Page 70 of Iblis' Affliction
“Slater doesn’t have them, does he?”
“No DNA as well?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
Talha nodded a few times, processing the information. A splitting headache frustrated and annoyed. He rubbed his temples with icy fingers. “Ejder, when you put a bounty on Slater’s head, did you call him Iblis?”
“N-no, but it’s clear.” Hesitation crossed Ejder’s serious face; his eyes full of defense. “Only an idiot won’t make a connection.”
“Call it off.”
“What, now?” Ejder frowned.
“Now. You don’t want to cause Miraç problems, do you?” Turning back to Dinçer, Talha kept investigating, “So, I assume, the Hale family blames Iblis?”
“Everyone does. People say he betrayed you like he betrayed Behçet. Isn’t it what happened?” Ejder said, fishing for his phone. Quick fingers flew over the touch screen, as he entered the Dark Net and removed the contract.
Talha ignored him, building a picture in his head. To keep everyone happy, he needed something more solid than a jealous assassin. Long ago, Talha learned that sometimes good can come out of a bad situation. Maybe he still could turn this disaster to his advantage or, at least, minimize the damage. “Tonight, Slater returned covered in blood. Who did he kill?”
Taking a turn, Dinçer replied keeping his eyes fixed on the road, “Just some street thugs.”
“Do they work for anyone?”
“They were from the Tekin family, but they are small potatoes. No one will care about them.”
“The Tekin family? Aren’t they under the Kiliç group?”
“Technically, yes. But the Kiliç group only uses them for dirty jobs.” Dinçer squinted up. “Why?”
“No reason.” Talha chewed on his bottom lip, his mind whirling. “Where are the maids?”
“Some quit, some are still in the mansion. Why?”
“Dinçer… Clear the house, but leave the staff in. I won’t be giving my statement today. Ask them to come tomorrow.” Talha directed, closing his eyes.
“You can’t be serious…” Ejder protested. “They need to see you now. The Hale Family has the right to know what had happened to your bride. You can’t throw them out like this.”
“I can, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Talha closed his eyes, leaning against the backrest. “Tell them I’m not well, which is the truth. Now, keep quiet, my head is spinning…”
THE CAR PULLEDto a stop. Ejder got out and slammed the door as a final argument. A childish gesture he’d carried through the years. Talha opened his eyes, sighed, and got out.
Entering his mansion felt weird. Despite being missing for only four days, it felt like an eternity had passed, yet the memories were vivid.
A single thread of Christmas lights, leading him in the Grand Hall… Pools of blood marring the white marble… Slater’s liquid voice brimming with pride… Everything felt and sounded too real in his head. Step after step, he climbed the stairs, sure that as soon as he turned around the corner, he would see Camilla’s decapitated frame, Zaal’s baked head, and dozens of mutilated bodies.
But no blood, no stench of death greeted him on the second floor, only the closed double doors of the Grand Hall. He couldn’t remember them ever being closed before. He loved the airy space open doors created. In the daytime, the sun flooded the Grand Hall and showered the top of the staircase, making the marble painfully bright. In the night, the bluish light of the moon silvered the staircase, creating a surreal, ephemeral picture.
That realization made him reluctant to open the doors, as a haunting suspicion that the Grand Hall still washed in blood increased. Crushing the momentary weakness, he grabbed the handles with both hands and shoved the doors open.
Acute brightness stabbed his eyes. Blinking through the welling tears with his oversensitive eyes, he couldn’t find a single dark spot among the pristine whiteness. The tables had disappeared, so had the Christmas tree and not a single chair remained inside. No curtains enveloped bare windows. The blood was washed away and the acrid smell of antiseptic replaced the stench of death.
Nothing reminded of the horrific events that had happened here mere days ago.
Keeping close to the wall, Talha drifted around the perimeter. A cascade of blood-curdling memories, surfaced in front of his eyes, overwhelmed his mouth with a sour taste. Wanting to spit, he swirled, facing the empty spot where two throne-like chairs used to stand. The flicker of silverish marble resembled a glint on the silver cover he had held in his fingers, as he examined Zaal’s severed head.
Talha had seen lots of death in his life. Some were necessary, some were accidental, some hurt more than the others, some didn’t touch him at all. But this… This felt horribly wrong. The realization aggravated his guilt.
“None of this was supposed to happen…” he whispered, to disperse the cataleptic silence that seized his mansion.
