Penance for a Vigilante

By: Lilly Rogers

“Burn all, burn everything. Fire is bright and fire is clean.”

-Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

It’s 6:59 on a Thursday evening. The cool air has reached its peak for the

season. Still our vigilante is hiding away from the day’s remaining sunlight as it peers over the city skyscrapers, in a thick trench coat three sizes too large. With her car windows rolled down she stares at “Mr. Broadbent’s Auto and Body” on Batwing Boulevard. Rifle in hand, she lays in wait as the clock strikes seven. She looks at the watch on her left wrist. He’s late.

She hears a creak and jolts up, but not too far up to be noticed. It’s him,

cap, coat, and hands in pockets. All bundled up for the 30 degree forecast, he walks out the shop doors and turns a corner onto the sidewalk. It’s now or never.

Our vigilante takes her firearm and aims it straight for the man’s head.

“You’ll never touch anyone ever again, Drinkwater.”

She pulls the trigger.

With her hands shaking from the impact of the blast, and her ears ringing in recovery, she puts the rifle down. The deed is done.

**********

Revanche jolts up in bed in a cold sweat. Looking around the room in a disoriented daze, she notices her rifle still in the closet and her sleeping husband next to her, tugging at the blanket.

What a nightmare.

She lays her head back down on her pillow and closes her eyes in an attempt to return to the serenity of cloud town.

*Knock, knock*

She opens her eyes and jolts up once again.

*Knock, knock, knock*

Taking her legs out from under the covers and slipping on her slippers, she waddles towards the front door, legs half asleep and half awake.

She unlocks both locks on the door and opens it slightly.

Two officers are standing at her door.

“Revanche Law?” they ask.

“Y-yes,” she croaks.

“Step outside, please.”

“Rey?” her half conscious husband calls from the other room.

Before she can answer, the cops spin her around and cuff her wrists behind her.

“You’re under arrest for the murder of Azazel Drinkwater. You have the right to remain silent.”

**********

13 Years Later

*Ring ring!*

The phone on Rey Knightman’s lamp table rings in the middle of the night. The ring is the same volume as always. Call it mother’s intuition, but for Rey it seemed louder than usual. She answers it.

“Hello?” she says, sleepily.

“Mrs. Knightman?” a masculine voice asks.

“Yes, who is this?”

“Leon Honorly.”

“Chester and Brooke Honorly’s boy?”

“Yes.”

What would he be calling her for?

“Hi. Uh, what can I do for you?”

“He really screwed up this time.”

“Who?”

Rey’s heart was racing faster than a locomotive.

“Tell that junkie step-kid of yours that I’m comin’ for him.”

There’s a click and then a dial tone.

She knew the sound of a vengeful heart anywhere. She only met this guy once but she’s learned from Revanche Law that anyone with that kind of pain and anger in their voice is capable of anything and will follow through with their threats if they can muster the strength.

Rey slowly sets her phone down and stares at it in a moment of shock.

Cyrus?

Rey never heard him come in.

She walks towards his door and peeks inside. Sure enough, there he is sprawled on the bed. He has slight bruising on his forearm but that’s to be expected after he shoots up. What didn’t look normal was the bruising and cuts on his head and chin.

She goes over to him and nudges his shoulder.

“Cyrus?”

No response.

Of course, why would there be? She should know better.

Walking into the bathroom, she grabs a cup, fills it up with water and comes back into Cyrus’ room. After throwing the water on his face, he starts to wince and blink his

eyes.

“R-Rey?” he moans.

Holding back her tears, she drops the cup, causing a loud enough thud to gage his attention.

“What was it this time?” she demands.

“Huh?” Cyrus is clearly disoriented but she’s seen him worse.

“What did you take this time? Methadone? Shrooms?”

“Heroin,” he mumbles.

The tears start building up.

“What did you do?”

Cyrus rubs his eyes.

“Please, Rey. I’m too hungover for a lecture right now, just give me an hour.”

He starts to pull the covers over his head when Rey yanks it off.

“No, what… did… you… do?”

“What?”

“Where were you tonight? Why did I just get a cryptic phone call from Leon Honorly, sounding like he wants your head on a spike?”

“Leon… you mean Lucretia’s brother?”

Rey’s inner light bulb flickered.

“So… you were with Lucretia?”

Cyrus sits up, wincing in pain. Maybe from his bruises. Maybe from his head.

Maybe both.

“I-I can’t remember.”

Rey pulls him up by his least bruised arm and towards the full-body mirror that stood by his shoes.

“Look at yourself! You don’t remember how you got these?”

Cyrus stares at himself for a moment.

“No. Rey, I swear! I remember Lucretia calling me about a ride to work and it’s all a blur after that.”

“And you gave her one, after shooting up heroin?”

“I-I think so, but I don’t remember how I got home.”

He glances out the window at the driveway.

“My car isn’t even here.”

Rey looks out the window to confirm.

This time, Rey’s cell in her pocket rings.

“Hello?” she answers.

“Rey, it’s Aunt Flavia.”

Aunt Flavia was the only family Rey still had other than Cyrus. She had a few other living relatives but they had cut ties with her after her trial, despite the acquittal.

