Page 41 of Iblis' Affliction
Talha knew that something had happened even before his eyes located the dark spots covering Slater’s combat gear and the dried blood under his fingernails. Standing in the middle of the hall, Talha couldn’t miss the ripper dropping his chin as he passed by. Sparing Talha no glance, no greeting, he aimed for the stairs. Already knowing the answer to his question, Talha asked anyway, “What have you done?”
Slater halted. His shoulders drew up as he brought his hands to his face, then clenched his fists in the air. His body twisted bending left then right as if he was fighting an urge that burned him from within.
“A mess, Master.” Slater’s voice came out harsh, jittery, aggressive. He didn’t look back but rushed upstairs as if trying to escape Talha’s company as soon as possible. “Clean it, Master, or you are useless to me.”
Talha’s hand, moving on its own, dug into his pants pocket and grabbed the phone. Unblocking the display, he dialed his informant. His mouth watered as word-by-word the police officer described the bloody picture of another slaughter. Seven people had been murdered in the Gazi Mahallesi neighborhood. All of them were gutted, their organs fed to a pack of stray dogs.
He vaguely remembered going upstairs and looking around. Down the corridor, behind the glass door that led to the terrace, the black figure stood by the white balustrade. With his shoulders hunched forward, Slater looked down. Without thinking, Talha stomped toward the terrace. Shoving the door open, he stepped out and into the cigarette smoke swirling around the reaper. His left palm landing on Slater’s shoulder, and he clenched his right fist, ready to break Slater’s nose when a row of cigarette burns ulcerating Slater’s forearm captured his eyes. Some had crusted over, suggesting they were at least a few days old, the others were fresh. The white deep ones, where the burning tip had pressed into the skin over and over again looked like moon craters against his skin.
His insides twisted, fingers slacked, as he scrutinized the burning cigarette in Slater’s hand. His determination weakened. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“None of your business, Master!” Sucking the air through his teeth, Slater hissed, “Fix the mess, Master, or you are useless.”
Pointing a cigarette at his wrist Slater imprinted the burning tip into his skin. His chest contracting, pushing out a labored breath, but his face relaxed, softened.
“Who paid you to do this?” Tearing the cigarette out of Slater’s fingers, Talha flicked it aside.
“Paid me?” Slater laughed. “No one paid me, Master. Slater did it because Slater wanted to do it.”
Snatching another cigarette out of the pack, Slater squeezed it between his lips, then stroked the lighter. Sucking a few deep breaths in, he waited until the end of the cigarette smoldered, then crushed it against his forearm.
“Stop it!” Talha snapped, seizing his elbow, and Slater spun around. With one refined move of his free hand, he shook off Talha’s grip.
“Slater is thirsty. Slater wants to kill. When Slater feels nothing, Slater is bored. Slater needs pain and pleasure to keep entertained. Master doesn’t want to entertain, so Master has to clean the mess. Give me more contracts, Master, or Slater will find other ways to keep himself amused.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No, Master. You wanted business, here it is. I’ll kill for you, but you make sure I don’t have problems with the police. You clean the mess, so Slater can kill more, and you can have Iblis. Slater is too thirsty to survive on his own. Slater needs a capable Master who will protect Slater, who will control Slater. But Talha doesn’t get it. Talha wants to take but not give. Talha doesn’t want to entertain Slater. If you can’t do even this, then Talha isn’t good for Slater.” Flicking the cigarette to the floor, Slater moved for the door. “Find me more contracts, Master.”
For the first time since Slater’s appearance in his house, the ripper didn’t try to enter Talha’s room, but instead of long-awaited relief, Talha felt a knot of alertness forming in the depth of his stomach. The morning came after a restless, sleepless night; Talha fetched his phone and dialed Ejder.
“Find me a sadistic male escort. Slater is frustrated.”
“A-Abi, he is too much tro-ouble. Why don’t you put him do-own?” The way Ejder spoke through his nose and stretched the vowels suggested he was tired.
“Why should I?” Talha asked. “For the first time, I know what he wants. He brought Istanbul to Behçet. He will bring me Europe. I just have to learn how to use him. If anyone could handle Iblis, wouldn’t it be disappointing?”
EJDER CAME WITH THE DUSK,bringing along a tall, tanned man with shoulder-length hair and confident black eyes.
“Go into that room and wait there,” Talha pointed to the wooden door of Slater’s bedroom on the first floor, then faced Ejder.
Humming, the man didn’t argue, but gave Talha a slow once over and then Ejder, obviously wondering whom he was supposed to please. When no one followed him, he wavered in front of the door, but still entered the room.
“Slater?” Talha called, adding a demand into his voice. “Come!”
The silence stretched for a few minutes before Slater stepped out of the kitchen. Holding a glass of milk in his hand, he crunched a cookie.
“What?” He sounded displeased as if he’d been disturbed. Talha frowned.
“Go into your room. There is a man waiting. He is here to satisfy your needs.” Talha said; his gaze glued to Slater’s face.
The uncertain smile that touched Slater’s lips grew wider until it froze in a toothy grin, and a neurotic knot in Talha’s guts slowly released. Cocking his head, Slater halted with a cookie halfway to his mouth. “Master brought me... a whore?”
He sniggered, shaking with his whole body. Slinking up to Talha, he shoved the glass of milk and the unfinished cookie into his hands, then stole toward his room.
Talha smiled at his brother. If the male escort could keep Slater in a good mood, Talha wouldn’t mind paying him full time.
“Wanna help me with dinner? If Slater is happy, I think you can return home.”
