by Ana Calin
And the pictures confirmed. There were no words. My knees weak, I dropped on the bed with the pictures in my hands.
The first photograph she’d held up must’ve been shot with a camera positioned in a ceiling corner, not far from the scene – an adolescent Damian biting a man’s wrist as the latter fought to strangle him with his forearm. Damian’s face was distorted, his body so skinny that his flesh seemed pruned on his ribs, visible between the sides of an open dirty shirt. My heart clenched. He looked as if he’d barely escaped the gas chamber.
In the second picture, Damian seemed just as young, but the contrast between the first pic and this one was staggering. Had I not known better, I would’ve thought him a pumped-up twin of the underfed urchin in the first, a muscular brute. But the eyes... the eyes had the same glassy despair about them. Shirtless and splattered with blood, knuckles white around the hilt of a knife that dripped blood onto a body piled at his feet as if disjointed; he seemed a demon.
“I can’t do this.” I dropped the rest of the pictures.
“You can’t afford can’t now, Alice,” Leona said.
I fought against what felt like an anxiety attack, but it didn’t stop her.
“You need to know,” she pushed. “The first picture you saw, that was Novac at the inn as a fifteen-year-old, gone mad under the influence of the gas for the first time. That was supposed to happen with us at the cabin in the mountains as well. But the rest of the pictures, that’s him, killing on alpha brain waves, Alice, completely aware of his actions.”
“Stop.” Speaking felt like weightlifting.
“Alice, you need to open your eyes. Novac might have left BioDhrome, but he’s still a monster! What more proof do you need?”
Monster, yes. “He’s not evil, Leona.”
“He is a villain, you have to realize this!”
“You’re more vehement than ever,” I said, narrowing my eyes.
“After what I’ve seen in those pictures, you bet. He’s capable of the worst. You need to seek Hector’s protection.”
“So that’s what this is all about,” I sneered. “Leona, I’m not sure we should trust Hector at all.”
She took a confident step forward. “Hector Varlam is a man of the law, while Damian Novac is indisputably a villain. Sometimes the truth is in the obvious. Hector’s a R.I.S. agent; he works for the freaking Romanian Intelligence Service, Alice, if I have to spell it out for you. While Novac is what those pictures show he is – a killer. What sensible person would trust him?”
“Leona, you can’t just... Hector’s manipulating you.”
“Oh, really? These pictures...” She gathered them from the floor with nervous swipes of her palms, and slapped them on my chest. “They’re snapshots from cameras that Novac himself installed in preparation of his hits. He recorded his kills, he’s sick!”
I spoke slowly, struggling to keep my tachycardia in check. “BioDhrome recorded Damian’s first kill the night at the inn. That first snapshot is proof of this. It must be their practice. And they must’ve imposed it on him.”
“Even if that were so. Such skill as Novac’s requires talent. And talent requires pleasure.”
His words from the night he’d taken me to Café d’Art came back to me. That is a pleasure I grant myself, he’d said about killing. The Order of Lords aren’t exactly flower power either.
“Stop, please.”
But Leona wasn’t willing to stop. “Alice, you need Hector’s protection. And you need to help him lock Novac up.”
“I see.” I gave her a knowing grin. Things began to make sense. “When have you last seen Varlam?”
Leona lowered her voice. “Last night. After the club. I went to tell him what I’d learned from Svetlana. After you left with Novac, jealousy and liquor loosened her tongue.”
So, that’s why Leona hadn’t come home until morning; she’d been with Hector all night. I wondered if anything had happened between her and that hawk. If, before he had those pictures maneuvered into her hands through Tony, he’d secured her allegiance the way Damian had secured mine.
“And what did you learn from her?” I curled up on the bed and braced my knees, trying to get a grip on my racing pulse.
“Svetlana functioned as Novac’s red telephone,” she said. “You know what that is?”
I shook my head.
“She connected him with BioDhrome. She gave him insider information. He used sex to keep her doing what he demanded.”
