Sapphire Scars: Volume Three Read online

  SAPPHIRE SCARS

  Volume Three

  by A.P. Moraez

  Sapphire Scars © 2020 by A.P. Moraez. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover and art by A.P. Moraez

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: Intended for 18+ audiences. This book contains material that may be offensive to some and is intended for mature, adult audience. It contains graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations.

  CONTENTS

  prologue

  friend or foe

  the catch

  sin

  Leonardo Lazarus

  b

  ignite iii

  unmasked

  a time for the unexpected

  interlude iii

  the beautiful world of Logan Bishop

  confessions by the lake

  something hidden

  talisman

  manifestation

  alliance

  supernova

  it will be alright

  Beeguard

  Epilogue

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  For all of us who have the courage to accept and embrace our something hidden

  prologue

  twelve years ago…

  AS THE BODY twitched for the last time, the man in the suit took a step back and studied his masterpiece. The familiar warmth that always spread through his body with the recent flood of adrenaline was exquisite. For a moment, he allowed his eyes to close and filled his lungs with the air that still smelled of copper. The distinct sound of new, fresh blood dripping from the body’s slashed throat and connecting to the white-tiled floor was a caress to his troubled mind.

  The man in the suit couldn’t help it when the small smile pulled at his lips. It was just… beautiful. Blood from the body and his own hands dripping off onto the floor, his own calming breathing and the ticking clock on the nearby wall. A soothing melody. A job well done.

  One final deep breath and he let his eyes fall open. They delayed on the bloodied body growing cold over the dark steel operating table for just one more moment before they lowered to his left hand. This he’d have to admit: the fucker had pretty eyes. A clear green reminiscent of his late wife’s and Nat’s. She’d be happy with these.

  Mindful of the fragile irises, he flattened his hand and carried the fresh globes to the sink in the corner. After properly washing them, he reached for one of the many empty glass jars he kept there, filled it with water and dropped them inside. Funnily enough, both irises ended up turned his way, the dim light coming from the fluorescents reflecting off of them and creating a lively illusion.

  The suited man admired them for just one more moment before he turned around and started undressing himself on his way to the closet in the corner. It was a shame, really. He’d really liked this suit; light gray had always gone well with his tanned complexion and light hair. Now, covered in blood, it had to go. So, after picking up another full three piece from the many he stored down here, the man left the closet and approached the middle of the room where the body still rested.

  Soiled clothes met the bottom of the built-in fireplace with a damp, muffled sound. Two snaps of his fingers and they were consumed by fire, his sins with them. No one would ever know. No one that mattered, anyway.

  As it always was, winter in Tompas was beyond freezing. As it always was, naked and bloodied, the man adjusted the temperature to the lowest possible and stepped confidently under the strong water pressure. The shock caused him slight pain for a second, then years of habit kicked in and he enjoyed the shower as every muscle locked and unlocked; as the cold turned so cold that it started to burn his skin.

  Ten minutes later and he was all set, not even a single wrinkle marring his pristine navy-blue suit. One final tug at his tie to make sure everything was in place and he headed to the sink to retrieve Nat’s gift.

  Outside, as expected, Ivan awaited like he hadn’t moved a single muscle in the last hour or so, when he’d instructed him to guard the door. The bodyguard threw him a sinful grin as soon as the automatic lock clicked behind him. “All done?”

  “Yeah. You can get rid of the body.”

  Ivan pressed one thick finger to the digital panel. “’Course.”

  “Hey,” Ivan called from over his shoulder, a hand keeping the door slightly open.

  The suited man raised an eyebrow in question.

  “Too busy to play today? I’m horny.”

  He couldn’t help the little chuckle that escaped him. It was one of the traits he’d always liked about Ivan: he was direct and honest and he went for what he wanted. No games.

  “We’ll see,” was his only reply.

  Ivan winked at him one last time before he closed the door behind him.

  Shaking his head and smiling to himself, the man in the suit marched along the narrow corridor leading to the far staircase. One of the lights overhead flickered right when he was crossing under it. It had been behaving like that for days now. He had to remember to tell Ivan to fix it. Not today, though. It was too late in the evening.

  When he got to the top of the stairs, he quickly pressed the fingers of his left hand to the right numbers on the digital panel.

  On the corridor outside he was met with darkness and silence. He gave a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the change before continuing on his way through the second floor.

  As expected, the kids were probably all fast asleep at this time. When he passed before Nate’s bedroom, he knocked lightly on the door before opening it.

  He was still out. The man in the suit didn’t like having his son out in the city this late, but it was a necessary evil. He had to keep up appearances and, for that, they always had to keep an eye out for potential… assets. His only comfort was knowing he’d taught Nate well. He was a smart boy. He knew how to keep on the down low and how to defend himself, if he ever needed to.

