Called By the Dark

ten

Sazahn

Barry Owens—I didn’t care to learn the real names of the other two, but for some reason, I need to know everything I can about Scarface—has lived in the Nickel penthouse for the past three years. He’s not exactly an ideal tenant, as the noise from his parties and poker nights tend to disturb the other residents each time he has them, but most of them, including the building manager, are too frightened of him to raise a real issue about it. He does, however, pay his rent on time every month, but that’s a credit to his accountant, not Barry himself.

As Gaderel and I enter his palace, two things become immediately apparent: he has the taste of a tacky, modern-day Julius Caesar, and he’s not home.

I can sense the lack of another soul in a way that’s almost palpable. No shifting of weight, no whisper of clothes brushing against a wall or piece of furniture, no breathing, no pulse.

After making a leisurely circuit of the open kitchen and living room area, and peeking into the three bedrooms—one of which is a gym; another is an office—I saunter to the middle of the living room, where a sleek white leather sectional is arranged around a glass and marble coffee table. On top of it sits a bust that looks to be made of bronze. Upon closer inspection, I realize the bust is of Scarface.

“That’s not at all narcissistic,” Gaderel comments from where he stands beside the balcony door, hands folded behind his back, peering out at the view.

“Man loves his gold and marble,” I say, settling onto the couch. It’s a bit firm for my taste, but otherwise comfortable. “If you removed this garish decor, it wouldn’t be a half-bad place.”

Gaderel smirks. “Well, once we devoid the place of its current owner, perhaps we should buy it. I like the view here better than the one at my place.”

I quirk a brow. “Really? You’d want to live in the same place where someone died?”

His smirk turns into a small, almost melancholic smile. He walks toward me, spreading his arms out. “That is what the Earth is, my love. A place where people die, a place where I live.”

I blink. “I…guess I never thought about it like that.”

Gaderel comes to sit beside me. “How are you?”

I draw a deep breath, nodding. “I think I’m going to need some serious time to process all of this after the fact, but I can’t distract myself with that now. I need to stay focused.”

He places his hand over mine. “I know it’s hard. You’re a good spirit. A light soul. Taking a life is never easy.”

I glance at him. “That’s just it. It was easy.”

Gaderel lifts a brow. “Is that so?”

I nod, shifting my gaze forward as memories of the night come back to me in high definition. “Cutting off Shades’s wrist, then slitting his throat. Watching him bleed out and turn pale. His fear. The sound of Bowtie’s screams as he plummeted a thousand feet to the ground. Knowing there’s nothing left of him…” My jaw tightens, and I can’t fight the urge to sneer. “I liked it. Every second of it.”

Gaderel tilts his head, studying me.

I gaze back at him. “You must think I’m a terrible person.”

He slowly shakes his head. “You could not be more mistaken, my love.”

I sigh. This is what I didn’t want to do—introspect about tonight. Not now. But without knowing when Scarface is going to return, I suppose there’s nothing else to do.

“It’s not just the killing. I wouldn’t just kill anyone. The guy that Shades was abusing when I found him, for example. I only wanted to help him. It was like I could see into his soul, and I just knew he was a decent person. Circumstance brought him to Shades, not desire. He was…afraid of me.”

Gaderel nods. “I scented it. But he also has a deep appreciation for what you did, brutal though it was. He will be traumatized from this as a result, to the point that he will develop a drug addiction for a short while as a means of dealing with it.”

I swallow and lower my gaze. “I…don’t want that to happen.”

“There is good and bad to every single action and decision we make, Sazahn,” Gaderel says softly, brushing a finger down my cheek. “All is not lost for him. He will realize his habits are destructive. He will seek help, and he will rise above. That is his journey. And he will never forget you along the way.”

I lift a shoulder. “Maybe I should have gotten him out of the room first.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. It could be that he needed to witness what he saw. Needed to go through the fallout of that witnessing in order to reach a level in his life that he would not otherwise have achieved.”

I cast a mischievous glance at him, unable to help myself. “God’s plan, and all that?”

Gaderel shrugs and nods. “Essentially, yes.”