Specter's Gamble - 27. Chapter 27

Alessandro could not believe his own eyes. He had heard that expression before, but it never made much sense to him (how can you not believe something that is right in front of you?) until now. It’s been almost three months since the darkly-sweet night when that son of a bitch Specter burned alive. Alessandro was insanely tempted to break the bastard’s neck after he handcuffed him in that house. He almost went through with that, anticipating a sweet sound of Specter’s neck snapping under his palms, shaking with a shadow of a promised pleasure.

He managed to stop himself, however, after Rayhe barked, “Don’t!” at him. It wasn’t like Alessandro succumbed to Rayhe (the traitorous coward could shove his bark up his own ass for all Alessandro cared), but the man’s voice brought him back to reality, as if waking him up. And the reality was that if Alessandro did, in fact, snap Specter’s neck, he would have to face Julian Salamander in one of his worst moods, since Julian dreamt of killing this bastard for the past five years. Julian Salamander was not the man you would want to face when he was in a bad mood. Alessandro knew what Julian was capable of, and he also knew that the man was getting off on pain, his own included.

Therefore, he reluctantly took his hands off Specter’s head. He did get a slight enjoyment out of slapping the bastard’s face before he got up. Alessandro was quite upset by the fact that Julian had to kill the video feed in order to activate the explosives -- one of the magic streams was woven into the wires that ran across the wall of the house, raising the intensity and heat of an unborn fire.

Alessandro wasn’t exactly sure how that worked, and why would the video feed affect the wires and the stream, but he didn’t ask Julian any questions – he knew better. When Julian said that something had to be done, it had to be done, no questions asked. He wouldn’t mind selling his soul, however, to be able to watch Specter’s last minutes; the minutes that were filled with agony; to listen to his screams – those screams would sound sweeter than any music to Alessandro’s ears.

He asked Julian why he didn’t go inside himself to make sure that the drugs kicked in properly.

“Because I wouldn’t be able to leave,” Julian said melancholically. “I would lose my control the minute I saw him in front of me, and then I would hurt him.”

Alessandro noted that it would’ve been a much sweeter thing to do rather than letting him to burn alive (although that wasn’t too bad either; but the hands-on experience would’ve been so much better).

“It would have,” Julian agreed. “But I gave my word and I never break my word, no matter who I give it to.”

Yes, Alessandro knew that. Julian was a cold-blooded, sadistic, conscience-free son of a bitch, but when it came to his word, he turned into a religious fanatic. He always kept his word.

Ever since that night, Alessandro was finally able to sleep without dreaming of his brother’s death. He never witnessed it of course, but he would always have those nightmares of watching Specter creeping closer and closer to his brother without the other man noticing him. Alessandro would start screaming his brother’s name, screaming for him to turn around, screaming for him to run, screaming until his throat would feel raw, but his brother never heard him. Then Alessandro would helplessly watch Specter break his brother’s neck over and over again; he would actually hear the snapping sound, he would see his brother’s lifeless body drop on the floor. He’d wake up gasping for air, muttering something unintelligible, shaking as if he had a fever. Those damn nightmares would happen almost every night. After Specter burned, however, they had magically stopped.

Alessandro assumed that he (and his brother as well) had finally found peace he was looking for. Peace and closure. He was happy with that.

Today he was at the store, glancing at the shelves with boredom, looking at the price tags, browsing through various things. He was trying to decide what he wanted to have for dinner when he saw a very familiar face. Alessandro frowned, trying to figure out where he knew this young man from. He seemed to be in his late teens – eighteen at the most – and he had dark-blond hair (‘dirty-blond,’ that’s what they call it, Alessandro remembered), lightly freckled skin, and dark-blue eyes. The young man (kid, really) was animatedly talking on the phone, his phone-free hand running through the candy box in front of him. “I know him,” Alessandro thought with a tight frown. “I know him!” If he couldn’t figure out how in the world he knew this kid, it would drive him crazy.

Finally, he remembered and almost snapped his fingers with relief. It was that politician’s son, he thought. What was his name? That fat creep... His name, his name... Le-Something, Alessandro remembered that much. He remembered the kid’s name right away, however. Samuel. Alessandro winced when a very unpleasant memory resurfaced in his mind.

It was several years ago – four or maybe five, he wasn’t sure – when Julian told him that they were going to have a very pleasant evening. Alessandro became wary at that. Every time Julian said ‘a pleasant evening,’ it would always turn out to be something Alessandro would desperately try to erase from his mind. Unlike Salamander, Alessandro did not enjoy pain. He did not enjoy receiving it, and he did not enjoy inflicting it. Well, unless Specter was the one in the picture. Then everything would be quite different.

