by T. L Smith
“Is that why you’re here?”
He blinks a few times, and I know the next answer he’s about to give me is a lie. It’s his tell. He should know I know this.
“No, I came to proposition you.”
He could be telling me the truth, though I doubt that’s the whole truth. He’s bulkier than I remember, not as large as me, though. But he definitely has more substance to him than when he left. He looks more like our father, whereas I took after our mother. Olive skin, dark hair, dark eyes to his lighter complexion, his lighter hair.
“Tell me so I can go to bed.” I lean back in my seat, and look down, Pollie’s earrings still in my nipples. I wonder if she made it home. I wonder if I can make it there with her still awake so I can fuck her. My cock twitches at that thought.
“He wants you to work for him, he has a great opportunity.”
I start to shake my head, then he throws the money figure at me. I’ve never cared for money, I was raised with it. I’ve seen greed and what it does to people. I hardly cash my checks now that I receive. I live off next to nothing, I have enough money in my bank to last me a lifetime and then some.
I stand and walk to the door, his eyes follow me. I pull it open, waving a hand out. “Get the fuck out.”
He stands, stretching his legs and walks over to me. He leans in and looks me in the eyes.
“I’ve heard stories about what you’ve become, brother. I hope it’s not true. Once you go down that black hole, there’s no escaping. Look at Padre for example…” he trails off when he notices the anger brewing on my face.
I don’t reply. Instead, I say, “Get out.”
He looks at me as he passes raising his eyebrow, and I slam the door harder than necessary when he leaves. He’s lucky he is my brother, or his body would be on my table downstairs right now, being cut open while he screams.
Chapter 15
Pollie
I don’t want to be involved in family business, so I got dressed and left as fast as I could. Now I’m standing just down the street from Dmitry’s house. It feels weird to know his name, it suits him much better than ‘Death.’ Death has such finality. The word means to die, to end, to expire. I hate it. He’s more than that, a lot more. He’s not death to me, rather life, energy, vitality.
His brother called me a hooker. I don’t know how I feel about that. So I shake it off and try to focus on something else. Like why I almost slept with him, again. I don’t do these things. Normally, I know someone well before it gets to that point. Dmitry and I are not at that point. Actually, we are far from that point—I know very little about him.
“What a sight,” a voice comes from behind me. I jump, and my hand goes to my chest. I can feel him close. He’s quiet, much like his brother, though I can usually always feel Dmitry. “You love him?” His hand comes up and brushes my hair away from my face, lingering a second too long for my comfort and I pull away.
“I don’t think... I should be going,” I say turning back to the road, hoping the taxi arrives sooner rather than later.
“I can see the appeal. Your skin is like nothing else I’ve seen or felt.”
That comment sends shivers through my body. I don’t know what he means by that. I know Dmitry loves my skin as well, he’s always touching it. But to hear it from his brother as well, I don’t quite understand.
“He’s intrigued by you, I can see why.”
I don’t hear his steps they’re so silent, but I hear when his voice changes direction and comes to stand back in front of me. He waves his hand in front of my face, I can feel the air movement when he does. I reach up to knock it away.
“You’re blind, right?” he asks himself more than me.
“Yes,” I tell him, hoping my answer doesn’t give him an insight into my disability so he can use it against me.
“So you don’t know what he looks like? How evil he really is? How he looks at you?” His laugh is vile, then his voice is close, I can feel his breath on my lips. “He looks at you like a canvas. He isn’t sure if he wants to paint you, or keep you plain.”
My eyebrows scrunch up into a scowl. What on earth does that mean? What is with all the cryptic messages?
“What do you mean?” I ask voicing my concern. I’m sure he can hear the tremble in it.
“You know what he does, right?”
I nod my head. “He works on the dead.”
“Yes... Yes, though my boy is a bit more twisted than most. You see… his view of death is more like an art. He takes great joy in tearing that body apart, burning every bit of it, ‘til nothing is left but acid. You see, he learned it all from me. All except for the last part. I burn my bodies, cremate them if you will. Dmitry, well, he takes a lot more care. He has fun with them.”
