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“No,” I groan, though she hasn’t even asked the question I expect her to.
“No, what?” As she turns to face me, confusion quickly shifts to disappointment. She raises her brow and crosses her arms over her chest. “You must not have seen the costume I left out for you.”
I smirk, closing the distance between us. “I saw it. I just chose to ignore it. Why pretend to be a gangster when I already am one?” When I reach her, my eyes instantly move to the security monitors.
“How very discreet of you?”
“Discretion would be wearing a pirate or firefighter costume. Neither of which am I doing. Besides, you and I both know you aren’t here to assess my wardrobe.” At that, my eyes shift from the cameras to her. Upon my look, the light leaves her as she lowers her chin. “You know I can’t let you go in with me,” I say, lifting her chin so she can meet my gaze.
“I know. I just wanted to be here in case you need me.”
I nod. “Well, I appreciate it.” She offers me a small smile and then proceeds to adjust my bow tie and the lapels of my suit jacket.
“If anyone asks, tell them you’re James Bond. You can’t host a Halloween party and not show up in a costume.”
“Fine. Speaking of the party, you should get out there. Your absence will be more noticeable than my lack of costume.” Sophia nods, though she doesn’t make any moves to leave. My eyes narrow as I take in her features. As if reading my mind, Gio makes an excuse to leave the room, giving us a moment. “Hey, Soph, what’s going on?”
She shakes her head as she fights off tears. “I just…I’m not ready to face them, to answer a million questions. I may not have to pretend to be okay anymore, but, in a way, having everyone know the truth is worse.”
I nod, pulling her into my chest. “I know. I know.” And I do. I carry the same fear and insecurity with me as I prepare to face my men, the ones cackling and boasting in between draws of their cigars. Their laughter is almost loud enough to escape the soundproof walls of the parlor. Clearly, the death of my sister hasn’t put a damper on their mood. Very sympathetic, gentlemen. Sophia pulls away from me then as my body tenses beneath her.
“Alister—?”
“Listen, if you…if you don’t want to go to the party, you don’t have to. Everyone will understand—”
“No. No, I’m going. It’s the least I can do.” She studies me for a second, searching my eyes for any sign that she should stay. I do my best to relax and allow the tension to leave me. Finally, she shifts her attention to the smudge of makeup on my shoulder. She wipes it away and plucks a few pieces of lint from my suit. Good. If I can fool her, then the capos should be a cakewalk. “Weakness gets us killed. I may be sad, but I am not weak. And neither are you.”
I nod, and, despite my initial thought, I’m glad she’s here. Her words give me the strength to stand up tall and prepare to put on the show of my life. Like her, I carry the weight of my sister’s death on my shoulders, and my mother’s, for that matter. But I can’t let my men sense it.
“Are you ready, sir?” Gio asks, rejoining us.
“Yes.”
* * *
As Gioand I walk into the parlor, silence befalls it. My men stand in reverence as I take my place among them. Cigar smoke fills the air along with the sharp stench of cologne. It mixes with the usual hint of leather and wood to create a sickening aroma that reeks of testosterone, greed, and power.
As I make my way through the room, I size up the men,mymen. It still feels strange thinking of them in this way, seeing as every single one of them is older than I am. Vitale, Parisi, and Gagliano are my New Orleans capos in addition to Gio, who runs my personal operation. Gabriel Parisi is the closest to my age. As such, we’ve become friends. Well, as friendly as I can be with a subordinate. I give him a quick nod, noting he stands in the center of the group while Vitale and Gagliano couldn’t have more space between them. That’s strange. All the capos from Texas and Florida stand together, but not those of my own city.
I motion for Gio to begin the Blood Oath ritual, which he proceeds to set up by removing from the box the knife, goblet, and photo of St. John, the saint of loyalty among other things. Gio’s uncle watches him with pride as he moves. Seeing the glint in the old man’s eye eases some of the tension in my muscles as I suspect I can count on Moretti’s support, even if it’s grounded in nothing more than love for his nephew. Parisi is another I can count on. But the rest of them? I fear they are more loyal to the money than anything else. War threatens our business, as does the deal I was forced to make with the FBI, which is why I can’t tell them of it. Not yet at least.
Gio finishes preparations for the ritual and returns to my side, and I step forward to recite the Blood Oath. “For over one hundred years, we, and our ancestors alike, have recited the sacred Blood Oath. With these words, we renew our vow of loyalty to each other and to our cause. We remind ourselves of our obligations and the importance of unity.”
As I speak, my words feel empty. They are the same words spoken by every Blood King before me, and yet the challenges my organization faces today are nothing like the challenges of our ancestors. We aren’t persecuted and robbed of opportunity. We aren’t weak and in need of protection. We don’t even stand for all Italians as is the honorable way. We stand for ourselves and each other in the name of greed. And the only thing other than money uniting the men in this room is fear, fear of prosecution and fear of death.
At that, I pause and look from my men to the table before us. My father knew how I felt,feel. I think, at times, he felt the same. But, like him, and like the men in this room, I’m in too deep to walk away. Everyone who bears my name is.
“Blood is my beginning. My blood I will defend. Or, so help me, I will burn. By blood, I will meet my end.”
As I speak, I grab the knife and prick my finger. My blood drips into the goblet, which is passed around the group for their own blood offering. When the goblet reaches me again, I set it back on the table and place the photograph of the saint in the cup. The ritual is simple, really. By blood you are born into this life. If you fail to live up to your oath, you are sentenced to death, a sentence dealt out by the ones who you’ve betrayed. All I have to do is light the saint on fire and I’m done. I can turn the meeting over to the capos to discuss business. And yet, I can’t stop myself from adding one thing to the ancient ritual.
“War is coming, gentlemen.” Surprise washes over my men’s faces as I speak. It’s not because they are surprised at my assumption, but my break from tradition. “As it does, let me make one thing abundantly clear. Despite what our ancestors would prefer, the oath you are reciting tonight is not of your loyalty to one another. It is of your loyalty to me. The Blood King protects those loyal to him and sentences his enemies and the enemies of his allies to death. For those who betray their king, those who betray me, it is your blood I’ll collect next.”
6
I expected extravagance,but what waits for me in the gardens of the Amato estate is nothing short of a haunted fairy tale. After a carriage ride from the front gate through the foggy forest surrounding Laroux House, I find myself greeted by glitter and glamour, black roses, fog, a dance floor lit by crystal chandeliers hanging from invisible strings, and even more towering decorations that convey both spookiness and sophistication. “Wow,” I whisper. And that’s just the start of it.
As I make my way through the party of influential Southerners, party lights illuminate the night sky and the guests’ elaborate costumes with shades of purple and red. And I thought I would be overdressed. I glance down at my black ensemble. The strapless corseted gown is left over from an undercover assignment I had a few years ago. I had to infiltrate a high-stakes poker game to clone a suspect’s phone. The dress has a sheer bodice with delicate lace feathers offering me minimal covering. That accompanied by the slits showing off both of my legs was enough to entice my former target, allowing me to complete my mission. I was hoping the same visual tactic would work tonight. But now, I’m not so sure my exposed skin and angel wings will stand out enough to keep Alister’s attention. That is, if I can even find him.
