So, he was checking my medical and mental state?
“Don’t be a stranger,” I said after him—such a lame movie line.
“See you tomorrow, at work.” He smiled.
I watched him walk down the hall before closing the door. Okay, that was done. I had been a little worried about how things would go between us, but my fears were completely unnecessary. It seemed that I was the only person who people should be afraid of. All those uncontrolled emotions…
Thankfully, it turned out there were pills for that, and sleep came soon.
Chapter 14
A Painting
“Good morning,” I said to Lee and Jacob, entering the Observation room. In my hand, I held a white origami flower.
“Is there tea?”
“I’ll bring it,” Lee replied.
I looked at the now well-known sight through the mirror. It was like I’d never left the cell: he was sitting there in the same position, waiting for me.
“Does he ever move?”
“Rarely,” Jacob replied, and Lee returned, carrying a small wooden box of various tea bags. I took the black tea as a substitute for coffee. I needed something to boost my energy since running was out of the question after almost ten days of barely moving. I didn’t even want to think about how I would do at tonight’s training.
I entered the cell, closing the door behind me. Tertius fixed the same morose look on me, and didn’t say a word at first. I sat in my usual place and placed the origami blossom on the table. “White is the color of mourning, in some civilizations,” I said. After a few minutes his gaze fell from me to the paper flower.
“Nika learned to kill,” he finally said, sounding like the lame title of some stupid book or flick. I didn’t avert my gaze from his eyes. Should I feel guilty?
“So, how was your weekend?”
He let out a little laugh. “Your weekend got extended.”
“Post-traumatic stress, I guess.”
“Taking any meds?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“Don’t. They’ll numb your senses.”
“And what would I need my senses for?”
He laughed again, not answering my question, and then one of our many silences fell into place. Then I remembered Blake’s project, and I asked, “Do you know why Vocati connect only with certain people?”
“Everyone has his or her own place in this world and there will always be at least one person who will understand you.” I rolled my eyes at this generic pop psych, which seemed to amuse him.
“Missed me?”
“A lot.” He looked me through those abysses. “So, how did you kill him?”
“Why do you think it was only one?”
He nodded at the origami. “One flower.”
“I lit one on fire and unsuccessfully tried to strangle the other.” I waited for his reaction. Will he go mad? Will he snarl at me and try to hurt me, like I did one of his? But he just calmly looked at me.
“You don’t have enough strength to break a Vocati’s neck. Soon you will, but by then you might not need to.”
“What? Why?”
He stayed silent.
“Do you hate me now?” I asked, wondering what course our relationship would take after my actions.
“Do you hate me for what I’ve done?” he offered.
“No.”
“Well, there’s your answer then.” He took the origami, putting it next to the vase where the yellow little flowers had already dried, their petals fallen on the table surface.
“What were the Vocati doing there?” I asked.
“What is any Vocati doing in any place?”
“No, there were four of them, a whole team.”
His calm look stayed the same.
“What were they looking for?” I insisted.
“Food?” I felt his sarcasm.
“Maybe you?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” he said.
“Today’s the day you’re in the mood for riddles,” I said with a frown.
“I haven’t seen you for a while.”
Later in the office, a ton of thoughts was attacking my mind.
“Is it normal for a Vocati to not move in its cell?” I asked Belun.
“Usually. Why?”
“Jacob told me that Tertius hasn’t been moving much, so I was wondering if he was saving his energy for something.”
“Don’t worry, he can’t do anything with the silver chains on him.”
“Well, it’s not a matter of worry. I was thinking more along the lines of an escape plan.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Hey, I fought two Vocati—anything is possible!”
“Can’t beat that.”
“So tell me how it all began. The attack, I mean,” I asked, hoping that his point of view would give me some missing puzzle pieces.
“I was in the backyard of the house when I heard Bryn’s scream from the car. I ran to the group, finding the four Vocati circling them. They divided and attacked us, and then you came to save the day.” His lip tilted in a smile, but I was interested in other things.
“You have experience with them. You know their ability, skills, and such. Tell me, how would you describe those four?”
“They were not wanderers searching for food, if that’s what you’re aiming at.” So he was following my work in the cell.
“Were they trained?”
“Not highly, but they weren’t green either.”
“What was your impression of them?”
“I think they were looking for something specific before they stumbled upon us, and then they probably felt like having a snack. I bet they hadn’t counted on two Warriors and a rabid Inquirer.”
I laughed, but the thought of Vocati searching for something wouldn’t leave my mind. What would they search for? Did Tertius know?
“You think they were looking for him?” I shook my head in the direction of the cell.
“They certainly were looking for something.”
“Or someone,” I added. “What direction did they come from?”
“North.”
“Well, there goes my theory. I had hoped that they had come from another direction heading toward the north and Tromsø, and Tertius. But this . . . if they’ve already been close . . . .”
“Mmm hmm.”
“What were they were looking for? What if more of them come?!”
