The Tale of the Blood Diamond

by Laveen, Tiana

  She kept a stone face, devoid of reaction.

  “I have to have a meeting with some…friends. We will keep Zachary with us from here on out until this is over. He must remain in the house. I’m putting him on secure lock down, starting this evening.”

  “Understood.”

  “You can go to work. We don’t want to make them more suspicious. However, you must come home right away. I will take care of all errands. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Also, I will have two Zarkstormian soldiers with you at all times. Pretend they are there to observe the police force.”

  “Will do.”

  “I need more sex.”

  Jayme burst out laughing. Xzion wasn’t smiling.

  “I’m serious. You’ve been doing better, and I know you want it as much as I do, but it still isn’t enough. It makes me feel better, it relaxes me. When I don’t get it often enough, I get short-tempered. Your love is what I’m addicted to, by the way, not the sex, but the sex helps the addiction. I need to be able to think clearly. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” She laughed louder now. He couldn’t help but smile in response.

  “I know it sounds a bit silly, but I’m serious.”

  “I know you are; that is what makes it funnier.” She grinned as she lovingly caressed his shoulder. He stood, taking her with him down the hall into their bedroom.

  “Let me show you something before we retire for the evening.”

  Jayme nodded and kept up the pace with him. Xzion picked up a silver remote, and placed his hand on her thigh to get her to step back. A panel in the floor opened, causing her to gasp and cover her mouth.

  “Down there is a small shelter. I had no reason to show you this until now. It also now houses more artillery than you’d ever know what to do with. It is specific for certain alien invasions. Tomorrow, I will take you down there and after tomorrow, your life will no longer be the same.”

  He closed the panel, causing the floor to blend perfectly, as if it had never been opened in the first place. Jayme stood there, staring at the spot, while he made his way to the bed and fell against the cool sheets, sighing in relief. After a while, he noticed she hadn’t joined him. He sat up to see her still staring at the floor in utter disbelief.

  “What other things are going on in this house that you haven’t told me, Xzion?” Her lips hooked in a half smile with a mischievous veil and her eyes darkened as she examined him. One hand rocked on her pivoting hip.

  “Plenty. Now come to bed.” He patted the space beside him, pissed that it was cold and not heated from the warmth of her sexy body. “I want more pussy,” he slurred.

  Cackling, she threw her head back as she approached him. She slid beside him, seeming to melt into the folded, crisp white sheets. After turning off the light, he ravished her until she screamed his name a million times throughout the night…

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Two light beige rectangular sofas facing one another, framing a gold gated lit fireplace made the contemporary style hotel room feel a bit cozier. Lorenzo didn’t care about cozy when he lounged onto one of the couches and tilted his glass of bourbon a bit towards the floor, as if about to pour out a drop or two for his dead brother. The fire crackled, sending him into a whirlwind of heated thoughts. He’d snapped off the television. There was some breaking news about a huge diamond heist in Russia. Some crazy so-called eyewitness said the thieves broke into the damned place then disappeared into the sky. He’d had enough of that, and turned the thing off.

  He coughed and cleared his throat, then ran his finger under his nose as he deliberated over the course of events. Life was a cruel, ruthless bitch who would occasionally throw her victims a piece of slimy fat to chew on for nourishment. In his loneliness the past few days, he felt imprisoned. He didn’t go out; he simply ordered room service, read and kept quiet as the pieces of his plan rolled together like blunts. No one knew where he was, despite desperate acts to discover his whereabouts. He would pick up his money from a post office box registered under another name. Before he lost his damn mind, Adrianna finally gave him the news he needed — she had all the funds now. She humped her ass off, trying to get him back into the main house and now, he had what the White House employee requested, every cent of it. He sighed as he flopped back in his seat, a satisfied grin on his face. He surmised it was a male version of Monica Lewinksy, a rat holding evidence for a rainy day in order to cash in and get a major prize. Lorenzo went through great pains to come about the information. He’d called the right people, threw on his professional voice — digging deep to make sure this wasn’t a damn set up.

