Vicious Minds (Children of Vice #4)(74)

Sunday, August 20th





As I watched the sky fill with black smoke, as I listened to them scream and watched them run for safety, I found myself wondering for what had to be the millionth time if I was bipolar. All the tests said no, but the ease with which I shifted from one extreme to the other was often baffling me to. When I asked my grandfather if he thought it was odd too, he just laughed at me.

He said, “Calliope, you are an Italian woman, extremes are the only language you all have in common.”

He was so amused I’d asked. I was only twelve at the time, but I truly thought he was going to give me a lecture on all the ways in which Italian woman were crazy. Instead he told me no matter how smart I was, no matter how well I could scheme, or strong I was, I would never be able to tame my emotions. It was just not in my DNA. I thought he was being dramatic and ignored him. Over last few years I’d noticed he was right, absolutely one hundred percent correct, so I didn’t really try to reason with the unreasonable part of myself anymore.

“HELP!”

“SOMEONE CALL FOR HELP!”

“CALL 911!”

The people on the sidewalk with me all panicked as they watched the church across the street burn. I clicked the button on my keychain again.

BOOM!

“OH MY GOD!”

“Is it a terrorist attack?”

“Where is it coming from?” they all questioned, and I just stood behind them with my hand over my mouth as if I was mortified. More people stumbled out, tripping over themselves and each other. I noticed Donatella being dragged out by the lapdog, Tobias. Her dark hair flying out around her head. I frowned at that. She looked very undignified. I understood it was an emergency, but she still ought to have some decorum in public, no?

Now where is Ethan? che cazzo è? (what the fuck is this?) I thought as I watched him coming out carrying the jailbird as if she was a fucking princess. My annoyance only rose as the people on the sidewalk with me took photos and videos as he got her into the Range Rover.

“ETHAN!” Dona, who struggled in Toby’s arms, screamed until he picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder, and she didn’t seem to fucking care that all them were apparently channeling their inner 1990s Disney prince.

“NANA! ETHAN! NANA!” she yelled, pointing to the building.

He slammed the door, already turning to rush back in and be the hero. Luckily, Greyson came out holding on to Evelyn, her arms extremely burned.

Note to self: when I join this family, have a fire survival plan.

The ambulance was already there and Ethan stood guard as Mrs. Callahan was loaded in. He looked stunned as he stared down at her. When the doors closed it seemed to snap him out of it and he blinked, looking away. Maybe it was coincidence, maybe it was my karma, but his eyes locked with mine…and despite the changes in my appearance, he could recognize me. His head tilted to the side as if to question, as if he could not believe it.

I nodded. Yes, it was me. I bombed your church.

His nose flared, and his fist clenched.

Looked like I was in trouble.

“Sir!” Greyson rushed to him.

I couldn’t hear what Ethan asked him, but he didn’t look away from me. So I mouthed slowly, “Don’t break character, boss. Your people are watching and listening.”

I turned and looked away from him, pulling out my phone and dialing. “911 what’s your emergency?”

“I’m in front of St. Peter’s Cathedral, there are so many people hurt we need people down here!” I sobbed into the phone as I walked down the street.

“Calm down, ma’am, we have help on the way.”

“Please hurry! Oh my god!” I sniffed, stopping at the corner as Ethan’s Range Rover turned the corner in front of me. I looked directly at Ivy, whose blonde hair was covered in dirt and blood, but she had no idea who I was as they sped by.

“Can you see how many people—”

I hung up and dropped my phone in the street and it slid down into the gutter. Casually crossing the street, I didn’t even bother worrying about the camera. One thing I loved about Chicago was how unproductive the city government was; that camera had been dead since last week. I bet they’ll fix it now.

Ethan - AGE 28

Chicago, Illinois

Sunday, August 20th





She’d lost her mind.

It was either that or she betrayed me but if that was the case then she wouldn’t have done such an obvious manner, nor would she have failed.

So obviously she’d lost her goddamn mind. I tried calling and messaging for well over two hours. Which meant I had no fucking way to find her and kill…and speak to her. Although killing her was looking very possible at the moment.

Calliope you— My thoughts were interrupted by the single message on my phone.

“Morgue #3”

I glanced over to Ivy who was somehow able to bloody nap while my life was on fire. Part of me wished she’d died in the motherfucking blast too…everyone, in fact. I was fucking done with every-goddamn-body.

Rising from my chair I stepped out of the room and Greyson looked to me waiting for my direction. Tobias was still not here, he was most likely with Donatella.

“Let no one in. I have something I need to handle,” I ordered, walking towards the elevators. The guards pressed the button for me and I got on alone. I took it down to the second level before getting off on that floor. Looking around I found the damn stairs, everyone was too busy with the onslaught of bodies to even notice me. I walked down white stairs and was assaulted by the overwhelming smell of disinfectant. No one was there, which must have been because all the coroners were called to my fucking church to collect her damn victims.