Page 57 of Skin Deep

An unearthly red light emanated from the tower at the center of the house, washing over the lawn, pooling like the gaze of a great eye, watching everything in Simeon’s kingdom. In truth, the light was nothing more than the warm glow of the fireplace Simeon had lit. It was always lit, even in the summer heat. But then I supposed he’d forgotten how to make his own warmth decades ago, even before his heart turned to ice.

We turned down the driveway in Simeon’s Buick, and the gates opened for us. Aleksi had barely said a word to me the entire ride, and I didn’t bother to question him. It’d be pointless, since he wouldn’t tell me anything. Simeon had all the answers, so I’d have to wait.

Going down that driveway was like stepping back in time. How many Saturday afternoons had I spent here as a child playing with Aleksi and Sergei? We drove the staff crazy running up and down the stairs, jumping off the back porch, and running around the house. A part of me still yearned for those simpler days when the only guns we held were filled with water instead of lead. Our hearts were lighter then, even if our heads were emptier. Whoever said knowledge was power neglected to mention the price of power was always paid in blood. Whoever was willing to shed the most of his own without dying won.

I was ushered into the foyer of the house where I took off my shoes and two bodyguards searched me, finding two knives. They held the second up with a frown, eying me.

“Forgot it was there,” I lied.

Behind me, Aleksi snorted and put out his cigarette.

Flanked on three sides by armed men, I was escorted up a wide set of stairs and into the eastern wing of the house. I could smell him long before we ever stepped into the room. The air reeked of cleaner and rot, just like a hospital on a busy day. My stomach turned over a little more with every step toward the door where I knew he was waiting.

I hadn’t seen my grandfather since the night Brandon died. He’d had me escorted from the house and tossed in the back of a taxi, still wearing Brandon’s blood. I wondered if he’d even recognize me now.

I was searched again outside the room by another guard before they pushed the door open, and I stepped into Simeon’s room.

The pungent scent of decay hit me first. They’d tried to cover it with air freshener and body powder, but it wasn’t working. The room was dark except for several monitors keeping tabs on his vitals and the fire jumping high in the fireplace. A biPAP machine pumped pressurized air in and out of his lungs, while a dialysis machine scrubbed toxins from his blood. A feeding tube ran into his nose and bags of fluids ran through IVs into his arms. He’d had a heart replacement four years ago and lost his colon to cancer that he’d somehow survived. Yet there he was, a pale, shriveled old man with the power to end lives with a glance.

The only organ that hadn’t yet betrayed Simeon Volkov was his brain. His body had slowly been trying to shut itself down for decades. If he wasn’t filthy rich and well connected, he would have died like any other man. Instead, he was a medical marvel, alive without living.

Gregori Sobchak, his personal physician, was in the room with him. He was a balding man in his sixties, maybe even older. I couldn’t remember, but he’d been my grandfather’s personal doctor for decades. He stood when I entered, but I didn’t start until Sergei stepped out of the shadows, blocking my path forward.

Sergei’s face split into a wide Cheshire grin. “Zdravstvuyte, Warrick. How is Xander feeling? Better I hope? Did you take good care of him?”

I couldn’t stop myself from reacting. My jaw and fists clenched. “You broke his arm.”

Sergei tipped his head to one side. “He insulted me in my own club multiple times. He’s lucky you were there to save him, eh?” He leaned in to whisper. “But that boyfriend of yours and his little girls might not be so lucky.”

“If you go anywhere near them—”

“War,” Aleksi barked, and I shut my mouth before I could say something that would get me killed.

Sergei smirked. “It’s a shame about their mother. I hear she was quite beautiful. But then, beauty is always wasted on the ungrateful, isn’t it?” He picked at my jacket, removing imaginary specks.

“Sergei…” Simeon’s voice croaked.

I looked past Sergei to see Gregori had removed the pressurized breathing mask from Simeon’s face.

Sergei adjusted my jacket and smirked. “Be seeing you around, Warrick.”

I said nothing, glaring at him as he made his exit.

I stayed where I was until Simeon gave a slight jerk of his right hand, gesturing me forward.

“Come,” he wheezed. “Let me look at you.”

I approached the bed on the right side, and he squinted at me with filmy eyes.

His skin was thin and covered in liver spots, the fingers blue-tipped from poor circulation. “You look weak, boy,” he spat.

I tried not to react, because that was what he wanted. It didn’t take the sting of the words away.

He grunted and slapped the doctor’s hand. Gregori offered the oxygen mask and Simeon took it, inhaling deeply. “Your father should have made a man of you instead of sending you to live with women and queers. Where did I go so wrong? At least Nikita has one capable son.”

I frowned. What was he talking about? I was Nikita and Tatty’s only child, and an accident at that. Nikita had told me so himself. I wasn’t supposed to be. I didn’t know how to respond to Simeon’s words without acknowledging Nikita out loud as my father, which I didn’t want to do.

Gregori leaned in closer. “He doesn’t know, Simeon.”

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