The End of Cyril
The house was small, but not at all what I had expected. There were flowers and gardens and it looked nice. I snuck in the back door, slipping inside and closing it. The deadbolt clicked in my fingers as I scanned the kitchen. The smell of bread and pastries filled my nose. Again, not what I had expected. I crept from the kitchen to the living room, surprised to see a sleeping woman on the couch.
Her hearing aids sat on the TV tray next to her.
Leaving her to sleep in peace, I tiptoed down the hall to the bedrooms and bathrooms. First it was a bathroom with floral themes choking it up. The bedrooms were neatly made up and clean.
I turned, confused until I saw a door I hadn’t opened. Keeping my eyes on the lady, I walked to the door, opening it quietly.
Nothing moved below but that didn't mean he wasn't there. I took the stairs slowly at first and then hurried when I realized the basement was open concept.
He sat on the couch, his head facing the wall opposite the stairs. The TV played a soccer match, or football in Scotland. As I walked to the couch I noticed his hand in his trousers, resting there and a beer in his other one. He looked like a much older version of Al Bundy from
Married with Children.
I pulled the hairpin from my hair, stabbing down over him, through his hand and into either his dick or leg. I couldn't tell. He parted his lips to scream, but I slapped a hand across them and leaned forward. “This is from Lindsey.” I dragged the knife from my other pocket and sliced it across his throat, spilling his blood down the front of him as he sputtered and gasped for air, making gargling noises.
I didn't wait for him to die. I wiped my blade, pulled my hairpin from his hand, and walked back upstairs. I sat across from her, perhaps a little bloody for the living room but not really caring.
I stared at her until she flinched and woke, jumping when she saw me. I lifted my finger to my lips and pointed my knife at her hearing aids.
With trembling hands and wide eyes she put them in, demanding answers, “Who are ya? Why are ya in me house?”
“Did you know your husband was molesting girls?”
Her eyebrows dropped, not lifting in surprise but dropping in anger.
“Them girls are liars and teasers. My Cyril wouldn't ever touch—” She gagged and choked as the handle of my knife stuck out of her throat. I got up and dragged it from her, letting her artery shoot blood in a steady stream at me.
I pulled the matches from my pocket and lit one and then the whole pack, tossing it at the stack of magazines in the basket next to the floral couch. The flame looked like it might die out but the basket soon caught fire, sparking like something had been spilled on there.
I walked out the back door after stealing a raincoat to cover the bloody mess I was. I only needed to get a block over to the car where he was.
“Jesus, Evie. You are the messiest killer. Why don't you use a gun?”
Glancing down at the blood on my hands I shrugged. “I like the idea of them dying by my hand and not by the gun. I killed them.”
“You’re sick.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “I’m sick? You sell drugs, guns, and women, and I am the sick one because I enjoy ending perverts’ lives?”
“You were going to light the house on fire, I thought?”
“He had to know it was from Lindsey. I had to kill him first.”
“Of course you did.” He sat back as the car drove us through the suburban area on the outskirts of Glasgow. I dragged my clothes off, putting them into a bag and using the Lysol wipes from my purse to clean myself up. I stuffed it all into another bag and grinned at the face he was making. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and pressed in the number for Ruth.
She answered on the fourth ring. “Hello?”
“Hi, Ruth please.”
“Speaking.” Her accent was thick.
“I am calling from the center where your daughter is being treated. I wanted to let you know she is safe and sound.”
After a moment, sobbing and whimpering took over the silence on the other end. She wept, uttering things I couldn't understand. Finally, she spoke clearly, “Oh, thank God. I prayed so hard for her soul. Is she able to talk to her mum?”
“I’m sorry, she’s detoxing. We are monitoring her. She was part of a brothel in Blackpool. A large raid.”
“Oh sweet Jesus.”
I sighed and said it, knowing it needed to be said. “Did you know the neighbor there, Cyril, was molesting her and giving her drugs?”
It was crickets on her side of the phone, completely dead air.
“Hello?” I hoped she hadn’t hung up.
“That motherfucker. I will gut him like a fucking fish.” Her words were breathy.
I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m sorry to have to tell you. I just wasn't sure if you had other kids at home, besides Lindsey.”
“No! He can’t have done that to her! Jesus! How did I miss it?” She was running to her car. I could hear her footsteps on the cement. I was glad I had dealt with Cyril and his wife, saving Ruth a jail sentence.
“Lindsey will be in touch as soon as she is cleared to use phones or even computers. We have to keep her safe from the people that were busted for running the brothel.”
“Can’t I come to her?” she asked as she started her car.
“No. There are no visitors and no contact until she has completed the drug detox. Thank you so much for taking my call, Ruth. I am sorry and I wish I had better news for you.” I hung up and lifted my gaze to Servario. “That was brutal.”
