Black Wedding by Emma Luna
After several long and painful days of arguing with Bree, I finally agree that she can come to Limerick with me. The idea of having her anywhere near my psychotic father has been winding me up all week. No matter how much Bree, Kellan, or even my own damn brain tried to convince me she can handle it, my protective instinct just couldn’t take it. In the end, I agreed because common sense won out.
Over the past week, we had several more run-ins with Family members to discover their loyalty and who our enemies really are. They all sing similar songs about wanting to be loyal to Bree, about my father approaching them, and about knowing someone who has defected to the Marcushio’s. But unless they all know the same people, which is impossible since they all come from different business strands, their stories are just a little too similar.
There have been cases where I have genuinely questioned whether we have interviewed that person before. The stuff coming out of all of their mouths was almost identical; it is hard not to think they were coached. But then the question becomes, by who? And which part exactly are they lying about?
It’s a common tactic that if you want to throw people off your lie, you make sure to tell a few more so that people don’t know which one is the lie. Is this Vernon, and they are never going to be loyal to Bree? Is this my father, and he really has been approaching people intending to get them to turn sides? Or is this the Marcushio’s stealing people right from under our noses?
The problem is we have too many enemies on all fronts. It becomes too complex to deal with all at once. So, we are dealing with my father first. That’s how Bree and I found ourselves in a car sent by my father, driving through the countryside from Shannon airport to my family estate on the outskirts of Limerick.
I watch as Bree takes in the beauty of the surroundings and the twang in my chest reminds me of exactly how much I have missed Ireland. Obviously, there are neighbourhoods I am not all that fond of, namely anywhere my father rules, but the area in itself is beautiful.
Ireland is well known for its greenery and idyllic scenery, and Limerick doesn’t disappoint. The old-time feel to all of the buildings makes the town look older than it is. I can see Bree’s eyes light up as we drive past the well-maintained cream and moss coloured bricks of King John’s Castle. It’s a legendary tourist spot on the western side of Ireland. People come from all over to see the castle that has housed many sieges over the years. Although it has recently been renovated, much of the external structure remains the same. Evidence of our developing brutality and new forms of weaponry has become apparent with each battle it represents.
“It’s so stunning,” Bree mutters, and I can’t help but agree with her.
My father and his pompous grandiosity have been attempting to buy the castle from the Shannon Heritage company that owns it. He believes he will defeat and tackle any enemy he chooses if his base is impenetrable. Thankfully, they said no, repeatedly, much to my mother’s pleasure. She indulges most of my father’s whims. That’s what tends to happen when you are being abused; you would rather work with your abuser rather than risk another beating. But she always hated the idea of lording what we had over the poorer areas.
I see the look on Bree’s face when we make it out of the main, beautiful, picturesque version of Limerick and enter the slums. This is an area on the edge of the town full of people living in the poorest situations; often, they have no money and no other options. The crumbling council houses are built in a standard way. Still, to avoid them looking like the shit they are, the council painted them different bright colours. But now, all you can see are old shitty houses with crumbling bricks and awful, dull and chipped paint. The general foreboding feeling, in addition to the house colours, is not the only thing that tells me we are deep in the deprived neighbourhood; it’s just the idea in itself. It’s almost like you can smell the poverty.
The area was made famous in the film Angela’s Ashes Based on the memoirs of a man living in the tenements in the 1930s and 40s, and while the area has generally improved, it is still the rougher and less affluent part of the city. Poverty, filth, vermin, and desperation are rife here and is painfully evident from the minute you arrive in the area. Somehow even the weather seems bleaker, more cloudy and likely to rain. Yet, in the bright tourist area of Limerick, the July sun shines bright.
Bree recoils slightly from the windows as she takes in the houses that have more crap dumped in their lawn than a recycling plant. Only a couple of people are milling around, and it’s clear they belong here. They look withdrawn, gaunt, and generally unkempt. I know if we come through this area in a couple of hours when the town has woken up, the roads will be filled with unruly children, people doing drug deals out in the open, and even people shooting up right next to the kids. But the police stopped interfering in Limerick business a long time ago. This is how my father makes his fortune by ensuring that poverty remains, and he has a steady flow of repeat customers.
It’s not long after leaving the slums, we turn onto my family estate. The large wrought iron gates, moulded in the centre into the shape of a D, swing open as the driver confirms who they are. If the gates weren’t a giveaway on what to expect, then the stupidly long driveway allowed you to take in the massive land area that the estate is built on.
