"In the last 24 hours, we've francized with more bloody Russians, Italians, who might I add are both pissed off and will probably kill us all, and now Tommy's in prison." Cliona scoffed pacing up and down as Arthur and Polly sat at the desk within the betting shop. "And what did I say about the Russians? He keeps making more holes he has to climb out of. And what if he falls back in and gets buried huh? And the Italians? Don't even get me started on them" Just then Thomas himself walked through the door heaving a sigh, looking royally pissed off himself.
"Fucking Priest" He spat shaking his head, and talking no more of why and how he was released. "Cliona what the fuck are you still doing here?" He asked hurrying to his office. The girl only rolled her eyes.
"Why? Where should I be?" Thomas turned sharply to her his breath heavy , a hidden depth of anger.
"The Shelby Foundation Dinner. Wear something nice" Cliona could not believe the man. A Dinner? On the midst of this he wanted a party full of pretentious people? They'd all be dead before the year was gone
Cliona who was the furthest in being interested in politics had talked to a man for ten minutes about something she didn't wish to comprehend. She pulled up one of her two red lace gloves that complemented her equally red dress, adorned with beads of silver and gold, shining as much as the chandelier in the middle of the large room, filled with people. A young beautiful woman walked forward, adorned with more gems that Cliona could ever afford, a certain grace about her, that was rare in woman.
"Duchess Tatiana Petrovna" She spoke her accent thick and noticeable within the room of English folk.
"A Duchess? I've never met one of those before" She spoke strongly, her guard raising. She knew exactly who the woman was, and what her people could do.
"And you're Mr Shelby's sideline, no? The men seem to do the dirty work, but it is you the woman that really does the job?" Cliona fighting to gain her dignity rose her head, an inch, peering at the woman, that because she had money and power, thought the Irish woman to be of little importance.
"I'm Mrs Shelby's sister" She replied gravelly adding a small warm smile for effect. If you couldn't cut them and get away with it, it was better just to be nice.
"Ah, did I tell her husband that the sapphire she wears is cursed by gypsy? I think I forgot." Cliona's glove clad fists clenched before she disappeared in search of her sister.
"Grace, that necklace, you've got to take it off" She spoke in a jumble of words, a dark smoke crawling up her back for no particular reason. Thomas looked at her cautiously, as Cliona looked back at the Duchess.
"Grace take it off" He backed up Cliona's case, as the woman grew confused.
"Why because it would look better on her?" She nodded to the Russian in the distance with a scoff. Cliona could only shake her head.
"Sister, please" Thomas unclasped the blue stone off the woman's neck as quickly and carefully as possibly. Cliona did not feel any better. A gunshot. That was all that was needed, to change everything. Fucking life. A man stood, the owner of the gun, an Italian she was sure of. Her eyes fell to her sister and her husband. But her sister was on the floor, her head against Tommy's lap. The woman didn't need to be a nurse, to hear her sisters heart stop.
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A scream that ate all other screams, a scream that could be heard in the nosiest place. A scream that could break a thousand hearts in every country, that the whole entire world, felt the pain, the ache within the woman's body, as it too collapsed to the ground, no power to keep it afloat. Blood masked by the crimson of her clothing, followed by two men pulling her to her feet. Cliona had one last one job to do before she mourned her heart into smithereens. A knife pulled from her dress, shot forward, to the Italians head, killing him with a clean cut. And then her eyes blurred into infinity as she was dragged away.
