind her and pick up the lone brick next to the door, passing her the key. She smiles like a little kid at Christmas time. Putting the key into the lock, we walk through the door, slowly closing it behind us.
I wonder how the others are coming along with their sections of the list. Morana had thirty names in total, twenty Shay members, and ten members of law enforcement — past and present.
I follow my sister up the stairs making sure we don’t make any noise. She moves down the hallway and stops at the end door. Pressing her ear to the closed door, she puts a finger to her lips, telling me to be quiet. As if she has to tell me, what am I going to do, yell her name?
She twists the knob and slowly walks into the room, telling me to stay in the hall. I roll my eyes but do as I’m told. I’m not the seasoned killer here; I guess sister knows best. I just can't tell her that, wouldn’t want it to go to her head; her murder ego is big enough as it is.
It’s barely thirty seconds later that Morana is next to my side, hands covered in blood. She marches down the hallway, and I follow carefully behind her. When we finally make it back outside, and she locks the door behind her, we sprint across the yard and back into the bushes.
“What about his wife?” I ask her, suddenly worried she might also take out mostly innocent people.
“Sound asleep,” she says, wiping her blade off and putting it back into her pocket.
“You killed her husband next to her, and she didn’t even wake up?”
Color me impressed.
“You act like this is my first day on the job. Little Bro, I have been doing this for nearly ten years,” she huffs, and I can tell she is rolling her eyes at me, even if I can't see her in the darkness.
The blood drips from Kesden’s nose as he laughs in Justin’s face.
“You hit like a bitch, J. Throw a little backbone into that swing,” he taunts, but when Justin puts more force behind his punch, Kesden just sidesteps him.
Justin stumbles from his
momentum and falls on his face. Kesden pins him to the ground, throwing punch after punch, laughing maniacally until someone pulls him off. Kesden just laughs when Justin has to be carried off to a waiting car and taken to the hospital. Kesden wipes his bloody nose, a broad smile still splitting his face as drops of blood drip to his shirt.
I watch as Justin is carted off, bloodlust coursing through my veins. Kesden’s blood isn’t the same, because he doesn’t react to the pain. I want the pain; I want to inflict it. I want to know what it's like to have someone's warm blood coating my hands.
Something is wrong with me; I just don’t know what it is. Mom keeps everything about my father under wraps, but I have found the letters.
Her half-brother sends her pictures of two kids that look just like me, only a few years older. A few years ago, he stopped sending pictures of the boy, and I found the letter that said he was killed.
I can still remember that week; Mom sobbed in her room for days. Refusing to leave, or eat, or bathe. She was a mess but wouldn’t tell me why. I don’t understand who those kids are to her, are they hers? Maybe a niece and nephew — but they look nothing like Ricky. Do I have siblings somewhere? Did she give them up for adoption or are they with our dad? Do I have a different father than them, is that why I’m here, and they’re wherever they are?
No, that can't be it, we all have the same green eyes and Mom's eyes are dark brown. They have to come from a father we share.
I just don’t understand why she won't talk about them. Maybe they are like me, a monster, bloodthirsty. Or maybe Mom saw me as a monster and took me away to save them, to save my sister, to protect my brother.
What if I’m responsible for all her pain? “Give it a go, A?” Kesden calls to me as he wipes the blood from his knuckles.
“Not today, man,” I tell him as I slide off the tailgate of his truck.
“You know you want to,” he taunts and goddamn it if he isn’t right.
I fold my arms over my chest, looking down at the ground as Kesden walks over and pushes himself up onto the tailgate next to me.
“Mom asking questions?” he asks softly.
“Yeah, she doesn’t like the fights,” I mumble.
Kesden doesn’t say anything for a few beats, and neither do I. Ty walks over to us and reaches his knuckles out to bump Kesden’s. Then hands over a wad of cash from the beating on the fight. I don’t understand why anyone would bet against Kesden; someone who thrives on the pain is always going to win in a fight. Kesden is fueled by blood.
“Yo, Baby A, you getting in on the next round?” Ty asks me, knocking my shoulder.
“Naw, man, I’m done today. Let’s just dip,” Kesden says as he slides off the tailgate. “Call up one of the girls, see who wants to party,” he tells Ty, and I can see from the corner of my eye when he smiles and pulls out his phone. Ty is already walking around to the passenger side of Kesden’s truck and loading up.
“Rule number one, never let anyone find out where you’re weak,” Kesden whispers to me, extending his hand. I place mine in his, and he roughly pulls me closer to him to whisper in my ear, “your mom is your weakness because she cares about you; never let anyone know just how much she means to you, got it?” he asks.
“Got it,” I say and pull back from him.
We give the typical one-armed bro hug and go our separate ways. I walk over to my car and watch Kesden and Ty take off in his truck, wishing that for just one day, I got to know what it felt like to let the monster inside me loose.
Chapter 21: Rodina
Morana
Something isn’t right here; we ran through our list of law enforcement officers with ease. But we have been staked out waiting for the Shay outlaws to drop. Yet it’s almost dawn, and we haven’t seen the guys we’re here for once in the last few hours.
