Children of Vice (Children of Vice #1)

“I’m sorry, we had no cream,” Jimmy said in the politest voice I’d ever heard. “Is there anything else I can get you, Mrs. Callahan?”

My head whipped back at the old woman and before I could help myself I tried to lunge at her and I would have ripped her head off her shoulders if it weren’t for the damn chains.

“Sit down!” Jimmy snapped back to his old self, already pulling out his taser.

“I’m quite fine. You may leave.”

“Are you sure, ma’am—”

The look she gave him made him swallow unnecessarily. He glared at me as if to say behave and walked toward the doors.

“You have some nerve—”

“Don’t speak. You only make yourself look imprudent.” She dared to interrupt me, pressing play on a tablet I didn’t even notice was in front of me, until just now, before picking up her tea cup.

The screen was fuzzy for a moment before finally focusing perfectly on…

“Daddy?” I sat up.

“Hey, birdy…” He smiled even though he looked…he looked just like I remembered. Blond-graying hair, brown eyes, and in need of a shave. Before he spoke again she paused it.

“What is this?” I sneered, glaring back at her.

“You believe we killed your family? Well, you’re wrong. I figured you wouldn’t believe us…luckily, your father used to be more reasonable—”

“Don’t talk about my father.”

“Fine, you don’t want to hear his final words. I’ll leave.”

“Wait.” I reached for the tablet. “Wait.”

Without another word, she pressed play again and I heard his voice for the first time in…in what felt like a lifetime.

“If you’re watching this I’m probably gone. The boss told me to make a whole bunch of these videos for you just in case…just in case something happened…he comes off as this hard-ass, but he’s a good man, or at the very least he gets what it’s like having a daughter…wait, ugh…sorry. This probably makes no sense and…sorry.”

The screen cut off.

“No—” But before I even got the word out, he was back on the screen again, this time in a different V-neck shirt, his hair as messy as ever.

“So I’m going to make this one video. You know I ain’t that good with words, birdy.” He winked at me. He always did that when he was nervous. “First. I want to apologize. Apologize for making you grow up around all of this. For letting you suffer. I never wanted this for you. I wanted better, much better. But I couldn’t…knowing what that bastard did to your mother.” He bit his bottom lip, and I felt my tears burning my eyes. “If it weren’t for the Callahans, I would’ve probably been dead sooner. Maybe you too.”

My whole body relaxed, my mouth dropping open. “W-wh-what?”

“Yea. You heard me. The Callahans. I ain’t no traitor. Keegan.” He spat to his left. “That’s right, poor ol’ Uncle Keegan Finnegan. All of this is his fault. And why? What reason did he have to kill MY WIFE? ’Cause he wanted what the Callahans have! He’s got no money, barely a last name, or connections, and yet he keeps saying how he’s going to change things. My pop always said poverty fucks with you…makes you think you can do things you really can’t and start selling your soul for things that are priceless.” Again, he rubbed his chin, tears coming down his face.

“He was right. I never listened to him. Though maybe if I did I’d know how to read people better. It’s my fault, birdy. My fault. I wasn’t careful. I didn’t protect your mom or your aunt…hell, I can barely protect you. So listen to me, you hear?” He sat up, pointing to the camera. “I don’t know how much time I’ve got. But you ain’t ever listened to me in your life. Listen now. Remember the place where the one-eyed owl and cat live? It’s real. Go there. I’ve got some money stashed away. Take it and get the hell out of Boston. Don’t talk to any of them, not Shay, not your cousins. They’d cut out your own kidney and try to sell it back to you. And lastly, listen, birdy, if you ever, I mean ever get in trouble, call the Callahans and tell ’em you’re Sean O’Davoren’s daughter. Okay? They got you. What I always say…”

“They don’t make them any tougher than those from the Burren,” I said at the same time he did, wiping my face on the corner of my shirt. When I looked up the old lady just stared at me and so I stared back, unsure, not wanting to believe any of this.

“How do I know you didn’t make him say this?”

She shrugged. “We could’ve…but why would he tell you some secret place to pick up the money we paid him and not use a code to tell you he was being forced?”

“This is some sort of trick.”

“This is the truth and because you’ve convinced yourself we are the enemy for so long your brain can’t accept it…but, Ivy, did your father ever once directly tell you in private that the Callahans were to blame?”

I immediately wanted to say yes but nothing came to mind. Nothing. All the times in which he’d spoken out against the Callahans in public he’d never said anything when we were at home.

“I guess not. Fine, did he ever let you around your uncle or your cousins?”

Again I wanted to say yes, but my voice would not let me. As if I were dying, my whole life flashed in front of my eyes. How he’d always cut in when Uncle Keegan was talking to me. Or told me to study when my cousins came over. How he always just wrote it off as “guy stuff,” which pissed me off more. I thought he was trying to protect me from knowing against the Callahans not…

“No.” I shook my head. “No,” I repeated again, and she honestly looked worried. Not pitying me.

“Seven years ago, you came to Chicago with your stepsister, looking for evidence your father was murdered.” She didn’t need to ask because somehow, a photo of me and Rory caught at a tollbooth appeared on the screen. “You look surprised. Why? You went to almost every corner shop, mechanic and barber, you didn’t think we’d hear back?”

“I did,” I whispered, staring at photos of me that just appeared on the screen. It sent chills down my spine. They could do this. They could spy me on the streets. “I knew you’d hear and I figured—”

“To fearlessly ask directly…a last-ditch effort, which didn’t work.” She didn’t have to remind me. Those days would haunt me for the rest of my life. “You then went back to a bar where you drank your pain, drove drunk, and hit a young girl, paralyzing her from the waist down. You lost your scholarship at Boston U, your family went into debt trying to get you out, your fiancé left you, all because you wanted revenge so badly.”

My throat burned, my jaw clenched. Inhaling deeply, I nodded, owning up to it. “Yes. Yes, to all of it. I’m sure you have a full transcript of it and could ask the judge personally. I did something wrong and I’m owning up to it. And it isn’t I wanted revenge. It’s want. Present tense.”

Finished with her tea, she put the cup down. “You’re owning up to someone else’s crime.”

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