Vicious Minds: Part 2 (Children of Vice Book 5) Read online

  How many years had it been since I’d learned this code, since I’d used Latin at all? It felt like another lifetime…It took me a long time to understand it because I could not speak it often. However, the older I became, the more sense I found in it. If Latin were a dead language, it was the only language an assassin should use. And what made it harder for others to understand was that each phrase had another deeper and complex meaning…all but one. All but one, and it was the one who sent back a reply.

  “Carpe noctem.” The opposite of seize the day—seize the night—also meaning kill now.

  I inhaled deeply, staring at my phone. This was not the plan. I was supposed to have more time in order to situate myself and take apart the family piece by piece, poison them to death slowly; that was my order. How was this not going to backfire if I did as they ordered now? My first night here?

  “Bruntum fulmen.” Senseless thunderbolt, I replied, holding my breath. It took a lot to answer, but at least there was a reply.

  Which was akin to very well.

  Exhaling, I put down the phone, not wanting to reach the edge of this cliff so quickly. I stared into my own gray eyes and did not see me.

  “A monster is always born to other monsters.” Ethan’s voice echoed in my mind. How right he was. I remembered the monster who had created me clearly.

  CALLIOPE—AGE 6

  “It was Calliope!” My sister, Bellarose (everyone called her Rosie) pointed her finger at me, even though she was the one standing closer to mommy’s jewelry box.

  It was broken now. All the pretty stones she told us never to touch were all over the floor. I stared at her finger; it was pointed at me, shaking, her eyes filling with tears, her bottom lip trembling.

  Liar.

  “No, Mommy—” I tried to tell her Rosie was lying. But her hand hit my face, and I fell on my back and then onto my side. “Mommy, no!”

  “How many times did I tell you not to touch it?”

  Smack.

  “Why don’t you ever listen to me?” Smack.

  I held my hands to my head and curled into a ball. But she pulled my shirt.

  “Why do you always force me to do this?”

  Smack.

  “You always cause trouble!”

  Smack.

  “Mommy!” I screamed, and she threw me back onto the ground. “I’m sorry, Mommy! I’m sorry!”

  Smack. I let go of my head; her hands were at my throat. Everything was so blurry.

  “You ruin everything! You are—”

  “Camilla!”

  I heard his voice. I couldn’t see, but I could get air again and turned over once she had let go, coughing, snot and tears kept coming out of my face.

  “Rosie, take your sister and go. Take her!”

  Rosie’s arms hooked under my armpits, trying to drag me with her.

  “Callie, come on!” she yelled at me, but my legs didn’t move. So, she just pulled me, tugging me to the door. It was then that I noticed my sock. One of my shoes had come off. I saw it. It was next to our mom and dad. She was crying and screaming while he held onto her.

  Don’t be sad, Mommy.

  I wanted to tell her my neck hurt, and Bellarose was pulling too fast.

  We were in our room, and when Avena saw us, she got out of bed, and came over to me with a box of tissues.

  “What happened?” she asked Bellarose, trying to clean my nose.

  “Mommy got mad!” Bellarose gasped out, bent over, her hands on her knees, her Pippi Longstocking costume all messed up now.

  “I know that, Rosie. Why?” Avena asked again, pulling more tissues out of the box to help clean my face, and I winced away.

  “Callie broke her jewelry box,” she muttered before walking over and falling onto the bunk bed.

  “Liar! You broke it!” I screamed and hiccupped again.

  “I did not!” she screamed back, but she didn’t look at me. “Just shut up about it.”

  My lips shook in anger, and I wanted to smack her. Avena looked at me and then hugged me.

  “It’s okay, Callie. You’re okay, Mommy was just a little upset.”

  “Why does she only beat me when she is mad? Why is she always mad at me?” I cried.

  “I don’t know. Stop crying!” Avena tried to clean my face. “But she’ll get mad if you look like this.”

  “Girls?”