The old Georgian property, named Fedmore House, was built around 1880 and belonged to the parish. My father bought it around seventeen years ago, just before Ryleigh was born. In typical Desmond fashion, he couldn’t leave the beautiful, idyllic house as it was. He needed the place to look big and extravagant, his ultimate display of power. So he expanded the already reasonably sized mansion by adding two extra wings, making the building into a horseshoe shape. He added a swimming pool, cinema, astroturf pitch, and the more he built, the better he looked, but we never got to see any of those things.
My siblings and I were assigned rooms on the furthest side of the western wing. My mother had rooms in the main building and generally could be found in one of the casual rooms in the main house while my father has the entire east wing with its own entrance, so we wouldn’t be able to interfere with his business dealings. Unless we were summoned, of course.
We all had regular times when we would have to present in the east wing to get to the shooting range, spar, or whatever else my father had planned for us that day. He never saw us as his kids; we were simply pawns in his quest for power. So, the closer I got to arriving at the main entrance, the more my anxiety was starting to kick in.
Nobody except Kellan knows I suffer from anxiety. In the two years since I was banished from Limerick, I have managed to get it under control. But just the thought of coming back here, the resurfacing of all those horrible memories, is causing my heart to race. My palms start to sweat, and I hear my breathing rhythm change as I begin to hyperventilate. It’s the worst thing I could have done, as it then makes all my other symptoms worse. My vision starts to blur, and my mind no longer even sees the horrible scenes of the past as it turns black. But that doesn’t matter; the panic has already taken hold. If I don’t get control back soon, I will faint.
I feel Bree take hold of my hands, and she keeps one firmly in hers, but the other she places on her chest, right over her heart. “Feel my heartbeat and listen to my breathing, then just copy what I am doing,” she whispers, making sure my father’s driver doesn’t know what is going on. To a casual observer, it looks like a couple having an intimate moment. Still, in reality, it’s my girl throwing me a lifeline.
Feeling the beat of her heart and listening to the inhales and exhales of her breathing, I let myself get lost in Bree. I let all the good things that I get from being with Bree consume me, pushing away past memories. Soon after, I feel a sense of calm overtake my body, and my rigid, tense muscles finally start to relax.
“You really hate it here, don’t you?” whispers Bree.
“You have no idea.”
We finally make it to the top of the ridiculously long driveway, driving past the stables and outhouses, where many regular house and security staff live. Growing up, my brothers and I had more fun there than we ever did in the main house until my father found us and beat us all for it.
The car stops, and the house butler, Manuel, is there in seconds to open the door for Bree. He would generally come around and do mine afterwards, but I get out myself before he gets a chance. Then, taking a deep breath, I look up at the grand doorway and see my mother and Finn, our middle brother, standing there waiting for us. I take hold of Bree’s hand and lead her towards the welcome committee. I know I don’t have to worry about our bag, as Manuel already has that in hand.
“Mother...Finn...you didn’t have to come to the door,” I say with a forced smile.
“Oh, nonsense. My baby boy is home. Of course I would come to greet him,” sings my mother as she runs down the stone stairs and throws herself at me.
Using my free hand to catch her, I hug her painfully thin body whilst making sure I don’t let go of Bree’s hand. My mother eventually pulls back with a smile and turns to face Bree. My mum is a little woman, coming in at just under five feet, and she is painfully thin. But that is to be expected when your regular diet consists of chocolate, gin, and antidepressants. It’s hardly a healthy balanced diet, but it’s what she needs to get through the days here, so who am I to argue. Despite the general aura of depression and sadness that oozes out of my mother, I can tell that the smile she uses for Bree and me is genuine. That makes me happy.
Despite my mother not being a great mum growing up, I don’t blame her, and I don’t hate her the way I did when I was younger. I used to wish she would stand up to my dad, that she would fight him and fight for us, but she never did. It bothered us all for a long time growing up, but I saw how much shit she took from my father for us as I got older. He may have still abused us horrifically, but it could have been so much worse. I just wish she would have had the guts to leave with me when I got myself and my sisters out, but she said that while ever one of her children remains under Desmond’s roof, then so will she.
“Mum, this is Brianna O’Keenan, but she goes by Bree,” I say to my mum whilst gesturing towards Bree before repeating the gesture in the other direction. “Bree, this is my mum, Siobhán.”
I smile encouragingly at Bree as she returns the smile and reaches for my mother’s outstretched hand. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs Doughty. You have such a beautiful home, so grand.” Bree’s gaze flicks around the bright green lawns that expand beyond the house as it sits on almost sixteen acres of land.
“Oh, none of that nonsense, Love. Call me Von; that’s what most people call me. You are even more beautiful than I thought. Fire hair to match a fiery personality from what I’ve heard,” my mum jokes, and Bree laughs.
“I hope you haven’t heard anything too bad,” Bree replies as my mother begins leading her up the path, but the door is blocked by my eldest brother, Evan, who now stands next to Finn.