“Are you sure they’re here?” Aether asks, not enjoying having to sit here waiting; patience is a virtue he does not possess.
“I’m sure that if we walk in there, we’ll be outnumbered and no offense, but you’re a shit partner in crime,” I grumble.
Aether stands up and walks towards the farmhouse without me.
“Goddamn it,” I mumble, getting up and chasing after him, but his legs are much longer than mine. By the time I reach him, he is already pushing open the back door and stepping over the threshold. I hear a chair scraping across the ground, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on edge.
“Mom?” Aether calls out, stepping towards the sounds in the other room.
“Aether, no!” I yell, but it's too late.
As soon as Aether enters the living room, he is smacked in the face with a two-by-four. I move to help him, but out of nowhere, three bikers step up to me. Distracted by trying to help Aether, I don’t have enough time to react before my arm is wrenched behind my back, and a knee is shoved into my lower back. I fall face-first onto the hardwood floor, barely managing to catch myself with one hand. Both arms are wrenched and tied behind my back, and I’m hauled back to my feet as I feel blood dripping from my nose; apparently, I didn’t catch myself completely.
Aether is dragged into the other room, and Matthew Shay steps into my line of view.
“Should have left when you had the chance, Valdis.”
“Eat a dick, Shay,” I reply, spitting blood onto his boots.
He reaches forward, roughly gripping my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him.
“You’ll make such a pretty trophy,” he sneers at me.
“Not nearly as pretty as a pig like you, stuffed and mounted onto my wall,” I quip.
Dropping his grip on my face, he motions for the men to lead me into the other room. When I’m plopped into the waiting chair, I look forward and see a woman: blonde hair, dark brown eyes, and light skin. My mother, though you wouldn’t know it on sight because our features are a direct contrast to each other. I can see a little bit of her in Aether, the blonde hair mostly, other than that he is Valdis through and through.
My arms are tied to the chair behind my back, and my ankles bound to the legs. Victoria’s gag is removed from her mouth as a tear slips down her cheek. I turn away from her gaze — to make sure Aether is okay, not because I want to avoid the look of sorrow and pity on her face.
Apart from his bloody and broken nose, he’ll be fine. Matthew Shay pulls up another chair, turning it so he can straddle the back. Resting his arms on the backrest, he smiles at me like he just won a pink, stuffed monkey from one of the rigged games at the county fair.
“Look at this little family reunion,” he smiles, gesturing between the three of us.
I fix my features into a mask of utter indifference, picture-perfect composure. Aether groans next to me, shaking his head to clear the fog of being hit in the face, trust me, it's not fun.
“Sorry,” he groans to me when he comes to and notes the ties.
“Told you that you were a shitty partner in crime.”
“Yeah, well, it was my first day on the job.”
“You make a shitty hero, too,” I respond.
“Well, aren’t you two adorable, getting along, bickering like brother and sister. It’s a beautiful sight, isn’t it, Vicky?”
“What’s your plan here, Matthew?” I huff, annoyed at being tied to this stupid chair.
Being on the receiving end of a kidnapping and torture session is not nearly as fun as being the one inflicting pain onto someone else.
“Well, if you would have just skipped town, all this could have been avoided. Then I was going to kill you, but I don’t think Vicky would have forgiven me for that. But then you started killing off all my men, so now here we are,” he says, motioning to the current situation of being tied up in his living room.
“Oh, shoot, was I not supposed to kill anyone on this trip?” I turn to ask Aether, “I could have sworn murder was part of the travel guide,” I quip, and Aether smiles.
“I definitely remember you asking the travel agent about the homicide package. Didn’t y
ou pay extra for that?” he responds.
“I definitely did!” I exclaim, turning to Matthew. “If you didn’t want me to murder anyone, you should really update the town's travel brochures,” I state with a firm nod of my head and watch as Matthew's anger grows, and his face turns beet red.
Or blood red, depending on how homicidal you want to get. I always lean towards mass murder, but the occasional one-off is cool too.
“Enough! You two are the worst,” he huffs, and a smirk pulls at my lips.
“That’s not what your son says,” I hum in a singsong tone.
Matthew whips his head towards me before backhanding me across my face.
I smile, baring my bloody teeth. “He rather enjoys my company.”
Matthew huffs and balls his hands into fists at his sides. I eye the chunky rings on his knuckles that are sure to bust my face up… again.
“Actually, it seems we have so much in common; for starters, we can’t stand you. And second, he loved torturing Bernard almost as much as I did.”
The painful sting of Matthew's ringed hand connecting with my jawbone rings out with a thud through the room. My chair rocks and wobbles as my body weight is thrown around. When I look back at Matthew, I catch sight of Victoria behind him, unreadable emotions flitting across her face.
“Harder,” I pant, managing to sound breathless and turned on. “You hit like a bitch.”
I work the knots on my wrists, slowly loosening them as Aether whips his head to look at me, but I keep my gaze trained on Matthew.
“What are you doing?” Aether hisses, and Matthew directs his attention to him.
When he looks between the two of us, a smirk pulling at his lips, my blood catches fire.
“I know how to deal with someone like you,” he whispers to me.