Darling hammered on the door in the morning, while Mello was dozing on the end of an unpleasant dream. 'Breakfast!' she called, 'Breakfast is on the table!'

'I'm coming.' Mello answered drowsily. He rolled out of bed to search his backpack for a clean shirt and came up empty; he'd been living in hotels for over a month, washing his things in bathtubs with tiny bottles of complimentary shampoo, and he'd gotten lazy about it.

But Evzen, Mello reasoned, must have only recently moved out, because when he rifled through the antique dresser on the other side of the room, Mello found bundles of worn clothes, as well as three palm-sized switchblades tucked into socks. He pulled out a black wife-beater and stuffed it over his bedhead, and then pocketed the knives. Mello was sure Evzen wouldn't notice if they went missing.

When he emerged at the bottom of the stairs, he could see only Darling sitting at the laden dining table. She was slicing chunks off a baguette fresh from the oven.

'Dmitri eats early and goes to work.' she told Mello when she looked up and saw him lingering uncertainly in the doorway. 'Sit.'

'Thanks.' Mello said, scraping back a chair. He smeared jam and soft cheese on a piece of bread, took a boiled egg out of a pot sitting on one of the farm-style cloths that he'd seen hanging off the oven door the day before. 'When's Evzen coming by?'

'Pff.' Darling smacked the table with both hands. 'Who knows.'

Mello helped her with the dishes after breakfasting, and swept the kitchen floor. Darling hummed while she cleaned, an exuberant song which she punctuated by slamming drawers. There wasn't a moment of silence, so Mello never felt pressured to say anything, even when she asked him questions. Left more than a second without an answer, Darling would say 'it doesn't matter.' and launch into her next task.

When the plates were put away and the pots were hung from the rack on the ceiling, Mello accepted a fluffy green towel from Darling and the offer of a shower. He searched under the bathroom sink for a blow dryer and found abundant appliances: hairspray, keratin, and anti-aging cream. He straightened his hair properly for the first time in over a week.

He was invigorated, looking at himself in the bathroom mirror. There was a hard edge in his reflection. The rosary, the tank top, the status. It inspired him.

'Do you have a computer I can use?' Mello asked Darling when he was finished washing up. She had gone out to sit on the front stoop, smoking with the door open, watching the street. He leant against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest and saw neighbours along the street basking similarly, sitting in the new sun. The thin layer of snow over the lawns was sparkling, dogs behind chain link fences were panting in the bright morning light.

'No, no computer.' Darling said. 'Do you want to make a phone call, maybe?'

'A phone call's fine.'

'Ok.' Darling stood with a huff. 'I'll show you the phone.'

Mello wasn't sure it was a good idea to call into Wammy's, but he was feeling a bit invincible this morning. He dialed one of Matt's secret cell phones, which Matt had managed to operate, purely to prove that he could, under Roger's nose.

'Hi.' Mello said, when Matt answered.

'Mello!' Matt's voice came in tinny, a little raw. 'Where are you?'

'I'm not gonna say.'

'Oh, come on.' Matt complained. 'I'm going to get a secret channel thing set up online so you don't have an excuse to ignore me anymore.'

'Go for it.' Mello said.

'Are you... like, good?'

'Yeah.' Mello told him. 'Everything's goin' according to plan.'

'Cool.'

'What's it like back there?' Mello asked. It seemed impossible that Wammy's still existed, now that he was so far away, so emotionally removed from its expectations. It was someone else's life.

'Stupid boring.' Matt groused. 'Linda keeps trying to be my friend like she thinks I'm... like, going to... you know, she's just... she's so annoying.'

What was with phone calls and making Mello feel guilty? 'Is she bringing you pudding?'

Matt laughed. 'Don't worry about me.'

'Can you,' Mello started, feeling pathetic, fiddling with the rotary dial, 'tell me something normal? Tell me what you're doing today or something?'

'You wanna know what I'm wearing?' Matt teased. 'Uh. Linda asked me what my favourite painter was a minute ago and I said, like, Rorschach.'