Both her husbands had abandoned her (literally and figuratively), and her daughter was six feet under.

“Flavia? It’s the middle of the night.”

“Turn on the tv, channel 4.”

Still holding the phone, Rey walks to the television in the living room with Cyrus in tow. She grabs the remote, turns on the television and drops the remote after noticing

the headline.

“TEENAGE GIRL, 16 FOUND DEAD IN CAR WRECKAGE. SUSPECTED DUI

DRIVER FLEES THE SCENE.”

“T-hat’s your car, Cy.”

Cyrus nods, mouth agape.

“And… Lucretia.”

Rey couldn’t even look at him.

“I gotta go, Flavia.”

She ends the call and drops the phone.

“Leon was right, Cy. You’ve really screwed up this time.”

They were both tearing up now.

“Lucretia,” Cyrus sobs. “She’s gone.”

Rey debates with herself whether to comfort him or continue chewing him out when she looks out the window and notices a familiar Mercedes.

“Shit, Leon’s here.”

Cyrus stops blubbering and looks around.

“What?”

“We have to go, now!”

Rey grabs Cyrus by the arm, without bothering to check which arm, and bolts for the back door. They run to her husband’s motorcycle he always kept parked behind the house and Rey hops on.

“Rey, Dad always said he’d kill you if you took his bike.”

Rey starts it up.

“Well lucky for us, your father isn’t here. Now get on, quick!”

He hops on, and off they go.

Their street has no outlet, so they drive through the neighbor’s yard and around their house onto the street before Leon could notice. Once they were two streets away,

Rey stopped at a stop sign.

Flustered, Cyrus removes his helmet.

“Rey, we-we gotta go to the cops.”

“We will… eventually.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Leon knows all the shortcuts in this neighborhood, he’ll beat us there.”

“So, what do we do?”

“Remember that big, abandoned house in Murphy? We’ll wait it out there and we’ll figure out how to get to the police in the morning.”

**********

After an hour drive, they pull up to the house, walls boarded, crumbling at the seams and being engulfed by kudzu. It’s taller than Rey remembers, about four stories, and she never noticed the deck around the roof. A hundred years ago it could probably pass for a mansion. They walk up to the house with a hatchet to break the door down but to their surprise, it opens.

Out walks a man no more than forty but has an elderly demeanor. He’s dressed in a simple shirt and pants and no shoes. Holding an alabaster jar in his left hand, he sticks his right hand out to greet them.

“Welcome,” the stranger says.

Still stunned, the two step closer.

“Our apologies,” Rey says. “We didn’t think anyone lived here.”

“It’s quite alright,” the stranger smiles. “Please, come in.”

They walk in to… pretty much what they expected the inside of the house to look like. No decoration. The wooden walls moldy and deteriorating. No signs of electricity or power of any sort. The only details indicating that someone was inhabiting this place was the fire-lit stove and the fresh garden-grown produce sitting on a candle-lit table.

“Are you hungry?” the man says, returning to his post in the kitchen. “I was just cooking some ratatouille and toast.”

Too baffled to answer his question, Rey could only respond with a question of her own.

“Who are you?”

The stranger turns around and sets down his jar next to the produce.

“Oh, of course. Where are my manners? You may call me Raphael.”

“Raphael?”

The man nods.

“Yes.”

He gestures towards the stools surrounding the one table in the house. Almost reminiscent of the famous Round Table except with a lot less presence. Rey and Cyrus have a seat.

“Hungry?” Raphael asks them.

Cyrus nods forcefully.

“Any water?”

Rey could tell from his voice that he was parched.

“Of course,” Raphael smiles.

He sets his jar in the corner and takes a ceramic cup from the counter. He walks out the back door and moments later, he comes back in with a cup of water and places it on the table before Cyrus.

“Is that water?” Rey asks, clearly still confused.

“It is,” Raphael answers nonchalantly. “This house is quite old and has no

running water. However, there is a well in the back that still provides fresh spring water during the right time of season.”

Cyrus gulped down the entire drink before Raphael had finished speaking. Out of breath from the chugging, he gestured his empty cup towards their host with his eyes doing most of the communicating.

Raphael nods lovingly.

“The well’s out the back door and right next to the garden. Help yourself.”

Cyrus darts out the door and Raphael reverts his attention back to Rey.

“I apologize,” Rey sputters. “Not just for the intrusion but for him. My son is an addict and needs to constantly hydrate himself.”

“It’s no problem at all, ma’am. I don’t mean to pry but you’re Revanche Law, yes?”

Rey is stunned but naturally assumes he recognizes her from her very public murder trial.

“It’s Revanche Knightman now, but yes. You may call me Rey.”

“Changed your name in an attempt to form a new identity?”

Wow, he’s just going for it.

“Yes and no. The name change was mainly due to my second marriage to Cyrus’ father, but I suppose that I did form a new identity of sorts under the circumstances. It wasn’t planned but a welcome development.”

“You were married before?”

“What’s with the 20 Questions?” Rey thought. “Well I guess we are the guests and it’s not like we have anything better to do at the moment.”