“I thought you didn’t have a problem with that,” he said, and I felt his teasing tone.
I went over everything Tertius had told me up until then, including his reactions, or rather, his lack thereof. He definitely knew something, maybe even everything, but how could I pull it out of him? I probably couldn’t, unless he himself decided to share the knowledge. Trying to figure it out, I realized that I was unconsciously staring at the paintings on the walls. Some of them seemed newly placed.
“You like them?” Belun asked.
“Yeah. What’s that art movement or inspiration . . . ?” I didn’t really know much about art but my tastes were definite.
“These two were inspired by Chirico’s early works. Pre-surrealism.”
I had no idea what he was talking about. “They must have been very expensive.”
“Why would you think that?”
“What, they weren’t?”
“No.” He looked at me with certain intensity. “Why are you asking?”
“I’ve been looking for something to put on my wall.”
“I have more of them. If you want, you can come by later to see if you like something.”
“Really?”
“Sure. Stop by my room later.”
His room? Alarm! Alarm!
“Okay.” I tried to sound calm and cool.
When I finished writing the report, I was very ready for lunch; my stomach was seriously punishing me for negligence. I tried not to think of Belun’s room . . . lalalala la la. Food. Food.
Cool! There was steak. I filled my plate
and, seeing Set sitting all by himself, I decided to join him, and break that ice as well.
“Hey, handsome.”
“Angel! You’re finally better.”
“So they say. May I join you?”
“Please do.” His eyes seemed joyful, but there was a flicker of something else too. Was this unpleasant for him, after all that?
“I liked the present. Thanks.”
“You said you didn’t like picked flowers, so I thought that one in a flowerpot would solve your ethical dilemma.”
I smiled. “It was nice of you.”
As he smiled, memories of his lips and his hand between my thighs and the look in his eyes, rushed right back to me. Had I said Belun’s name aloud after feeling that pain in my chest? I wasn’t sure; I only remembered my inner cry for him. Had I hurt Set that night?
“I had to somehow reward your heroic act,” he said, but I wasn’t exactly feeling heroic.
“Have you heard from Julia? When is she coming back?”
“In a few days.”
“I miss her.”
“I can see that,” he noted.
His look always seemed to hover between joyful and seductive, and when you added his honesty to the mix, he was really quite attractive. However, if it weren’t for the honesty, he’d probably be just another asshole. The image of his hand on my skin flashed before my eyes again. What did he remember of that night? Was that what I saw in his eyes a minute before? It was sexy, I couldn’t deny. I wondered how much of me was present in those moments, which reminded me of Tertius’s answer to a similar question—15%. Was that enough to deserve a guilty conscience? Probably.
“Story is that you’re eating your steaks bloodier and bloodier.”
“My best regards to the chief. So, Set, when is your birthday? Do you guys ever celebrate birthdays?” That made him laugh.
“Why, you want to tell me that you’ve already given me my present?” His sudden relaxation and grin surprised me. This was the Set I knew, and I assumed that that was the best way to smooth over the whole situation.
“Something like that,” I teased back.
“In that case, you’re way in advance; it’s in May.”
“So you do celebrate it. I have to memorize Doris’s then.” And I wondered when Belun’s was. “How long does a vamp year last?”
“It depends. In our first twenty years, after the eighteenth birthday that is, it lasts forty human years. Later, it’s measured by centuries, or even millennia.”
“Wow.”
“But, angel, we usually don’t like talking about our age.”
“Oh, I’ve noticed that.”
“It makes us feel old compared to you.”
“Which you are.”
He threw a bean at me.
Later, in my room, I looked for a book to read. My bookshelf only offered me things I’d already read or whiny love stories that I wasn’t in mood for. Julia had mentioned contemporary literature, so I went into her room hoping that she wouldn’t mind me snooping around.
From what I could see, she liked designer clothes and books, because both were everywhere in no specific order. There were many New York Times best sellers, and some authors whose names I couldn’t pronounce. She apparently had a respect for world literature. After skimming through shiny book covers, I spied Galapagos by Kurt Vonnegut on her nightstand. It was on the top of the pile, and I took it.
Reading it on the couch, I didn’t even feel the hours passing. The book had hooked me with its story and characters, and suddenly I felt that the time to visit Belun’s room had come. I decided to go, dressed as normal, bringing sports clothes with me.
Standing in front of his door, memories of the feeling I had the last time I stood here seemed rather funny now. I was no longer overwhelmed; there was only some trace of the jitters.
I knocked.
“Hi, come on in.” Belun opened the door, smiling. He wore a white tee with a drawing of the Brooklyn Bridge on it.
So, here I finally was. The first time in his room.
“This is much better than mine!” I gazed at the loft.
Closest to me was a huge TV faced by plush furniture that was much more stylish than Julia’s and mine. In the left corner of the room was a big metal bed with black sheets; I shifted my gaze immediately, fearing that he would notice me looking at it. In front of the bed, against the wall, stood a wooden closet with one wing open and covered with a long white bed sheet. As if he was hiding something. I wondered what it was.