  That was the one thing he couldn’t understand about Preacher. He’d allowed himself to trust the men around him way too easily. If he’d screened the situation properly, he would have known that something was different about the man he’d invited into his fold. He had to have. If Preacher had let him come home, none of this would’ve happened. He could have protected his brother, just as he was supposed to. All anyone knew was that the ‘XXX Killer’ was a tall Hispanic guy, but at least that was a starting point.

  Preacher had been taken down, just like the rest of the maniac’s victims. What type of man slices another man in half and before leaving the body to rot, burns a symbol into the middle of the victim’s damned forehead? What type of man does that over and over, and doesn’t get caught? It was mind-boggling. Lorenzo figured, much like pimping, the killer was a mind fucker. He was probably charismatic, appeared to be trust worthy. He played roles, acted on a whim, and no one, not even his damn self, knew who he really was.

  And here everyone was…in a whirlwind of confusion from a spree of strange abductions that had no rhyme and reason and people lying about dead, once a mothafuckin’ ’gin. Just like before, some of the dealers disappeared, but there seemed to be nowhere to run. All over the country, all over the world, people were disappearing into thin air, at the same damn time. Lorenzo had been stuck looking at the news, much against his own reasoning. This was something he rarely did, and in that time, he was quickly educated on just how fucked up the situation was. Centipede was right. Something was definitely going on. He didn’t believe the president. The man stood there in that press conference assuring the American people that this was no terrorist attack. Oh, it most certainly was.

  Lorenzo sighed and pulled a cigarette out of the box from his pocket. He glanced toward the jumping flames of the fireplace and rolled further down the bumpy road of his thought processes. He wasn’t a conspiracy theorist by nature, but he liked to think, figure stuff out. He’d always been that way. He had to be. He was constantly aware of his surroundings and would study people closely — as if it were a game he was too afraid to lose. There was a rhythm to these killings and abductions. He could sense it.

  None of the victims appeared to have anything in common, but America, several countries in Africa and Russia were being hit the hardest. He sat up with a map on his phone, looking at the areas, dissecting the information. He had nothing but time, so he utilized it. The ‘XXX’ Killer was behind this — of that, he had no doubt — but the man couldn’t be in two places at one time. Some of the killings and abductions were happening literally minutes after one another, so he obviously had help. The majority of these people reported dead or missing were not drug dealers; not that he was aware of, anyway.

  However, all of the countries, with the exception of America, had highly sought after natural resources. The most essential and sought after were diamonds. Being a lover of the finer things in life, Lorenzo always wanted to know the history of the things he coveted. He understood what it took to find a diamond, and to turn that rock into something real. He was not an overly flashy dresser, but he did enjoy these things immensely. He couldn’t figure out the angle, though. Why would the ‘XXX Killer’ be after diamond rich areas and why was he back in the United States? The U.S. was not the ideal place for diamond mining. But nevertheless, the man was here all right; th
e D.C. informant said he had proof.

  He sighed in irritation. Some of this simply didn’t make sense. Lorenzo ran his hand nervously over his face. Maybe he was wrong; maybe he had it all twisted. Maybe these killings had nothing to do with the ‘XXX Killer’ at all, despite the strange multiple homicides in that fucking garage. That could have been someone or a group trying to show out, and marking bodies the same. No other victims had those damn markings, and the ‘XXX Killer’ seemed to be a proud man. To add to the pile of confusion, the ‘XXX Killer’ didn’t have a history of abducting people.

  Lorenzo second-guessed himself, figuring his obsession with the man, was making his thoughts blend together, creating sludge. Just then, the hotel phone rang.

  He leisurely rose and strolled over to it. Taking one final deep breath, he seized the white receiver.

  “Hello… yes. Come up to room 579.”

  He hung up the phone. The informant was in the lobby.