“Yes,” she answers out loud.

Cyrus comes back in with his cup. He stumbles around, clearly in a state of incoordination, but eventually finds his way back to his chair.

Raphael took this as his cue to continue cooking. He got up, walked back to his brick, firewood-fueled, makeshift stove and stirred around a pan of peppers and squash in what appeared to be marinara sauce.

“What, may I ask, brings you here?”

Rey opened her mouth but was debating with herself what to say. She’s only known this dude five minutes and already she felt like she could tell him anything.

“Cyrus uh had an accident earlier tonight. He shouldn’t have been driving at all but I suppose his judgement was too impaired to make the responsible decision. That decision… cost the life of a friend of his.”

Rey held her breath waiting for her host’s response.

“Girlfriend?”

Rey shakes her head.

“No, just friend. They’ve been fairly close ever since they were little. I think she was a lesbian.”

“Hm,” Raphael nodded. “Shouldn’t the police be informed of this?”

“Believe me,” Rey sighed. “We want to, but you see… the poor girl’s brother is uh understandably distraught and vows vengeance on Cyrus. He showed up at our house not long after the crash. We slipped out and came here.”

“Why here?”

“I thought for sure this place was deserted,” Rey explained. “It just looked so…”

She knew she better stop there.

“Shaggy? Ancient?”

Wow, Raphael really was the type not to judge.

“Again, we are so sorry.”

Rey felt as if she was running out of apologies.

“I don’t mind the company,” Raphael smiled. “I knew one day some lost souls like yourselves could use my hospitality.”

Rey was a bit confused as to what that meant but she didn’t question it for long.

Raphael brought over three bowls of ratatouille, or a very simple makeshift version of it. It was delicious nonetheless. Simple yet satisfying. Rey devoured hers in less than a minute, then proceeded to feed Cyrus his like a baby as he was too disoriented to feed himself.

“Is he alright?” Raphael asked.

“Heroin,” Rey responds. “It’s been months, maybe even a year, since he’s gone this long without a fix.”

Raphael grabs a jug by one of the legs of the table.

“He’s going to need a lot of water in the night ahead.”

He stands up then walks toward the door with the jug.

“Wait…” Rey calls.

He stops.

“You’re letting us stay the night?”

Raphael smiles warmly.

“You’re my guests, I want to take care of you.”

Rey returns the smile and Raphael walks out the door towards the well.

Gaining a bit of lucidity, Cyrus wipes his chin with his sleeve and looks up at his step-mother.

“Rey?”

She imitates the same warm smile Raphael had just shown her.

“I’m here.”

“Where’s here?”

Rey gently runs through his messy hair with her fingers.

“Don’t you remember? The old house in Murphy. This nice man, Raphael, is taking care of us for the night.”

As if recalling a nightmare, Cyrus puts his hands to his face and sobs unlike Rey had never heard from him before.

“Lucretia. She… she’s gone. She’s really gone, and it’s my fault.”

Rey now has a choice to make. Will she be the comforting mother or the judgmental step-mother?

“Yes, it is. You were reckless and stupid. Lucretia is dead and you have no one to blame but yourself. I know this is the part where I’m supposed to say that there’s no way you could’ve known what would happen, but you should’ve! You should’ve always known that this was a possibility. For five fucking years I’ve seen you high, hungover, bruised, assaulted, withdrawn, relapsed, and even in a near-coma. I always knew someone would wind up dead eventually, I just expected it to be you.”

Cyrus is speechless. Rey guesses he expected the comforting mother routine as well. He’s not crying anymore. His eyes have likely dried out and all that’s left is lingering shock.

“I’m sorry, Rey.”

Rey shakes her head in disappointment.

“You should be telling the Honorlys that, not me.”

She looks down at Cyrus’ twitching hand. Spasms are getting worse.

Raphael walks back in with a jug full of fresh water. He pours a cup of water and passes it towards Cyrus who momentarily overcame his spasms to grab the cup and gulp it down as if there was no tomorrow. Raphael passes Rey a rag to wipe the sweat beads forming on Cyrus’ forehead.

She looks up at their guardian angel.

“Sir, where can he lay down? I’m afraid he’s only gonna get worse from here.”

Raphael smiles lovingly. His smile reminds Rey of the one her father used to give her. Not even her husbands could replicate it.

“Of course.”

He points towards a backroom with a mattress that appears to be a cross between a futon and an eggshell foam pad. Rey expected it to be dirty and homely like the rest of this house but under the guise of quaint simplicity. However, it looked pretty normal. Not the most fancy bedding in the world but suitable.

“There’s a spare bed upstairs,” Raphael pointed to the flimsy-but-stable-looking staircase next to the room. “You can sleep there.”

“What about you?” Rey asks.

“Don’t fret over me. I’ll be quite alright.”

Rey nods and walks Cyrus into the room to lay him down. She puts the blanket over his body and leaves the jug of water by his pillow.

She comes back to the table where Raphael is arranging a flower bouquet in a vase. This decrepit place lacks decoration of any sort, much less any floral touches.

