Vic didn’t answer. As she moved through the kitchen,cautious, he headed for the sink. It wasn’t a deep wound, but itstung, and dark blood beaded along the length of his forearm.Turning on the faucet, he dampened a handful of paper towels andwiped the blood away, then pressed down hard on the cut to help itclose. He didn’t hear Officer Jones approach until she spoke fromright behind him. “How’s it look?”
“I’m bleeding to death,” Vic joked dryly. “Is thatwhat you want to hear?”
Officer Jones leaned on the counter beside the sinkand watched him clean the wound. Her eyes were dark and wide, hermouth twisted in disapproval. “I thought you were invincible.”
Grabbing another paper towel off the rack, Vic heldit under the running tap to get it wet, then pressed it to his arm.“I never said that.”
“What about the bullets?” She looked up at him as ifseeing him for the first time—there was something hard in theshadows on her face, but something inquisitive, as well. Somethingeager to know. “You can deflect shots to the chest but a tiny pieceof glass does you in? What kind of superhero is that?”
“Yeah, well.” Vic studied the wound, which hadalready stopped bleeding and even now seemed to be closing on itsown. Another gift from his lover, he suspected. Thank you,Matty. When he realized the officer was waiting for a reply, hetold her, “These powers of mine just sort of come and go. It alldepends—”
“On what?” she asked.
Vic didn’t reply. He’d promised to tell her, yes, andhe planned to, he would, but he found it difficult to justspit out the answers she wanted to know. For so long now, thepowers had remained a secret shared between himself and his lover.Though others knew of them—they had to know, all thosepeople Vic had helped, the children who saw his displays ofstrength and thought him a hero like in their comic books, thepolice even—despite that, there was still a part of Vic whichrefused to admit out loud where they came from, if only to protectMatty. Vic had grown complacent about his abilities, used to thepowers, and look what happened when he let his guard down. Heshould’ve expected Jordan to want the powers back, he shouldhave never let Matt out of his sight as long as that…thatviper was still around.
Somewhere, deep inside where no one else could hearthe doubt and despair that nagged at him, Vic wondered if maybe hewasn’t more pissed at himself than at Jordan about this whole mess.Jordan was doing what, when Vic thought about it, he must’ve beenplanning to do ever since he saw Matt’s name in the paper a fewdays back. Vic should’ve been more vigilant. He should’ve done moreto protect his lover.
And some small part of him worried that whatever hadhappened to Matt was Vic’s own damn fault.
* * * *
None of the notes on the fridge meant anything toVic—they consisted of grocery lists, and phone numbers forbusinesses around town, and schedules for work or the Y. Though hetold himself Matt’s name wouldn’t be listed, Vic couldn’t help butfeel disappointed when he couldn’t find it among the day to dayscribbles.
With a paper towel in hand to keep from leavingfingerprints, Vic headed out into the hallway. Officer Jonesfollowed, gun drawn and ready to aim. There was a lamp left on inthe living room, illuminating a sofa and chair set that could’vebeen cut straight from a Sears catalog. The only personal itemswere a trio of golden trophies on the mantle above an empty hearth.Vic suspected the trophies were constant reminders of what Jordanhad been able to accomplish, once, when he’d first discoveredMatt’s secret. When he recalled the scenes he’d seen in his lover’shead of what had happened all those years ago, of Jordan beatingMatt into having sex with him just so he could win some stupidtrack meet, Vic’s hands clenched into unconscious fists at hissides, and he wanted to hurl those trophies into the fire, burndown their fake metal, set the whole house ablaze with hisrage.
Maybe then he’d be able to cleanse away the feelingsof failure he felt at himself for letting Matt down.
Beyond the living room, a short hallway branched offinto four rooms. On the right were two bedrooms—one wasunfurnished, filled with storage boxes and old luggage trunks thatlined the walls, and the second appeared unused, a guest room. Thenthe bathroom, which needed a good scrubbing, Vic noted with a sortof vicious glee. A bottle of peroxide sat discarded in the trashcan, and the toilet lid was up, exposing a rust-colored ring ofhard water stains around the inside of the bowl.
The last bedroom was Jordan’s. One word flashed inVic’s mind as he opened the door—Bingo.
The bed was disheveled, the sheets soiled and unmade.Clothes littered the floor. Gay porn magazines were strewneverywhere; from their glossy pages, young faces smiled up at Vic,tight asses spread wide, hard cocks stretched and pointed as ifbegging for his touch. Some of the pages were splattered with driedsemen; some were grubby with fingerprints, as if Jordan had flippedthrough them as he got off. A sex toy catalog lay on the bed, theorder form already filled out and left beside a cordless phonenestled among the sheets. Dildos of various shapes and sizes wereeverywhere, some still slick with lubricant. They lay scattered onthe bed, on the desk, on the floor amid the magazines—the man hadquite a collection, more than Vic used to own himself before hefound Matt. From the depths of a pair of discarded boxers near thedoor, a dying vibrator hummed to itself.
“Oh, shit,” Officer Jones sighed as she stepped intothe room. Vic glanced over and saw her wide eyes threaten toeclipse the rest of her face. “You didn’t tell me we were dealingwith a sexual pervert here.”
“What do you think he wants Matt for? Tea?” Vicgrowled,
“I had no idea.” Her gaze swept the room, taking itall in. More than once Vic saw