That last sentence stabbed me in the heart even though the information wasn’t new to me. I did my best to ignore the feeling. “So she admitted to you she worked for BioDhrome? She told you, just like that?”
Leona creased her forehead and folded her arms across her chest. “What are you getting at, Alice?”
I decided to give it to her straight up. “It’s very simple. I think both Svetlana and Hector are with BioDhrome, and they’re manipulating us to help them take down Damian Novac. Tony’s mixed up in this, too, the rat.”
“You’re delusional,” she burst. “Paranoid! Everybody’s against you and Damian, right?”
“Varlam is playing you, Leona,” I said calmly.
“It’s Novac who’s got you freaking brainwashed. But not for long, not if I can help it,” she concluded with a scowl, then turned on her heel, and slammed the door behind her.
I threw myself on the bed, sinking into the mattress face up, and letting ideas scramble into the right place like puzzle pieces in my head. Varlam had won my best friend over. The pictures had shaken her to the core, and I knew her well enough to realize she wouldn’t give Damian a chance to explain. Heck, she wouldn’t give him a chance to come anywhere near her ever again. There was nothing I could say to make her at least try to see things differently and, to be honest, I couldn’t blame her.
I couldn’t ignore the reality of Damian’s nature any more than I could ignore the chasm that yawned wider between my childhood friend and me. Agent Hector Varlam had fed her the exact kind of proof her brain was wired to trust, proof that disturbed me on a deep level, too.
My cell tinkled with an incoming text. Damian waited outside. The morning coffee stopped in my throat, and emotion flooded my chest. My crush on him was growing worse.
Contradictory feelings fought like gladiators inside of me as I walked to his car, holding tightly to a briefcase containing last night’s pictures. Even with the snapshots of his kills firing up in my head, the sight of his beautiful face sent my butterflies flapping like on Valentine’s Day.
I knew Damian sensed how awkward I felt. Talking didn’t go beyond, “Good morning,” and, “How did you sleep?”
As he drove off, he took my hand and squeezed it, trying to ease the tension. I gripped the briefcase tighter with my free hand. I planned to confront him about the pictures, but I needed to be careful with when and how. One careless word from me now, and Leona’s name could end up on his black list right next to Varlam’s.
I thought of possible approaches while we sat in silence in the doctor’s waiting room. Emotion bustling in the pit of my stomach, I inspected Damian from the corner of my eye.
He was a hellish temptation. No wonder all the women around stared or stole glances, from the open-mouthed teenager with lip piercing whose fingers had frozen over her smartphone, to the subtler ripe woman in a mini-skirt who sat cross-legged right opposite from us, pretending to read the Cosmopolitan.
In dark jeans and leather jacket, the shape of his body looked delicious. Not to mention the way the V-neck revealed the top of his defined pectorals. Long barbarian locks, chiseled face, striking eyes, and the effect was blasting.
Twenty minutes later, the doctor, an elderly man with gray whiskers, inspected me up and down from under thick glasses in his office. He handed over the prescription, and I was clumsy to take it.
“Thank you,” I said. I’d never been good at stating what I wanted as clearly as I had with this doctor. I felt ashamed, and my cheeks burned.
&n
bsp; “Just an extra precaution, use other birth control measures for seven days since the date you start taking these pills,” he warned.
I thanked him, then grabbed my bag and coat and hurried out the door. I felt the doctor leering at me – no wonder, really. I wore the same pair of jeans that Tony had disapproved of years ago, a yellow cashmere sweater, and a snug-fitting trench coat that followed the curves of my body. High heels enhanced the effect. Everything on me made me ogling material, including for Damian, to my delight.
We arrived on campus at break time, so we went straight to the cafeteria. As we walked through the staring crowd, Damian kept an arm around my shoulders, as if making a point, and led me to his group. As always, it was obvious none of the guys really felt confident around Damian, all trying a bit too hard to win his favor. All except Gino Bogza.
Gino and Damian had always seemed familiar and at ease with each other, even though they rarely spent time together outside the cafeteria. A heartthrob himself, Gino counted as Damian’s equal on campus, but I didn’t like him much. He’d slept with many Barbies, but got serious with none.
