Chapter Twenty-Five The Valentine Vendetta

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE THE VALENTINE VENDETTA

I could hear buzzing. It made the world vibrate, pulsing inside my eardrums until it felt like the bees were coming from inside my skull. I twitched awake. The sweetest cacophony of smells hung in the air, coaxing me from the darkness that had engulfed me so completely. I opened my eyes to a white ceiling and felt a horrible tightness in my chest.

I groaned.

‘Ah, you’re awake at last. I was wondering how long that would take to wear off.’

I didn’t have to turn my head in the direction of the voice to know who it belonged to. It was unusually soft for a man’s tone, and each syllable was pronounced with over-exaggerated precision, betraying his faint Italian accent.

‘Felice,’ I said. I tried to sit up, but I couldn’t. My arms and legs were bound together by cable ties; they cut into my wrists and squeezed the bottom of my bare ankles uncomfortably. ‘Where am I?’

‘Generally? You are in Lake Forest. Specifically? You are reclining on my couch.’

The leather squeaked as I heaved my clasped hands towards my bound legs and pulled them together, crunching into an upright position. I swivelled my body around, dropping my knees over the couch and placing my hands in my lap as a streak of white sunlight slashed across my vision, making my eyelids flutter.

I was almost level with an open bay window across the room. The sun was beginning to dip in the pink-tinged sky – I must have been out for a long time. I could tell I was at least one storey up. Outside, there was an old wooden barn tucked behind a sprawling garden with vibrant flowers that faded into open fields. About fifteen small sheds dotted the grass in regimented lines.

‘Beehives,’ I realized aloud. I could just about make out the swarms of bees droning in the distance, and there were at least two more buzzing somewhere inside the room.

‘Well noted, Persephone,’ said Felice. He was sitting bolt upright in an armchair directly across from me, one impossibly long leg crossed over the other.

I rolled my eyes over him and frowned. Everything about him – from his silver slicked-back hair and his Mediterranean complexion to his expensive pin-striped suit – screamed creepy Mafia dude . And judging by the house so far, not to mention its location, he was rich.

‘It’s Sophie,’ I replied.

‘Apparently it is. If only we had been aware of that sooner, it would have saved us quite the confusion. We would have known you from the outset.’

From what I could see we were the only ones in the room. Aside from the black leather couch on which I sat, there was nothing else but Felice and his bees. They were flying in wide circles around his head as though they were defending him, and I felt my skin prickle uncomfortably at the sight.

‘I must say I’m surprised you haven’t screamed yet.’ He settled an elbow on each armrest and brought his hands together in the middle so that each finger touched its correspondent.

‘Would there be a point in screaming?’

He shook his head. ‘We are far removed from civilization. It is just you and the bees, Persephone.’

I felt a vague semblance of fear somewhere deep inside, but my head was still fuzzy from whatever had put me to sleep. It was hard to arrange my emotions appropriately, and even more difficult not to say the wrong thing. I knew I had been kidnapped, but I couldn’t determine the correct response. I zeroed in on the pockmarks along Felice’s neck and face. They were shiny and red, and bubbling angrily in places.

‘So this is where you live with all your bees? How romantic.’ I knew I shouldn’t have said it, but my brain had disengaged from keeping my actions appropriate. ‘Pity they sting you so much.’

He raised his eyebrows, causing ripples along his forehead. ‘It is my personal choice not to wear a mesh veil when in the company of my bees. I feel it separates us needlessly; I prefer to be close to them, to feel them on my skin.’ He flicked his gaze to the bee flying nearest his head and smiled like a proud parent. ‘It is an honour to be stung by such noble creatures. That they would lay down their lives for a fleeting moment of my attention is extraordinary. There is no creature more majestic than the honeybee.’

‘If you say so,’ I said, without registering what I meant. My brain was so cloudy, and the buzzing was making it worse.

‘I do say so. The honeybee is already dying out and it is my contention that we must do our very best to protect nature’s noble children.’

Nature’s noble children? I could have knocked myself out again just to keep from dealing with the crazy in front of me. ‘What do you want with me?’

Felice pursed his lips. It made his chin look unnaturally sharp. He didn’t answer. He just stared at me, and I got the sense I had offended him by moving the topic away from his bees.

‘Can you at least loosen these ties? They really hurt.’ My wrists and ankles were red-raw and stinging.

He shook his head; it was almost imperceptible this time. ‘Not quite yet, Persephone.’