'Rorschach is not a painter, Matt.'

'Well, I mean,' There was a smile in Matt's voice. He sounded bright. He was fine. 'He does a lot of ok paintings of my parents fighting.'

'I contacted my father.' Mello said in a voice like a bird escaping its cage.

'Oh. Really? I didn't know- Well, what, uh, what was that like?'

Like having the possibility of easy happiness, fleeting and feeble, slip out of his fingers all over again. Like finding sunglasses on top of his head when he'd been searching for them everywhere else. 'Fruitful.' Mello said.

'I miss you like crazy.' Matt told him earnestly, his tone an outstretched hand. 'Change your mind about bringing me.'

The front door slid open. It was a little crooked, scuffing up the floorboards when it dragged. Evzen stalked through it and stood next to the photograph of himself, two pairs of unfocused eyes watching Mello. 'If I do, I'll let you know.' Mello said. Every time Matt said something sweet, he felt his heart harden like a fight or flight instinct. He didn't want Evzen to witness their correspondence, fucked if he knew why. 'Gotta go.'

Evzen tilted his head towards the still open door. 'We're goin' to pick up a dog. Comin'?'

Mello nodded. He'd hung the receiver up on Matt begging please, Mello.

Two other boys and a girl in a bright pink tracksuit were waiting outside in the road, idling in a spotless pick-up truck. Mello climbed in the back while Evzen kicked one of the boys out of the front and jumped in shotgun. The Russian rap top 40s were playing loud enough over the radio to shake the gravel on the road.

'This is Mihael.' Evzen said, turning the music down. He pressed his feet up against the dash and jerked his seat back so he could recline. 'Keehl.'

'Ahhh.' The boy driving said. He was sharp and blond with a spiky beard and sunken red eyes. 'Zdravko, hello.'

'Aleksy.' The other boy introduced himself, looking down at Mello from across the row of seats.

The girl kissed Mello on both cheeks, since she was close enough. 'Taya. I'm Aleksy's girlfriend.'

Aleksy put his arm around her and pulled her head onto his chest, grinning with gold grills.

The music was turned back up – apparently, names were all that was necessary as far as getting to know each other went. They drove right out of Prague and down a dirt road banked by fields. It was a long trip, and Mello started to feel carsick inhaling the smoke off all their cigarettes. Zdravko sped 20 to 50 kilometres over the speed limit at all times.

They pulled eventually into a driveway with a flimsy metal gate tied with a loose chain. Aleksy jumped out to open it.

The house beyond was made of stone and old, lording over a lawn full of plastic children's toys. Mello could hear barking coming from inside.

Everyone got out and huddled on the porch. Mello stayed close to Evzen's side, watching him all the time for behavioural cues.

'Don't let the dogs out!' The man who answered the door instructed them, opening it part-way and ushering them inside with a flapping hand. He was holding a thick black rottweiler by the collar. 'You want some Passoã?'

'Sure.' Evzen said.

The front door opened on a large, very dirty kitchen. Baby gates closed off the rest of the house. The dining table was covered in empties.

'Where are the glasses?' Aleksy asked, starting to open cupboards.

The teenagers were like an invasive species, herding themselves into this home and starting to feed. Taya found a bag of pretzels on the counter and shook them out into a bowl. Zdravko rooted in the fridge and grabbed a beer, which he opened with a fork from the dish-rack.

'There's the bitch.' The man said. There were four hungry dogs at his feet, and he was pointing at one of the thinnest.

'Load it up.' Evzen ordered, tilting his head at Zdravko. He handed Mello a cup of Passoã. 'Guard dog.' he explained. 'She's real mean, apparently.'

The dog looked mean. She looked like she'd do anything for a bit of flesh.

They lingered a couple minutes to finish drinks and smoke at the table with the man who'd sold them the dog, talking. Evzen told the stranger that he was going to business school, starting next year. 'I'm takin' a year to make some money right now.' he said. 'School's a shitton of fuckin' money.'

'Keep your head down.' The man warned him.

