Page 29 of Natural-Born Cullers

Now Al had taken the walk back to the gatehouse, that left him all alone, and in a way, he never did mind this quieter side to the manor. He’d played ghost to these halls long before anyone else. His routine was to have a shower once he got home, and with him put on hold now, oil and grease itched at his skin despite the protective gear he wore at work. He really needed to get cleaned up if nothing else.

“Just five minutes, I promise, mukka,” he said as he stripped down. He even threw in the wholewallet, watch, and testiclesprayer kiss up to heaven to seal deals done with the devil.

But he’d lied about needing only five minutes; he knew that as the alarm cut in fifteen minutes later, warning him he was close toquit it, Jacktime as he stood under the hard pelt of the spray, enjoying himself a little too much, just in case Gray wanted to play. Just on the off chance hereallywanted to play, like.

Giving a sigh, Jack stepped out. Then he rubbed himself dry and wrapped a towel around his waist and picked up his coveralls and jeans before tossing them in the washing basket. A more comfortable fit of jogging trousers and T-shirt kept him company after he padded through to the bedroom, and he slipped into some trainers and headed out into the hall, rubbing a towel into his hair.

The lounge stayed quiet as he reached the reception hall below, and giving a glance the kitchen’s way, hearing nothing from there, he left the towel on the banister to take into laundry later, then headed out to the courtyard as he ran a hand through his hair.

Only his own Merc, sunlight, wind, and a few leaves played around him as he stood on the porch, the soft sound of water falling over the fountain. Frowning, he checked his phone again.

Usually Gray let him know if something cropped up between here and home, and considering Jan had said Gray left with Andrews this morning, something had gone down to get them both away from Light. But as no text came through to his phone to suggest otherwise, it still meant Gray was on his way. It still meant Jack was left waiting.

Jack shrugged and, a little at ease with ghosting the grounds alone, he started a run, heading for the side of the manor, away from the summerhouse. He needed the privacy of the wood that ran around the back of Gray’s property more, that call of… routine.

Stitch bit into his side before he even made it to the walkway between car port and the side of the manor, fuck making it around the back, across the green to the woods. Giving a soft laugh, grateful Jan wasn’t there to see him struggle, Jack stopped and tried to catch his breath without it hurting.

“Fuck.” He rested his head to his arm as the wall took his weight.Yeah, go me. Big competitive guy….

From the edge of the woods, Gray rubbed at his head as Jack lingered against the wall. Darkened shadows played around the base of the trees behind Gray, the ruffle of wind through bush, but no drip…

Fucking drop.

He didn’t need home.

He didn’t belong…here.

So why…?

Gray straightened as he looked at Jack.

Routine. All tick, that…

Fucked-up tock.

Leave him on his own after work, Jack would find his way to the shower. Hand him the manor, he’d haunt its halls and take the run eventually. As he rested by the wall now, damp hair framed Jack’s tanned neck and, head bowed, breathing came hard, heavy. He’d taken the run without warming up first, but then his routine had been disturbed, forcing a stumble along the way, forcing him up against a wall to catch his breath, to miss how life was stuck in—

Tick… fucking tock.

Routine. Routine to and from work had nearly just gotten two men’s eyes gouged out.Routineoverlovinggouging out eyes had then gotten their wannabe killers stripped of the skin in their backs and ribs pulled out and broken into the dark beauty of skeleton wings, lungs lined up between them, still slick with blood, ready to have fingers dipped into pools of it as wings were creatively… clipped.

Routine ended in blood on fingertips, and fuck… Jack—he drowned in it, living and loving as it spilled through into his whole goddamn life and dripped off onto the floors of Gray’s bedroom floor, his halls… courtyard outside—the roadside alongside the manor walls, leaving bloodied trails for any common bastard psychopath to come and pick up and start dripping…

Fucking drop.

Jack’s look around the manor for Gray missed all the signs Gray was already here. From the garage, the warm engine to Gray’s Mercedes-Benz cooled to the chill of the day, purring almost contentedly at the rest from the hard drive it had taken to get here. It slept just feet away, divided from him by a wall, and the loss of Jack to his own head as he missed those details opened up all his faults, his flaws, his peace and trust he found around the manor despite the bastard Jack knew walked with him.

A breath brushed Gray’s neck and teased the length of his body. It should have worried him, because it came from the darkness of the forest behind him. Dream… reality… he didn’t really fucking care, it just worked its way into his head, forcing life to fade away into grey, into the mist creeping over the land around him until all he saw was… Jack, up against the wall. His fucking…routines, his tick…

Fucking tock.

For a moment, Jack shivered along with him. Maybe that was Martin’s walk over his grave, one that offered an echo of shared rage because Martin knew, he fought bloody body and soul against routine, tried to fuck up and play mind games with anyone who fell into the comfort of it, who tried to push him into it with the likes of taking breakfast over to Light, because he saw it, all tick…

Fucked-up tock.

Martinknewwhat kind of vibes routine gave off.

What vibesJackgave off now.

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