  With less of a heavy heart, he continued on his way, making sure to keep the glass jar partially hidden from the doors, just in case any of the kids decided they needed to piss or something and suddenly rushed out of their bedrooms. Some of them knew him better than others, at this point, but most of them didn’t. Would never know. The last thing he wanted was having to get rid of one of them tonight. Two showers for the day had already been one too many.

  A few moments later, he finally reached the stretch of corridor that allowed him to see down there on the first floor. The mansion’s Victorian architecture came with lots of corridors and lots of windows. Windows that, in a full moon night like this, bathed the whole house in lunar light. He’d always found the effect quite magnificent when the light traversed the colorful stained-glass.

  One hand in the banister, in a burst of recklessness, he brought the jar up and allowed the light to touch it. He mindlessly let his feet guide him forward toward Nat’s room while he admired the different shades dancing over the green eyes.

  It didn’t last, though. Soon, the stretch of open corridor was over. A few more feet and he got to his daughter’s room. As instructed, the door was locked. He knocked on the cold wood three times, and waited. Sometimes it could take her a while to get her bearings and open for him.

  The sound of light footsteps reached his ears se
conds before the door opened.

  “Hi, darling.”

  “Dad,” she acknowledged him with a smile.

  “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  “No, I was just playing.”

  “Natasha,” he scolded, “you know it’s late. You have school tomorrow.”

  Her cheeks turned pink, but instead of looking properly reprimanded, she smiled. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t fall asleep. I was too excited.”

  Pride filled his heart and he let out a low laugh.

  “Tell me, daddy! How was it? Did he scream?”

  The man checked the corridor to see if anyone had heard. Luckily for them, it was still empty.

  “Careful, Nat. You know nobody can know about these things. It’s our secret, remember? Ours and Nate’s.”

  “Sorry.”

  He brought a hand to her cheek and walked her back into her room, locking the door behind them.

  “Come on. Let’s sit down, and then I’ll tell you.”

  The girl giggled and practically danced back to her bed. One of her gifts rested on her white pillow, surrounded by at least five of her porcelain dolls.

  “Nat, what did I tell you? You can only play with your gifts inside the closet. It’s dangerous.”

  “But the door was locked, dad. Nobody would see.”

  “You opened the door for me.”

  “Only because you used our secret code.”

  God, when did she get so smart? He missed the little girl that didn’t have an answer for everything.

  “Tell me!” she demanded, still bouncing on the bed where she’d thrown herself. “Did he scream a lot? Was it bloody? Quick or you dragged it out? Tell me!”

  So enthusiastic, his little terror. “Yep, princess. He screamed a lot. His blood was still dripping onto the floor when I left.”

  The girl giggled and clapped. “What color are they?”

  He smiled. “I think you’re really gonna like these ones. They’re the color yours used to be.”

  “Green?”

  “Yes, girl. Green. Clear, big green eyes.”

  “Can I see them?”

  “Of course.”

  After opening the jar, he carefully reached for the eyes on the bottom. “Here, give me your hand.”

  She hesitantly reached for him with both hands and he placed one globe on each.

  “Are they really green, dad? Like mine used to be?”

  “Yes, princess.”

  She shot him a coy smile. “Help me find a spot for them?”

  “Of course.”

  She got out of the bed and sauntered to her closet, where the familiar green headlight was already on. He followed her there, where she shifted clothes back and forth until her special cupboard was revealed.

  “Here.” She handed him the new jar. “Put them with the other greens, please.”

  The man shifted forward and, after taking the jar from the twelve-year-old, chose a special spot in the middle of the row of jars containing green eyes.

  “Done. Now, time for bed. It’s already late.”

  He was in the middle of collecting her dolls to put them back into their box when she asked, “When’s gonna be the next one, dad?”

  “The next what?” he asked distractedly.

  “The next gift.”

  “We’ll see, princess.”

  She fell silent after that. When he turned around to face her, she was lying on her side, the white glass orbs she wore on her empty eye sockets locked on him.

  “Alright, time to go to sleep,” he declared, tucking her in for the last time before he leaned down to press a kiss onto her forehead. “Love you, princess. Sweet dreams.”

  The door was almost completely closed behind him when he heard a faint, “Love you too, daddy.”

  Smiling, the man in the suit locked the door behind him with his own key so she wouldn’t have to leave the bed and do it herself. It seemed medieval to do so, but one could never be too careful with a house full of boys.

  Finally heading to his own room, the exhaustion of the day made itself more pronounced. His hand was still sore from beating that fucker up earlier in the day, and his shoulders were cramping, for some reason. Maybe he should call Ivan upstairs and ask for a massage, even if he had to play his part on the happy ending that would most probably follow that.

  Thinking better of it, it was really late, but it was never too late for a good fuck.

