Chapter Thirty Four
Demon
He looked so ill now. That’s all I could see every time that I looked at him. And tonight, stood in my lounge looking even more uncomfortable than when he broke the news to us, just a few days before, he looked even more tense. At first, I thought he’d come here to tell me off. How I’d dishonoured the club for taking out men who were bothering my girl, even if it was the VP of our biggest rival and likely to cause us some aggro. To tell me how much of a disappointment I was to him. To the club. To Indie. How I deserved a good thrashing with his belt like when I was a kid.
“I know I shouldn’t have done it,” I started, pre-empting what he was going to say. “But they were moving in on Ciara. They knew who she was, and what doing that would do. I was just delivering to expectations.”
The usual darkness didn’t cross his eyes.
“It was reckless, Demon,” Demon not ‘son’, my telling off wasn’t far away, he was just building up to it. “But I understand. And you were right. Thrash knew what Ciara was to you. Even if she doesn’t feel that way. But be careful with her. No good can come of it. She’ll only get you in more trouble.”
I stared at him blankly. Normally that would have been a direct order, to drop the girl, find someone else. And normally I would have followed blindly. I tipped my head, searching his face. His eyes were dull, almost like he was defeated by this thing already. Resolute.
“What are you trying to tell me to do?”
“I’m not. Not this time. Just know, when they don’t love you back. It’s the worst you’ll ever feel. I know, Demon. Your mother …” his voice trailed off, his face conflicted. But whatever internal conflict he was warring with, the next bit, I wasn’t expecting. “Your Ma, Demon. She didn’t ever really love me. She wanted someone else. And she got that someone else, in a way. I’m not your father.”
“What the fuck, Dad?”
“I’m not. I’m not your Dad.”
I stared at him, convinced that it hadn’t been his lips moving, that I hadn’t heard him right. I’m not your father . The words ricocheted round my brain, and instead of slowing down, they grew bigger, snowballing. How?
“I don’t understand?”
“Your Ma had an affair. She’d always set her sights high. Guess she was looking to upgrade,” he looked at me pointedly. But whatever cryptic message was in those words, I couldn’t figure it out. Probably because of the words running through my head. I’m not your father .
“What? Da…I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
He sighed, his shoulders slumping.
“Simon is your father. Was your father.”
I shook my head. No. No. This was insane. This couldn’t be happening.
“I don’t get it.”
“Technically, I’m your uncle,” Ste shrugged again.
“How?”
He quirked an eyebrow, and I scowled back. If the fucker was going to mention bees and birds, I was punching him square in the mouth. Wouldn’t be as bad as punching an uncle rather than a father. Fuck. This was all kinds of messed up. Si had been killed by his own son. My cousin had killed my father. No. My brother…half-brother… had killed my father. Fuck, this was going downhill fast.
And all these years, all these years, he’d make me work for any tiny tidbit of affection. He’d always criticise, tell me I wasn’t good enough as he moulded me into a monster, only fit to do his killing. And all I’d ever wanted was to please him. So, I had done everything. Killed and maimed, even when I didn’t think it was the right thing to do. And with each punch I threw, each blow I landed, a tiny bit of my mind went with it. Now, I was too damaged to be loved. By my father, or my uncle, or Indie, whatever the fuck Indie was now. Or by Ciara.
“So why fucking tell me now? Why tell me at all? Why not just leave me to think it was you? Is this some last bit of fucking torture before you go?”
I could feel rage sparking, the fuse lighting.
“Sometimes it’s better not to know the truth, Dad. Fuck. I can’t even call you that, now, can I?”
“I’m sorry, Demon. I just couldn’t go to the grave without you knowing.”
“Why? So that you die with your conscience clear?”
“No, son. No. It’s not like that.”
“Just go. Go on, Fuck off!”
The fuse had burnt in its entirety, and I felt the tingle, the explosion building. But when the bomb went off, I couldn’t see anything other than a blackness.
Charging down the stairs after him, I wanted to throw that punch, but he was out into the street and in his whore girlfriend’s car before I got anywhere near him. Tori Pulled away, the man I had called Da all these years in the seat beside her, his eyes fixed straight ahead. The fucker didn’t even look back. Didn’t care. Was he ridding his conscience or ridding himself of me before he died?
The bike caught my eye, a slither of sunlight reflecting off the aluminium that I had kept pristine since the Viking had given me the bike. Had he known? Is that why he had given me Si’s bike? His father’s…our father’s bike? A father he had killed in a blind rage.