Taya sat in Aleksy's lap and watched Mello from under thick, clumping mascara. 'Evzen doesn't know how.' she said. She had a high, cutting voice. 'Why aren't you in school, Mihael?'

'I ran away.' Mello said. 'It wasn't useful anymore.'

'Hm.' she said. 'Me too.'

The gang had a tense, complicated camaraderie. Evzen pushed the others around, but Zdravko seemed to make all their decisions. When they peeled away from the house, dog in the truck cab tied by a cotton lead, Zdravko announced that he was driving to his brother's place to pick up rock, next.

Mello felt like he was getting the backyard tour of Prague. 'How do you guys make money?' he asked while they spiraled the car back towards the city at a breakneck pace along dusty brown roads bumping with potholes.

'Fix up cars.' Zdravko said. 'Shitty cars people just leave around.'

'So car theft.' Mello clarified.

'Yeah.'

'Jesus, kid.' Aleksy laughed, mimicking Mello's scowl in mockery and then flashing his sparkling teeth like a braggart shark. 'How do you make money?'

'He almost fuckin' bashed Josip's head in.' Evzen told them, twisting in his seat. 'For 4000 korunas.'

'Oh, shit.' Aleksy said, sobering.

They parked on the curb of a nice looking city house on the outskirts of Prague's eastern side. It had a street-facing two car garage, and when they knocked three times at the front door, someone inside opened the garage door halfway and they all went under it, bent at the waist. Three men were sitting on upturned buckets inside. One was bouncing a little girl on his lap, smoking a cigarette. Another toddler was on the bare floor, sitting alone, roughly slapping a bedraggled barbie against the concrete.

'Yo!' Zdravko greeted, and the men stood. They all grasped each other's hands, patted each other's backs. 'This kid's Keehl.'

Mello was starting to get uncomfortable with so many people knowing his name. He stayed aloof, standing a little ways back while they caught up. Zdravko's brother went to get scales and product from inside the house. He weighed the rock with the little girl still in his lap, watching their business and clinging to his shirt. 'It's almost bedtime.' he announced when he had Zdravko's money in hand.

'We'll head out pretty soon.' Zdravko said. He was rolling a pipe in his fingers over the flame from his lighter.

'Come by again soon.' his brother told him. Suddenly, he doubled over, gasping.

'Say bye to my Barbie before you go.' The older child requested over the sound of laboured breathing, reaching out the doll she was holding to Taya.

Everyone ignored her, staring in dumb astonishment as Zdravko's brother slumped painfully to the floor, tugging desperately at the fabric of his shirt, and collapsed right there in front of them. The bucket he'd been sitting on rolled away from his thrashing feet, its handle clanging and bumping along like a wheel turning.

From beside him, Mello heard Zdravko start to make an aborted noise, like he was trying to throat sing. Mello snapped his gaze away from the fallen man to see Zdravko backing away from the body like a wind up toy, wildly in a zigzag, gaunt face tight with fear.

Evzen rushed forward and knelt to put two fingers on Zdravko's brother's neck. 'Make Zdravko shut the fuck up!' he yelled. 'Shut the fuck up, Zdravko! Who here's got a public record -'

Zdravko took a rattling breath and then started to holler, collapsing to his knees. Mello couldn't tell if he was grieving or literally dying, and neither could anyone else. Shifting eyes and nervous mumbles filled the garage, backed by the musical accompaniment of the children crying.

One of the other men who had been in the garage when they'd arrived suddenly gasped spittle, moaned, and fell to the hard grey floor. His head cracked, bounced. If he hadn't died of a heart attack, he would have from the blood lazily leaking out of his hairline.

Taya grabbed the kids by the hands and ran to the door, pounded on the button to open it. Her and Aleksy rolled underneath as soon as it started to lift, and the rest of the gang followed suit, escaping the stench and threat of men dying.

