Chapter 25
LANEY
S he was really gone. Disappeared. Kenna never reported to her station this morning and left me with the feeling of not knowing if I could return to the person I was before. The loss and grief had surely left an imprint, but she was the one to confront me with the realisation that everything was not as it seemed.
Goddamn me for caring! I cared so much, I’d be blinded.
Father was a mystery, his betrayal of the union darkened my entire life and I’d been none the wiser. I feared Grandfather had been trying to send a message of his true character for some time, but I was too naive and comfortable to begin to question it. His isolation said it all. He didn’t want anything to do with Father.
Neenan informed me of her desertion over breakfast, failing to show up at her post. Father had sighed deeply, as if relieved. But I knew that the further water retracted from the beach, the bigger the next wave would be. I could feel the anxiety in my bones.
I stood in front of the mirror in my room. No matter her betrayal, I would do anything for her to give me a confidence boost right about now. She was always good at that. The dress straps on the only other black piece I owned were digging into my shoulders leaving marks.
I was preparing for the funeral and didn’t want to repeat the outfit I’d worn for Tilly, she deserved something special just for herself.
Granddaddy’s funeral was a much more grand affair. His loss would be felt by the entire Ravencroft Estate, holdings and affiliated parties. The people of Great Tenor were required to give up their high street for it. The businesses we laundered money from: casinos, bars, clubs, didn’t matter, management had to attend otherwise they would forfeit our protection. Their tax levy probably paid for the whole charade.
It all felt inauthentic. I was likely the one who knew his true character, he had cold hands but a warm heart, the warmth of which my father rarely got to see. The family lore made more sense now that I knew the fissure was Father’s mistake. He was at fault, and I couldn’t help but see the Karsteins’ resentment toward us as justified.
Yet, my heart was in these people. Ravencroft was written all over me and it always would be. My family was small, but I held them close. If I didn’t, loneliness would drown me in a second, never getting the chance to touch the surface.
That feeling of anticipatory fear held me still.
A knock sounded at the door.
“Laney, we’ve got to get in the car in ten, are you ready?”
It was Neenan.
“Almost!” I shouted through the door. Looking in the mirror, I felt like there was something missing. I was wearing a simple black dress, the skirt stopping just below the upper thigh. Low enough to conceal my blades. My short heels negated my need for socks, so my usual hiding spot was missing.
I had on a red lip, a light powdering of black eye shadow on my eyelids and my dirty blonde hair was arranged in a half up, half down style with two locks of hair framing my face at the front.
It was pretty. Dainty, even. But it missed a spark. An edge. And I have just the idea.
With heavy footfalls, I strode out my room.
“Hey, Laney, you look…good.” Neenan said, but I just blanked him in the hallway, opening the next door on the left. I headed straight for the wardrobe, and he followed me.
I’d only been in her room once or twice, and neither time had I stayed long but the space felt familiar. Her personal effects were dotted around the room, it was inimitable. It was her . Perhaps, she hadn’t truly left yet. Hope sparked in my lungs for a brief second.
Or maybe I didn’t know her at all.
The door to her wardrobe was left open, her boots still lined up at the bottom. But that wasn’t what I was looking for. Shifting the hangers quickly through my hands, it wasn’t long until I found it.
“Are you meant to be in here? It’s kinda creepy.” A voice came from behind me. Wuss.
In my hands was her classic leather jacket. It was perfect. I smiled.
I flung it onto my arms and looked in the mirror to judge the fit. I could see Neenan’s less than impressed face in the reflection. “She would want me to have it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Certain.” My eyes trailed my body up and down. I was hot. It was a thought I never associated with myself. Maybe cute or sweet. But this was something else and I was obsessed. Turning to him, I signalled. “I’m ready.”
☆
Father already sat in the car when I stepped inside and with it, all my confidence drained from me. His ironed suit masked the unstable man wrapped inside it. The shine of his boots was at odds with the darkness in his eyes. He really thought he owned the place.