That blind rage. It possessed me, too. I hadn’t felt my fingers wrap round the cold metal crowbar; I hadn’t even realised that I was moving towards the bike until the first smash of metal filled the garage. And then I couldn’t stop. Smashing at the bike as hard as I could, destroying it, the metal tearing and screaming under the assault.
Something grabbed me, stopping me momentarily, pulling me away.
“Demon,” the voice cut through my head, slicing me open, more searing pain consuming me.
“Leave me the fuck alone, Ciara.”
“Demon. It’s ok. Whatever this is, we can sort this out. Together. We can do this together.” Her voice, the level social work approach to calming a psycho, set off a whole other explosion.
“There is no we. Remember? You don’t want me. You keep telling everyone you’re not an ol’ lady. Seems no fucker does. I don’t need anyone. So do us both a favour and fuck off!”
*****
It was dark before I crawled off the garage floor. The big shiny Harley lay on its side, bike parts ripped off and strewn across the ground. My arms ached from where I’d swung the bar at it for so long I’d lost track of the time. Behind me, Kinobi scratched at the door. A tiny whine and then an occasional bark. I let her through, watching as she paused, sniffing the air, before looking at me cautiously.
“Go wee,” I instructed, pointing to the street outside the raised shutter and watching the big dog trot off to a patch of grass on the other side.
I hadn’t seen the car pull up, but suddenly Kinobi barked, pricking her ears and staring at something I couldn’t see. Normally, I’d be on my feet, always at the ready. But not today. Today I didn’t care.
Indie whistled, high pitched and irritating. He stood just inside the shutter, looking at me and then scanning the shadows, before flipping the light on and swamping the space with bright white. It burnt my retinas, stoking the dull thump of the headache that had been beating inside my brain for the last few hours.
“Like what you’ve done with the place, brother?”
“I’m not though, am I?”
Indie’s face stilled, the smirk dissolving and something else moving to take its place. Pity.
“You knew?”
He shook his head. “Not really.”
“Yet you’re here. Right after Ste has been dishing out his best yet. I don’t know whether I should be happy that I didn’t come from that ball sack or devastated at the alternative.”
“I’ve suspected for a long time. The benefits of being older. Seeing things you couldn’t.”
“Like what?”
“The physical resemblance to Uncle Si. Those dark eyes. But mostly your explosive temper. He was always like that. Uncontrolled.”
I stared past him. I couldn’t remember Si that much now. I was nineteen when he died. Barely an adult. Ste must have watched me grow up knowing I wasn’t his. And my upbringing made more sense now. The brutality of it. The clear difference between how he treated Indie, his actual son, to how he treated me. And now I was more no one than I had been yesterday.
“What you doing here, anyway?” I asked Indie, who was still gazing around the mess of the garage.
“Dad sent me. Said you’d had a big row and things got ugly. Told me to check you were ok.”
“Well, I’m not. So now you’ve checked, you can fuck off as well.”
“As well? Who else have you told to fuck off tonight, like?”
I groaned, dropping my head to stare at my feet and raking my hands through my hair.
“Demon?”
“Ciara. I was angry. Still am.”
“So, you told her to do one?”
“Guess so.”
“Then you’ve got some apologising to do, brother.”
“I’m not your brother. Remember?”
“Stop being a giant knob. You’re not the first illegitimate kid to be born in the world,” Indie chastised. And I didn’t care.
“It’s not just about that.”
“Then what is it about?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I just need some time to process all of it.”
“Well, don’t take too long. That’s a good lass you have there. Don’t leave her hanging on. She may not wait for you.”
I stared at him for a moment, at the sincerity in his rich brown eyes.
“Ste said she wasn’t any good for me.” I shrugged.
“What the fuck does he know? He’s already onto his third wife and he brought up someone else’s son. Fuck him. Go get your girl.”
The corner of my mouth twitched. The threat of a smile quickly washed away again by dark thoughts. Thoughts I needed to get under control before I went to beg forgiveness. I nodded, watching Indie walk out of the garage, having done the job Ste had asked him to do.
And now I sat at the kitchen table, the garage locked up, but the bike was still in battered pieces. The table was strewn with pictures, shades of black, demons and death, the contents of my head spilling out onto the white paper. But soon the lines were taking the shape of her; of those big doe eyes, the way the flesh around her mouth pulled, hinting at dimples but not quite forming them. My pencil skimmed over the paper, adding the lines until the heavy scar across her cheek appeared. Ciara.