Taking it as a gesture of good hosting, Rey ignores it and sits down beside him.

“If I may ask,” Raphael speaks up. “Why did you and your stepson come here?

Do you not have any family to seek refuge with?”

Seek refuge? Who talks like that?

Rey shook her head.

“What about your parents or your husband?”

“There’s no one.”

“Forgive my prying but what happened?”

Rey was not really in the mood to give her life story but she might as well.

“I had a… complicated childhood. My parents were interabled and seemed to have a love that could conquer anything. But over the course of my life, I saw my mother transform from a loving carer of my ALS-afflicted father to an unrecognizable abuser. Thankfully she never raised a hand to me, but throughout my adolescent years I saw her restrict my dad’s meds, raise them to a near overdose, starve him, hit him, and even raped him once. Don’t ask me how I know that.”

“No child should experience such trauma.”

Rey couldn’t tell if Raphael was trying to be comforting or just intrigued.

“Anyway, I had one Christian neighbor, Esther who tried to ease my burden by taking me to church with her. I heard a few sermons that were reassuring, but none of them helped me shake the neverending questions or restore my hope in the world, if I ever had any to begin with. But then, I met Marius.”

“Marius?”

Raphael was certainly intrigued now.

“Marius Law, a seminary student and leader of the youth group at Esther’s church. I hadn’t had much experience with crushes or with boys in general, but every moment I spent in Marius’ presence was like a safe haven for my soul. My pain, my trauma, my sorrow, none of it mattered. Every word he spoke provided a sense of strength for my broken spirit. After about a month, I was in love. He was seeing someone at the time, but his girlfriend was such a goody-two shoes that I could tell something was bound to go wrong. Sure enough, he found out that she was prostituting herself to pay for college and he dumped her ass.”

Raphael was surely younger than her, but his attitude was just so mature that

Rey felt wrong using crude language in his presence.

“Excuse me, I apologize.”

Raphael gently raised a hand.

“It’s quite alright, continue.”

Rey looked over at Cyrus in the other room. She couldn’t tell if he was conscious or not.

“Well, my father eventually succumbed to his disease but no doubt assisted by my mother's abuse. I spent about a year grieving by hiding out by the neighborhood lake every chance I got. My only comfort was seeing Marius at the church. Mom was eventually arrested. Not for her monsterous treatment of my dad but for tax evasion of all things. Fortunately, she couldn’t keep karma at bay forever and dropped dead in prison from what the medical examiner suspected was an undiagnosed brain aneurysm. Since then, I can’t help but wonder if that was the root cause behind her transformation but then I remind myself how much I hated her to prevent another grieving process. To me, I had already grieved who she used to be and accepted that my mother was dead years before her body was.”

“So, you felt no emotional bonding with your mother at all when she passed?”

What is this? Dr. Phil?

Not wanting to answer, Rey continues with her story.

“I had just turned eighteen and dodged the foster system. So naturally I turned to Marius, who helped me find a place down the street with reasonable rent and plenty of opportunities for employment in the area. Within weeks, we were dating.”

“Ah,” Raphael seemed to follow every word.

“And how did this affect your uh… spiritual standing?”

Rey looks down and twiddles her thumbs.

“It didn’t. Not really. But I knew that if he ever found out that I wasn’t truly a converted believer and not serious about ever becoming one, it would be over. I wanted to be with him more than anything, so I played the part. Was baptized and everything.

Throughout the sixteen years of our marriage, he never suspected that I was a closeted agnostic.”

“So, he was your first husband?”

Rey smiles and nodded.

“He finished seminary, established his own church, and we were married there about a year later. I was probably the happiest I had ever been, especially after Tamar came along.”

“Tamar?”

“My daughter. She was born a year after we married. The first time I saw her, a wave of reassurance came over me. Even more powerful than the one Marius used to give me. I knew from then on that my life was going to be okay and I promised myself that I would never become like my mother. That I would love her and her father to the best of my ability.”

“Pardon my asking but where is she now? With her father?”

Rey knew this question would come up. She had avoided mentioning her daughter for years to avoid that question. Rey wasn’t sure if she would break down in tears but after everything she’s willing to risk for Cyrus, why can’t she handle a simple question?

“She uh…” Rey’s lip and chin is already quivering, but she sucks up all her anguish into her gut and takes a big breath.

“She was murdered, thirteen years ago.”

Raphael made that gesture of comfort again. Rey could’ve sworn her father used to touch her arm the same way when she was upset.

“I’m so sorry.”

Rey holds back her tears and blows a light raspberry with her lips to relax her face.

“Everything went up a creek after that.”

Raphael nods in understanding.

“It’s not unusual for couples’ marriages to crumble after the loss of a child.”

Rey shakes her head.

“No, that wasn’t it. I realize it’s an overused phrase, but Marius really was my rock, even then. I honestly believe that we could’ve had at least a few more good years,

if I hadn’t… taken action.”

“Action how?”

Rey takes out her phone. 68% battery. She scrolls through Google then shows

Raphael a mugshot of a Hispanic looking man with a thick beard. His age was difficult to determine from looks alone.