Mello scraped his hands and ripped one of the knees in his jeans crawling under the gap, afraid he would suffocate in the aridity of Kira's ugly work – because it was Kira, he was sure. He heard the child with the doll screaming for her dead daddy, screaming her goddamn head off. Her sister had gone quiet, sucking her thumb. Mello thought he would suffocate in the noise of it all, the sound of Zdravko punching his own stomach in pain, the sobbing, the vacuum-like wind in the cold night.

Evzen jumped into the driver's side of the truck and turned the engine over. Mello slipped into the passenger's side. Taya clambered into the back and held one girl on her lap; Aleksy bounced the other on his knee and shushed her over and over and over. Zdravko sat mostly on the floor, head in his knees. The third man, who Mello still didn't know, sat dead straight next to them, cramped against the door, and then took a flask out of his jacket pocket and downed its contents.

When that stranger convulsed suddenly and died while the car was whipping past a stop sign on an empty dust road, Aleksy reached over, opened the car door, and pushed his body out. Mello watched in the side mirror as the corpse rolled away to the curb, and then lay flat in the road, a bundle of clothes.

'We don't wanna be connected to shit.' Evzen started to say, hurriedly, when he glanced sidelong at Mello's open mouthed horror. 'We don't want our names anywhere, ok? He'll be buried right, ok? Someone'll find him, someone'll... Everything's ok, ok? Ok, Keehl?' His voice shook so badly, he was nearly incomprehensible. He sniffed wetly on every breath.

'I got my name printed.' Zdravko said flatly. 'I got an assault charge printed in that "Prosím, Kira" fucking magazine.'

'Kira doesn't read "Prosím, Kira".' Evzen said definitively. 'Kira doesn't fuckin' read "Prosím"!'

They were all coated in the smog of terror. Dread had seeped between them, into them. It saturated their lungs. Evzen smoked four cigarettes in the time it took to drive Aleksy and Taya to their home, where they parted with prayer and blubbering blessings and then disappeared with the cowering guard dog into their flat, and then smoked two more after they'd dropped the girls at a Hotel where a worried looking grandmother ran out to take them into her arms. His hands were shaking.

'What's "Prosím"?' Mello asked while they sped back to the Javorsky family home.

'Pro-Kira paper.' Zdravko answered him. He had lain horizontally on the back seats, feet on the ceiling. 'I'm going to die. Leave me on the side of the road, Evzen.'

'Fuck you.' Evzen snapped. 'Shut up. Kira doesn't read the local fuckin' papers. Kira is in Japan. He doesn't read them!'

Mello swallowed, but his mouth was bone dry. 'You got your name in there?' He asked Evzen.

'You shut up, too, Keehl. You shut the fuck up.'

'Everyone got their name in there who was at that shooting.' Zdravko said. 'It was in most of the papers, man.'

Mello didn't want to be in a speeding car with a driver who might have a heart attack at any moment. He bounced his leg nervously. Death was everywhere and coming for everyone.

For nearly a year, now, the Wammy's kids had been inundated with information about Kira. His motivations, his morality, his psychological profile, his location, his age, his victims' names and faces, the limits and rules of his power. Inside, intricate knowledge had been presented to them like it was a unique and special gift. What an interesting, challenging case! With cold detachment they had poured over data and reports. None of it had prepared Mello for a reality where Kira was judge and executioner, where children were orphaned thanks to his decisions, where delinquent boys cried for fear of him, where families broke.

Evzen threw the truck into park outside the cozy pink house. The porch light came on when they strode across the grass: Evzen in front with his deepest frown yet, Zdravko silent as a spectre, hugging himself around the middle like he might shake apart.

Evzen opened the door slowly, anticipatory. 'Máma! Táta!' he called out, standing with his heavy boots on the carpet.

'Evzen?' Darling called back. She appeared from the kitchen, holding a wooden spoon and wearing a green apron. 'Are you staying for dinner?' she asked Zdravko brusquely, snapping the spoon at him.

Evzen collapsed into his mother's chest, wrapping his long arms around her round shoulders. He was much taller than her, but when he folded into her embrace like a pill bug, he was small as a boy. She clutched him to her and rocked him, muttering 'what is it? What's wrong?'