‘My name is Sophie. I don’t call you Fabio.’

Felice threw back his head and laughed until his eyes began to water. ‘Of all the things you could be angry about,’ he said, wiping them with the back of his hand. ‘You are a funny one.’

I didn’t feel humorous, I felt drugged. ‘I got your honey, by the way. Thanks so much.’

‘I think we both know it was not meant for you, but for the sake of clarity, since I cannot fathom whether you are playing dumb or actually being dumb, I shall elucidate. The honey was intended for your uncle.’

‘I don’t think he appreciated it.’

‘Oh, no?’ Felice contorted his features into the most elaborate smile I had ever seen. It was as terrifying as it was disingenuous.

‘He smashed it,’ I said, setting my tone to serious. Whatever delirious desire I had to be a smart-ass was fading. I was coming to my senses again.

‘It happens.’ Felice waved his hand in the air dismissively. ‘I know you’re not supposed to tip off your victims, but I just can’t help my flair for theatrics. And I’ll have you know I prepare the honey myself and it is positively delicious, not that anyone ever bothers to try it.’

‘I tried it. It tasted off,’ I lied.

‘That’s an incredibly rude thing to say.’ Felice made a point of grimacing at me before continuing. ‘Still, it does its job. I do think everyone deserves a fair warning so they can get their affairs in order.’

‘Before you kill them?’ I asked. Though I already knew, I wanted him to say it, so it would kick my fuzzy brain into gear.

‘Of course.’ Felice smiled, revealing two long rows of sharp teeth. ‘Head start or no head start, we always catch up in the end. And sometimes, I dare say, the chase is the best part.’

A shudder rippled up my spine. Finally, and unpleasantly, the urgency of the situation had settled on me; I had more people than just myself to think about. ‘Why did you send my uncle the Gift of Death?’ My voice cracked, and a wave of fear careened over me. ‘If it has something to do with revenge for what my father did, he didn’t mean it.’

Felice raised his finger to hush me. ‘The death of my beloved brother, Angelo, at the hands of your father was, of course, regrettable, but I don’t believe there was any ill intent on your father’s part.’

I felt my shoulders dip. ‘That’s good.’

‘That is not to say, however, that this situation is not about revenge. Because,’ he said, standing to his full height, ‘of course, it is.’

Felice’s tallness suddenly seemed so much more formidable. He began pacing up and down, and I got the sense he did this all the time – intimidation by theatrics. He probably had a special suit for every occasion. His neck scarf cascaded behind him as he glided back and forth.

‘I think it is reasonable to ascertain now that you are clearly unaware that your uncle, Jack Gracewell, is a pivotal member of the biggest drug cartel in the Midwest. The Golden Triangle Gang, as they so eloquently call themselves. Would I be correct in assuming so?’

I gaped at him. It couldn’t be true. It had to be part of his ‘theatrics’.

‘Among other things, they have recently begun dealing a hybrid narcotic that, when taken, elicits effects similar to those associated with extreme intoxication, and can lead to an array of unfortunate after-effects, including paranoia, memory loss, paralysis, and – my personal least favourite – death.’ He shook his head at the world outside, like all the birds and flowers had let him down at once.

‘No,’ was all I could muster. Words were failing me. I was dumbfounded and Felice could see it; worse than that, he was thriving on it, like a well-dressed parasite.

He started pacing again. ‘Of course, we’ve been monitoring your uncle and his not-so-esteemed business partners for nearly four years – right back to the time when he began using the diner, your homey family establishment, to stash drug shipments between deliveries.’

‘What?’ I spluttered back into life. ‘Jack used my father’s diner for drug trafficking?’

‘Well, I would have thought those two dots would have been easy to connect, but maybe I’m too close to the situation, so it’s easier for me.’ Felice hunkered down so he could be closer to me. ‘Initially, there were just three pivotal members of the Golden Triangle Gang operating on this side of the Atlantic; each one positioned at a different key point in the Midwest; points that, when drawn together on a map, form a perfect triangle’ – he made a triangle in the air with his fingers – ‘of ill-earned profit.’

I felt a bee buzzing dangerously close to my ear and jerked my head on reflex.

‘Careful,’ Felice warned. He sprang to his feet again. ‘As the Falcone boss, my brother Angelo was principally in charge of ending this chain of unlawful activities. It was no mean feat, but as we have always said, “the falcon does not hunt flies”. Together, we were to change the face of the Midwest narcotics underworld.’