“That man is Azazel Drinkwater. He lived in the neighborhood and he had a bit of a rap sheet for crimes related to children, and he was on the sex offender registry. From the moment we moved into our home there, I told Tamar to be weary of him. For almost two years, Drinkwater had on and off stalking patterns with Tamar. Once he had even attempted to lure her to his van. We filed a restraining order immediately and we thought that was the end of it. About a month later, her body was found in a landfill just outside of town. I knew immediately who was responsible.”

The tears continue to well, but Rey remains strong.

Raphael appears not to notice but Rey has a feeling he did.

“So, he was arrested then?”

Rey shakes her head again.

“The investigation was still ‘ongoing,’ but I wasn’t prepared to wait for the authorities to find the smoking gun to convict him while that… that… bastard was living his life down the street!”

She didn’t care about censoring her language anymore. She gave up on trying to save face and let the waterworks flow.

“He took my baby away from me,” she sobs. “So I shot him. Blew that son of a bitch off the face of the earth. For some reason I hoped that I might find peace after that."

“You murdered him?”

Rey expected shock but instead she got a response with a hint of surprise but not much.

“I eradicated a parasite of a human being.”

“But still a human being,” Raphael says softly.

Please don’t, Rey thinks to herself. You’ve been so amazing to us and I don’t want to argue about this right now.

“I did what I needed to do.”

“Did you?”

Raphael breaks eye contact with her and looks at his cup.

“Vengeance is like fire. It can be warm and comforting but it destroys, it grows, and spreads quickly. You may try to blow it out with your breath but sometimes air fuels it even more till it’s completely engulfing. The only sure way to extinguish it for good is with water.”

Thanks for that insightful metaphor.

“Why are you not in prison?” Raphael asks outright. “Were you never caught?”

“No, I was.”

Rey feels a lot more comfortable discussing this part of the story.

“I was arrested early the next morning. Apparently traffic cam footage captured everything. There was no need for a trial as I confessed to it all. I wouldn’t have much of a case anyway if I tried to deny it. My future seemed to be concrete. But to my surprise, a rally was held on behalf of my freedom. Word of the case got out and families of Drinkwater’s other victims as well as most of our neighborhood came to fight for my cause, claiming that I did the world a service and that anyone else in my position would’ve done the same. There were quite a few people who I had never even met fighting for me. One of them was a radical communist and borderline anarchist, Jud Knightman.”

“Knightman?” Raphael is clearly connecting the dots.

Rey stares at her hand and twists her wedding ring that she can’t figure out why she still wears.

“The protest succeeded and I was acquitted. There was still a problem. When I came home, Marius was gone. He left me a letter saying that although he still loved me and will always think of our family foundly, he couldn’t bring himself to stay with me.

That he finally realized I wasn’t who he thought I was. Apparently after I came home from the killing, I was talking in my sleep. He heard me say that I did God a favor, if he even exists. Marius wasn’t sure what that favor implied till after my arrest, but he was finally getting the hint that I wasn’t a believer. He ended the letter saying that those words along with my actions were proof enough that I have never walked with him in faith throughout our time together like I vowed to on our wedding night and how he felt like it was a betrayal somehow. Along with the letter was a photocopy of a divorce petition and a foreclosure on our house. He clearly expected me to be convicted and since he was leaving anyway, he surrendered our home back to the bank. It was in his name anyway.”

She looks up at Raphael, expecting the same look of pity that he gave her about her daughter, but his expression hasn’t wavered.

“Now I was in a pickle. Yes, I had my freedom but I was screwed. I had no home, no husband, and I hadn’t had a job since before I had Tamar. I ended up moving in with my Aunt Flavia, my dad’s twin sister, for a time while the divorce was being finalized and I was figuring out what to do next. Aunt Flavia used to be married to a powerful attorney and she told me that since I was a housewife for so many years and how my way of life just vanished, I was eligible for alimony payments from Marius. It was a nice plan but I knew alimony couldn’t keep me afloat forever. So I got a job bartending at the local pub.

For about three months I was making enough in tips to save up for my own place. One night, someone very familiar came into the pub looking for a drink.”

“Mr. Knightman?”

Lucky guess.

“Yes. I offered him a drink for free and clocked out early so we could talk. I profusely thanked him for what he did and he thanked me for ridding the neighborhood of a public menace. We exchanged phone numbers, one thing led to another and we started sleeping together. It was purely a sexual relationship at first since my heart was still with Marius. But after I had finally begun to accept that Marius was gone and that my picture perfect family was a distant memory, I finally agreed to take Jud out on a real date. Realistically, it shouldn’t have gone any further than that. Even now I can’t figure out what I ever saw in him. I suppose he could be described as attractive, but as far as his personality was concerned he wasn’t my type. If it weren’t for the trial and my previous marriage, he never would’ve made it past first base. My only explanation is that I had this white knight persona of him in my head and that I somehow owed it to him to try and be with him. The therapist I was seeing to cope with the loss of my daughter as well as my trauma from the trial, was understandably concerned about our relationship and said it was full of red flags.”

“So, why did you marry him?” Raphael asks.