'Is dad home?' Evzen asked, letting Darling pull away to stroke his dark hair smooth against the crown of his head.

'Not yet.' Darling said. 'No, he is working late.'

Evzen's face twitched and fell.

'You better call him.' Zdravko piped up. He was swaying on the balls of his feet, hands buried deep in the pockets of his jeans. 'You better check on him.'

Darling slapped her hand over her mouth. 'No, no, do not tell me -'

'Kira.' Mello rumbled from behind them all. He felt like a thundercloud, a harbinger.

As a unit, the family huddled around the telephone. Tears were streaming down Darling's face. She kept the receiver tilted out, so they could all listen. Mello could hear a pot boiling over in the kitchen. Ringing and heat filled the house. It was like being in Hell.

And then, Dmitri answered. 'What?'

Darling let out a single loud sob and fell against the wall in immense relief. 'You are coming home!' she cried. 'Thank the Lord!'

'I'm only a little late.' Dmitri said, confused. 'Ten minutes.'

Mello felt Evzen grabbing him around the shoulders, pulling him close. On Evzen's other side, Zdravko, high as shit and conflicted with loss and celebration, was slapping Evzen's back and nodding his head like a pecking crow. Even as they squinted smiles at each other, held each other, Mello felt heavy and empty. There was no real relief to be had. If they were criminals – known, named criminals - there was no escaping Kira's will. One day, the guillotine would fall on them all. It was only a matter of time.

Mihael Keehl had to get the fuck out of here.

Dmitri came home to his wife ordering pizza and the boys all sitting at the table drinking schnapps. The dinner Darling had been cooking was ruined, burnt and unsalvagable.

'It's worse for my nieces.' Zdravko said after Dmitri had sat and been told the story of Kira's broad-stroke in the garage, over a slice of pepperoni. 'I had my brother in my youth, to look up to. They have no one.'

'They have you.' Darling said, putting her hand on his. 'We have each other.'

Small consolation, Mello thought. A meth addict uncle with a death warrant.

The house was a cage of spirits, now. Mello slept in Evzen's bed again while Evzen laid on the floor wrapped in a knit. Zdravko sat on a chair in the corner, smoking and whispering. That gentle blue tint that had been comforting and nostalgic the night before was now sad and dense. The smell of smoke was overpowering, Evzen's cologne too pungent and close. Mello buried his cheek into the pillow so only one of his eyes looked out at the melancholy scene that had crashed into this hopeful place. Selfishly, he didn't want to know when the rest of the family died. He wanted to be far away when their time was up, and to never think of them again.

Mello was the first to slip asleep and the first up in the morning, the least affected by mourning or anticipation of mourning to come, as was the case for Evzen. He crept across the squeaking floorboards under a curatin of sunrise, stepping over Evzen's sleeping body and past Zdravko, who was curled in a ball at the feet of the chair where he'd spent most of the night awake and tormented.

Mello bathed with the light off. What was delightful luxury the morning before was now guilty indulgence; he wanted to use the keratin and he wanted to look at his beautiful self while he flat ironed his hair. He felt that he had achieved some milestone, having seen firsthand dying. Near had never watched Kira kill. Mello understood more about life and death than his rival ever would, more than likely.

Something like "oh, so now it's personal" would be a joke Matt would tell, in this fragile moment. No, more like... Mello would hint that his own motives had strengthened and become more complex, more organic, and Matt would say, "holy shit, Mello, really? Is it personal now? You don't even know these guys. You're, like, co-opting a narrative to make yourself feel better." Matt would ask him if he wanted a Girl Scouts Badge.

Good thing he hadn't brought Matt, for now. Doubt and self-reflection would slow him down, and the clock was running.

When Mello came out of the bathroom, coiffed and resolved, Darling was up and bustling around the kitchen. 'Let's cheer Zdravko up.' she barked at Mello. 'You mix dough.'

He nodded and stepped up to the counter, sunk his fingers into butter and flour.