“You’ve got to look composed up there, Sunshine. It won’t be like Tilly’s funeral, this is a big deal.” I rolled my eyes to mask the hurt, blinking away the forming tears.
“She deserved this more than Granddaddy.”
“No,” he spat. “This is what I mean. No mopping about, no irritations and absolutely no talk back. Edward is a symbol. Show some respect. You hear me?”
“You get what you gi–”
“You hear me?”
I bit my tongue. This man had marked this family with a curse all those years ago, the discontent in his ranks was proof of it, and the traitors that walked among us were of his own making.
“Good.” His head in hands, he leaned back. “No matter what you think about me or this family right now. Leave it alone. Let it go.”
“You massa—”
“That’s exactly what I mean, Laney. None of this.” He dropped his hands and pointed toward me. “Yes, I killed them. You don’t get to harbour hatred toward me for it. I did it for you. For this family.”
“You’re not going anywhere, Father. Why are you scared?”
“It’s tense at the estate. We must be prepared and not divided.”
“But you didn’t prepare me!” I burst out. “You kept me hidden for most of my life, and now magically, I can take authority? That’s not how that works. How can I be on your side?”
I sat back, quietly seething.
“This doesn’t leave the car.” Of course, he’d be thinking about his image above the real root of the reason. This family was built on death. Was the money laundering not enough? The seedy bars? Illegal gambling?
As we drove toward Great Tenor chapel, I could see the droves of people lined up along the street. Some with their heads bowed, others staring directly at us. Either way, they had blank expressions on their faces. Our car trailed the hearse that had flower arrangements in the formation of a large ‘E’. Funerals were one of the only large scale events wherein our underworld operations were public.
Guards were noticeably sparse around the heaps of people, but no less armed. I recognised only some of the faces. Others were unfamiliar in their stoic stance yet nodded at each other as if they knew each other.
The car slowed as we neared the chapel, silence pervading across the whole crowd. And the show begins.
Neenan opened my door, extending a hand to guide me up the steps. As we did, he leaned down to whisper in my ear. “You look great, show ‘em what a leader looks like. For Grandfather.”
Ah sweet confidence boost. I made sure that in the next step you could hear the click of my heels on the stone stairs and with a sway of my hips I made them believe in it too. The power.
Father walked behind me, but I led the way. Through the doors, I stopped to greet the clergymen conducting the service. Thanking them for their dedication to a faithful and dignified sent off for my grandfather. My father bypassed all of that and had already taken a seat at the first pew from the front. His body was turned to the side seemingly, to argue with one of the clergymen that was handing out service programs to each row. We were one of the last to arrive.
It hit me. I could usher in a new era for us. Neenan at my shoulder seemed to feel it too, standing close like a personal protective officer. As I moved to follow Father to our seats I caught a glimpse at the image by the casket.
A portrait of Edward Ravencroft standing tall and proud, but with a gentle smile so unique to him. He wasn’t good, but he was so good to me. Stepping up when my father took a step back, I’d be forever grateful for the times he listened when no one else had before.
Next to the portrait sat a smaller painting. It was a group image of the Ravencroft and Karstein families at Christmas. I smiled at it. Granddaddy was proud of forming that union, it was only right that it be honoured in his death.
“Father, it’s fine.” I placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him down to a seated position.
“It’s not, the fucking Karsteins cannot be honoured in such a way.”
I gritted my teeth trying to suppress my anger. “It was his greatest legacy, he wasn’t the one to ruin it. Sit. Down.”
His eyebrows shot up at my tone, but I continued. “You wanted me to lead?” I shrugged. “I’m doing it my way.”
A deep, hearty laugh escaped from him. “Don’t be silly, child. You’re not in charge yet.”
“Have you read his will, Father?” He looked down. “Once this facade is over, I get to sit in your seat.”
“Don’t count on it,” he said, darkly.
“I’ll get a lawyer. You don’t have a leg to stand on.”
“He was my father first.”
“He was more of a father than you ever were.”
I sealed my lips and sat at the other end of the pew. The division was apparent to any onlookers. I kept my eyes facing forward and waited.
