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“Maybe just a few pots, then? We can work on it together.”
Head tipped, she eyes me up and down. “What do you know of gardening?”
“I worked for a landscaping company for about two months. What’s so complicated? Dig a hole, and throw in some seeds and water. Voila. Flowers.”
“You’re hopeless, child. If nothing else, I suppose a lesson might do you some good. Have one of the servants fetch my gardening supplies. In the meantime, I want to lie down.”
“It’s only midday. There’s still so much we can do.”
“I’m tired. And cold.”
Jesus, it’s gotta be eighty degrees outside right now. “You’re sure? I’m happy to do all of the grunt work. Filling pots, digging the holes.”
“Tomorrow. Take me to my room.”
Chapter 19
Lucian
Sixteen years ago …
Darkness swallows me, while I follow the path through the trees toward the clearing up ahead. The moon is still high enough that the tides haven’t yet swept through the cave, just below the grassy knoll that marks its spot. Beyond the edge, the sea almost looks calm, where fishing boats sit off in the distance.
The conversation with my father weighs like an anchor around my neck. For the last sixteen years, I’ve struggled to find a commonality with him, to the extent that I pretty much gave up trying. We’re different. We always have been.
And yet, a part of me yearns to understand this fascination I’ve developed. The tipping point between pain and pleasure, life and death. What if the only person who understands it is the very person I can’t relate to on any level. The one I can’t stand in this world?
The concept of Schadenfreude is beyond my comprehension. Like a group of sadistic children who chose not to evolve in favor of their amusements. I don’t find pleasure in suffering, only the perception and fantasy of it.
But what if he’s right? What if it continues to evolve? What if my future children suffer from the same uncontrollable urges he’s inflicted on me? Could I seek out excuses to punish and abuse my son, the way he’s done to me all my life? Would I be just as cruel someday?
The answer is no. Not because I don’t believe his theories, but because I’ve no intentions of bringing children into this world. Whatever it is he thinks he’s discovered will die with me.
The path narrows along the edge of the cave, and my thoughts are tamped down by the crash of waves as I approach the beach. A thrill winds in my stomach, hardening my muscles at the thought of what’s to come. The excitement of testing my limits again, and the exquisite reward of climax that always follows. As I enter the cave, I find the lithe form of Solange, her long dark curls spread out over the sand, hands already trussed over her head by rope attached to the signpost set deep in the sand, her gown in disarray and exposing her thighs.
“Well, you didn’t waste any time, did you?”
She doesn’t answer, and it’s only as I approach that I notice the irregular pallor of her skin.
I slow my steps.
Purple blossoms of bruises dot her legs and her bound arms. The abnormal contortion of her bent elbow, as if it’s twisted the wrong way, stirs nausea in my stomach, and I slap my hand to my mouth.
It’s not until I’m standing over her that I finally see the vacancy in her stare, assuring there is no life left in her, and terror explodes inside my chest, my head urging my muscles to move and get the hell out of here, but I can’t. I can’t move. I can’t stop looking at her lifeless face. The image now permanently seared inside my head.
My throat flexes with the need to scream, but a tight fist clamps around my lungs and keeps it from escaping.
She’s dead.
What did you do?
A black insect emerges from the corner of her gaping mouth, and I curl my lip as it scampers across her face and burrows in her hair that’s matted down by sand.
My leg twitches, and I stumble backward, falling onto the boulder behind me. Spinning on my heel, I race out of the cave, up the path along the edge of it, and across the field. My chest burns, the muscles in my legs ready to collapse with fatigue, but I don’t stop. I keep running until I reach the stone staircase, where Rand greets me.
“Help!” A hearty cough slices through the rasp of my voice. “She’s …. Help!”
My knees finally buckle, and the gravel of the driveway chews at my skin when I hit the ground. I throw my palms out to keep from smacking my teeth. “She’s … dead. I …. Dead!”