“At least she didn't know.”
“She was on her way to kill him.”
He nodded. “As she should have.” His lip lifted into a sneer. “If I ever saw anyone even glance at my children, I would kill them without even thinking a thing about it.”
“Did you ever want kids?” I asked, not sure if we had had this conversation or if I had dreamt we did.
“No. Maybe once upon a time when I was a boy, and I believed I could be a better father.” He gave me a look. “But I see now people are who they are raised to be. Fathers make the same mistakes as their fathers. My father made so many it is impossible that I would have avoided them all.”
“I think you might have surprised yourself.”
He chuckled. “Evie, if I don't end up completely fucking this up between us, I will surprise myself. And you are a big girl who can take care of herself. Not a small child. Loving you means putting the world second. Billions of people just became second. When you are the man in charge of not fucking that up, it’s not smart to love someone more than any other thing.”
“You told me once that I shouldn't make you love me.”
“I meant it.” His green eyes pulled me into them, but I stayed on my side of the car. “I don't want to be responsible for your death.”
We drove to the airport to catch the helicopter, taking the bag of bloody clothes with us.
I fell asleep in the helicopter, finally able to relax a little bit. Something that had been bothering me was finally gone.
I woke to the light of day and Jack’s mansion next to us. I sat up. “You had him fly us here?”
He nodded. “I did. You were sleeping and I was enjoying watching it.”
“Are you coming in?”
“Yes.” He looked conflicted about his answer. My heart raced. He would meet my children for real. “I have to give Jack the codes, and it’s not information I think should ever cross the open Internet in any way.
He climbed out, offering me his hand. I took it, feeling equally conflicted.
We strolled down to the house, earning a strange look through the living room window from everyone as we entered. My mother was the first to speak, “Gustavo, how are you?”
He hugged her. “Well, Helena. How are you?”
She kissed his cheeks like a typical European and shrugged. “I am relaxed from all this vacationing.”
“Yes.” His lips toyed with a grin. “I can imagine.”
Fitz came strolling in, obviously aware of the change in the household. He nodded at Servario. “How are you, son?”
“I am well, and you?”
Fitz winked. “Can’t complain about a single thing.”
The three of them stared at each other, and I felt like I was a teenager bringing a boy home.
Jules came running in next. “Mommy!” She leapt at me, earning a tighter squeeze than normal. Mitch offered a wave, but I could see the look in his eyes when he saw my guest.
I nodded at Jack. “He has something you want.”
Jack jumped up, holding a hand out. “This way, sir.”
Coop didn't get up, but a smug look crossed his face when Mitch walked through the room and sat with him. Servario chuckled and nodded, following Jack from the room.
Luce cocked an eyebrow. “How was Scotland?”
“Good.”
Jules kicked and squirmed from my arms. “I can swim two laps in the pool without breathing. Wanna see?”
“I can’t think of anything I would want to see more than that.” I followed her out and watched as she dove in and swam hard with strong and uniform kicking.
“She is you.” My mother came and sat next to me. “I wanted so badly for you to be a regular girl. But you were so strong and so fit and so determined to show up every boy in the room. You played harder and ran faster and slept far less. I worried you would get to the Olympics in some of the sports you were in, drawing far too much attention to our family.” She turned and I could see the tears in her eyes.
Jules shot up out of the water, beaming.
“Yay! Excellent work, Jules.”
She jumped back in, swimming hard and flipping about in the water.
My mom sighed. “But I never feared anything as much as I did you becoming one of us.”
I reached over and squeezed her hand. “Mom, you have to know, I never wanted to be like you—I always wanted to be like Dad.”
She sniffled and laughed. “I know.”
“No.” I shook my head. “You don't. You see now all I want is to be as good at all of this as you are. I want to be just like you.”
She leaned in, hugging me. “You already are ten times the mother, spy, and daughter I ever was. I never had my priorities right. I worked hard and I worried about my time. I worried about selfish things I wish now I hadn’t.”
That hit home hard. “I do too.”
“The difference is that you won’t wait a whole lifetime for a man to choose you.”
“I’m sorry.”
She closed her eyes. “I am too. But don't make the same mistakes as I did. That is how we break the cycle.”
We sat in silence and watched Jules swim hard until Mitch came out and sat next to us. He gave me a look. “Are you and Coop broken up?”
I bit my lip, not sure what to say. I glanced at Coop in the window and shook my head. “We are taking everything slowly. All of us. In everything. He’s my friend. He’s always going to be my friend. But I need to get past some things before I jump back in.”
“Stuff from Dad?”
“Stuff from Dad and stuff from me.” I lifted my hand and held his cheeks. “You are such a big boy now. You’re becoming a man.”