Soon, the chapel filled with people, however, it was as quiet as it was when I walked in. Whether out of fear or respect, I was thankful for the stillness. Just before the service began, Neenan sat next to me.
At the first note of the organ, I grabbed his hand and tried to stifle my sniffles. I bowed my head, trying to hide from the eyes on me. But by the time the song ended for the service to truly begin, I was already choking on a sob. I knew they all heard.
Then, Neenan placed a handkerchief on my lap, but it wasn’t his. Inscribed on each corner, just I remembered, was a cursive K.
K K.
Kilina Karstein.
It warmed me from the inside and made me double down on sobs. Thank you.
I looked around the chapel as the priest led the service. Father sat in stoic silence to my right. Past him stood a long service guard pinching his lips together as he stared intently at the top of the altar. Five feet beside him another man’s attention was wrapped on the service, his hat in hand. Next to him, stood a woman, knees spread parallel to her shoulders.
Arms folded.
Sans leather jacket.
Sadly.
One side of my mouth twitched upward, before returning to face forward. Not gone yet.
The speakers changed and my father took the stand for his personal tribute. “Thank you for being here to honour my dearest father, he was the strongest man I had the privilege of holding so close to my heart. He’d be proud of the turn out tonight. Humble guy.” He fidgeted with the lapels of his suit as he moulded himself in the image of a sympathetic man. “After the tragic loss of my wife, darkness descended over my entire life at the same time that a new light brightened it, my daughter.” His eyes were on me. But I was looking at where he had sat before his speech. Aldo Novelli now kept his seat warm, his eyes frantic. “He saved me. I thought my life ended there, but he guided me toward another purpose. A redirection. Edward touched our lives in many different ways.”
When Novelli found my eyes looking at me, he stilled and threw a glance over his shoulder to the tearful guards I had noticed before. His eyebrows lifted as if imploring something to me that I was too thick to understand. Father continued. “But for me, it is impossible to escape him. I see him in myself. Now, there’s a gaping hole. Bless his soul.”
Crock of shit.
Father sat down next to Novelli. I kept my gaze on them. Their exchange was brief, and I couldn’t hear what they were saying but I’m certain of the words I saw graze Novelli’s lips. ‘ That’s her,’ when Father looked behind him, he nodded and whistled for a guard, before turning his attention toward the new speaker.
I followed suit, but the order was nagging, distracting me from the service. They better not touch her. There was no loud commotion. I glanced behind me.
To my surprise, the guard hadn’t moved, just smirked.
The organ hummed back to life as Edward Ravencroft’s last song was played. It was a hymn I didn’t recognise but its tone was sorrowful and compelled a hush over.
After the service, we were welcomed to visit the casket and say our final goodbyes. When it was my turn, I pressed a kiss to my fingers and placed them on the casket, over where his head should be. It was a closed casket funeral.
Can’t have the fearless leader looking weak. Or well, dead.
Afterwards, a moment of silence was held. The casket was lifted by six guardsmen and carried down the aisle where they had pried open the heavy wooden doors with a loud thump.
As we left the chapel, Novelli winked at me. So strange.
Behind the casket, Father and I walked. Down the steps and onto the streets of Great Tenor. I kept my head bowed in mourning, while Father held his head up high.
White flowers were thrown into the street. At first, it registered as a touching gesture until I noticed that the flowers were soaked in a red stain. The crowd followed us as we rounded the corner onto the high street, the main procession area. It took me too long to recognise it for what it was. But between the white flowers, pomegranate halves were being thrown too.
My heart sank.
And there was nowhere to hide. All eyes on me as my steps slowed and I fell behind Father’s relentless pace. He hadn’t looked down yet. If he had he would see the sheen of pomegranate juice on his boots.
That was the moment the first shot rang out.
The casket fell to the floor as I fell to my knees. Hands over my head.
Pomegranate juice stained my knees.
But it was mixed with a deeper red liquid. Thicker. Warmer.
When I lifted my head, a scream lodged in my throat.