  Hearing the door, I got up quickly and tried to move away, but I fell back on my feet. When I looked over my shoulder, our dad stared at me for a long time. He had the cross box in his hands.

  “Avena, Rosie, you guys go watch TV, okay?”

  They nodded and left. I sat there, hanging my head.

  “That’s enough crying, young lady,” he said, his voice different before sitting in front of me. He lifted my head, and I met his eyes. He sighed, opening the cross box and getting the wipes.

  “How many times do I have to tell you not to make your mom mad?” He frowned, and I flinched, but he held me tighter. “Stay still, you can’t go around looking like this.”

  “It hurts...”

  He sighed again and looked at me. “Calliope, it will hurt more if you don’t clean it. Stay still, okay? Aren’t you a big girl?”

  I nodded and stayed still. But my eyes burned from all the tears I was trying to hold back.

  “Daddy, why…why does mommy get mad at me sometimes? She was happy with me before.”

  He didn’t answer. He never answered, just wiped my cheeks and put cream on my face before applying bandages.

  “Here.” He handed me a lollipop before getting up. “Sleep for a little bit. That will make you feel better.”

  “Daddy!”

  But he didn’t say anything or wait. He walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

  I lay on the bed, grabbed Avena’s bear, and cried. I cried and cried until my eyes felt puffy and I fell asleep.

  It felt like only a minute, but when I woke up, Bellarose was asleep across from me, my lollipop half-eaten in her hands.

  Avena was already on the top bunk asleep, too.

  Rolling to my stomach, it growled.

  I hadn’t eaten.

  Sliding out of bed, I opened the door quietly and stepped into the hall. I tiptoed because I wanted to pass my parents' room without getting into trouble. When I made it to the middle of the steps, I heard them and grabbed the railing, stopping.

  “You can’t keep on like this, Camilla. You almost killed her!” my dad yelled.

  “Why is she here anyway, huh?” she screamed, and I flinched, hearing something break. “I didn’t want her! You made me have her. You!”

  “Me? Why the fuck would I want you to have her? I—”

  “Oh, don’t you play dumb now! This is your fault! If you hadn’t told your parents—”

  “I wanted to help you!” he screamed back at her. “I wanted to get the son of a bitch who hurt you. I was going to make them pay—”

  “When have you ever made anyone pay for fucking shit, Roman? You weren’t going to do a damn thing. You ran to Daddy to take care of it, and instead they punished me! They forced me to keep it! Why? Why? Because your batshit crazy mother wouldn’t allow it. She lost her sons, and so apparently, everyone has to cherish their children even if they are fucking evil spawns! It’s not fair! Nine months! Nine months I had to carry that…that thing! Because of all of you! You talked me out of it because you wanted their money! It’s your fault, too! And now you are trying to lecture me! You!”

  “So, we’re just supposed to let you beat the shit out of her? She is six years old!”

  “I don’t care! Get rid of her! I hate her! Every breath she takes, every time I see those damn eyes…”

  “Camilla!” he yelled.

  I walked farther down the stairs, moving to the kitchen, but stayed by the door. They were on the floor, and she was crying more. But I knew my father was holding her.

  “I hate her. I hate her.” She cried more.

  “Shh…sh
hh…I’ll talk to them. My mom, she’ll take her in. I’m sure they will take her.” He kissed the top of her head.

  And when she turned, she saw me, and her face bunched once more. Her eyes widened. And Dad turned back to me.

  I stared at them.

  “Calliope, go back to your room—”

  “What happened to your face, Callie?” my mom asked gently. She switched. She pulled away from Dad and came to me. She placed her hands on my face. “Callie, what happened? Are you okay?” she asked, touching me all over while Daddy stood behind her with his hands over his face.

  “Callie?” She smiled at me, even though her eyes were red. “What happened? Who did this?”

  “I fell, Mommy,” I whispered. “Daddy helped me.”