  Time to finally get some answers…

  ****

  Jayme knew her way around a motherfucking gun. Matter of fact, she loved them so much, if there were a twelve step program for such a habit, she’d immediately enroll herself in it and relapse on the first day of recovery just for kicks ’nd giggles. Her parents knew before she did that she’d be in law enforcement. Instead of coveting baby dolls and glossy red lip stick, she’d snag one of Jayson’s toy cowboy guns and make him play ‘shoot ’em up’. They’d duke it out, cowboy style, until they both were exhausted. By the time she reached the police academy, she’d already handled her fair share on the range. She felt powerful without one, but pretty with one.

  Xzion slid up against her, the coolness of his breath tethered around her head in a wispy whirlwind. She’d taken the day off just as he’d requested, and now they stood underground in a tiny space beneath their home no larger than a solitary confinement jail cell. It was jam packed with shit she’d never seen or heard of. All this time, their bedroom had more power than the energy from the man’s beautiful love making skills; it was really rockin’ and rollin’. Instead of being afraid or apprehensive, her damn heart skipped beats as she fell in love with the display. This was so much better than his collection upstairs, the one that was now under lock and key with Zachary in the house. Those were impressive, but this shit right here was something full metal jacket dreams were made of.

  “What is this? And this?” She pointed around as if she were a famished child in a candy store.

  Xzion leisurely leaned over her, his arm brushing against her shoulder. The faint scent of his cologne titillated her senses as he grasped a long, cylinder gun that resembled a huge bullet.

  “Feel this.”

  She gasped at the weight of the thing. “Damn, what is it made of?”

  “Pure titanium on the nose.” He pointed to the front of it. “That’s to ensure the back is heavier. The back is made of silver. The lever here,” he pointed to a small clip, “is made of steel. It shoots out bullets that are five inches in diameter with a jagged edge to serrate the target. They are the only guns that effortlessly kill dragons.”

  He took it from her hands as if it only weighed a feather and placed it back on the shelf. “These right here,” he worked a piece of gum around in his mouth as he pointed toward a top shelf, “they kill all sorts of things.”

  He grabbed the tiny red gun. It looked like a damn toy. Jayme grinned; it sure was cute. Seeming to read her mind, he smirked and cocked and loaded the damn thing, pointing it away from them.

  “It looks innocent, but it isn’t. This thing sprays up to a forty-five foot distance.”

  “Sprays what?’

  “Lethal acid.”

  “Ugh!” Jayme grimaced and laughed.

  “Yup. It will melt the skin right off just about anything, but with so many aliens, Jayme, you have to be precise and you have to use the correct weapon, or you will be sorry. The acid molecules sometimes drift in the air, making it dangerous for everyone involved this is an ‘if all else fails’ weapon. With many exterritorial life forms, if you shoot and miss, there are no second chances.” His warning was stern as he disengaged the weapon and placed it back in its rightful place. The man moved about the room, placing miscellaneous artillery in a basket. Before long, they were back upstairs. Jayme went into the kitchen to find Zachary sitting on the floor, his toy train dissembled and the batteries lined up. She sighed; Xzion was hot on her heels.

  Getting to her knees, she gently kissed the top of her son’s head and cradled him close. “Zachary, baby, what are you doing? You don’t like your train?” She smiled and picked it up, showing it to him as if that would somehow bring his interest back to the original design and intent of the thing. The little boy looked at her, seemingly lost in thought.

  “He likes taking things apart, trying to figure out how they work. There isn’t anything wrong with that,” Xzion interjected.

  Jayme looked over her shoulder and up at the man, standing there looking sexy as hell with his black button down shirt on, his loose, faded dark jeans hitting him just right, clinging over so slightly to the big bulge of his balls. Her eyes finally landed to his feet — covered in thick black combat boots. He flexed his fingers, making his wedding band shimmer under the bright lights. She shook away the wayward thoughts, and sunk a bit deeper in her pool of self-pity.

  “I feel…I feel like…never mind.” She got to her feet, glanced at her son once more and headed out the kitchen. She didn’t know where she was going; she just wanted to get away, but then felt guilty about it as she heard the two laughing. When a hand curled around her arm, she gasped. She hadn’t even heard him approach and before she could inquire as to where he was taking her, she was escorted farther into the hallway.

