“Please, just leave me alone,” Donovan begged. “I don’t need your help.”
Victor laughed. “It seems you do. Do I need to remind you that you were about to hang yourself until I showed up?”
“Yes, but so what? It’s not your business. Be gone, I command you.” Donovan said and did the Hail Mary.
Loud laughter erupted from Victor. “Please, don’t try to entertain me. You have no choice in this matter. You are going to cross over.”
Donovan tried to escape. He leapt toward the door, only to be blocked by Victor. “Sit down and prepare yourself.” Victor said and shoved him into a chair.
The rest was history. Donovan had become an immortal and his revenge was sweet. The people who killed his beloved and caused him needless pain were forever erased from earth. He was thankful for Victor and always would be. Victor saved him from himself and his plan for suicide, a death that would have made the enemies victorious.
Lost in thoughts Donovan jumped when he heard a tap on the window followed by a loud shriek. Donovan craned his neck and saw the hawk perched on the window ledge. Without touching the floor, he glided across the room and opened the window. The jet black hawk lowered its head in submission and Donovan rubbed the hawk’s head and body.
“You have been a wonderful seeing eye for me. Our work is not complete and you will continue to watch over Armani during the day while I slumber as I feel he needs more time to heal.” He said and handed the hawk a cracker. Its razor sharp beak gently took it from Donovan’s hand. The hawk’s eyes were on the aquarium a few feet away filled with mice scurrying to and fro. “You will get a few of those, don’t worry, my friend.” Donovan draped the long black cape over his shoulders, his stomach telling him it was time to drink some precious life blood but first his hawk needed its reward. He drifted to the aquarium, the hawk following. “Here you are,” he said placing a few mice on the wood floor of his rundown house. The hawk shrieked and dove after the mice.
Donovan exited the house and whistled a tune enjoying the darkness and the light of the half—moon wondering where he would meet his next victim. A few minutes later he heard the hawk, his faithful companion fly overhead. Donovan joined him as they soared high into the sky, eyeing the busy city streets.
Donovan thought about Armani and felt his pain. In time he would show himself to Armani and convince him to join The Dark Ones and forever be immortal and free from his human pain.
Chapter Six
The birds chirped outside and the sun shone through the bedroom window onto Armani’s face making it feel like a piece of meat on the grill. He got up and looked at his yard, once so wonderful now held no beauty to him. Isolation had been his answer to life’s problems since arriving home from the hospital. Armani continued to stay behind closed doors, occasionally talking to Rex and his agent on the phone. The full time staff he employed had been told not to show up for work until notified differently. Armani was a sensible man and continued to send them their weekly wage through the mail. It wasn’t their fault his life was hell and they shouldn’t have to pay for his problems and depression. His heart was numb and cold, but compassion for others still existed.
He sat on the wood chair he had made for Simone and thought about the last person he saw. The mailman had come to the door with a delivery for him. Assuming it was Rex, he answered the door without his mask on. The shocked look on the mailman’s face plagued him. The left side of his face was charred and slightly deformed his left eye a little lower than the right due to scarring, the eyebrow gone forever, and his hairline was back three inches from his forehead. Armani rarely if ever looked in a mirror. He prayed his face would return to normal but the doctor gave him little hope.
What was there to hope for anymore? His only hope was avenging the death of Simone, seeing the men who destroyed him served their justice. His depression made him uninterested in his band with all the tours, schedules, screaming fans cheering for him and his band, Faded Cross. Armani smirked. How symbolic the name, Faded Cross was now of his life; a fading dream, a fading life that felt like death on a cross.
Armani walked to his music room, sat at the piano and played numerous songs he had written. The room was a beautiful auburn color, the floor made of black and white checkered marble. Pictures in black and white hung on the walls. Instruments of all kinds filled the room; guitars, drums, bells and numerous instruments most people would be shocked to see in a rock musician’s home. He loved to play the cello, harp, and violin, so he had a few of each in the room. The most beautiful instrument was the shiny black grand piano in the center of the room. Armani walked to the piano, placed his hands on top of it and looked up at the black marble ceiling and drummed a tune with his fingers. ‘My dearest Simone, I shall play a few songs for you and hope that you hear them in Heaven.’ He prayed.
He walked to the chest filled with his sheet music, picked up a few of Simone’s favorites he had written for her. That seemed so long ago, but it was only a short time. Simone wasn’t musically gifted, but she loved to sit next to Armani when he’d play the piano and they would sing together for hours. Sometimes when she tried to hit a high note, they would both laugh hysterically at her efforts. Armani loved that both of them had the ability to laugh at themselves.