  “Why are you so clumsy, silly?” She cupped my cheeks before looking over her shoulder. “Did you take her to the hospital.”

  He stared at her for a long time before shaking his head. “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “Looks pretty bad.” She frowned at me. “Are you okay? Why are you out of bed? It’s late.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  “You’re hungry?” She laughed, taking my hand and leading me into the kitchen. “I smell pasta. Let’s see if there is any left.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay? Why are you all quiet?” She lifted me and put me at the dining seat. “Roman, sit down to let us eat.”

  Dad didn’t say anything to her and instead sat beside me. “Eat quickly.”

  I nodded. This Mommy wouldn’t stay long, and I didn’t want to meet the other Mommy again.

  “I put in extra meatballs for you,” she said, coming over with my plate.

  I stared at it. Why couldn’t she be like this all the time? My eyes burned, but I didn’t cry. I grabbed the fork and stuffed my face.

  CALLIOPE—PRESENT

  It was too much for a six-year-old to understand.

  That my mother was raped.

  That I was the product of that rape.

  And that trauma caused her to develop Dissociative Identity Disorder.

  At the time, I simply thought sometimes she was just mad at me. But that day, watching her flip so quickly, her saying she hated me, and then her giving me extra meatballs, I knew I had two different moms. One who knew the truth and the other who didn’t. It was one of the real reasons why she didn’t abort me, why she never gave me up for adoption. There was part of her that loved me and part of her that hated me enough to kill me…and the part that loved me often lost.

  It was only a year later that I went to Wyatt and Dona’s birthday party. For some reason, she had snapped again that night and broke my arm. I had left with my grandfather—who was visiting—the next morning. And he told me how I’d get my parents to love me. How I could be the hero of our family. How I could bring justice to so many others that had been hurt, too. It was simple. Everything I did was for the greater good. Putting an end to the reign of terror that was the Callahan Family was the greatest good I could do for humanity.

  Lie if I had to.

  Cheat if I had to.

  Steal if I had to… Kill…if I had to.

  And it would all be justified.

  The monster inside me they fed and let grow was for good. Every person I had killed before was evil and cruel and deserving of death. They were also stepping stones to the Callahans. After they were gone, I would take over all of it, and with their infrastructure, build anew. All the power would be mine and mine alone.

  That was how this world was going to remember my name.

  Everything was planned.

  But in every plan, there are so many external factors. Things we never saw coming, no matter how much we prepared.

  “Mommy?”

  I turned around to see my own daughter standing in the doorframe, rubbing her mismatched eyes.

  “Eccomi qui, il mio piccolo tesoro.” Here I am, my little treasure, I gasped, moving to her and kneeling. I pulled her into my arms and kissed her cheeks over and over again.

  She giggled loudly. “Mommy!”

  “Shh,” I said gently. “You don’t want to wake Daddy now, do you?”

  Her eyes widened, and the way she peeled herself out of my arms to go look back at him made me laugh.

  “Daddy’s sleeping,” she whispered.

  “I know.” I poked her belly. “Why aren’t you?”

  She pouted. “’Cause I’m hungry.”

  I stared at her for a moment before kissing her head. I expected to love her. But man, did I love her.

  “How about we get a small snack and sleep for a few more hours, then get up, and I’ll make everyone a giant breakfast? It’s our first day here. We should make a good impression, don’t you think?”

  She nodded and then looked up to me. “But what do they want to eat?”

  “We’ll make everything!” I said, lifting her. “Come on, let’s get a snack.”

  I tiptoed across the room with her in my arms, and she kept the best lookout for me. It was only when we were safely in my closet that I set her on the center island, before taking my bag from the corner and pulling out her favorite snack. I grinned as she gasped at the sight of the box.

  “Bauducco Chocottone!” She was nearly jumping.

  “Shhh,” I said, quickly putting my hand to my lips, and when I did, she did, too.

