Saving Grace

49

I sat cross-legged on the floor of Grace's dank attic, ran my hands over the hundreds of letters scattered across the tiny room.

Dearest brother, one of them read. I beg you; end this. Things have gotten far too out of hand. I know you cannot help yourself, but please, let us just pack up and move once more. A fresh start. If we don't, I fear your playthings will get too close. They will get us locked up, and I cannot go through that again. Please, brother. Just say goodbye.

Yours,

Albert.

I shifted, grabbed another letter.

To Albert,

I am sorry. I no I get us in trubble lots, but I need to see her. I cant go. I hope you can figive me.

From Nicky.

P.S. Im sorry I got us bit. I just wantd to see her again.

...

Dearest brother,

I understand. If we cannot leave, then perhaps I could be of assistance. What would you say if I offered to ask out your lovely lady for you? Of course, this would mean that you must stop your shenanigans. That is, you mustn't call her, follow her, or leave any more gifts. You must stay away from a short time so I can get to know her and ask her on a date.

Please consider my offer.

Yours,

Albert.

...

To Albert,

YES. Thank you. Your the best brother ever.

From Nicky.

P.S. Im sorry I talked to Richie. He made me so mad. He said I was going to hurt Grace. I had to tell him that he was wrong. Please figive me.

"Richie?"

I blinked, pulled my eyes up from the letters. Phillip Day's warm brown eyes stared at me, illuminated by a dozen small white candles, burning around the small room.

"Uncle?"

He smiled sadly, placed his hand on my shoulder.

"Sweet boy," he said. "I'm so sorry this has happened."

I shook my head, confused, and he pulled me into his chest. My eyes began to swell, mouth began to water.

"How are you here right now?"

"I called him."

Godric's voice, deep and painted black, rumbled from behind us. I pulled back, looked up at him.

"You called him?" I shook my head, looked at Phillip. "No, that can't be right. Dad used to tell me stories about you. He said you hunted Godric for years. You wanted him dead, or locked up."

Phillip patted my shoulder.

"We may not always see eye to eye, but when it comes to Stan and his kids..." He shrugged.

I blinked, tried to process.

"Why don't you come downstairs," he went on. "Let me get you a glass of water."

I lowered my eyes, managed a nod.

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, I realised the true chaos of Godric Mikhailov and Phillip Day. The entire house was crawling with cops and crooks, the lawful and the lawless, buzzing wildly like a hornet's nest. A dozen policemen were crammed together like sardines in a tin, pointing at diagrams hung up on a wheeled-in whiteboard as their voices bounced off the walls of the living room. Another dozen men in white tracksuits were spitting Russian into their flip phones, their faces turning red and eyes enflamed. I weaved between blue uniforms and Italian leather, following Phillip Day into the living room.