Page 49 of See No Evil

Ego.

An altar…

For the Devil’s son.

There were assorted half melted candles, handwritten summaries written in English and Spanish. Red ink. Scribbles. Angry, dark lines. Maps with circles and green push pins. Three old photographs were spread about the display. Three men. The one in the middle had his eyes scratched out. Something was drawn around his neck, perhaps a noose of sorts. The one on the left had a bullet sticker on his forehead. The one on the right had a knife in his eye. A real one. A small paring knife was sticking out of the picture, as if someone had jammed it in there with all the force they could muster. A sick game of darts.

Chills went up and down Desiree’s form as she took in the display, while Bobby Caldwell sang, ‘What You Won’t Do For Love.’ A part of her was terrified. The truth stood there naked—dripping with insanity, but not a drop of remorse. There was no mystery here. Legend was plotting to kill these men.

He was on a twisted mission.

And from the looks of things, he’d been planning it for quite some time.

She heard the floor creek, and spun to look behind her, her heart beating in her ears, her palms clammy. He’d sat on the bed, head down, arms folded across his lap. Defeated, and yet, still strong. Naked—in more ways than one.

I can scream. I can pretend everything is cool and walk out of here knowin’ damn well I ain’t gonna speak to him again. I could take my chances, call the police, and tell them what I saw. Or I could ask him what I already know, but help him in the process.

I met this man for a reason.

I’ve hopelessly fallen in love with this man.

This man scares me.

This man scares himself, too. This man is hurtin’.

This man is mine…

This matter would have to be handled with caution or there’d be dire consequences. She, too, was naked, but her nudity felt okay. She’d lived with it for a while. She’d paraded it around. She’d lain with it, became it, and sported it like a flag. She’d accepted it, and healed—dealt with her nudity, her scars, her scabs. No Band-Aids. No pain killers.

“I’m not going to ask you why you plannin’ to do somethin’ to these men. We both already know why, and you know that I know, or I wouldn’t be standin’ here right now.”

He stayed still, like a statue, never looking up.

“I’m going to ask you a question though. Actually, I’ve got a lot of questions. Will you answer them?”We’ve got work to do.

Legend scratched his temple, then slowly lifted his head, showing her the shadows in his beautiful eyes. She beheld in them a sorrow and pain like no other.

“Yeah…” was all he offered in a hoarse, rumbling voice.

“How old were you when this first happened?”

“…Six.”

“What is his name?” She pointed to the one in the middle.

“Luis.”

“And who is he?” She pointed to the one on the left.

“Carlos.”

“And the last one. Him?”

“Andres.”

“Are any of these men your father?”

“No.”