  Her eyes were wide. Carefully, I brought the yellow box over. She helped me open it, revealing the holiday cake inside. I broke off a piece and gave it to her.

  “Thank you, Mommy,” she said, taking a massive bite, dancing slightly as she ate.

  I reached up, brushing her hair from her head. I couldn’t help but wonder if just one thing had been different in my life, would I still have her, my daughter, Ethan Callahan’s daughter?

  No. I don’t think I would be holding any child at all. I did not think I could have kids, that I could be a mother, not because there was anything wrong with me physically, but because I never saw myself as the mommy type.

  And now, I knew I was that type because of Ethan Callahan.

  I was supposed to destroy the Callahans—except my daughter—and even if I could hide that, it was still ironic that in order to defeat them, I had to become one of them.

  A further irony, I felt like I had developed a split personality, too. I was Calliope Orisni and now Calliope Callahan. And the dread I felt now was the same dread I felt as a child, knowing that if there were an angel and devil within us all, one of them was real and would dominate the other in the end.

  “Mommy, you eat,” she broke a piece off for me.

  I leaned in and bit her finger.

  “Mommy.”

  I giggled at the face she made.

  If only it could be this simple.

  3

  “That which has a bad beginning,

  is likely to have a bad ending.”

  ~ Hen Thorir

  ETHAN

  I felt nauseous.

  A throbbing ache rose from the back of my neck to the front of my face, waking me. And the very first voice I heard was not the one I was expecting.

  “Good morning, sir.”

  Rolling onto my side, I watched as O’Phelan outstretched his hand to give me a glass of water and two tablets, which was odd for many reasons.

  First, no one was allowed into my room unless I ordered so, and I hadn’t. Secondly, O’Phelan never made room calls unless inspecting the butlers’ and maids’ work…or on an order from another family member. Third, he had water and pills.

  “Explain. Now,” I demanded, sitting up from the bed only to need to grab the side of my head, as it felt as if it were being ripped apart.

  “Ms. Orsini directed me to stay and make sure you take these to help with your sickness and to make sure you are on time for breakfast. I was just about to wake you.”

  “What?”

  “I…”

  I held up my hand to tell him to shut up so I could stitch together my thoughts. However, it was a
bit difficult under the circumstance. I glanced over O’Phelan, the pills and water still in hand.

  “Did she tell you what sickness this was?” I asked him.

  “No, sir.”

  “Did she tell you what medicine that is?”

  “No, sir.”

  “And yet you followed her order anyway? Did you not just meet this woman? For all you know, you could be making me sicker and at her hand.”

  He gave me a strange look, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

  “Are you stunned by your own foolishness, O’Phelan?” I asked, kicking my feet off the bed; however, I could not stand yet; the world was spinning.

  “No, sir, I am shocked at how well Ms. Orsini impersonated your response this morning.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Ms. Orsini—”

  “Say Ms. Orsini one more time and I swear I’ll cut out your tongue.”

  He went on as if I hadn’t interrupted, “She. If you ask me these questions or accuse me of not working in your best interest, I should tell you what she told us this morning.”

  “And that was?”

  “She said, Ethan Callahan’s paramount objective was the happiness of his daughter, and as the mother of his daughter, her duty is to make sure he lives up to that objective. Therefore, all her orders are in your best interest and should I, or any other staff members, fail to follow through, we’ve not only failed her and her daughter but you by connection. She will not tolerate failure. If we have any doubts about that, we are free to go to you.”

  And so begins her reign, I thought, stretching out my hands. He gave me the pills and water, and I tossed them into the back of my throat. Praying to God it worked fast…however, I was confused as to why I needed it at all. She had poisoned me once for our little act. But that had worn off quickly. So, what was wrong with me now that I needed more of whatever she was giving me?

  Wait. If I needed more, that meant something was wrong again.

  Calliope.

  That madwoman had poisoned me…again.

  “Where are she and my daughter now?” Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sighed deeply before beginning this performance again.