  Footsteps sounded from his right and the man was immediately brought back from his thoughts by Nate’s driver coming up the stairs.

  “Is there a problem?” the man in the suit inquired, finding it odd that he was here. He usually kept himself to the kitchen when he wasn’t driving the boy around.

  “Good evening, sir. No, no problem. It’s just Nate asked me to let you know he found another boy. They’re talking in the car and should get inside soon.”

  Goddammit. He knew they needed new blood once in a while, but today was really not the day. He wasn’t in the mood for interrogations and interviews, not even in the slightest. But it was inevitable. Whoever it was that Nate had found, he’d have to talk to and, eventually, if all things went well, welcome into their home.

  With that in mind, he nodded to the man looking at him expectantly from two steps down. “Alright, I’ll be in my office. When they get in, send him up.”

  “Sure, sir. Goodnight, sir.” The man bowed and was gone.

  Annoyed that his plans for the evening had been ruined, the man changed directions and headed back to his office. It’d better be good this time. It wasn’t rare that Nate would bring home someone already too jaded or broken. And they couldn’t do with that, so they had to dispose of them. And it was annoying as fuck.

  There was nothing he could do, though. It was all in a day’s work. All part of doing a job well done.

  friend or foe

  twelve years ago…

  THE SOUND OF tires coming to a screeching stop woke Ash from the light slumber he’d found himself falling in and out of during the last few hours. His left temple was cold from where it’d been leaning against the dirty window. There was a heavy fog out there, so he couldn’t see much, but he knew this was it. He’d asked the grumpy driver after their last stop and the man had guaranteed their next stop would be the last one.

  Tompas was finally here, and the first impression he was getting of it through the glass was anything but encouraging.

  With way more effort than should be necessary, he straightened himself on his seat and immediately regretted it. Everything hurt. His back and even his behind from spending hours seated up there on that tree and then practically an entire day sitting on this uncomfortable, cheap seat. The clothes had dried on him and he was starting to feel the beginning of a cold settling in. That itch at the back of his throat had never led to anything but a night or two of intense fever and a runny nose.

  He’d left Biscuits with exactly eight hundred, fifty-five dollars and forty-one cents, and some of it he’d already burned to pay for the bus ticket and a sandwich that he’d eaten hours ago. Now he’d have to burn even more finding a place where he could weather the inevitable cold and to buy some meds so he wouldn’t die of high fever.

  When the overweight woman carrying the ragged pink backpack finally rose at his side to take her spot at the growing line that had formed on the corridor, Ash took a second to stretch his legs and peer out the window one last time, in hopes that he’d be able to see something other than clouds of fog clinging to the glass.

  Only wishful thinking, in the end.

  Suppressing a shiver that had nothing to do with the weather or his health, he rose from the seat and quickly retrieved his backpack and guitar from the compartment above.

  This was it. Less than ten people and his feet would land in Tompas — what he was hoping would be his fresh start — for the first time. Less than ten people and he’d be at the mercy of luck and his own intelligence, and damn if it wasn’t scary. Ash had always liked to think
of himself as being intelligent enough, but lucky? Funny, if not tragic. The last few days had been proof enough.

  Five people.

  The strong grip he had on the guitar case strapped around his shoulder involuntarily tightened when he caught a glimpse of fog sneaking in as one more passenger crossed through the skewed doors.

  Funny thing was, people liked to romanticize the act of rebellion; of escape. Of throwing the world the middle finger and running away from home to be one’s one person.

  He’d lost count of how many books and movies he’d seen, growing up, where the heroes and heroines met under the romantic protection of moon and starts and ran out to have adventures of their own and never came back and, somehow, things always seemed to work out. Seeing that door approaching didn’t make him feel courageous, adventurous or rebellious and euphoric.

  Instead, he was scared and anxious and feeling utterly alone. And he was. There was no one in a hundred-mile radius that knew him and, if things didn’t work out, he was the only one he could rely on to get himself back on his feet. And God, that was scary. So scary, it had the grip he had on the strap of his backpack tightening to imitate its twin while cold, cold dread filled his lungs.

  No use.

  Ash shook his head, threw the grumpy driver a small nod and a muted smile, and descended the three steps into his new life.

  Beaten sneakers landed on the concrete with a muffled thud and the subtle breeze still managed to blow a strand of hair in front of his eyes. As he tucked it back into place, he took his first good look around. He’d never been to a big city like this. This bus station alone was big enough to fit five of Biscuit’s school in it and, even at this late hour, it was still vibrating with the constant sound of buses arriving and departing and people talking on their phones.

  The black woman, clad in the red jacket, that had been sitting just two rows behind him in the bus, rushed past him toward a man, probably her husband, and the two lost themselves in a messy, tight hug. It tightened his heart, too.

  He’s just low-class filth.