Page 14 of Seth
He understood the provocation. Whoever sent this tribute wanted to see him react. It was obviously a test, and he was failing it. He knew he should at least try to fake some distress as that would give his stalker a false sense of control and security, yet he couldn’t be bothered to act for the entourage because all he felt was relief and excitement.
Finally…
Whatever information his body language revealed, Seth received a clear message that the man who took his sand, his Justin, had realized the great value he possessed. The antique package containing the sand spoke volumes about it. Not in a box, not in plastic bags, but in a beautiful wooden chest with bronze corners that had turned green with time.
Somehow, it pleased him.
“What is it?” someone asked; he didn’t react. His gaze lingered, caressing the rusty splotches. The sand called for him. His fingers buzzed with the need to touch it. At the moment, he didn’t care about all these people around him, his stalker, or the police. He didn’t care about anything, as the sand spoke to him. Red smears, like veins, pulsed as the sand shimmered, full of life, of soul.
He wanted it, needed it. Acute understanding that nothing could substitute for it pierced his mind. He had to reclaim it whatever it took.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Seth?” The low, quiet voice brushed against his neck. Seth didn’t sense anyone approaching him, and now every cell of his body tensed with surprise. He whipped around and linked his gaze with the black, impenetrable eyes.
An odd thought that he couldn’t tell the irises from the pupils touched the corner of Seth’s mind. Hiding in the shadows of the prominent brows, the pupils of the stranger absorbed light as if feeding on it.Just like black holes.
He’d only seen the man once, in the dead of night, yet he instantly recognized him and his heavy, dissecting gaze—the gaze of a hunter, not prey.
The man smiled. When he spoke again, his voice sounded low, barely audible, tranquil. It had a hypnotizing timbre that seemed to relax everyone around.If a cobra could speak it would have such a voice.
“Easy. It would be a disaster if we get passionate and accidentally overturn the chest. The sand is so light; I went to a lot of trouble to collect it.”
Around forty, the stranger had bronze skin characteristic of southern people born close to a sea. He wore a casual smirk, anything but sinister, yet the skin at the back of Seth’s neck crawled.
“This, my friends,” the man announced, bringing his voice higher for everyone to hear, as if intentionally attracting their attention, “is high purity silica sand. A low amount of iron oxide gives it a lush, rusty hue. Unfortunately, it’s not sustainable and will clear out if processed.”
Bypassing Seth, the man bent forward and scooped a handful of sand.
Seth’s insides withered. A sour taste flooded his mouth as he stared at something pale peeking from under the sand. His eyes strained, making out a bluish fingernail.
Justin.A very calm thought touched Seth’s mind. He blinked, trying to understand the rules of the game, failing.
Right now, even if Seth reached to the chest and pulled out Justin’s body, no one would be able to accuse him of the murder. The body lost value as soon as it was kidnapped from the crime scene. Now, even his DNA and fingerprints wouldn’t be damning in the eyes of court if he had a good lawyer. The man would know this, yet there would be more than enough problems with the police for them both, and his career would be over.
What’s he doing?A corner of Seth’s mouth quirked in a smirk at the interesting presentation of power, of dominance. Staring into the chest, Seth found himself both intrigued and amused by the turn of events. It would be even funny if he didn’t crave this sand so desperately.
I don’t get it. Why is a man who isn’t scared of bringing a dead body to a room full of press trying so hard to impress me, to daunt me? If he wanted to use me, manipulate me, simple pictures would be more than enough.Why bother with such an elaborate display?
In the paralysis the confusion instilled,Seth couldn’t look away from the piece of flesh beneath the rusty sand.
As if reading his mind, the man grabbed Seth’s wrist, demanding his attention. The unwanted touch electrocuted him, cramping his muscles.
“The best sand there is.” Forcing Seth’s hand palm up, the man poured light powder onto his palm. “I heard a legend that our ancestors believed that red sand took its color from earth saturated with the blood of fallen warriors. Some believe it still carries their souls.”
Breaking the spell of immobility, Seth yanked his hand away from the stranger’s grip and tossed the sand into the chest, dusting the small piece of flesh. He took a step back and clenched his fists, suppressing the desire to wipe his hand against his pants.
Their eyes linked again.
“Of course, those are just legends. Without the hand of a master, it’s just sand, nothing else.”
“Gustavo, you came after all.” Arnold, breezing past Seth, caught hold of the stranger with both hands. One shook a sturdy hand, the other wrapped around the man’s elbow.
Gustavo, hm? I was right after all. He is from South Europe. Spanish, Italian, Portuguese?
“Seth, let me introduce you to my good friend, Gustavo DeSilva. He is a huge admirer of your talent.” Still holding Gustavo’s hand, the silver-haired man beamed. The smile on his face had been trained with countless social gathering, but his eyes cracked with laughter lines.
“Ahugeadmirer.” Gustavo’s eyes shimmered with shameless curiosity. There was something vaguely familiar in his expression, but Seth shrugged off the feeling. Gently releasing his hand from the lock of Arnold’s fingers, Gustavo cut the distance between them. A faint smell of spice, wood, and heady sweetness washed over Seth as the man peered at him from above. “I believe we’ve met before but failed to communicate. I’m so happy to have an opportunity to introduce myself properly. Did I please you with my gift? I hope you will put it to good use.”
In the warm light of the ballroom, Seth could barely read the small, laughter lines around Gustavo’s eyes. Half a head taller and a few inches broader than Seth, the man emitted an aura of solidity, though not the one that instilled safety but of a weapon prepared for war. With one hand shoved in a pocket of his tailored pants, he looked at Seth with the overpowering confidence natural to predators.