My hands begin to shake, I can feel my breathing pick up.
No. He couldn’t do that. No way.
“No,” I say more to myself, but he hears my response.
“Yes! And I would be careful if you don’t want to wreck your canvas. Because I’m pretty sure he would love too…” He doesn’t say another word just withdraws, leaving those words dangling there. Leaving me standing on the side of the street, scared and worried.
****
I stay in my apartment for two days. I miss work, nor do I answer my phone when it rings. I remain in bed, the only time I leave is when I have to eat or use the bathroom. I don’t know how to feel about any of it. A part of me is screaming to run away, to never see him again. He could kill me at any minute, at any second. And I wouldn’t be able to stop him if he did. Then there’s the part that says if he hasn’t already, why would he now? I mean he tried, and he didn’t finish, though. So why should I be worried, I shouldn’t. Then I slap myself and tell myself not to be so stupid, one slip with a knife, just one moment, and he could take my life while I lay next to him asleep. And I wouldn’t be able to defend myself against him. He would overpower me in an instant.
After three nights a knock comes on my door, it’s loud and hard, and I know it’s him. He’s the only one that would come this late and wake everyone up. I hear him say my name, but I don’t move, instead pulling the covers up over my head in the hopes he’ll go away.
He comes again on the second night, later than last night, and wakes me from my sleep. He stays longer, knocks harder, I’m almost afraid he’ll break my door down.
Then on the third night, he makes me squeal. I cover my mouth with my pillow so he doesn’t hear me. He stays longer and longer each night, his voice beckoning me to come to him, to let him in. I don’t, I still don’t understand him, let alone understand what we are to each other. If we even are anything, and I won’t put my life at risk like that.
The fourth night comes, and he doesn’t knock as hard, and he doesn’t scream my name. It’s a softer knock, more a plea for my name. I fall asleep listening to him saying my name over and over again.
I leave before he’s due to arrive on the following night. Knowing I’m caving, that soon I won’t be able to resist and will pull that door open. So I head to the studio for work, I haven’t practiced in almost a week. When I arrive only the director of music is there. I hear him shuffling papers. I walk past him and straight for the practice room to set myself up. A little later he comes in to check on me, his footsteps stop at the door. He doesn’t speak, just listens to me play and then walks away.
On my way home, I feel lighter, more at one with myself. Being able to play, is like an outlet, an outlet I never knew I needed until the day I picked up a violin. I didn’t think I would be able to play, in my condition, but that wasn’t true. I worked hard to learn as much as possible, to be able to play at the level of people my age, then I soon became better than them. And before I knew it, I was being hired straight out of high school with the many job offers that came my way. I never planned on my love of classical music to actually become my occupation. To me, it was more of a passion, something I truly enjoyed doing. But the moment the opportunity arose, I knew it w
as what I wanted to do and what was needed in my life.
My phone rings as soon as I enter my building, I don’t answer it. Feeling better, and more refreshed, I choose to ignore anything that might put a damper on my mood.
So I lie in bed, and fall asleep, without the knocks from Dmitry which I secretly miss.
****
Nights come and go, and I wait each night for his knocking. I stay up later than I normally would, each day telling myself I may let him in, but he never comes. A few nights later, earlier than he typically comes, a knock sounds and I race to the door. Upon pulling it open, the smell that greets me is a disappointment. It’s Elina. Not that I don’t want to see her, I was just hoping for it to be him, to maybe get some answers now that I’ve had time to cool off.
“Well, don’t look too excited,” she sneers as she pushes past me. I stand with the door open for a little longer than necessary then close it and follow her inside. “I can’t stay long, but I have a present and some news…” I hear the ruffling of fabric and the noise of a zipper, “…I bought you a dress,” she says excitedly.
“What for?”
“For my wedding, of course. You’re Maid of Honor.”
My mouth drops open. “When’s the wedding?” I knew she was getting married, but I didn’t know when and that it would be soon.