His eyes burned. “I will be a man just like Coop one day.”
My heart tightened and my stomach lurched, but I maintained the relaxed look on my face. “Yes, you will.” I leaned in and kissed his cheek. I couldn't breathe as my mom wrapped her arm around my shoulders and the three of us hugged.
It was a sign to slow everything down and to pull away from the selfish things I had going on inside my mind.
I slipped my hand into his, squeezing softly. He let me. He didn't fight it. Mitch was on his other side, head down and sorrow covering his face.
Coop’s parents sniffled and wiped, each devastated at the loss of their child.
Coop leaned into me, letting some of his weight rest on me. He didn't cry; in fact, he didn't even try to hide the fury on his face.
He hadn’t tried to direct any of it onto Servario, not even when things were awkward. His pain and rage belonged to Rachel—all of it. She had done the one thing Coop didn't forgive, not matter what.
The minister spoke as the cool Alaskan wind lifted my hair.
Somber faces surrounded us. Luce and Jack stood next to me, both with their heads down and hands clasped. None of us wanted to believe it, but the evidence had been overwhelming. Coop had seen it all—he had demanded to see it. I hadn’t seen the exchange or the moment Coop saw the proof. He and Servario had been alone, having a moment perhaps.
It had been a miserable week, what with Janice’s family having her funeral and now Coop’s family having Rachel’s. And somehow, even if we weren’t guilty of it, I felt the stain of their blood on my hands, our hands.
Coop’s dear family wept, believing she had been in a terrible car accident.
Only the four of us knew the truth. He hadn’t even told his father, perhaps not wanting to allow her death to be soiled. I had disagreed with the choice. I had told him that his father needed to know his daughter had done that, in case there were other loose ends created by her.
He had given me a look and we never spoke of it again. I trusted he would look into it eventually.
Not that it mattered what loose ends there were.
We lived in a constant state of fear, hiding, and paranoia. What could be added to make our lives worse? At this point I believed nothing.
Saudi Arabia was in a state of constant emergency, ruined by the invention meant to save the world.
The Burrow was split into two groups: those who wanted to clean up mankind, and those who wanted to hide in Japan and pretend everything beyond the walls of the sacred temple was fine.
The splinter cell of rogue Burrow agents and scientists wanted the world cleaned up. They wanted everything peaceful and pretty. They wanted humans handled and managed to protect us from ourselves. They wanted to play God.
There on the hillside in Alaska, with the cool summer breeze blowing over us and the clear sky above us, I knew we were in the heart of the storm—the eye. All around us everything was ready to explode, and it seemed like we didn't have a safe route to get away. We had to suit up and walk through the fire to end this.
For me, personally, it meant I was going to be doing something I didn't want to do, but I didn't have a choice in the matter. Normalcy was officially over.
Coop squeezed my hand, his fingers trembling just a little bit.
I let go of his hand and slid my arm into the small of his back, wrapping around his waist and held on tight.
“And may she rest in peace and everlasting life in the grace of God’s blessings.” The man bowed his head. “Amen.”
“Amen,” we spoke in unison.
Each of the family members tossed a handful of dirt onto the casket where her battered and broken body now lay to rest. I had forced myself to look upon her dead corpse in the morgue as they prepared her for burial in her closed casket, just to see what he was capable of. What Servario, a man who owned half of my heart, was able to do to someone, even a girl. I had seen Roxy; I knew he could be cruel and efficient.
But Rachel was a whole other story.
Needless to say, car accident wasn't quite the description I would have used. Her missing fingers and teeth and bits of missing skin looked like my mother had been at her. I forced myself to stare at it and let it sink in. There was a side of him that I never saw. He never showed it to me. He too had ice water in his veins and sometimes all of this got to be too much for him.
Coop didn't throw dirt on the casket. He stood, stoic and cold, letting it all be real, maybe too real, for just a moment. Then he turned and gave Mitch a soft smile. “Thanks for coming.”
Mitch hugged him, clinging to him tightly. Jules had stayed with my mom at the hotel, but Mitch had been adamant he would be there for Coop.
The family converged, wrapping themselves around my son and theirs. They sobbed and held each other. Luce, Jack, and I stood off to the side, all of us hating their grief and the choice their daughter and sister had made.
My boy pulled from the group of them and walked to me. He wrapped himself around me and held me tightly, his hands trembling just a little.
After a moment, Coop did the same. I held them both, hating the Burrow even more than I thought I could.
We might have saved tomorrow from the brilliance of Dr. Janice Saunders, and we might have ended the life of the man who knew the most about each of us, but we were still very far off from being free.
Coop placed a soft kiss on my throat, hovering there. He was breathing me in, I knew the act well. I had done it to him more times than I could count.
