Page 86 of Natural-Born Cullers
He grumbled, not liking having to move, but she’d made the effort and finally quit a few months ago, so he’d always make the effort to get her whatever she needed. He pushed off eventually, holding back a sneeze as she rolled over and grabbed the covers off the floor.
“You need a drink too?” Moonlight filtered through the blinds, shaping Cara and the bed into slats, and he grinned as the silver light played all along the softness of a leather-clad thigh.
“G ’n’ T?” Cara opened her thighs a little and flashed her eyes at how the light played deep enough to almost reveal what he’d already taken. “Just a nightcap.”
Seth rolled his gaze as he picked up his Tic Tacs from the bedside unit. He hadn’t been able to convince her to quitthat, but who was he to really judge. They all had their vices.
Butt naked and loving cherry Tic Tacs hit his taste buds, he padded to the door, keeping it quiet as he made it out onto the hall. A floorboard creaked under foot, and he winced as he passed the next bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and he craned his neck around it.
His dad’s huge bulk shifted under the covers, and it won a groan off his mother as her arm crept over him. Smiling down at his bare feet and giving a slight shake of head, Seth tiptoed past and made it down the stairs. They’d slept through him fucking Cara, yet the creak of a floorboard now nearly woke them? There was irony there somewhere.
He kept the hall lights off, preferring the quiet and solitude the night offered, and coughing away a scratchiness at his throat, how everyone seemed to be coming down with something lately, he padded into the kitchen and tugged open the fridge door. Something smelled off, and he put it down to the milk as he pulled it out and gave it a sniff.
“Christ.” He opted for a swig of apple juice instead and put the milk on the unit next to the fridge, his promise to empty it in the morning, then pinched a slice of beef. The cold of the night bit into his nakedness a little more, and he shivered again before letting the fridge door shut. The shift back into darkness blinded him for a moment, and he blinked back the irritation, preferring the calmness found in walking his home in the dark. It also helped when it came to hunting out the stuff for Cara’s G & T.
Rubbing at his eyes, he turned away and headed over to the microwave where the vape sat close by. Where there was one, the other usually followed.
A sniff came from close to the dining room and… “Huh?” Seth eased back against the unit and folded his arms. Now how the fuck had he missedthat,even with the moonlight lighting up what he witnessed?
Black clothes, tribal-hooded scarf that covered head and mouth alike, only leaving eyes visible, a young man stood reading the noticeboard tagged to the wall. Usually notes between his dad and mom littered it, but his and Cara’s had found their way on it more and more lately.
Seth ran his gaze over the darkened outline of guitar case slung over the man’s shoulder, but then focused more on the clothes, and he gave a wince. “A little too obvious with the burglar getup, don’t you think, mate?”
Male, he had to be male. Slim, not too far from Seth’s height either. It called out youth, maybe more than stupid youth, considering he’d walked intothishouse in particular.
A look came his way, dark chocolate eyes in a dark landscape. Pretty as it mixed with a strand of light hair. Blonde? Maybe. But it looked a sharper shade. Maybe silver, Seth couldn’t really tell either colour for sure, but the look in those eyes? It changed the game, just slightly.
Could a killer tell another killer from a look alone? Not always. Mostly because not all who killed meant to. Same with psychopaths. Not all psychopaths killed. In fact, only a small percentage did. But those psychopaths who ran with natural-born instinct? Those with intent…? Yeah, it was there in the eyes, the blackness that eventually threaded through.
Seth didn’t give a fuck someone stood in his kitchen, and in this moment, that reflected right back at him, that natural acknowledgement of…. Seth frowned. How damn angry those eyes looked, how it threaded into Dark Eye’s body as he started to shake.
“Oh.” Seth tilted his head as he went over. “You not a fan of my work?”
The deadlock with Seth broke as all that anger focused back on the noticeboard.
“You leave your artwork lying around like this?” Dark Eyes found him again and something ill burned in him, eating through any control. Shoulders were all tensed, trying to hold back on something, but failing so badly. Eyes were more black than chocolate now, although that was more just a gut feeling. “Not the smartest, are you…mate.”
Seth shrugged, feeding off the bad energy that came his way. He’d stood amongst many a killer, learned off one of the best, but this kid… he was still learning, still struggling with a conscience that wasn’t going to get him anywhere in this business.
Seth ran a look over the noticeboard. “Croquis drawing,” he said quietly. “An artform of quick sketching to capture the live human form.” Six in this case, two of which lay chained between dog cages, blood and broken wing bringing their ribs to life. The others were in garages or bedrooms, depending on where he had killed his muses. “Although live is very debatable here.”
Dark Eyes found him. “And you get off on it, right?” It was odd how he didn’t seem to see Seth’s nakedness. Either it didn’t bother him or didn’t register, Seth couldn’t decide which.
“Not in the kill. It’s all about the artwork and muse there.” Seth tapped the noticeboard. “Afterwards it gets too messy with the blood loss to rub one off, if you know what I mean? So it waits until I get home, when I can study my drawings.”
Dark Eyes snorted but a lot of bitterness came with it. “Anhydrous aluminium sulphate,” he said quietly. “It promotes haemostasis, acting as a vasoconstrictor to disrupt blood flow, potentially cutting on… mess. You skip that killer’s lesson?”
Seth laughed softly. “Textbooks will only take you so far. There’s a point you have to grow up.” He looked him up and down, how perfectly the night shaped that sharper mind he seemed to carry, contrasted by the more… angered-newbie need to know. No one went into this and came out the same. They all battled anger and fear over something on seeing their first few kills. The breaking and shaking going on with Dark Eyes cried out how he didn’t want to be here, but here he was, caught in the moment.
Seth hadn’t heard about a guitarist in the field, not one who’d killed. But then most tended to come from nowhere. His look said he’d killed, but it looked fresh enough to question whether it was real or… “accident”.
“In all honesty,” Seth said eventually, “there’s nothing sexual about it. That’s too… animalistic tendency for me. It’s an artist’s thing.” He ran a look over the guitar case. “You know about that, right? The private moment between artist and muse, between fingers and guitar string, long before anyone gets to see or hear it?”
“Yet you pin yours to a noticeboard to be seen.”
“Hmm,” Seth said quietly. “Just like you carry a guitar to be heard, right.”
Dark Eyes rested against the unit, his look on Seth, and he gave him a long look up and down his body, only such a sadness ruled it now. It called out sorry, that he shouldn’t be here, doing this, but that anger…? Yeah. Here he was… still doing this.
