On Midnight Wings

So was Josh—minus candy, but Dante decided to keep that opinion to himself.

Molten pain whirred into Dante’s shoulder. He gritted his teeth as warm blood spattered his face, refusing to cry out, refusing to give the bastards the satisfaction. The baseball bat thudded against his ribs, knocking the air from his lungs.

Reality wheeled.

Black water poured in an eager rush from the ever-multiplying fissures in the dam’s crumbling face.

Purcell and his men swarm into Dante’s water-soaked cell and blast Orem’s box-spring funeral pyre with a stream of white foam from the fire extinguisher. Darts from Purcell’s trank gun hit Dante in the throat, chest, and hand—but not before Dante snatches the fire extinguisher from the wielder and beats the man to death with it, furious tears gleaming in red-streaked eyes, blood freckling his pale face: Orem’s mine, motherfucker. Mine. I ain’t letting you touch him.

The dam began to fragment. Water geysered, a roaring waterfall. Concrete tumbled away into star-spinning darkness.

Stepping over Papa’s bleeding body, Dante goes to the sideboard and grabs up Mama’s leather purse. The other kids watch him in stunned silence, their faces pale, eyes wide and dark. He dumps the purse’s contents onto the blood-spattered oak floor—cinnamon Certs, wadded bits of tissue, keys, cell phone, bobby pins, a clutch of crumpled store coupons—and scoops up the wallet with blood-sticky hands.

He divvies up the cash—several hundred that he himself probably earned down in the basement—and credit spikes among the others. Jeannette, the ashy color fading from her dark cheeks, wraps her fingers tightly around her share of the money, and steps forward, gingerly avoiding the bits of blood, bone, and brain smearing the floor.

What about you? she asks. You didn’t keep nothing for yo’self.

Reality wheeled.

Dante struggled to block the overwhelming flood of memories, fought with savage desperation and every bit of strength the drugs hadn’t stripped from him to remain here-and-now. Shielded himself with promises made, promises to be kept.

As lost as I get, I will find you, Heather. Always.

I ain’t leaving you there in that place, ma p’tite ange. I will come for you.

Found you, mon cher ami, mon père, and I ain’t never losing you again.

You’ll always have a clan in me, Von, mon ami, in us. You’ll never ride solo.

J’su ici. J’su ici. J’su ici. J’su—

Electricity surged through his skull, arcing along his spine, disintegrating his shields. Dante’s vision whited-out. His muscles locked as the seizure battered his convulsing body against the steel restraints. Wrenched loose his stubborn and desperate hold on the here-and-now.

Reality wheeled.

Orem burns on a torn mattress. . . .

Humming happily, Chloe brushes Dante’s hair while he practices printing the alphabet. . . .

She trusted you. Guess she got what she deserved.

The dam gave way, collapsing in on itself in an avalanche of concrete and foaming black water. The past swallowed Dante whole, a hungry beast carried in on a dark and unforgiving tide.

I’ll make sure you regret every breath you’ve ever drawn.

No escape for you, sweetie.

How does it feel, marmot?

What’s he screaming?

Kill me.

Trapped in the belly of the beast and overwhelmed, his consciousness fading, a savage and desperate fury torched Dante’s heart.