Rey guessed a while ago that he figured out from her name that Jud was indeed her second, and technically current, husband.

“I met Cyrus.”

That sense of joyful pride that was missing from her story of pain and regrets was finally coming to the surface.

“Jud didn’t even mention that he had a son until after we went on a real date.

Given how often he had been available to hook up before, I never would’ve guessed that he was a single parent. Turns out his high school sweetheart, March I think her name was, had gotten pregnant right out of college. He had been planning on breaking up with her before he got the news but March used the pregnancy to guilt him into staying. They moved in together, and planned to get married once Cyrus was born but March was developing certain psychiatric issues. Issues that she attempted to self-medicate with… you guessed it, street drugs. I’m convinced Cyrus has a genetic disposition to be an addict. Her and Jud drifted apart because of this and he stayed true to his word and dumped her, just a month before her due date. Jud got a job in another town and rarely came to visit March and the baby. March only got worse and would’ve surely eventually overdosed but you’ll never guess what got her first, sleep apnea complications.”

Rey half expected Raphael to lightly chuckle at the ridiculousness of that fate but his face was stone straight. Clearly this was too compassionate a man to giggle at such an unfunny matter.

“With no family to take him, custody of Cyrus automatically went to Jud, much to his dismay. He clearly was never jazzed about being a dad in the first place. He wasn’t abusive or anything but, he never truly made an effort to be a role model for his son.”

“But, you could?”

Rey smiles.

“Someone had to. Once Jud proposed, I immediately accepted even though my gut was telling me to turn him down. We had only been dating officially for five months, but I couldn’t leave him and that child. I guess I hoped I could form a new family to replace my old one, replicate a time when everything was okay.”

Rey could sense the waterworks sneaking up on her again, but she was determined to stand her ground.

“Surprise, surprise, things didn’t work out for us. It started with his repetitive infidelity. After I found out he had been boning the neighbor’s wife, his boss, and even the garbageman, I realized that Jud wanted a live-in babysitter more than a wife. I kicked him out five years ago.”

“But, you’re not divorced?”

Rey shakes her head in disappointment.

“Since I had made a career for myself at Trailer Park Group, I wasn’t eligible for alimony like my first divorce. What I was entitled to was child support. I guess I selfishly didn’t want to lose that support or even worse, Cyrus. I have much more faith in the justice system now than I did thirteen years ago, but I can’t help but wonder if Jud could pull some strings to get sole custody of Cyrus in retaliation. Fortunately, I don’t have to fear that for much longer. Once Cyrus turns eighteen, I’m filing for divorce properly.”

“Good for you.”

Rey wasn’t expecting that response, but it was welcomed. She stands up and tugs on her belt loops.

“I-I better check on Cyrus. He probably needs a warm rag.”

Raphael points to the cupboard near the sink.

“There are bowls and rags in there. Just take one out back to the well.”

Rey looks at him, confused.

“I thought you could only get cold water from the well.”

Raphael nods.

As if a mental link had formed between them, Rey’s confusion passes and she takes a bowl and rag out to the well. She lowers the bucket, fills it up, and pulls it back up to pour into the clay bowl she had grabbed from the cupboard. Carefully, she brings it back inside and into the room Cyrus is passed out in. His spasms have continued to worsen, almost as if he’s having a full on seizure. He’s sweating bullets and his lips are so chapped, they’re white. He’s not foaming or convulsing, so she safely assumes it’s not serious. Rey feels his forehead and realizes why Raphael told her to bring cold water. He has to be at least 102 degrees.

Rey rings out a rag in the bowl and places the cool cloth across his temple. She sits him up to help him drink the bowl’s remaining contents. She wants to sit with him to monitor his condition but she knows she needs to be on guard in case Leon somehow shows up.

Begrudgingly, Rey walks back into the room where Raphael hasn’t moved. She stands by the doorway so she could talk to Raphael and still keep an eye on Cyrus.

“What’s your plan, Mrs. Knightman?”

Knightman. Rey asks herself if she’s still going to keep that name after the divorce. She doesn’t want Law back, for that is the name of Marius’ dutiful wife that no longer exists. She considers her maiden name, Adina. Yes it is the name of her father, the only man other than Marius that she’s truly loved, but it’s also the name of a young girl who was broken and lost without him.

“I-I’m not sure,” Rey responds. “I’m in a century-old house with a stranger, a son who’s withdrawing, and a young man in a kill rage frenzy on our tails. I’m a bit discombobulated at the moment.”

“You can’t hide her forever,” Raphael sighs.

“I know that. Once Cyrus snaps out of it, Leon would’ve surely given up by then and we’ll go to the police.”

“You do understand the consequences of surrendering yourself?”

Rey nods.

“If Cyrus must face his fate, it might as well be by the proper authorities.”

Raphael smiles.

“That doesn’t sound like what Revanche Law would say.”

“She wouldn’t. Revanche Law would put her own desires first.”

Raphael takes a sip of water. Rey didn’t even notice he had a cup of water.

“Regardless of what path you take, life is going to be very difficult from now on.”

Rey can feel tears welling again.