Felice’s movements turned fluid, one hand tucked behind his back wistfully, as though he were taking an evening stroll down a quiet street.

‘My brother was successful in coordinating the demise of founding fathers one and two of the Golden Triangle Gang in relatively quick succession, not to mention several key members of their respective crews.’ He widened his colourless eyes and looked towards the ceiling like he was talking to someone beyond it. ‘And if I may say, the family made quite an artful job of them, but I would hate to offend your sensibilities, Persephone, so I won’t go into the details.’

I remembered the newspaper article with a jolt. It had mentioned the Golden Triangle Gang. Angelo Falcone had been suspected of their murders – their brutal murders – but was never charged. I didn’t know whether I could bring myself to believe it, but before I could stop myself I was saying, ‘And Jack was number three.’

‘And Jack Gracewell was the elusive third point on said triangle,’ Felice confirmed, his expression suddenly sombre. He cracked his knuckles, one by one, and I noticed they were stung just as badly as his face. ‘Miss Gracewell, I have yet to meet a more slippery, unconscionable individual as your uncle.’

Me too , I realized as nausea rose in my stomach. If everything Felice said was true, I didn’t know my uncle at all. Sure, I knew Jack was capable of acting out of line: he drank too much, he had a short fuse, and he had a tendency to disappear sometimes. But these accusations were something else entirely.

‘We almost did it, you know – wiped them all out – and that might have been the end of it, but of course it wasn’t. Because Angelo ran into the wrong brother that fateful Valentine’s night, and then everything changed in the blink of an eye.’

I could taste the bile rising in my throat. I thought of my father all alone in the dark outside the diner and how scared he must have been when Angelo Falcone approached him, yelling. He had no idea who was coming for him. He couldn’t have. He would never be involved in something like that. Right? I clenched my fists to stop my hands from shaking. Just how many people in my life weren’t who they said they were?

‘I didn’t know Jack had a brother who looked so like him until the night I saw him shoot my brother. That’s terrible research, is it not? I can tell you, a lot of heads rolled after that unfortunate mix-up.’ Felice allowed himself a fleeting smirk before adding, ‘Literally.’

‘You were there?’

He sighed, his bravado diminishing. ‘It was dark, and Angelo approached the wrong Gracewell. The plan was for my brother to subdue Jack and drag him back into the alley behind the diner so that I could shoot him in private – it was my personal request, you see – but we never got that far, and that is something you do know, at last.’

I flinched at the thought of him shooting Jack.

Felice wagged his finger at me, back and forth like a metronome, until I wanted to rip it off and spit it back in his face. ‘You mustn’t conceptualize me as the monster. It was Jack who was and is contributing to society’s underbelly in the worst way. And it was Jack who got your father into such an unfortunate position. If I were ever to traffic drugs, which of course I would not, I certainly wouldn’t use one of my brother’s family establishments for storage.’

‘Jack isn’t into that stuff.’ Doubt caused my words to falter. They fell out of my mouth, unsteady and forced. ‘My father would never let him do that. I don’t believe you.’ I would have crossed my arms and stormed off if I could have. Not because I was angry, but because I was afraid of the truth, and what it meant for my understanding of family, of right and wrong.

‘Well fortunately for me, it is of no concern whether you choose to believe me. It does not change the truth of the matter.’

The more I thought about it, though, the more I teetered towards his version of events. After all, it was strange to think that Angelo Falcone would be skulking, unarmed, around a small suburban diner in the middle of the night. And stranger still was all of Jack’s mysterious business in the city. And the money he always seemed to have, the fancy cars and the exquisite suits. There was always something a little off about him: something that caused my mother to keep him at arm’s length, something that had kept him from settling down with a family of his own. And then there was his vehement hatred of the Falcones. The more I pieced everything together, the less ridiculous it was beginning to sound. ‘So if it is true…’ I began.

‘It is,’ clarified Felice.

‘Well, why am I here now, if this isn’t about my father? I haven’t done anything wrong.’

‘After the unfortunate death of my beloved brother, Jack’s activities experienced a significant decline, so much so that we believed the Golden Triangle to be finished entirely. Of course, we were always going to finish what we started with him – after the appropriate mourning period, that is. I must admit Angelo’s death took a heavy toll on all of us, the boys especially. But when we discovered our intel was incorrect and that Jack is now spearheading the entire gang from the city, we realized we would have to dispatch him sooner rather than later. We procured a residence in Cedar Hill, and from there, we have been picking off your uncle’s key associates one by one.’

