... really, bloody hard ... to turn my life around,” Kano cried. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Kano, you’ve already killed once before,” Brania said gently. “Will it really make that much difference if you kill again?”
That’s why he had come here, so he could hear someone speak the truth out loud, a truth he was too afraid to acknowledge. He was already damned. It wouldn’t matter if he were damned twice.
Counting the pebbles he still held in his hand, Nakano replied, “I guess you’re right.”
His voice was so resigned, so defeated, Brania almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “I have something that will help you,” she said.
She walked over to the coffin and pulled out the white rose that Rhoswen had given her. It was even more full-bodied than it had been before. “Put this in your pocket and keep it with you at all times,” she instructed, handing Nakano the rose. “And you’ll succeed in carrying out our leader’s wishes.”
Whatever powers this flower possessed, they were pretty remarkable. All Nakano had to do was think
The last time he had been here he had snuck away from school so he and Jean-Paul could make love. Turns out there really had been no love involved, not from Jean-Paul’s point of view anyway.
Today, Nakano would be the one with the cold heart. At least he was trying to keep it cold, and he had been doing a good job of it until he heard that unmistakable French accent.
Standing outside, he overheard Jean-Paul’s breathy voice and remembered how mesmerized he had been by the sound, how important it had made him feel to know Jean-Paul was talking to him. When he got inside, however, Nakano understood that Jean-Paul’s words were now meant for someone else.
“Alexei,” Nakano said, startling the half-dressed couple. “Don’t you have a race to swim?”
The Russian picked up his T-shirt from the floor and used it to wipe away some sweat bubbles that had formed above his upper lip. “I medaled already,” he snickered. “Not due back until the team competition in a few hours.”
“Gold?” Nakano asked.
After a pause, Alexei replied, “Bronze.”
Before Kano could make a wisecrack, Jean-Paul spoke. “I ’ear zee only medal you can ween eez for shaking your pom-poms.”
Nakano heard their laughter, but didn’t respond to it. He didn’t ignore it; he simply used it as fuel, motivation to push him closer toward his goal. “Hello, Jean-Paul,” he said. “You blokes do remember there’s a bedroom right upstairs?”
Jean-Paul’s lips sloped into an arrogant smile. “We were so ’ungry, we couldn’t wait.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you,” Kano said, then impressed himself by coming up with a solution to his problem. “Unless you fancy some company.”
What an interesting proposition. Jean-Paul turned to Alexei to see if the boy was just a boy and was pleasantly surprised that he wasn’t. “Despite crossing over to Lady Academy, you showed some pretty smashing moves out there in the gym this morning,” Alexei marveled. “Could be fun.”
Nakano couldn’t promise that. He couldn’t promise anything except that it would be memorable.
Fact was he didn’t know what was going to happen next. He was no longer thinking, only saying the first thing that popped into his head, and he had no idea if he was in control or if the rose had taken over his mind as well as his body. “I can only promise that it’ll be an afternoon you’ll never forget.”
“Then what are we waiting for,” Jean-Paul said. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Jeremiah’s old room was the same, except that it looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in over a year. It had always resembled a flophouse, but without any upkeep it had slipped into a further state of decay.
Other than the accumulation of dust, there was very little else in the room besides the bed, which was all they really needed anyway. Watching Jean-Paul kiss Alexei, Nakano waited to be gripped by jealousy, hate, something, but nothing came. He watched the passion behind their kisses escalate, but felt no emotion whatsoever. As he had climbed the narrow stairs to the room he had thought he would go ballistic seeing the two of them become intimate with each other, but he had been wrong. Might be for the best—he wouldn’t be distracted by his feelings and could focus on carrying out David’s orders.
His heart remained steady when he felt Jean-Paul’s hand on the back of his neck push him toward Alexei. His heart rate didn’t increase when he felt their lips touch, when their tongues flicked against each other. It was as if it was all happening to someone else. But it wasn’t; it was happening to him, and he had to grab hold of his mind and his feelings before they floated away completely and weren’t retrievable. If he was going to do this, he had to take responsibility for his actions. He might be a soldier, carrying out a direct order, but he also had a choice.
He could feel Alexei’s hands on his body. He just didn’t think about them; he thought about his options. Maybe he could defy David’s command and run far from Double A, become a fugitive. But how realistic was that? David could track him down wherever he ran to or instruct one of his minions to hunt him down and kill him for his disobedience. No, Nakano wasn’t thrilled with his life, but he wasn’t suicidal. He only had one choice, the one David had given to him. The one he had given to him without explanation.
How could anyone who was able to kiss this well do something that would warrant a death penalty?
It was ludicrous. Jean-Paul’s lips tasted the same, sweet and soft, in stark contrast to his rough beard, and his long tongue had its own lazy rhythm. All the incredible times they had spent together rushed back, and Nakano remembered why he had fallen in love with Jean-Paul in the first place. The only thing that seemed off was his laugh. That didn’t make sense. Why was he laughing?
“I’m sorry, Kano,” Jean-Paul said as he clutched his stomach and rolled back onto the bed. His open shirt fell to the side and exposed his smooth, lean chest and the thin, vertical line of black hair that started just below his bellybutton. He looked beautiful, but his appearance was truly the only beautiful thing about him. “I can’t do theese,” Jean-Paul said, howling with laughter. “You are, ’ow do you say?
Yes, making me seeck.”
Nakano was the only one who didn’t think it was a funny thing to say. Alexei cracked up and fell back onto the bed, his head resting next to Jean-Paul’s. “You’re like that leetle peeg,” Jean-Paul continued. “That fat peeg Diego.”
Finally the feelings that Nakano had been ignoring burst inside his heart like a balloon that was filled with too much air. He fell forward onto the bed, his head dangling, and heard something release from his lips, like a groan. There were no words, only sound. The mattress was dipping slightly from the sudden extra weight, and Nakano’s forehead pressed against the sheets as he slowly started to punch the bed. Once, twice, so many times that he lost count. He had no idea how he looked, and he didn’t care. Jean-Paul and Alexei, however, thought he was putting on one hilarious show.
Rolling onto his side, Alexei shouted, “Somebody toss the pig some pom-poms!”
Jean-Paul wailed and started banging the bed with his fist, mocking Nakano. When he caught his breath, he begged, “Now squeal for us, leetle peeg! We want to ’ear you squeal!”
“Sorry,” Nakano replied. “This little piggy would rather kill.”
Reaching inside his jacket Nakano whipped out a wooden stake that he had whittled from a thick branch he had found in The Forest. A second later, the laughter had stopped.
Kano’s empty black eyes stared into Jean-Paul’s frightened irises, and he watched them grow, aware that Jean-Paul believed his life was coming to an end. But Jean-Paul was not ready to give up.
As Nakano raised his arm, Jean-Paul grabbed Alexei and used him as a human shield, and when Kano’s arm slashed through the air he didn’t have enough time to stop the movement. The stake that was meant for Jean-Paul rammed straight into Alexei’s heart.
As the unlucky Russian burst into flames, Jean-Paul rolled to one side and Kano jumped to the other, both shielding their eyes from the sudden explosion. The only thing that separated the two were bright red, billowing wisps of flame, outlined in black, that crackled and licked the air. And then there was nothing but a pile of ash.
“Sacre bleu!” Jean-Paul screamed in his native tongue as he scrambled to his knees. “Murderer!”
“Now who’s squealing like a leetle peeg?” Nakano asked.
Speechless, Jean-Paul reached for the edge of the bed so he could stand up, but only succeeded in grabbing