'Here, cream.' Darling muttered to herself, speed walking past him with a bowl. 'Berries. Here.' She slammed a bowl of raspberries next to Mello. 'Put them in.'

'What is it?' Mello asked.

'Scones.'

When the baking was in the oven and the eggs were hard boiling, Mello was tasked with setting the table. Darling gave him a centrepiece made of pine and red ribbon and two white candles to light. 'It's almost Christmas.' she said. 'Dmitri doesn't like to decorate until last minute, but I like it.'

'It's nice.' Mello said. 'Do you mind if I use the phone?'

'Call Evzen and Zdravko down when you're finished.' Darling told him. She turned away to get jam out of the fridge.

'Matt.' Mello greeted when the line connected.

'Mello! I was going to call you, but I didn't know – well, I guess it's 9 where you are - '

'I'm surprised you're awake.' Mello said.

'Well, it's Monday. Happy birthday!'

'I forgot.' Mello said. Matt must have missed class, as usual. He would be sitting in the bathroom, then, playing on his GameBoy.

'Nah. You called me so I'd say it.'

'I just remembered a minute ago.' Mello grumbled. 'I wasn't keeping track of the days.'

'And then you called me to see if I remembered, yeah. Anyway, write this down: the user is "mattsthebest" and there's a key, and the key is "16112004". Its at this Polish file share website, it's called Dokumenty. So we'll never actually send anything anywhere, we can just share an account and it's totally private.'

'Oh – you're talking about your "channel".'

'Yeah, because if you're not answering my messages on MSN, the only valid excuse is, uh, death or - '

'There's no computer here.'

'So they invented libraries in like, 3000BC for that exact reason.'

Mello snorted. 'I have to go, Matt.'

'What are you doing?'

Mello shrugged, even though Matt couldn't see it. 'I'm figuring it out.'

'Ok. Sure. Sounds urgent. I meant right now.'

'So did I.'

Mello kept the phone to his ear for a minute, listening to the dial tone after Matt hung up. He heard Darling stomping around on the other side of the wall, making noise to raise the dead. She called for the boys herself, shouting their names. Dmitri came down the stairs first and patted Mello's back while he passed.

The family sat around the merrily dressed table, downtrodden. Dmitri flipped open the morning paper, which he had collected from the front stoop, and pinched the bridge of his nose, frowning deeply. The front page headline read "KIRA IS HERE".

Evzen's fit about Kira not reading Czech papers flashed in Mello's mind's eye. It didn't matter what Kira read, really. Nothing mattered except perfect anonymity, that much was clear.

'Oh... Mihael...' Dmitri breathed, pausing in his scan of the story. He smacked his lips, offered the paper to Mello with a pitying frown. 'Kira was in the prisons.'

Mello read the list of names printed – the casualties in a mass murder committed the night before of, primarily, convicted or wanted men between the ages of 30 and 55. And among them, Hydek Keehl, murderer of two. Father of two, too, but that was not printed.

What, Mello thought, is the fucking point of slaying the punished? Was there no atonement, forgiveness, mercy?

Evzen grasped Mello's shoulder, face impassive.

Across from him, Zdravko looked like a squeezed sponge. He read the paper, next, and prodded the ink of his brother's name harshly. 'He was acquitted.' he snarled.

Darling nodded. She heaped cream on Zdravko and Mello's plates, forced fruit and cups of coffee on them.

'I'll buy a plane ticket today.' Mello said. Too much more of this would drive him up the wall.

Dmitri sighed. 'We will pray for you.'

'Patya knows you'll be coming.' Evzen said, seemingly happy to have a change of subject. 'I told him you'd be there someday; he lives in Los Angeles. I'll give you his number.'

'And he must talk to Lorenzo. Lorenzo knew your father very well, better than we did.' Dmitri said.

'Thank you.' Mello reached up and fiddled with the beads on his rosary. It had become heavier, not that it had ever been particularly light. 'I'll pray for you, too.' he said. 'And your Family.'

He was getting better at goodbyes. He was getting a lot of practise.