Anyway, they arrived to the fat creep’s mansion that evening, and Alessandro’s worries proved themselves to be correct. He winced again when he remembered the kid’s eyes that night. He dreamt about those eyes for almost a month after that whole unpleasant thing happened. He didn’t want to start thinking about everything that was done to the kid back then; he didn’t want to become nauseous again. He didn’t want to be a part of it – even with the pain issue aside, Alessandro was never into young kids; he never understood this particular kink of Julian. However, when Julian Salamander offered (ordered) you to “...go ahead and enjoy yourself,” you did exactly that, regardless of the fact that you would rather clean pig shit with your bare hands than experience this particular kind of ‘enjoyment.’

Alessandro did what he was told, trying to keep his eyes closed the whole time, hating himself with a burning passion, but hating the fat Le-Something bastard even more. It was his son, for crying out loud! How could you do something like this to your own flesh and blood?

When the ‘fun’ was over, Julian and the fat Le-Something hog left the room to get some fresh air, and Alessandro stayed behind. He walked up to the kid, who was lying in the puddle of blood and cum, his eyes closed, and picked him up. The minute he did it, however, the kid’s eyes flew wide open and he thrashed in Alessandro’s arms.

“Let go of me, you fucking bastard!” the kid shrieked in sheer horror. “Don’t touch me! Let go...!”

Alessandro held the kid tight, trying not to hurt him (“not again...”), his fingers running slowly through the kid’s long hair that was damp with sweat and blood. He kept saying, “Shhh...” over and over again, rocking the kid slowly, as if he were a baby. Finally, the kid stopped thrashing, and he dropped his face into Alessandro’s shoulder and started to sob. Those weren’t cries -- those were sobs. Low, and heavy, and desperate. “I am sorry...” Alessandro remembered himself repeating. “I am sorry... I am so sorry...”

And then the kid said something that made Alessandro’s blood run cold. He stopped sobbing and raised his head, his face stained with tears. “Kill me,” he said in a low voice. “Please, kill me...” Alessandro felt like he was about to start sobbing himself, the kid’s eyes burning a hole in his soul. “I can’t,” he whispered. “I am sorry... I can’t...”

The kid dropped his head onto his shoulder once again. He didn’t cry (sob) again; he just took quick, desperate gasps of air, his mouth next to Alessandro’s shoulder, his body trembling in the bigger man’s arms.

Alessandro never even thought of having kids of his own, but right then, he wished with all his heart to somehow be able to get this kid away from this never-ending nightmare. He wished with all his heart for the Le-Something hog to drop dead with a heart attack (considering the man’s size, it was a surprise it hasn’t happened yet). He wished with all his heart for Samuel Le-Something to be able to get out of this, to be able to make him happy, to be able to make all of this to come back only during nightmares, and not in real life... He wished... Oh, he wished for so many things...

He took the kid into the bathroom and cleaned him up as much as he could. He knew that Julian and Le-Something hog came back; he knew they were in the living room; he knew that, and he couldn't care less. The kid looked beyond exhausted after Alessandro finished cleaning him, so the bigger man brought him into the bedroom, the kid’s eyes closed, his breathing almost even now. Alessandro carefully lowered him into bed, aware of the fact that Samuel was asleep, his eyelids fluttering in his sleep, his expression restless. Alessandro knew that even in his sleep, Samuel Le-Something wouldn’t be able to escape from his nightmare, which was real no matter how you looked at it – through lenses of deep sleep or through the ones of harsh reality. Samuel was doomed. Alessandro wished again – with all his heart – for the kid to have enough guts (or to be able to survive through all of this) to get the hell away from this horror when he would be able to. He looked thirteen (give or take) right now, which meant he would be able to get away from his sick fuck of a father in four years, when he was seventeen.

...Alessandro quickly turned away from that kid, whom he finally was able to recognize. He knew that Samuel (“... you look alive... That means you got away...”) would recognize him immediately, so he stared at the meat section, pretending to be deeply interested in turkey breasts’ prices. The kid laughed into the phone, and that laughter made Alessandro feel unbelievably good. The sound of that laughter was carefree, genuine, and sparkling with life. He smiled to himself, and almost went away when the kid said into the phone:

“I knew it! I told you that Gabriel was gonna leave as well! I knew it!”

Alessandro blinked. Gabriel? Wasn’t Rayhe’s first name Gabriel as well? Come to think about it, wasn’t the fat Le-Something hog working for the Rayhe family before he ran for the office with Julian’s help? Yes, Alessandro thought immediately, he was indeed. That meant Samuel would know Rayhe-Junior pretty well. On a first-name basis well. Alessandro listened harder.