Armani found the songs he wanted to play. Being a ritualistic man by nature, he dimmed the lights as he had done so often when he would serenade Simone. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a lighter and lit two red candles sitting atop the piano. Once lit, he held the lighter to his eyes and stared at the flickering flame. The left side of his face grew warmer. Gritting his teeth, he squeezed the lighter and threw it against the wall shattering it into pieces. “That’s what those evil men have done to my heart. They will pay,” he seethed.
Armani sat at the piano and placed the sheets of music in front of him. The first song was a melody he wrote for Simone titled, ‘My Heart Beats for You.’ His fingers moved gracefully along the keyboard, his voice seductive and edgy. Closing his eyes Armani lifted his head to the Heavens seeing visions of Simone dancing. He played this song three more times before stopping to take a breath. He played the next two songs, his heart grieving for her like a mother’s for a deceased child. He knew the pain would be with him forever. The last song ‘One Look,’ he played four times as tears streamed down his cheeks.
Armani was emotionally spent. Lifting himself off the piano bench he caught sight of his reflection in one of the mirrors that lined the walls. He shuddered and cursed at himself. ‘So, this is my curse,’ he thought. ‘It’s what I deserve for destroying Simone.’ The thought that if she hadn’t met him she would still be alive haunted him, the guilt, like a cancer ate him up inside.
He walked up to the mirror and stared at himself. “What a horrible looking monster you’ve become,” Armani said. He turned and focused on the unscarred right side of his face. Armani reasoned that the tormentor’s left one side untouched sending him a message every time he looked in the mirror. The message was clear to him now for the first time. They had taken away Simone, his other half, just as they had taken away half his face. He could never look at himself without the physical and emotional wounds being reopened. Forever the scars will remain. ‘Indeed the ones responsible will suffer for this.’ He thought and slammed the music room door shut.
Dazed, he walked to the top of the stairs and stopped when he heard pacing footsteps like a caged zoo animal. A cold chill blew through the hallway making it feel like the temperature dropped fifteen degrees. The window was closed, so why did he feel cold? He wrapped his arms around himself and continued to listen. The pacing ceased. ‘Maybe it was psychosis plaguing him again.’ He thought with a shrug.
He stopped, goose bumps rose on his neck. Glass shattered. He assumed he must’ve left a window open and the breeze knocked over a glass. It was impossible for anyone to break in or step foot on his property. His home was surrounded by a wrought iron gate, surveillance cameras, alarm systems, and two large Rott
weiler’s imported from Germany and trained as guard dogs and were on alert for intruders. The dogs wouldn’t hesitate to attack if someone dare trespass.
Straining his neck he listened. Silence answered him from the main floor. The dogs barked like they had gone mad. He jogged to the nearest bedroom and looked out the window. Both Rottweiler’s paced back and forth barking, their eyes fixed on the house. He heard enough. Armani jerked the window open and hollered at the dogs to shut up and go to their kennels. They peered at him and did as told with great reluctance.
Armani was too hungry to let fear keep him caged upstairs. Whatever he had heard was gone now. Cold, empty silence was the only visitor in his house. He walked down the white spiral staircase lined with red carpet holding onto the railing. A sense of fear kept him on alert. The cold chill he had felt earlier was gone. He dismissed the chills with the possibility of having a fever. The doctor had told him that wouldn’t be uncommon as he may get infections periodically. “It’s nothing to worry about.” The doctor had said. “It’s just normal fluctuations of your body’s temperature as it fights minor infection.” Armani planned to call the doctor later and get a prescription for insomnia and psychosis. Lack of sleep was probably the cause of psychosis. Terrible nightmares plagued him every night. He woke up sweating several times a night and it was becoming routine. One he didn’t welcome. His dreams were dark and horrifying. In them, he would see Simone being tortured, raped, and killed in the most graphic way as he stood by not able to help her. Always in these nightmares, a man appeared to offer him help and promised him an eternity of living in peace and freedom from pain. But, he wasn’t fully man. His face resembled a hawk’s with black eyes, long brown hair, stone cold blue eyes, pointed nose, long sharp nails and always dressed in black from head to toe. Armani wished the man existed, but it was just a dream, a recurring nightmare he hoped would end soon.
When he reached the last step Armani looked to the left and right. His home was extraordinary. The room to the left was the large living room furnished with two large black leather couches, a large black chair, and a 72inch flat screen TV. Two dining rooms were in each corner on the main floor, a large library, a sitting room, a porch which overlooked the landscape, and a kitchen the size of an apartment.
He saw nothing out of the ordinary and walked into the kitchen and the lights automatically turned on. He gazed at the front door as he passed. It was still locked. Armani slapped the right side of his face hard. He had to get a grip on reality. When he looked around the kitchen, his heart lurched. Simone had decorated the kitchen. It hurt to look at the walls of mahogany red, the floor consisted of black and white checker tiles and every appliance was tuxedo black.
