Page 85 of Violent Possession
“I’ve already paid my price for it,” I say.
I tap my right shoulder, at the place where flesh ends and memory begins. The price was too high.
“There’s nothing more to understand.”
And then comes the silence. It’s a limbo, a space where I exist suspended, waiting for the sentence. I want to hear him call me a rat, a traitor, trash. I want him to scream, for the fucking show to be complete.
He doesn’t even move. There’s something in his eyes that isn’t anger, nor contempt, nor anything I can truly identify. He stands up, going to the window, pulling the blinds with a gesture so annoyingly controlled, without noise, without haste. He looks outside, at the city. Is he really going to leave me here just to prove a point? That I’m nothing more than a number on a damage spreadsheet?
I hear my own heart, loud, beating too much. Bile burns again. Is he going to discard me now? Erase me from the map?
My head is heavy, my left hand trembles, my leg complains. I think about getting up, about running, but I know I’m not going anywhere. Not now.
Alexei remains still. The blue light of the city outlines his silhouette in a way that recalls those religious paintings, only he isn’t the saint, I’m not the martyr. I don’t want to be.
It seems like he’s considering something, weighing pros and cons. What’s left for me besides this? Only Seraphim himself, and the memory of a time when I could still sleep a whole night without a fucking paralysis, a nightmare, a memory?
When he finally speaks, his voice is low.
“The man you idolized,” he begins. “What was he doing working for my brother?”
I don’t understand. Itrulydon’t understand. I wonder if I misheard, if the pain jumbled my senses. Seraphim? Working forVasily?
I laugh, or try to, but the sound is more cough than laugh. “You’re crazy,” I say, and the phrase dies in my mouth because the hole in my head starts spewing horrible possibilities.
Wasn’t Seraphim a ghost from the past? Wasn’t he a wound, a myth, a scar? He didn’t just come to warn me, he came to watch over me, to guard me from afar, to make sure I didn’t throw myself into a lion’s cage with no way out. That’s whatI wanted to believe. But Alexei is saying something else. He’s claiming that Seraphim is involved in the Malakovs’ game.
Fuck, Sera...
It’s exactly the kind of story Seraphim would make sure to hide. He always said that power was behind the scenes, in what couldn’t be named. So why wouldn’t he have an agreement, or a deal, or a fucking pact with the devil himself?
And if he’s with Vasily, he might be in danger because of Alexei. Because ofme.
The question escapes my mouth before I can hold it back. It’s a stupid, desperate impulse.
“Is he... is he safe?”
Alexei slowly turns from the window. The expression on his face chills me. There’s only the cold confirmation of a suspicion. The disappointment, again.
“Youstillidolize him.”
Yes. If I placed Seraphim as the sun, then all my eternal orbits will be around that. No matter how much I’ve run.
I could deny it. I could say no, that Iidolizedhim, but that died along with my youth, or my arm, or my pride. But there’s nowhere left to run, no smooth surface to slip on. Alexei made sure to remove all exits.
“What do you want me to say, Alexei?” I whisper. “Iknow.”
I expect him to discard me.
I hear a sigh. Long, heavy, frustrated. Even Alexei is exhausted by my stupidity.
“I need to know whose side you’re on, Griffin.”
That’s it. No threats, no negotiations, no speeches.
I watch Alexei close the distance between us in two steps. He stops at the edge of the bed, and his scent is sweet, pleasant; an expensive perfume that tries to hide, but can’t, the smell of gunpowder and burnt plastic.
“My brother tried to kill you tonight. He’s moving against me, and you’re right in the middle of it. So, for the last time... are you on my side, or are you on my brother’s side?”