He slipped his hand in mine and looked at Jack, Luce, and myself. “Thanks for coming.”
None of us spoke. What did you say to that?
The group of us walked away as the casket got buried by the two men with shovels.
We got halfway across the graveyard when Coop stopped. He turned and looked back at the two men, pondering something. Then he broke into a run, sprinting in his suit and leather shoes across the grass and not minding the other dead people or their graves. He shoved one of the men and took the shovel, shouting something about burying his own fucking sister.
He shoveled like a madman, shaking his head and cussing as tears streamed his cheeks.
His mother opened her mouth, but his father steered her away, whispering something.
Coop’s brother and sisters gave me a look, but I didn't have an answer I could share with them.
So we stood and watched as the strongest man in the world broke. He shouted, calling her a traitor and throwing dirt. He stopped using the shovel and dropped to his knees, pushing the mounds of black earth with his hands.
He slumped after a moment and cried. Tears filled my eyes, making him abstract and the moment beautiful in a tragic way.
Mitch pulled from my arms, walking with Jack to the graveside. Jack took the shovel from the ground and Mitch took the one from the confused worker, and they silently lifted the dirt and dumped it in the hole.
Coop remained on his knees, staring as tears ran down his cheeks.
His mother wept and his sisters covered their faces.
Only his father looked like he might know what the moment of mental breakdown was caused by.
Deep down I knew each of us would have a moment like this one.
Watching him, and this, play out was like glimpsing into the future, the very near future. This madness and sorrow was the only possible outcome.
The wind crossed me again, making me shiver and giving me the feeling someone was watching me.
Turning around, I saw him behind a tree. He wore the same broken look that Coop did. Servario didn't even glance in my direction. His eyes were solely focused on Coop.
I suspected he was making himself watch. It was his penance for killing her. He had to see the aftermath of his actions.
I knew that pain.
When he saw me staring at him he turned and walked off, heading for the black car on the road across from us.
It was a dark day that nothing would make lighter.
When I looked back at my son, I watched as he and Jack tamped the spot and handed the shovels back to the workers before they helped Coop to his feet.
The three of them walked in silence, holding each other. They passed Coop’s family, clearly not interested in the celebration of her life that had been planned for afterward.
We walked to the car, each of us plagued by our own brand of sadness.
The hotel was a short drive. Coop held my hand, not letting it go and not speaking. When we got there I gave Mitch a look. “We have to go to the room, get you cleaned up.”
He looked down at the graveyard dirt that covered him and wrinkled his nose. “Okay.”
Coop got out with us, holding my hand but still staring off into space.
I slid the key in and opened the door for Mitch. My mom slipped her gun back under the pillow next to her, completely unbeknownst to Jules who was watching cartoons. “He needs a shower.”
“Okay.” She gave Coop a look. “How is your family, dear?”
He shrugged.
I sighed and nodded my head toward his room. “I’m going—”
“Of course.” She smiled. I closed the door and helped Coop to his room next door. He put the key in, pausing and looking at the dirt on his hands.
His eyes lifted, again filling with tears. I opened the door and helped him inside, not sure if I should leave or stay.
His huge hand reached out, wrapping around my waist, pulling me into him. He didn't try to kiss me or say anything. He pulled me to the bathroom as the door swung shut. He walked straight into the shower and turned it on, letting the water soak us both. It was like a switch.
The moment it touched him he came to life, grabbing my face and planting an earthy kiss upon my lips as the shower rained down on us. Neither of us could get enough.
Hands pulled and dragged until my dress was gone, my stockings torn, his shirt was ripped open, and his pants gone. I lifted a leg as he positioned himself between my thighs and cupped my ass. His cock found its way between my lips and he pushed with one thrust, driving himself into me as he bit down on my lower lip gently.
We both paused, as if the reality of our actions had become real when we became one.
He lifted his hands to my face, still paused inside me. He cupped my cheeks and brushed his lips gently against mine, savoring the rainy kiss.
We didn't speak, but the tempo slowed as he again placed his hands on my butt and lifted me slightly, gently and rhythmically thrusting in and out of me, appreciating the entirety of each stroke. My head tilted back, letting the water fall onto my forehead as I moaned, digging my feet into the soap holder and the floor.
His wide shoulders and strong arms became like handles as I maneuvered myself to orgasm. My insides tightened as I rotated my hips into each of his driving plunges.
He pumped faster, helping me with my wet and shuddering end. When he came inside me he groaned and gripped me, finishing with fury.
It was not the mourning I had imagined, but it was something we both needed.
He bent forward, still holding me tightly and whispered, “We are not having a deep conversation about what this means.”
I smiled wide, loving that he knew me too well.