Page 29 of Seth
He took the police report from the burned-down summer camp, read the notes. The photographs of the victims mixed with the pictures of the sculpture confirmed his suspicion. Gustavo had already established this connection.
A weird satisfaction returned, similar to that he’d experienced upon receiving the chest with the bloody sand. The attention to the detail, every face, and line of the sculpture made him wonder why they mattered to Gustavo, just like that sand packed in the antique chest.
Seth shrunk back, realizing that the feeling swelling in his chest resembled hope. The hope for understanding, for connection.
A scornful snort escaped his mouth as he gave another critical eye to the mess on the desk. The amount of work Gustavo had done impressed him. However, it made him wonder why a person of such status and power wasted his time on something like this.What’s the real reason behind his curiosity? Did I kill someone important to him?
The thought had weight. He rummaged through the papers until his fingers picked up a separate file. The feeling of intrusion aggravated as he opened the dossier. Sad, serious eyes stared at him from the first page. The eyes he loved to the point of madness—Justin’s eyes.
His cheek twitched as he forced himself to flip forward. A tiny biography occupied only half a page.
So little…The dossier made Justin look insignificant, almost non-existent. As if he was just a handful of words. His vision glitched, refusing to read the lines as he leafed through to the autopsy report.They cut him open…
The thought of someone else touching Justin’s body, cutting his skin, examining his organs, splashed darkness in his heart. He looked for the name of the pathologist or hospital details but found nothing. The report was printed on a clean sheet and didn’t have a date or anything to help identify the facility where the autopsy took place.
I should burn this.His gaze traveled over the carved wood, stopped on the antique canvas hung on the walls. He knew they were originals without turning the lights on.Too bad. This is such a beautiful house.But first, I need to find Justin.
Gustavo’s bedroomreekedof sex, sweat, and musk. The scents Seth connected with BDSM clubs and a locker room of the summer camp gym. The association unsettled him for a moment, but he quickly redirected his thoughts to Gustavo, reminding himself that it wasn’t the right time and place to contemplate his past.
He explored the space. The round bed stood in the middle of the room beneath another dome. Above it, the starry sky winked with diamond eyes.
The minimalism of the room contrasted with the rest of the mansion. White and dark brown, with black glass and ceramic, it still carried the baroque theme but looked modern, airy, spacious. Simple, translucent curtains covered the tall, round windows. Sliding doors led to the ensuite and closet.
On the bed, two men slept on different sides. One snuggled under the thick duvet; the other barely covered his muscular body with a thin sheet of silk. They looked as if in their dreams, they had no desire to touch each other. Seth understood that. He didn’t like sharing his bed with people. It felt too personal, unnecessarily personal.
He glanced at his watch. It’d been forty minutes since he entered the mansion. He’d visited every room except for the butler’s bedroom, searched every nook and cranny, yet he didn’t find a single clue of where to find Justin. The hatred in his heart gushed to his throat.
Keeping to the wall, Seth circled the bed, paused to look at the face of Gustavo’s lover. Curly, straw hair framed his open, masculine face. He looked peaceful in his sleep. Young and strong, the man had ancient beauty so rare in the modern days. He inched closer, and a revolting stench of alcohol filled his lungs.
You took what’s mine. I’ll take what’s yours.
Seth inched closer; his fingers brushed over the tool belt, plucked out one of the glass spikes. He brought the sharp point to the ear of the younger man and aimed to stab, but his hand wavered. Never before had he killed without a reason. This young man didn’t do anything to him except being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He glanced at the bare, powerful back of the man who slept on the other side of the bed and revalued his options.
If I make an example out of this boy, the war will begin. How many would I be able to kill before he kills me or before he is finally scared into returning Justin?Seth didn’t know.
If I kill them both, will anyone want to avenge them?The foxy eyes of Gustavo’s friend soaring in his memory provided the answer. The spike returned into the loop of the belt; his hand produced a syringe with Ketamine.Well then… You are coming with me, pretty boy.
The young man didn’t stir when Seth pressed the needle into his neck and squirted the contents in his jugular vein. When the needle left the body, a drop of blood swelled and skidded down his neck.
Waiting for a brief moment, Seth rounded the bed. Sparks of electricity lurked beneath his skin, filling his core with excitement. He wanted to grab a lighter and set this house on fire, to watch Gustavo waking up caught in flames and see his flesh melt. He craved for another purifying fire to set things right. But that wouldn’t aid him with returning Justin, and without the body, he wouldn’t be able to finish SkyBlade. His dreams had told him at least this much, and they had never been wrong before.
Another syringe appeared in his hand before he injected the muscular neck of the other man. Dark eyes flew open, and a heavy, confused gaze settled on Seth before a wide hand seized his wrist and forced it away. Seth’s skin whitened around Gustavo’s grip, but as always, he didn’t feel a thing. The man opened his mouth. Seth hurled back. The rifle slipped off his shoulder, and before he knew it, he crashed the gun’s butt against Gustavo’s nose. The meaty sound rebounded in his ears, but the iron hold of Gustavo’s fingers weakened and released his wrist. The slack body sank back onto the pillow.
His adrenaline spiked, doubling his pulse. Seth released a constricted breath before rushing to the other side of the bed. Grabbing Gustavo’s lover, he wrapped his arm around his neck and tried to lift him. Seth’s knees gave up. He tumbled to the floor with the sleeping body heaping over him, pressing him to the ground.
Seth tried to lift the man again and again until his breath grew short and raged, forcing him to abandon the idea. After shaking the body off himself, he pulled the zipper of his diving suit down, revealed his chest. A large hematoma spread over his ribcage from where the boat threw him against the pier. The black, swollen skin resembled a carbuncle on the decaying body of the dying god from his dreams. He pressed a finger to the bulge. It bounced under his touch but didn’t cause him any discomfort, any sensation at all.
Broken rib?The thought didn’t affect him either. He zipped up.Looks like I can’t carry him out either. What do I do then?
* * *
A hard slapacrosshis face thrust Gustavo out of the colorful delirium. The pressure crushed his head, coming from the invisible spots behind his temples. He tore his eyelids open and focused on Diego’s murderous glare. Jaw hinges bulging, Diego’s mouth twitched as if he wanted to say something, but then he changed his mind and stepped back, disappearing from the view.
Nausea kicked in; Gustavo groaned. The room swam before his eyes, and a swarm of black splotches clouded his vision. He blinked, then again, but his mind refused to identify his whereabouts. His mouth dried up, tongue swelled, and with every breath, he emitted a funny swishing sound.
He groaned, willed himself to prop on one elbow, when all thoughts abandoned him. Icy sweat beaded on his nape as he stared up at the naked body hanging from the dome. Black ropes wound around the arms and legs, straining the body in the horizontal position, crimson splotches covering the pale flesh. The ropes streamed to the heavy chandelier hovering below the dome, looped over, and then stretched to the sides of the room.
