Page 140 of The Deadly Candies

As the men scrambled, she leaned down, her lips brushing Cosimo’s ear.“You live today, it’s ’cause of those boys, ya hear. I love your boys. Remember that when you’re back on your throne, you sack of shit. What I giveth, I can take away.”

His good eye blinked.Slow. Once. Twice.

Another contract.

Mama Stewart rolled up her sleeves and reached for the forceps.

EPILOGUE

Mont-Tremblant, Quebec – 1978

The crystal whiskey glass trembled in Ernesto’s grip. The deep amber liquid caught the afternoon light and turned it into liquid sunshine. He sat rigid in the ornate chair, acutely aware of the three ghosts who had occupied his position before him—each now rotting in unmarked graves from the Wolf’s hammer bashing in their skulls. A year was nothing for the consigliere in the Wolf’s world. A year was still probation.

Across the table,Don Carmelo "The Wolf" Riccistudied him with the detached curiosity of a surgeon assessing a tumor. The silence stretched, thick as the cigar smoke curling between them. Ernesto set the glass down before his sweating palms betrayed him further.

"What’s news?”The Wolf’s voice was deceptively soft, the way a garrote is soft before it bites."Do the old men still question myfamiglia’sworth? Judge me and Matteo for my father’s sins?”

Ernesto swallowed.“Don Tomasino Battaglia of the Camorra and Don Marsuvio Mancini of the Mafiosi are... aligned in their response. They want the Castellemare medallion as proof before they commit their families to your cause. Luciano told them both that theMadonna Nerawould pass it on with her blessing before she died. They don’t look at American descendants as true blood. They feel you are pampered and lazy and unwilling to earn the Omerta, you claim to pledge. If you want to be recognized, then the Castellemare is the only choice.”

The Wolf’s eyebrow arched, a silent challenge."Luciano himself placed the crown on my father’s head without the Castellemare. And now thesevecchiettidemand trinkets?"

"It’s not about worth,padrone.You’re asking them to upendLa Cosa Nostra’sentire structure in America—to make your brother king, to legitimize his son who is no more than a quarter Sicilian, future. They need?—"

"You disappoint me."The Wolf said.

The words landed like a hammer on bone. Ernesto’s mouth snapped shut as the Wolf picked up what some called “his father’s hammer,” left at the side of his chair. He rubbed the iron as if wiping.

"I spoke to Tomasino’s son, Giovanni, before my untimely death. The kid is fresh out of college and at his Papa’s side. I spoke to Mancini’s boy, Armando. These future kings are rivals. Not fond of each other. That could work to our advantage in positioning me.”The Wolf leaned forward, his wedding ring scraping against the iron handle."Neither knew of my brother’s …requests for a sit-down. Both of them think I’m a ghost now. You were to help Matteo. Make him strong enough to meet with the families men. Must I rise from the dead and do it myself?”

“Matteo is stubborn. He refuses my counsel. Relies on Caesar and his gut, he said.Padrone,you can’t expect me to?—"

"Did I ask for excuses?"

Ernesto’s hands shot up in surrender.“You are dead to the old Don’s. Your request is a dead man’s wish. Maybe if they knew you were alive… maybe? Matteo is freshly out of prison. Anointed as the head of the family by default, not their traditions. Going behind the Dons to their heirs as an unauthorized consigliere to a dead Don—it’s suicide! The disrespect alone?—"

"Those old fucks are relics,"the Wolf said."Breathing corpses. Giovanni and Armando?Theyare the future. And if you’re too blind to see that... to help my brother see that…then what the fuck are you doing in that chair?”The Wolf’s fingers curled around the hammer’s grip.

"I’ll fix it!"Ernesto’s voice cracked."Giovanni is young but he is a pragmatist—he doesn’t give a damn about old medals or his father’s superstitions. He’s aspiring to be thecapi di tutti, capi. Being trained by a consigliere named Flavio. Let me start with the Battaglias. They could understand your resurrection if need be. I will travel to Sorrento and the Amalfi and arrange for him to meet Matteo. If he sees no point in forcing a meeting with Matteo, then I’ll find a way to invite him here. Mancini’s boy could never be trusted with your truth. He’d expose you for fun, and then what? It’ll take more time, but?—"

The Wolf’s gaze drifted past him, past the gazebo where they met overlooking the garden. His expression softened, just for a heartbeat. Ernesto followed his gaze.

Kathymoved like a goddess through the bright pink rose bushes, her sheer white kimono clinging to her silhouette as the afternoon sun backlit her curves. At the wrought-iron table,Nino—still a grown man with a child’s mind—leapt up to crush her in a bear hug. Her laughter floated through the roses to reach him, bright and alive.

"My little one,bambina Cassandra,” the Wolf murmured, more to himself than Ernesto. "How is she now that she believes her mother is dead?”

"The funeral... it was difficult for her. Matteo’s working to restore her memories, but she seems distrustful of him,” he reports. “And Matteo is distrustful of me. He thinks the medallion is lost, and I am wasting time with your death wish to have him make her remember.”

"I put that medallion in her hand the day I knew she was truly mine."The Wolf’s thumb traced the hammer again."She called it her ‘shiney ting ting.’ Hid it like a magpie—under floorboards, in garden soil. Box in all. Would run and hide, wait to see me at the safe, looking for it. Then followed me with her small hand covering her mouth and giggles while I looked for it. After the accident..."His jaw tightened.“I realized she had played our game one last time. Now I need the fucking thing to save them all. And it’slocked away in her mind."

“Why not tell Signora Kathy the truth? She doesn’t even know that her family thinks she’s dead,” said the consigliere.

“I plan to tell her tonight,” The Wolf said with dread. “She’ll cut my throat for this one.”

"We’ve turned the safehouse you used to take her to inside out. Dug up every inch of—" Ernesto said.

"I’m out of time. Matteo is out of time. The feds are thirsting for blood, Harlem is smoldering, and those fucking families all the way to Jersey and Philly s are circiling. I planned this for years. My freedom. Kathy. She’ll understand. She will, eventually. This had to be the way. I’m not turning back.”

“Understood,” said Ernesto.

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