To the right of the room’s door was a small kitchen with a dining table. Everything was nicely arranged in an original style. Also, I saw three electric guitars on a stand next to the TV. Interesting paintings and photographs covered the walls. Some of the photos were body parts in motion with shadows playing over them. You had to look for a while to figure out what they were. They were mostly black and white. Who would guess that a great Warrior had such a fine sense of art?
“I like the place.”
“Thanks, I tried to arrange it as comfortably as I could.” He smiled.
“It’s great,” I said, sitting in front of the TV, turning my back to his bed.
“Grape juice?”
“Sure.” I watched him walk to the kitchen.
“Three guitars?”
“They all have a different sound.”
“I wouldn’t know. I held a guitar once though, but I’m more into piano. I grew up with one.”
“Really? Your parents played?”
“My dad’s a jazzman in his soul.”
“Then you should have good taste in music.”
“I don’t know about that. I like it,” I answered, taking the juice.
There was something wrong with this whole arrangement—me being here, in his room, drinking grape juice, chatting about personal stuff. It was out of our ordinary context and it awoke a shyness in me, and also some heaviness.
“You play?” he asked.
“A little.”
“Then I have to find a digital piano!” he said, grinning.
“Or I should learn to play guitar.”
“No problem. Pick any, but the Gibson’s mine.” His grin widened.
Everything seemed joyful to him; he was smiling a lot, and me—well, I sat stiffly in one place sporadically sprouting smiles. Only then did I notice a frozen picture on TV, some black and white movie.
“I interrupted you,” I realized.
“Oh, no. I’ve seen it already.”
“What movie is it?” I asked, not crazy about old flicks.
“Wings of Desire, you seen it?”
“I don’t have enough patience for old movies.”
“Well, this one’s not as old as you think. It’s from ’87.”
Right, several more decades than I’d assumed. I smiled at him in the same way I had with Blake and Tibor when they told me about Dracula movies and that Bauhaus band.
“It’s a Wim Wenders film. You have to see it one day.”
“Sure. You know, I’ve been already criticized for my lack of cinematic knowledge.”
“For any specific reason?” A grin was already spreading across his face.
“It was about an actor, actually. Bela Lugosi,” I said, and he started laughing. It was pleasant and awkward to hear. It was so casual, and easy, and light. He leaned back, bent his knee, and put his foot on the sofa.
“Honestly, that is a big oversight.” He looked at me. “Okay, then, what is your favorite movie?”
I’ve always hated those kinds of questions. I have no favorite movie, favorite book, nor a place on Earth or anything else!
“What’s wrong?” he asked, probably seeing some change on my face.
“Nothing. I just don’t really like these type of questions.”
“Ah, you’re one of those people without favorite stuff.”
“Mmm hmm. One of those.”
“Meaning, you like them all or you hate most of them?”
Now I laughed
. “The latter.”
“The cause for that is usually not knowing things well enough.”
“Maybe,” I said. Or maybe not.
“Okay, come and see the paintings.” He stood up. “By the way, Baldur approved your intensive training. So, Lee or Jacob will join us in the gym from now on.”
I was puzzled, but I followed him further into his loft. We passed the place covered by the sheets and I imagined pretending to slip and pulling the sheets off in an attempt to catch myself. Mystery wrapped in an enigma. But I suppressed the urge when I saw over a dozen unmounted canvases placed against another wall.
“If there’s anything you like, you can take it.”
“Really?”
“Sure. I change them out with the others when I get bored.”
I studied each one of them. Then I looked again. They were all interesting; there had been nothing like them on the Internet those couple of times I searched. There was a difference in style, but they all had something similar that I couldn’t put my finger on. It was probably Belun’s taste. I started to look at them again, this time more thoroughly. Mostly they were of objects, and occasionally some abstract stuff. Also there were some still-lifes, but painted in a totally unexpected way.
“It’s okay if you don’t like any of them.”
“Don’t like them?! I like all of them!” I said and when he smiled again, there was something different in it.
“Okay, show me the ones you want.”
I pulled out five of the paintings. He took them from me.
“How many do you need?”
“One to hang above the bed,” I said.
Belun stepped on his bed and leaned each of the paintings against the wall.
“This might help you to decide better,” he said.
In the end, I’d narrowed it down to two. One showed a view from a building, spreading out over the other roofs with old TV antennas and pigeons. Everything was in shades of gray with only one red detail, a pair of pants hanging from someone’s window.
“Where would a place like this be?” I asked.
“It’s a town in the European part of Russia.”
I assumed he knew that from its title, which I hadn’t seen.
The other painting had a very strange and abstract mix of weird shapes and objects. The dominant colors were red and green. Its gradation and size distribution woke something different in me, plus the way that Belun looked at it made my decision easier.
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