“Tomorrow.” She claps her hands then places the dress into mine. I feel the silk under my fingertips, its feels beautiful and elegant.
“What color is it?” I ask running my hand over so I can feel it—it’s a long cocktail dress. Even though I have no idea about colors and what they look like, I want to make conversation. I’ve been told that colors can be brighter or sombre and it helps to know if I’ll be dressed in something light or dark.
“Baby Pink.” She leans in and kisses my cheek. “Make-up and hair will be here tomorrow. See you then,” she says bouncing out the door, she stops just before it closes. “And I haven’t forgotten you avoiding my question about Death. I will want answers after the wedding.” She walks out and the door slams behind her.
I step across to the door, lock it, and carry the dress to my room laying it out on the chair in front of my bed. He will be there tomorrow, I’m sure of it.
I guess tomorrow is better than never to talk to him.
Chapter 16
Death
She doesn’t answer. For nights on end, she doesn’t answer. I don’t know why. It couldn’t have been what I do, I told her, and she was still ready for me to touch her. She doesn’t fear my touch. So I can’t figure out why she won’t see me, especially when I know she heard me.
I do the same thing she does, only stepping out of my home to knock on her door late at night. I stay in my basement, ignoring the bangs on my door, the screams from others.
I work and work. And do nothing but deface and destroy the bodies that are sent my way night after night. I requested more, they don’t argue, then the next night I’m delivered two bodies. I didn’t go to her that night. I stayed where I was, doing what I know will never disappoint me or fuck me over. I cut, tear, and burn each and every limb. Sometimes I go to the extreme of removing eyes when I’m truly lost. I want to keep them, place them in a glass jar and store them on a shelf. But I know I’m not allowed to. All evidence must be destroyed, no matter the circumstances. We can’t risk being found.
When I come up, the sun has risen, and the light hurts my eyes. I don’t look around when I enter, but a voice stops me from stepping forward.
“You think you can hide?” Kazier’s voice booms from behind me. How long has he been here for? Waiting for me. He looks pissed. A lot of people don’t scare me—actually, none do. Though I know he could kill me without a second thought, and make it worse than I could possibly imagine. I have, after all, dealt with all his kills for most of my life. “I’ve been knocking on your fucking door for three nights, Death. Three. Fucking. Nights. Did you know your scum of a brother was back in town?” I nod my head and stay where I am, he looks up to me with a sharp look. “You didn’t think to inform me of this?”
“Why?”
“I could kill you right now for being so fucking stupid. I swear to God.” He starts cursing in Russian, flapping his hands around everywhere. “I’m getting married tomorrow. Bring your fucking brother so I know where he is at all times,” he says walking to the door. He stops when he opens it and turns back to me. “You better fucking be there. If you’re not, don’t expect my next visit to be a friendly one.” He slams the door on his way out.
I step the rest of my way up the stairs. Stripping off my clothes to rid that smell of death, I turn on the water as hot as possible, scorching my skin. Pain, pain is what I need right now.
****
Sebastian comes when I call, I didn’t even need to tell him to dress up for the occasion. He already is, I knew he would. He comes dressed much the same as he was that night, this time he has on a red tie and it matches the color of fresh blood. He walks in and looks me up and down. I have on a suit, the only one I own. It’s for the family, our family crest sits on my cufflinks. He eyes them too.
“We going out?” he asks.
Grabbing the keys to my car, I nod my head. He doesn’t question and follows me out, my hair is slicked back. The length of my Mohawk has grown, I haven’t had it cut, just the undercut redone. He pats my head and laughs as he climbs into the car. His hair is perfect, not a single hair out of place. That’s too much energy for me, to be that perfect.
“Kazier’s wedding. Best behavior,” I tell him.
He nods his head in understanding, though he doesn’t say anything else. I wonder why that is, why there aren’t any questions.
When I pull up to the park where the wedding is being held, I spot Anton, Viktor, and Kazier straight away, all dressed in black. All looking sharp as fuck.
“Not many people, you sure I was invited?” he asks looking at the men who have spotted us. Anton gives me the finger, and the other two just stare.