  “What did you tell him? Shouldn’t he be closer? He’s alone there.” She looked over her shoulder woefully, as if she could still see Zachary but she was too far-gone.

  “He’ll be fine,” Xzion assured, almost smugly. “As long as he stays in this house, he is in good hands and he is fully capable of being alone right now. He and I have an understanding.” He muttered, dug bullets out of his pocket, then twirled them between his forefinger and thumb as if they were loose change for a vending machine.

  Jayme couldn’t help but feel some kind of way… She was seething with green jealousy and it felt completely lousy. Zachary was in his own little world, and she didn’t know how to enter it or even if she managed to get inside, would she even be accepted? She was watching her baby from the sidelines, while he and his father made plans, travelled to distant lands and giggled amongst themselves…leaving her in the lurch. Swallowing her pride, she focused on the here and now. She’d have to deal with this later; how, she wasn’t sure, but a mother’s love that felt unreturned was one of the worse experiences of her life. Just then, she caught Xzion grinning at her, checking her out from the corner of his dark eye.

  “He loves you, Jayme…you’re still his mother. He wouldn’t have it any other way. He asks for you when you’re at work. We talk, well, I talk about you all the time, and he listens. He misses you. He wants to protect you, already.” He turned away from her, wiped the bottom of his shirt over the copper-toned bullets before placing one in his mouth and puffing on it, as if it were a cigarette. She didn’t ask what the hell he was doing; her thoughts were still with Zachary.

  “I love him so much, Xzion. Our son means everything to me. I can’t be mad at him. He’s only a little boy.” She tried to get the quake out of her voice, but failed miserably. “I spend every chance I can with him, but I still feel remorseful. This is my fault, I work too much. I think…I think I’ll have to tell them I need to step down.” She balled her fist at her side. The anxiety of the whole situation had come to a head. She’d had no intentions to discuss the matter right then, but since Xzion seemed to know her fears and put them right out there, she danced to the beat of his drum and fell to the ground, tripping over her own clumsy feet.

  “No.” He shook
his head and led her into a guest room. He walked towards the opposite end of the room, drawing down a target board from a thin wire above. “I’m the one that begs you to come home. He just misses you, but he isn’t suffering, Jayme. I’d told you if he were. He is not like human children that way, baby. Zarkstormian children are very independent. It is essential to our development.”

  “But he is half human, Xzion, and you seem to forget that sometimes. Our son is half of me…he came from my body.” Her hands folded into her chest and her knees felt a tad weak. “I felt him kick, move inside of me. He was mine before he was yours.”

  Xzion nodded, though she could tell by his expression, he appeared to be grappling for words. But nothing he’d say could make this sit well with her. True, her child didn’t need the same coddling of a human child, but he still needed love and affection. And also true, he was independent. So much so, he barely asked for help even when he clearly needed it. She relished the times she’d curl up in his bed beside her baby and sleep next to him — smell his sweet skin and feel the tickle of his soft, dark hair against her cheek. Then, and only then, would he sometimes turn to her and give her big, all encompassing hugs that would take her breath away. His soft plush lips would land a kiss against her cheek and then he’d whisper ever so gently, “Love, Mommy…”

  “Yes, he is half human, but he is my son, and from the looks of things, Zarkstormian genes are strong, Jayme.”

  There was a bit of arrogance in his tone, though she was sure it wasn’t intentional. She fought wanting to tell her husband a thing or two, to kiss her ass and get the hell out of her face, but that would be an unwarranted emotional outburst. He was trying to help, although he failed miserably. Regardless, she opted to remain quiet. It wouldn’t do any good to bark at the man; he’d done nothing wrong, at least not deliberately. She simply wanted to take her aggressions out on the guy who was stealing her child away from her, regardless of him being the father or not. She knew she made no sense, and she was no longer trying to.