“Life’s been hard for years. I love him but… he’s damaged. When my friends from work tell me about their kids excelling in sports, aceing their classes, or getting accepted to elite colleges on scholarships, I can’t relate because my kid is out who knows where looking for his next fix. He’s been arrested more times than I can count, stopped breathing in his sleep at least twice, and even stolen from my wallet far more often than I’d like to admit. Everytime the phone rings late at night, my first thought is ‘is this it? Is this the day he’s been shot or overdosed in an alley somewhere?’ But it’s always either him asking for me to pick him up or bail him out.”

She can feel a stream coming down her left cheek.

“If he gets locked up for most of his remaining life, at least I’ll be able to rest again.”

Rapahel stands up and walks over to her.

“Mrs. Knightman, sometimes life’s greatest challenges are what makes you human.”

Rey wipes her nose with her sleeve.

“I know that now.”

Raphael looks over her shoulder, as a wave of concern comes over his face.

“Mrs. Knightman, where’s the boy?”

Rey spins around and sees the empty mattress.

Creak

“What was that?”

Rey looks around the room and notices the staircase in the corner.

“Where does that go?”

“The roof.”

Rey’s heart drops to her stomach.

“Oh God…” she gasps and sprints for the stairs.

She climbs them quickly but carefully as she has no idea how stable they are.

Following the stairs all the way to the top, she throws open the door to the roof deck. Cyrus is sitting on the rail, dangling his legs.

“Cyrus, what are you doing?”

Cyrus doesn’t even turn around.

“Taking the weight off of your shoulders,” he groans.

“What?”

“I heard you guys talking, I only add more and more stress to your life. I know you try, but I’m a lost cause.”

“Cyrus, come down from there!”

She doesn’t charge at him as she isn’t sure what he’ll do.

“Besides, I’m a killer, remember? Lucretia’s dead and it’s my fault. Might as well save Leon the trip. My life is over as it is.”

“Cy, don’t talk like that. You are not some expendable junkie.”

“Why not?”

He turns around to face her.

“I can see the way you look at me, Rey. I know I’m just a poor substitute for your daughter. You don’t need to pretend anymore.”

He turns back around.

“I’m not going to put a hold on your life and healing much longer.”

He scoots closer to the edge.

Rey takes a deep breath, heart pounding faster than a locomotive.

“Now listen here, mister! I’ve never pretended to be anything since my first marriage. I could’ve just forced your father to take you back if you were too much to handle, but I didn’t want him to neglect you more than he already has. I know what it’s like to have a parent who has a complete disregard for you. I would do anything to protect your emotional stability.”

“That’s the problem. You care too much. I’m not worth your concern.”

“Remember when we first met?”

Cyrus clocks his head back halfway.

“I told you that even if you could never accept me as your mother, I would be there for you no matter what. When I married your dad, I made as much of a promise to you as I did to him. Even if I couldn’t save my daughter…”

The tears are coming down harder than before.

“...I could at least save you.”

Cyrus doesn’t respond.

“Please, Cy” Rey sobs. “Don’t take another child away from me!”

After a moment of silence, Cyrus turns and starts to get down, his eyes just as puffy as hers.

Rey walks towards him.

“I promise, we’ll figure this out, okay?”

BANG!

Before Rey can even react, Cyrus tumbles backward over the railing.

With a screech, Rey runs as fast as her legs can carry her down the stairs and outside the house. Cyrus is laying on the ground, with a blood stain forming on his shirt

around his shoulder.

Rey rushes to his side, he’s pale and unresponsive.

“Cyrus? Cyrus!”

Coming up to them is Leon Honorly, with a shotgun in his hands, eerily similar to the one Rey killed Azazel Drinkwater with almost two decades ago.

“Sorry it had to be this way, Cy” he says. “I did like you, and you Mrs.

Knightman.”

“Leon, h-how did you…?”

“Lucretia told me all about this place. She would come up here to get high with Cyrus and hook up with her girlfriend.”

Raphael never said anything.

Cyrus is still bleeding.

“What did you do?”

Leon lowers his firearm.

“He gave me no choice. This is justice for my sister. You understand that better than anyone.”

“No,” Rey shakes her head, tears flowing. “It’s not. This is vengeance. You killed my son!”

“With all due respect Mrs. Knightman, he’s your step-son and a real handful from what Lucretia told me.”

“No.”

Rey looks up at Cyrus’ assailant.

“I don’t care what anyone says, he’s my son. He’s no less my child than my daughter. I was wrong to think that exterminating the monster who took her would take away my pain. It wasn’t my job to make that call.”

Leon turns around.

“You did the world a service, as have I.”

He walks off into the distance and disappears into the fog, almost like an aberration.

Rey puts her ear to Cyrus’ chest… nothing.

**********

13 years ago, eight months after Rey’s trial

Rey and Jud walk into a Chuck E. Cheese at around 1:30, Rey fiddling with her hands nervously.

“You’re so tense,” Jud says. “Relax a little.”

“I’m just not sure about this babe. I’ve already done the mom routine once before and I’m not sure if I’m up for this yet.”

Jud nudges her shoulder gently.