They are both standing there with their hands on their hip, essentially guarding the entrance to the house. Evan is almost a twin version of me, except his physique is leaner from all the running he does, as opposed to the muscles I have. Growing up, people used to think we were twins, as we were born just ten months apart. The scowl and stiff posture don’t match his usual fun, outgoing personality. However, Evan is precisely how I remember him. At twenty-six, he is the oldest child, three years older than me, and has been groomed since birth to follow in my father’s footsteps. As he stands there in a suit, anger rippling through his body and a look of disgust on his face that is aimed at Bree and me, I no longer see the brother I once loved. Instead, all I see is a younger version of the man I have hated my whole life.
I also see the danger directed straight at Bree, and I pull her behind me, so I am directly between her and whatever is about to happen. I stare daggers at my brothers, making it very clear that I will face whatever they have planned, but they will not touch one hair on Bree’s beautiful head.
“Enough of this stupidity. Boys, move out of the way, please,” my mother says, suddenly sounding very tired.
“You were banished, Liam. What makes you think you can step foot back in this house again? And to bring the fucking O’Keenan bitch, you must be suicidal,” Evan spits out, and I can see the fury etched on his face. One hand keeps clenching into a fist while the other hovers precariously over his gun. But we both know I am a much better and faster shooter than him, and I am armed. He would be down before he got his finger on the trigger, which is why he is throwing threats around.
Taking a few deep breaths, I try not to let the anger consume me as I reply, “Bree here is my fiancée, and you will show her some respect. You know that mother insisted he included exceptional circumstances to the banishment, and introducing my fiancée to my family is on the list.”
“If we are following the rules, that means the girls should be here,” Evan states.
“They will be here in the morning and will be staying for tomorrow night only because of the party. After that, we are all out of here. And the girls sleep together in the room next to mine. Is that clear?” My voice is stern as I make my demands very clear.
When Desmond added the exceptional circumstances clause into the banishment, he couldn’t just give my mother what she wanted; he had to try and capitalise on it. So, the only way I can return it is to bring my sisters back too, which is why I have avoided this place for so long. I need to keep them safely away from Desmond and his friends’ wandering eyes and perverted hands.
“We would never hurt the girl,” said Finn quietly, almost like he was afraid to speak, but he wanted me to know that. I gave him a genuine smile before turning back to Evan, who is clearly running things around here now.
“Fine, but no hassle. The first sign of trouble, and I will not hesitate to kill Bree, do you understand?” Evan asks me, and I hear a little laugh coming from behind me. Evan obviously hears it too, and his face morphs into a look of deep displeasure. “Something funny, Hair?” Evan added, looking straight at Bree.
She doesn’t even ask me what the word he uses means, having already deduced it was an insult given the way he spat the word in her direction. On the other hand, I know very well that he just called my girl a whore, but before I can even take a leap forward to beat on the little gobshite, she pulls me back. This time she puts herself in front of me, and I see the smile on my mother’s face. Firecracker is definitely an excellent way to describe Bree.
“Sorry, I was just laughing at your incorrect assumption that you actually could kill me. I may be a girl, but you would be wise not to underestimate me. I come here in peace, not as the future leader of a rival syndicate, but as the girl who is about to marry your brother,” Bree calmly explains, and Finn visibly relaxes. He tries to hide the slight smile, but I see it. My favourite brother is definitely still in there, even if Evan is lost.
“We all know that this is just a business deal, so don’t come in here pretending like your black wedding is real,” Evan grinds out, clearly annoyed that Bree has the balls to stand up to him. It’s not exactly something we are used to seeing. Women don’t live in our world and they most definitely don’t argue with men in high ranking positions. As my fathers heir, Evan is second in command and doesn’t take shit off anyone.
“Actually, we may be getting married for business reasons, but we are in a real relationship. It may not be traditional, but it’s ours. We came here to share it with you, not to be vilified before we even have a chance to step in the building,” replies Bree, as my mother takes over her hand and leads her up the step towards Evan.
“Fine. Father wants to see everyone in his office. Right now,” he adds, and with just one word, everyone around me seems to freeze. My mother looks dejected, Finn looked terrified, Bree looked apprehensive, and I was on edge as Evan basques in our fear. I had hoped we would settle in before facing him, but sometimes it’s better to not put bad shit like this off. So as I take a big deep breath and squeeze Bree’s hand in reassurance, I pull my posture back and clear any sign of emotion from my face. Then, remembering the training from long ago, reluctantly, I converted back into the shell of a man my father insisted I become. I only hope that once Bree sees this side of me, she doesn’t run a mile. I have faith that she will pull me back from the dark place my mind has to occupy whenever I’m in this house.