Page 75 of Scent of Desire
“It’s not your fault.” Hugo erased one of my tears, keeping his stare hard. “I’m sorry about your uncle.”
“I told him I would never forgive him. He died thinking I hate him, but I don’t.”
The memories of my uncle’s corpse perfumed by my mom’s stolen fragrance gave me nausea. I was fighting against these foul smells, a bitter aftertaste hanging in my throat and pain scorching my veins with hellfire.
“In the afterlife, he’ll know the truth.” Hugo stroked my arm in a friendly gesture and glanced away. “I’m sorry, I’m not good for this kind of situation. You know, feelings and all that.”
“I—” I stopped midsentence, taking a step back from him before inhaling a deep breath. “I need help. I need him.”
Radcliff was the only one who could deal with evil.
He was the only match to my chaos.
The one that’d go to war for me and save me from my torment.
“I don’t know where Radcliff is, Lily… I’ve been looking for him, but he’s nowhere to be found. He’s untraceable.” Hugo took a seat behind his desk and went through some of his papers. “If Radcliff doesn’t want to be found, no one can.”
“I can,” I assured with a trembling chin. “I know I can.”
I locked my hand into a fist, my nails digging into my palms. I’d deny my feelings once more, putting my pain inside a box because I would need my strength to get over this war. My heart was ripping apart, but the strings that held it had to hold on for a moment longer.
“Radcliff is looking for something in particular. I know him.” I rested my palms on Hugo’s desk, leaning my body against it. Hugo had always been loyal to Radcliff; maybe he was lying to me again. “Did you hear him talk about a legend? Somewhere secretive?”
Hugo thought this through, his eyes switching to every corner of his office, from its wooden shelf containing business books and family photos to a model boat with mini figures. “Not that I know of. I already tried to find him through the mines he owns.”
“Mines?” My eyebrow rose, my eyes still locked on that model boat where the light of my diamond necklace was reflecting in a spark.
“Yes. He owns most of the precious stones on the market. But they’re imported from everywhere; it’s an impossible track to follow. I thought he would start over in a big city, but then again—”
“Wait.” A thought came back to my mind, or more likely an oceanic smell at the sight of that boat. “Radcliff spoke to me one day about a legend of the three gates of hell.”
Hugo frowned. “I’ve never heard of that.”
“He mentioned one island being impossible to access, guarded by immense walls like some kind of volcano. Something with tides and a full moon. Erebas, or something like—”
“That fucker.” Hugo jerked his head backward with a forced laugh before he went through his papers once more, this time searching for something in particular. “Why am I not fucking surprised.”
“What? What happened?” My heartbeats increased in a rushed symphony, and the hair on my skin raised. The last few hours had been filled with gloom and chaos, and now a glimmer of hope was appearing, the appeal for revenge stitching the pieces of my heart.
“What happened,doudou, is that Radcliff and I meeting all those years ago wasn’t pure chance. He already had a plan, and I was his pawn.” He snorted, knocking his pen across the table. “I fell into the spider’s trap like a fucking fly.”
“What else could you expect from Radcliff? He may have had bad intentions at first, but you’re his friend now,” I defended the man who stole my soul, the one that could help me avenge my uncle’s death.
“Oh, I’m not mad at him.” He dropped the pen and gave me a wicked smile. “Well,doudou, I know where that island is.”
“How? I don’t understand!” I felt the madness possessing me.
“We’re going back to my grandparents’ natal home.”
The air smelled of death and ghastly spirits.
It was painful and somber like a wilted rose who had shed her last petal. Nonetheless, it held an omen of rebirth, a spark of light in this funeral.
I dropped my bouquet composed of purple anemones, yellow chrysanthemums, and white lilies on my uncle’s tombstone, hoping the smells would lead him toward the heavenly afterlife.
The cemetery would be deserted if it wasn’t for the occasional shrieking cries of the ravens posed on the trees overgrown with moss, whose branches had invaded the graves. In this place, nature had nurtured the spirits that men had abandoned, giving them a safe sanctuary. The weather was gloomy, the sun swallowed by the court of clouds. The wind was hot, like a draft sent from the underworld to take my uncle’s soul with him.
“I hope you’ll find peace, Uncle.” I took a step back, my somber lace dress with black, burnt roses dragging on the wet ground like a macabre regal cloak, making me look like a corpse bride mourning her living fiancé.
