Not a single sole had seen Cliona Burgess for 2 years, but one could only watch as life moved on, and a grave sat vacant of flowers from a sister. It ended with a funeral, and it shall begin with one, on that rainy day, a travellers caravan stood surrounded by a mass of black cloth and lace. A man that was too young for deaths country lay within the caravan, and a regal woman, dressed in a colour that seemed darker than black stood, a lace veil over her face. She produced a single blood red rose from her coat laying it on the back of the wooden vehicle, no emotion visible from her veil that blew gently in the wind. A man that had dug a hole so large he was gripping at the edges, now, and the loss of his brother, made him hang on with one gloved hand. His grey peaked hat slid down, as he lit a cigarette before offering his silver box to the woman in black, whom shook her head slowly.
"I'm a curse" He spoke gravelly his eyes falling upon the woman.
"Not quite, Mr Shelby. It's just life" A voice rose from the veil, before her black leather gloves rose to the lace pulling it from her face, revealing Cliona Burgess, in all her eternal beauty, but there was an emptiness in her eyes, similar to the eyes of the man.
"I have come incognito" Her accent ruff, and prominent. A lot had happened in the last two years, the woman had been missing in action, but she knew all too well what had taken place. she didn't have to be there to know. "I've come at a bad time, have I not?" She queried as he nodded once more.
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"That was your plan, I reckon" Thomas looked up at her, as she looked back at the caravan with a sense of heartbreak. John Shelby was a good friend. He was her best friend, and now he was dead. Because of the mafia. Cliona couldn't help but wonder if everyone she was close to was going to die, but she knew she couldn't think like that. Her love for the man, was drowned by what she knew was going to happen next.
"Yes, Thomas. I suppose so. And this, this here is false if I'm not mistaken. Abrahama Gold, is watching us right now. Your brothers funeral? I didn't think Thomas Shelby would stoop that low. I thought wrong" Cliona continued in a bland tone, her eyes darting the corners of the filed full of people that were too busy to notice the long lost woman.
"Indeed you did" He replied before they both let out a laugh. A gun shot fired suddenly and the crowds of people scattered for cover as Cliona and Thomas in unison took out a gun clear shots on the men, before the other Peaky boys ran forward to disarm Gold's men. She nodded at the odd man that stood a gun aimed at her in the distance before she turned.
Cliona was finding it difficult with the noticeable changes of the Shelby's on her absence. Thomas had not changed, not even after Grace, you couldn't break a broken man. Although, a red slap mark ached on his face, once she'd heard about his stunt of putting his family in prison. Polly Shelby's mental health had faltered and she sat by the fire in a blank state, popping pills ever so often. Michael had fallen even further into the most likely to betray the family category, and now he mixed with snow. Cliona had fled back to Ireland, to grieve alone, but the silence was not peaceful but violent, and home just brought up memories she didn't wish to remember. Her long green jacket blew in the wind, her brunette hair curled up a hat upon it. She made her way to Shelby Company Limited, to find that the factory was unusually quiet, devoid of workers. To be truthful, Cliona had kept one important detail from the Shelby's on her return, or the real reason she returned. An envelope that arrived on Christmas Day containing a card with a black inked hand. Maybe the prospect scared her for once, but her vengeance for the death of her sister was stronger. She pushed open Thomas Shelby's office door to see that he had company, she paused immediately ready to leave as quick as she came, but Thomas shook his head. The man was laying bullets upon the table in a odd fashion, and Cliona studied him. He wore black, a hat upon his head, and a toothpick circling the front of his mouth. It was not until he spoke, that she realised exactly who he was. He was Italian American, and her heart beat rose.
"I want you to be the last. I want you to be alive after your entire family is dead" He spoke in a thick accent to the Shelby man, who sat unamused in his chair. "And the woman..." He let out a low conspicuous chuckle "will be the hardest to kill, I see the hunger within her eyes. So, when I do catch up with her, I'll slit her throat right in front of you, Mr Shelby" Thomas crystal blue irises burned with the fire of a thousand angers as the man made his way past Cliona and out the door, and she let out the breath she was holding all of that time.
"Give him hell, Cliona. When he comes for you, you give him fucking hell. For Grace, for John" Cliona made her way slowly to the seat beside him, pouring him a whiskey sliding the glass to him.
"We both will" She told him with weary eyes as she poured herself a glass. She was so tired of violence and death, but she knew what she had to do. What they all had to do to survive.