A close look at him with a knowing eye revealed that Gino was an Upgrade himself. Still, he differed from Damian. His eyes didn’t give off quite that specific glow Damian’s did. They looked more like rough blue gemstones than crystal. Golden hair framed his fine and noble features, and his expression was always cheerful. But as we approached, the smile vanished from his face, his eyebrows rising in surprise and a shade of disapproval.
“What’s this supposed to mean?” he demanded after a round of casual handshakes, inspecting me.
“Alice and I are now together,” Damian replied, plain and simple.
“Together?” voices asked in unison, the yelp of my own thoughts among them.
Gino looked taken aback. While some guys tried to engage me in conversation with lines such as, “How long have you guys been keeping this a secret?” Gino glared at me. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to read the disapproval in his every gesture, from his scowl to the folding of his arms every time I spoke. Damian wound a protective arm around my shoulders, and accompanied me to class.
The way my peers stared and elbowed each other, especially after Damian’s see-you-later kiss, felt strangely satisfying. Boys went boisterous in attempts to impress Damian Novac’s woman, aiming to receive some attention and, with it, a boost for their own egos. The girls went red with envy, measuring me with what’s-so-special-about-her looks. The question wouldn’t let them sleep at night, no doubt.
The following breaks, Damian didn’t leave my side. As for Gino, he kept his distance for the rest of the day, and slid his way in the midst of different groups. Quite a skillful infiltrator. He eventually settled for Svetlana and two of her laughing girlfriends, who looked ecstatic to have him. Not Svetlana, though.
With her dyed blond hair, she looked like Gino’s imperfect sister, painfully insignificant in his presence. He was very handsome, I must say, despite the humanizing makeup. A noble elf from fairy tales, dressed out of his time and realm in jeans and sweater. Tall and lean, he had the grace of a prince as he moved, but none of this was enough to keep Svetlana’s attention.
She stared hard at Damian and me. Something jealous and vile oozed out of her and enveloped us, giving me the choking sensation that danger lurked at every corner. It became heavier as evening fell.
We left campus in the obscurity of the evening at exactly the right time to see Leona – whom I hadn’t talked to all day – get into a dark Audi. For a few seconds while Leona climbed into the car, the lights came on, and there was no mistaking Hector Varlam in the driver’s seat.
Damian looked at them with the calm of a stalking alligator. Leona was about to land on his black list, and I promptly decided this was the moment to set things straight.
“Damian, we need to talk.” I tried to keep the anxiety out of my voice.
Damian’s gaze shifted to me, cold and impassible. He held the car door for me with his usual cool composure. My pulse climbed, sweat breaking out through my pores as I watched him walk around and slide into the driver’s seat. The BMW tilted a bit under his bulk.
He said nothing, just waited, beastly eyes fixed on me without even blinking. The finest hairs stood on the back of my neck; I had no idea how to go about this. I failed to find the right words, and my mouth went impossibly dry. I took in a deep breath and simply opened my briefcase that contained the pictures Leona had given me a night before.
Damian took them from my hands without a word. He flipped through them, his jaw rippling, the only hint at his anger.
“This is not who I am anymore, Alice,” he said after a few moments, still alarmingly calm.
“Are you saying you’re not a killer anymore?” My tongue made small clicking sounds from the dryness as I spoke.
“I’m saying....” He stopped, crystal stare fixed on the pictures.
“Do you still take lives, Damian?” I kept my tone as soft as I could, but the beating of my heart gave my words an unwanted edge. Damian’s eyes flashed at me.
“How did these pictures find their way into your hands?”
“Is that even important?”
“You still ask?”
“From Varlam to Tony, from Tony to Leona,” I whispered, then hurried to add, “I know Varlam is trying to manipulate me as he manipulates her, but—”
“Trying or succeeding, Alice? It seems to me he’s achieving his purpose. You’re disgusted with me.”