“Listen babe, if this relationship is going to work, you need to make nice with my kid. That’s how it works.”

“What am I supposed to say to him?” Rey asks. “He just lost his real mom not too long ago.”

“He barely knew March as it was. She was a deadbeat. Show him that you won’t be and you’re in the club.”

Jud looks over and points to an older woman and a small boy in the corner.

“There he is, with my mom.”

Rey had met Jud’s mother once, and recognized her immediately.

They walk over and Jud’s mom stands up.

“Here’s your daddy,” she tells the kid. “Nanna’s gotta go now.”

“Bye Nanna,” he says with a meek voice.

The woman nods to Rey as she passes her.

“Nice to see you again, Revanche.”

Rey smiles slightly.

“You as well, ma’am.”

“Good luck.”

After she leaves, Jud kneels down to his son’s level.

“Cyrus buddy, this is my friend Miss Rey. She’s going to be hanging out with us for a while. Are you thirsty?”

Cyrus nods.

“I’ll go get you a soda,” he stands up and looks at Rey. “I’ll let you two get acquainted.”

He walks off and Rey stands there awkwardly for a moment.

“Wanna sit down?” she asks.

Cyrus nods again and the two sit down at the nearest empty table.

The silence amplifies the already awkward atmosphere.

“So uh… your daddy tells me that this is your favorite place in the world.”

Cyrus nods.

“I-I like the skee ball.”

Rey smiles.

“Me too.”

Cyrus looks down at his feet.

“Are you going to be my new mommy?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Daddy says I might be getting a new mommy.”

Rey’s smile fades.

“Do you miss your mommy?”

“My mommy wasn’t a good mommy.”

Rey’s heart breaks.

“Mine wasn’t either, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t love you.”

She gently puts her hand on his little shoulder.

“Hey…”

He looks up at her.

“Let’s start with friends and go from there. I promise, I won’t be like your mommy.”

“Okay.”

Rey smiles wider than before.

“Wanna play some skee ball?”

Cyrus smiles and nods enthusiastically then the two stand and walk off.

**********

“Raph!” Rey yells. “Help me!”

Raphael comes out with his alabaster jar and leans down towards Cyrus.

“Unbutton his shirt,” he tells her.

Confused, Rey complies. The wound on her son’s shoulder is worse than she expected.

Reaching into the jar, Raphael takes out a handful of an oily ointment of some sort and rubs it on Cyrus’s wound. He pulls a rag out of his pocket and wraps it around Cyrus’ shoulder. As if by magic, his wound closes. Color returns to his cheeks and he begins to breathe again.

Rey is still in shock.

“H-how…?”

Raphael smiles warmly.

“He’ll be alright.”

Police sirens are blaring in the distance.

Raphael stands and walks back into the house.

As the fog clears, allowing a ray of sunlight to pass, Cyrus sits up confused and squads of policemen surround the pair.

“What happened?” he asks.

Rey sniffles and smiles.

“You’re okay, that’s all that matters.”

Fifteen minutes later, the cops put Cyrus in cuffs, place him under arrest for vehicular manslaughter and fleeing the scene of an accident, and take Rey’s statement. They explain to her that they had caught Leon trying to cut through the woods but needed to ask her a few questions.

“Tell us again why you came here, Mrs. Knightman” one of the cops says.

“Mr. Honorly was pursuing us. We thought this was a safe place to hide. The man who lives here was very hospitable and cared for us until now.”

The two cops in front of her looked at each other clearly confused.

“Who?” they both asked simultaneously.

“The man who lives in this house. Wanna talk to him?”

“Uh… Mrs. Knightman, no one’s lived in this house for fifty years.”

Rey rushes over to the door and looks in. The house is empty.

“No, no! There was a man here, there was!”

The cops come up behind her and Rey turns to face them.

“He said his name was Rafael, he never said his last name. He had a kitchen and a garden and a alabaster jar with some healing ointment in it.”

One of the cops chuckled.

“Raphael… the angel?”

Rey’s now the one turning pale.

“Wait, there’s an angel named Raphael? Are you sure?”

The cop is still laughing.

“Miss, I’m Catholic. I know my archangels.”

Rey looks over at Cyrus getting placed in the back of the car.

“Aren’t you going to take me in too as an accessory or something?”

The cops shrug.

“Given the circumstances, we say you had probable cause. You were just doing what any mother would.”

“‘What any mother would’,” Rey repeats. “I’ve heard that before.”

She walks over to Cyrus in the car.

“May I?” she asks the arresting officer.

“Sure,” he says. “Make it quick.”

She looks at Cyrus and he looks up at her.

“Hey,” she smiles.

“Hey,” he smiled back.

Rey sighs.

“I should be in here with you.”

“You made a mistake,” he says. “But you know better now.”

Rey nods.

“I’ll see you once you get to the station.”

“See you there, Mom.”

Rey’s heart soared. He’s never said that before.

The cops who were questioning her walk back over.

“Do you need a lift, Mrs. Knightman?”

“I appreciate that. If you wouldn’t mind, it’s Ms. Adina. Rey Adina.”