14. Sid #2
Lucy’s focus returns to my chest. I think the snake is done as I feel her adjust the blade and start the next portion. Taking the opportunity of her being occupied, I rasp the words to a classic song, “Say my name, it tastes good rolling off your tongue.”
This causes her to pause. We stay like this for a moment longer, at a standstill of sorts, until she responds. “No.”
Interesting.
Taking a deep breath, I catch her scent, and it is delicious, cupcakes.
The woman smells of delicious fucking cupcakes.
My mouth waters as I picture stacks of cupcakes.
Captivated, I watch as she steps back then slices her hand with the same knife she just used on me.
Squeezing her palm tight, Lucy holds it over my brand, letting droplets of her blood mix with mine.
The act is sensual. Others join us and she passes the knife around.
One by one they do the same notion, allowing our blood to mix, like Blaise and I did all those years ago.
Mom steps up just before Dad, who is last, and mouths, “I am so proud of you.” And I could explode into a ball of emotions at any second now.
Dad passes the pigs’ leashes back to Mom and he greets me last. I notice he also didn’t take the blade from Mom, instead pulling out his own, of course.
He’s so particular. Cutting his hand, he follows suit, squeezing his into mine, and says, “Baby Sin.” A nickname he gave me as a baby, which stayed with me my entire life. And the tears are back. Dammit.
Mom joins him now, standing side by side. Reaching forward, she passes me my babies’ leashes and they come to sit on either side of me on my throne. I briefly look down at my chest, the slithering S has a letter D prominently underneath.
Papa speaks up. “For most, it means Devil’s Society, for you and I, it means Diablo.
Wear it with pride, Sid. It’s yours now.
” A bright flash follows, nearly blinding me, before I realize it’s someone taking a photo.
Then it occurs to me that Greta was on her best behavior tonight and I am shocked and kind of disappointed.
We can always count on her for making serious moments lighter.
Staying seated for a few moments longer, I watch as buckets of water douse the flames. Comforting sizzles relax me.
Papa stays by my side, and I look up at him to ask, “Are you sad?”
His head shakes. “No. I’m not sure what I am yet. But it’s not sadness.”
Good, I’m glad, because it would break my heart knowing this was harder on him than anticipated. Placing his hand on my shoulder, I say “Shall we?”
“I suppose so.”
“Thank you for tonight. For my childhood, for all our special moments. You helped shape me into the person I am today, and for that, I am forever grateful to you, Papa.” I barely get the words out without a lump of emotion erupting from within.
Squeezing my shoulder, his voice is hushed, his words are little, but they stretch miles in meaning. “Always, Sid. Always.”
“She was Dalton’s daughter. Abi,” I finally muster up the courage to tell him. Plus, it’s too late for him to change his mind about Diablo .
But he doesn’t get mad, his demeanor remains unchanged. “I’m proud of you.”
Then we are interrupted. “Let’s go old man,” Rylee teases, making me smile.
Papa whispers, “That’s my cue,” and takes off toward his queen.
Rising, I walk with the group, my pigs following alongside me as I bask in this space, this moment in time one last time, before shouting behind me, “Greta, you're coming with me. Sorry, guys. She’s all mine for the rest of the night.” Jack and Sally snort in agreement.
I need her smart-ass mouth to help balance this heavy, therapeutic emotional night.
I can hear her walker click behind me and I smile as she follows.
We get into the Bentley, and after loading up the babies and Greta’s walker, I look up to the sky.
You can start to see bright oranges and pinks appearing from behind the snow capped mountains.
Forest climbs halfway up them and surrounds this beautiful open space.
Then, in absolute disbelief, it occurs to me that it must be morning.
Turning the car on, the clock reveals it’s five thirty. Fuck me.
“I’m fucking tired. Get moving. I don’t care if you are the fucking Diablo or that hot pirate from those Caribbean movies. Get moving so I can go to bed.”
I burst out laughing at her completely random comparison. “You got it, G. ”
Once she’s done coughing up a lung, she retorts, “Don’t fucking call me that. Now drive, girl.”
Reversing out, an unknown number calls my phone. I am hesitant to answer, but do so anyway on my Bluetooth. “Yes?”
“The church! Fuck, Sid.” I don’t recognize the voice on the other end but it's frantic, and as I am about to question them, loud sirens echo through my speakers. With a racing heart, realization overwhelms me.
Shit.
Straight away, I try to gather the million moving parts and one psychopath so I can strategically analyze my next moves, and fast. Dust clouds around us, and as it clears, I can see my dad’s Range Rover peeling out of here.
He knows.
Who fucking called him? I bet it was that priest. Guy is terrified of my dad.
Hanging up immediately on the unknown caller, I dial Uncle Thomas while Greta sits quietly listening.
“Sid. The church. It’s bad.”
I don’t let him finish. “Find him! Find my brother. Please. Keep him safe and bring him to me. Alive. Before my dad can get to him.”
Uncle Thomas sighs. “Understood.”
I understand the position this puts him in, but it’s what’s right. It’s what I have instructed. Pulling rank the first ten minutes of being Diablo wasn’t something I was planning, but I have to. He’s my brother, and I must keep him safe. Worry runs my brain rampant.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I silently speak to myself. Please, Uncle Thomas, to get to him. Please, before my dad does.
Greta speaks up. My eyes open at her ominous tone, bringing reality back to the forefront. “Honey, your daddy is ten steps ahead. Your brother is as good as dead.”
BLAISE
“I’m not hiding, Dad. Come and get me, I’m right fucking here.”
My arms are wide open, with bright, hot flames as my backdrop. The church is hundreds of years old, and the moment I lit the first old wooden pew inside, it spread rapidly and flames engulfed the place in minutes. Looking up momentarily, black smoke blocks the view of the morning sun. What a shame.
Then tires squeal against the pavement. The smell of burning rubber joins the overwhelming smell of smoke from the church.
I look over, it’s a black Range. Grinning, my body vibrates with adrenaline.
It’s time to play. The battle to end all battles.
I am about to play the deadliest game of chicken with a psychopath.
My dad.