“Damian—”
In one dizzying instant, he pulled me to his granite chest, his arm tightening around my middle. I inhaled sharply, my pulse pounding my ears.
“That’s why you’ve been aloof all day,” he slurred. “You’re sick of me.”
“I’m not—”
“They want to turn you against me, and that maggot Anton Anghel actually thinks he can pose as something better.”
“You’re a killer, Damian,” I managed faintly.
“I’m a killer,” he hissed, and bared his teeth like an attacking animal, sending chills crawling all over me.
“But I don’t do it without reason, Alice. I only kill scumbags who deserve their fate.”
“You’re no one to decide who deserves to live or die, Damian,” I managed.
A bitter grin curled his beautiful lips. “Oh, I’m afraid having to decide who lives and who dies is my eternal curse. I’m the Executioner, remember?”
I tried to pull away from him, but his arm was a shackle of hard muscle around me.
“Still, I’m your best chance of staying alive,” he said. “BioDhrome would use you and then end your life, believe me. They don’t leave any crumbs in their wake like Hansel and Gretel.”
He paused, his glare steady on me. “Had you been any less intelligent than you are, you would not even have showed me these pictures. You would have sought more proof that I’m a monster in order to justify choosing the other side, and God knows there’s plenty of proof out there. Sooner or later, you would have placed your trust in respectable Agent Hector Varlam.
“I can already see the signs. You’re growing wary and mistrusting of me and, as you surely understand, I can’t afford a weak link.” The green in his eyes deepened, and his features locked. “I’m extracting you, Alice.”
“What? No, Damian! My mom—”
“I’ll make sure your mother is well protected. I’ll call in the Cleric.” He lifted my chin with his hand, compelling me to look into his devilish eyes. “BioDhrome is preparing to pull out the big guns on the Order, on me, and they’ll stop at nothing to get their hands on the only tool that can weaken me – you, because I’ll go to any lengths to protect you. With you out of the house, your mother might actually be safer.”
I’ll go to any lengths to protect you. My heart shot fire to the rest of my body, and I turned to jelly. Could it be that he felt more for me than just dark lust? My throat went dry, and I couldn’t voice an answer. I didn’t oppose as Damian
drove off. He pulled out his cell and spoke in a language I didn’t understand. Something Northern, maybe Dutch or German.
I recognized my name and some of my address in his words. His brows knitted in concentration, the lines in his face hard. Finally, after a few abrupt turns that made me nauseous, he hung up and passed me the cell.
“Call your mother. Tell her you’re staying with me for a few nights.”
“She might not like it,” I managed.
“Yes, she will.”
Taking the cell from his hand, I asked in a small voice, “Is Leona included in this protection program of yours?”
“Your friend already chose sides.”
“No, she’s hasn’t! It’s Varlam. He’s... she’s interested in him and he’s taking advantage.” I felt guilty for betraying Leona’s feelings for Varlam, but I had to play this card to save her.
Damian glanced at me. “He doesn’t feel the same about her.”
“How do you know?”
“All Hector Varlam cares about is money and sex. BioDhrome supplies him with both.”
“She’d be happy with just sex, I’m afraid.”
“Won’t happen. He has special preferences.”
“What preferences?”
Damian hesitated, but went for it in the end. “Drugged prostitutes. So he can do them for hours his way, and they don’t remember much. He can’t risk that with your friend.”
“He’s a pervert?”
“He’s a pig. Now call your mother.”
I dialed the house and told Mom, crisp and short, that I’d be staying with Damian tonight, and hinted at the possibility that it might be a number of nights, actually. When she paused, uncertain, I passed her Damian. He didn’t hover, and managed to make her feel comfortable with the idea, while I thought of ways of persuading him to help Leona.
Soon after the shipyard came into sight, Damian parked the car in a lot by a tower-shaped, withered apartment building. We took the elevator, the tension between us heavier and heavier in the narrow space that rattled and threatened to disintegrate with every story it climbed. Instead of leading me to an apartment door after the elevator creaked open, Damian pulled me after him down the stairs.