“I was instructed to bring you,” I say pulling the handle.
His arm comes over to my shoulder. “I don’t think we should go.”
I squint my eyes at him. “You don’t have a choice, get the fuck out.” He doesn’t leave the car straight away, Sebastian sits there and I ignore him and walk straight to the boys. Sliding my sunglasses over my head, Kazier nods and rubs his hands together. The only people here are us and the celebrant that will marry them. He looks nervous, though, his eyes keep on moving to Kazier then back to the ground. I suppose he should know who he is.
“He plan to get out of the car?” Viktor asks nodding his head toward Sebastian. I look back and see him still sitting in the car, just staring out at us. He notices us watching and climbs from the car.
“Here comes the dickhead now.”
“Don’t start, Anton,” Kazier says warning Anton. He puffs out a breath and turns around, his back now to Sebastian. Sebastian shakes Kazier’s hand and drops his head in acknowledgment, then steps back to stand next to me.
“He send you?” Kazier asks Sebastian, speaking about Freya’s father.
“He did… for Dmitry.”
Kazier’s eyes go wide. “His name is Death, and you can’t have him,” Kazier says straightening his spine.
Sebastian keeps his mouth shut. He knows not to argue with Kazier, he is, after all, our boss, and he’s not in Russia anymore.
A car pulls up next to where I parked. We all turn and watch as the door opens, a heel steps out, and I immediately know it’s Pollie. Her soft skin calls my name. She stands tall and turns offering her hand into the car. Her dress clings to every section of her perfect body. Her small curves look like the dress is made of a second skin.
Elina steps out, dressed in white, a black sash wraps around her waist, and curves up her back like lace. I turn to look at Kazier, his eyes bright as he watches her.
Love, that’s what he calls it. I see it in his eyes. I wonder how long that will last. Love neve
r does, it’s all in their brain. Just a chemical reaction that likes to fuck with us.
“Can I hit that?” Anton nudges me nodding toward the girls. I know he isn’t talking about Elina, he wouldn’t dare. He’s talking about Pollie, whose arm is wrapped in Elina’s.
“Can I kill you?” I retort not looking at him. He laughs softly then he shuts up when they get closer. Kazier takes hold of Elina’s hand, leans in to kiss her on the lips, but she stops him with a finger to his lips.
“After,” she murmurs.
He shakes his head and stands tall. “I think this is my favorite, and I can’t wait to tear it off you,” he says eyeing her dress. She smirks and turns toward the celebrant. I twist to look at Pollie, her hands are joined together holding the flower bouquet. Her head is down, and she doesn’t move as the words begin. I don’t even hear the words. All I’m thinking about is taking her away, and possibly keeping her locked up so she can’t make me go through this again.
I take a step closer, her head lifts, and her spine straightens. She knows it’s me. Sebastian is watching us, I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t care.
“Pollie,” I whisper, her head turns toward me then back again.
“Shhh…” she whispers paying attention to what’s going on. I turn my head back and my hand comes up to touch her, it slides along her back which is covered in silk, and I stop just above her ass. She takes a deep breath. “Someone’s here,” she whispers.
I don’t know what she means at first. Of course, there’s people here. Then I turn to look around and a man is walking toward us, eyes covered by dark glasses and something black in his hand.
“Kazier…” My voice isn’t raised as I’m trying to gain his attention. The minute he turns to face me he gives me a deathly look and then he sees it and his body covers Elina’s by stepping in front of her. A single shot rings out, and we watch in fascination as it flies past us and hits Kazier, knocking him and Elina to the ground.
I grab Pollie’s hand and thrust her into Sebastian. “Take her… now.” He looks back, then grabs hold of her hand pulling the keys from me and runs with her to the car. Viktor has his gun raised, Anton is running toward the man with his gun extended in front of him. He doesn’t stop when a bullet rings out, he doesn’t even move out of the way. Viktor fires a shot, I watch as it shoots straight past Anton and lands in the man’s leg. It doesn’t stop him, he just limps then straightens up.