Did that explain the drowned delivery man – was Luis part of this too? And all the other mysterious disappearances Mrs Bailey had been so eager to point out – the ones I had been so quick to ignore? All this time, and right under my nose, they were killing people.

‘That’s horrible,’ I said, feeling dazed.

‘Actually, it’s competence,’ Felice corrected me. ‘And now, with Jack proving to be the final piece of the puzzle – and weakened without his most trusted henchmen – we must end him sooner rather than later, before he can regroup. It must finally come to an end the way my brother intended it to.’

I panicked at the thought of what they would do to Jack, wondering just how many of his ‘associates’ had been killed over the past few months, and trying not to think about which ones had met their deaths at the end of Nic’s gun. ‘So you’re going to kill him.’

‘Yes.’ Felice eased himself into the chair like his bones would snap if he wasn’t careful. ‘And that, lovely Persephone , is where you come in.’

I bristled. ‘That’s not my name.’

‘I don’t see why you have chosen to cast it off.’ He paused as if expecting me to justify something that seemed so unbearably trivial to me now. When I didn’t answer, he continued with obvious bewilderment. ‘Why wouldn’t you want to associate yourself with the majestic and beautiful Queen of the Underworld, the wondrous and infernal Goddess of Death? Sophie is so plain in comparison.’

‘Do you really expect me to answer that?’

‘The significance of such a name is amusing to me. You have even found your Hades.’ He smirked, and I got the feeling he was expecting me to be impressed by his knowledge of Greek mythology. I wasn’t.

When I didn’t reply, he continued. ‘It was Domenico who found out who you were, when he was with that trivial British waitress, trying to gather information on Jack. By the time Nicolò realized that you were, in fact, Persephone Gracewell, he tried to pull away from you, but it was too late. Suddenly you had become the most viable way to lead us to our intended target at a time when we were running out of patience.’

I thought of Nic and frowned. All this time he was fighting his desires for my safety, and he was losing. And lying.

‘But you didn’t see the danger, did you? Because you see only the parts you want to see, and you are blind to all else.’

I glowered at him. ‘I’m not blind to anything.’ Except my uncle’s secret life as a drug kingpin. And my crush’s secret life as a killer .

‘Of course, of course,’ Felice replied dismissively. ‘How would an old fool like me know anything about that? I have no doubt you are perfectly in love and that you’ve counted all the notches on his trigger hand lovingly .’ He leered at me and I hated him for it; but most of all, I hated him because he was right. I hadn’t reconciled myself with that part of Nic; I had tried to ignore it. I had even tried to justify it.

‘So you see,’ Felice purred on, ‘when Jack fled, he foolishly left you behind, the very thing that will cause his undoing. We expected you might lead us to him. However, since your uncle is smarter than your average deckchair and has inexplicably been able to outrun us thus far, we must move on to a more improvised plan, in which you are bait .’ He clapped his hands together. ‘If Jack doesn’t present himself to us at the abandoned auto parts warehouse in Hegewisch before midnight tonight, then things will take a very unfortunate turn.’

‘So you’re going to kill me?’ I asked, feeling completely hollow inside. Was this really how it was going to end? I had fallen down a tunnel of lies, and now there was a gun to my head?

Felice stared at me impassively. ‘The idea of killing a teenage girl just doesn’t appeal to me, but I think you’ll really have to ask someone better qualified to answer, Persephone.’

‘Like who?’

Felice rose to his feet again. ‘Our boss.’

My mouth dropped open. ‘You’re not the boss?’

‘Me?’ A shadow passed across his face, but before I could focus on it, he lit up until he looked like a children’s cartoon character. ‘I am not. But thank you for assuming so. I’m flattered.’

‘What are you , then?’

‘Me? I’m just a simple beekeeper.’ As he said it, one of his bees droned into my eye line, just a foot away from my face, as though he had programmed it to do so.

‘And a murderer,’ I reminded him.

‘I do feel we can all be defined by more than one thing.’

‘Unless you’re a killer. Then that’s pretty much all you amount to.’

‘Maybe you should tell that to your father. Or to your handsome Hades, between kisses.’

If I could have jumped out of my seat and ripped his face off right then, I would have.

‘In any case,’ he continued in his patronizing way, ‘I’m just the Falcone consigliere . I offer advice, which is usually ignored. I’ll find someone more equipped to answer your question. Frankly, I’ve grown weary of your teenage sarcasm.’