Siblings are extensions of ourselves. No one is closer to us—to our nature, to our nurture—than our siblings. They are ourselves in another worldly body, and nothing could be more dear or more infuriating than that.
At any rate, this is a story of siblings thwarting the ultimate revenge. This is a tale of three of us, working together to save our siblings’ souls. I knew Gavrilo would do it. I knew in his dark heart there was still love for his one living sibling.
Pax murdering Blanck? I stopped that. Rather, we—Julia and I—stopped that. Julia—my dear, sweet little friend Julia, sister to Pax and Gavrilo—planted a seed on Gavrilo’s heart: “Go visit the old neighborhood.”
And so Gavrilo, having long left those days behind him, decides to revisit the past, and he visits the Bowery neighborhood where the Princips were raised. A neighborhood friend tells Gavrilo that Pax came looking for a gun.
“Anything else?” Gavrilo asks.
“Yes. A catering uniform from Bellissimo Cibo.”
Gavrilo takes note. (Gavrilo always takes note. He, like Pax, is an observer, you see.)
Later that morning, he strolls by a bodega, and it is my turn to direct his attention. He picks up an old, discardedNew York Herald—something he hasn’t done in years because he highly distrusts the news—and he stumbles upon Hedda Hopper’s column.
Blanck’s party, catered by Bellissimo Cibo. The party is to occur that very evening.
Gavrilo knows Blanck, of course. Sister Julia was Gavrilo’s light as well, and Gavrilo has more than once fantasized about killing that terrible sonofabitch.
But he does NOT want Pax to do it. He does not want that cold, oily darkness to reside in his brother’s heart.
Gavrilo Princip is an assassin. He is a member of the notorious Black Hand society. He has killed before and he will kill again. (He will kill again.) His fate is sealed.
Pax has no idea the anguish, the horror, the sheer icy terror that comes with taking another person’s life. Nightmares and dread and looking over your shoulder, always running, always hiding, always fearing for your eternal soul.
No, Gavrilo will not let Pax live that kind of life. (Not to mention that jail is a nightmare all its own. And Pax, not being skilled in the clean elimination of a soul, would most certainly end up in a cell.)
Like Pax, Gavrilo is a believer—if not in his own soul, then in the souls of his siblings. He cannot let Pax become a murderer, too.
I’m saving Stella.
He’s saving Pax.
So, he shows up at Blanck’s party. No one questions him—sharp, expensive tuxedo, handsome fellow. Gavrilo is skilled in showing up at places uninvited.
And when the lights go out, his instincts overtake the scenario. He wrestles the gun from Pax’s grip, stopping the bullet from hitting Blanck. The weapon is a Belgian-made Fabrique Nationale model 1910, a .380-caliber pistol.
Then, Gavrilo disappears, gun in hand. He is off to his next assignment in Sarajevo.
Why did I risk this? Stella loves Pax (even if it took her far too long to admit that), and I won’t let anything happen to his soul now. But most importantly, Stella needed to forgive herself. Forgive Rose.
I, too, learned this. When Blanck’s hands were strangling the life out of my Stella, I told the Dark Trio to take me instead. I looked in those deep, hollow eyes, and there was Maman, who I forgave for uprooting our lives. I forgavemon père, for abandoning us. And I forgave myself, because I did indeed blame Stella for wanting to stop our easy income from her “fake” readings.
Forgiveness. It’s what finally set my soul free.
And sweet Julia. I knew Julia at the factory. She was small and quick, and they hired her to climb up into the equipment, into tiny spaces to fix things—tangled thread or snarled fabric. Workers her age were scratched and bruised and oily from climbing into the machinery to fix this part or that.
When the fire broke out, Julia was my first thought. I ran to find her.
And find her I did, huddled in a closet on the eighth floor. It was too late for our escape.
So I offered her my hand, looked out the window, and said, “We have to be brave. We have to jump. We will not live. But at least, for a moment, we will fly.”
And she did it. That brave young girl grabbed my hand, and we jumped.
The Tower ablaze, the card I had always been dealt. The card I knew was my destiny.
And now, here, on This Side, we dwell just outside the strong, white, ever-beckoning light. Julia looks up at me, small and innocent. She has waited for me this whole time. She has risked her soul, too.