“So you guys are leaving tomorrow night, right?” the kid was saying, his free hand still digging through that box of chocolate. “Yeah, I’ll miss you... Both of you, actually, as hard as that might be to believe, all things considered... Yeah, you are!” he laughed. “You are a total asshole!”

Alessandro frowned slightly. He is definitely talking to someone about Rayhe, and according to what Alessandro just heard, that someone is leaving with Rayhe tomorrow night. Now, Rayhe was quite attached to Specter – that much was obvious three months ago, even though the cowardly bastard ended up selling him out to Julian (Alessandro despised the man for that -- he would never do something like that himself; he would never sell out someone he cared about, no matter what the stakes would be). Apparently, Rayhe got over Specter’s demise quite quickly, since the kid was obviously talking to his current flame right now...

Alessandro frowned deeper. He knew that his looks could be deceiving. He looked like your typical head-basher, someone who is pure muscle and no brain. He looked like someone who would have troubles putting two and two together. He was fine with that. He actually liked that. Alessandro was a hell of a lot smarter than he looked, and he knew that almost everyone underestimated him because of his appearance. Everyone but Julian. Salamander was perfectly aware of Alessandro’s intellect and his quick wits.

You don’t get over someone’s death in such short period of time, Alessandro thought, blindly staring at the meat packages. Not if you actually cared about them, which was Rayhe’s case, Alessandro was sure of that. “Wonder if he is talking to a woman...” Alessandro thought, although he doubted that. You don’t say ‘You are a total asshole’ to a woman.

“Red-and-Black, right?” the kid said, and Alessandro knew that he was talking about a particular brand of chocolate. “That stuff is bitter, how can you even stand it?” Samuel laughed again. “Whatever... Yeah, they have it. Ummm, I could only find four bars here... I guess I could run to a different store... Oh, okay... Okay, I’ll get these four then. Yeah, I’ll see you in half an hour or so. Bye, Desmond,” the kid snapped the phone shut and slid it into his pocket.

Desmond, Alessandro thought. Definitely not a woman’s name. What was Specter’s real name? Alessandro had no idea. He doubted that even Julian would have this information. Alessandro slowly walked behind the kid, making sure that he was staying out of sight – Alessandro was good at that. A suddenly-cold shiver started tickling his spine; a very cold, unpleasant shiver of a suspicion that Alessandro didn’t want to believe was true. Rayhe could not possibly fool Julian... Or could he...? With Specter’s help, it wouldn’t be impossible. After all, Salamander is only a human, as hard as that was to believe sometimes... And if Rayhe told everything to Specter... That son of a bitch was good at what he did, Alessandro thought gloomily, watching the kid patiently waiting in line so he could pay for the chocolates. If there were indeed anyone in the entire world who would be able to fool Julian Salamander, it would be Specter.

Alessandro realized that he never had a physical evidence of Specter’s death. Julian had to kill the video feed, so they never witnessed it. Alessandro went to that house the next day, but thanks to the magic stream, the entire place was burned to the ground and reduced to ashes -- it was impossible to find anything; even if Specter’s bones were there somewhere (a thing Alessandro doubted more and more now), he couldn’t find anything. Alessandro cursed silently in his head. Goddammit, he thought. If that bastard is still alive... He gritted his teeth in a helpless rage. He would have to let Julian know right away, he knew that. Okay, he thought. First things first... Maybe it’s just a false alarm, maybe Rayhe found someone else, maybe he didn’t care about Specter to begin with... Uh huh, Alessandro smirked bitterly. And maybe pigs will start flying tomorrow.

He followed the kid out of the store and watched him get into a small car. Alessandro watched him intently, registering the direction the kid took out of the parking lot, and then he got into his own car. He caught up with the kid five minutes later – his small dark-blue car wasn’t easy to spot, but for Alessandro, it was a child’s game. Soon enough, the kid parked in front of some apartment building, and Alessandro pulled over to the curb on the opposite side of the narrow street and killed the engine.

The kid ran up several steps that led to the first floor apartment doors, and rang the bell. Alessandro narrowed his eyes, trying to see the number on that door. Fifteen, he saw finally. Number fifteen. The door opened and a man stepped outside, wearing tight pants and nothing else. He lightly tousled kid’s hair and dragged on his cigarette. Alessandro found it hard to breathe. That black hair, that damn long black hair... That smirk... That neck Alessandro dreamt of snapping... Alessandro could not believe his own eyes.

“Specter...” he muttered, and his mouth went dry.