Disappointment clouded his face when he opened the refrigerator and saw he had very little food left that wasn’t already expired. He walked to the cupboard, pulled out a loaf of bread and settled for a peanut butter sandwich. He ate it in seconds but hunger still pained him. He opened the refrigerator again and pulled out a beer. The top popped with a welcoming sound. He guzzled down one and drank two more.
He walked to the window and stared at the yard covered with a blanket of white snow that sparkled like a thousand diamonds in the sunlit. Memories from the previous winter flooded his mind. He smiled remembering when Simone and he made snow angels and a snowman laughing like two giddy children. There was never a dull moment with her. He frowned and a tear slid down his cheek.
Armani retreated back to the refrigerator and pulled out the remaining nine beers and walked into the living room. He set the beers on the coffee table next to the couch and turned on the TV. Flipping through the channels, he finally found back to back episodes of his favorite show ‘Law and Order’. Hopefully, this and the beer would keep his mind distracted for a while. It helped until a commercial break. A funeral director was talking about how they can help you through the grieving process while making arrangements as heart and compassion are the focus of their business, the funeral director said with a somber look on his face. Armani rolled his eyes and cracked open another beer. The balding man talked about how his funeral home also helps pick out tombstones, professionally engraved by them.
Armani felt like the funeral director stabbed him through the heart. What kind of man was he? He hadn’t been to Simone’s grave. Guilt plagued his soul. His beautiful Simone was buried without a gravestone, he was sure. His plans for tomorrow were to get out of the house for the first time in weeks and visit Simone. The commercial came to an end and Armani wrote down the phone number.
Simone was his angel. His world had become a dark, cold, and lonely place since her death. He would visit the funeral home and pay the funeral director to engrave ‘My Angel in the Night’ on a tombstone of his choice.
Armani lay down and pulled a blanket over himself. Too dizzy to even use the bathroom he closed his eyes hoping for a long peaceful sleep.
Chapter Seven
Rex beat on Armani’s front door. What the hell was he doing in there? He was worried about his friend’s lack of interest in life. Armani didn’t want to leave the house or even talk about touring. The rare times they talked on the phone it was more like talking to a robot. Today, Rex was determined to get Armani out of the house. Keeping yourself cooped up behind closed doors was not healthy for anyone, especially someone in the grieving process. Any shrink would tell you that.
“Armani, open this door, now!” Rex yelled, banging hard with his fists. The dogs sat at Rex’s feet staring wide—eyed. He patted both of their heads. “Maybe you both should stay in the house with Armani and keep him company.”
Rex’s patience grew thin. He kicked the door with his boot. Trying to reach him on the phone failed. His calls went directly to voice mail.
Armani jumped off the couch, his head pounding. Damn Rex and his persistence.
He opened the door and tried to smile. The red orange sun shone like a ball of fire in the pale blue sky. What a beautiful sight and one Armani had always treasured. He would never grow tired of seeing the sunrise. They symbolized hope and a fresh start.
Rex frowned. “You look like shit. I’ve been trying to call you for hours.” He pushed Armani aside and walked inside. “Come, sit down. We need to talk and it’s not a choice. You’re going to hear what I have to say.” Rex scanned the living room and picked up an empty can of beer. “Have a party last night, Armani?” He asked, smirking.
Armani stared at the sunrise, savoring the warmth. The dogs whined and waited for Armani to allow them in. He snapped his fingers twice and gestured with his hand. “Go lay down.”
Armani glanced at the clock on the wall. “What the hell are you doing here at seven o’clock in the morning?” Armani asked. “Couldn’t you have come later in the day?”
Rex shot him a cold look. “I’m here to get your ass out of the house. That’s not a choice, neither, in case you think about telling me no or coming up with some excuse.”
Armani sat on the recliner and thought about Simone’s gravesite. “That’s not going to work for me today. Sorry, but I have other arrangements.”
Rex laughed. “And what might they be? Sitting on your ass feeling sorry for yourself?” He asked matter of fact and cocked his head.
“I’m going to visit Simone’s grave. Is that O.K. with you, Rex?” He asked. “She needs a proper burial site with only the finest tombstone money can buy. So, say what you need to say.” Armani leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling.
Rex watched Armani. He seemed a thousand miles away, but Rex had things that he needed to address whether Armani wanted to hear it or not.
“I’m here on behalf of the band and myself. We want to work on our new album and we can’t do that without you. You write the lyrics and make things happen. I hate to admit it, but you’re the backbone behind ‘Faded Cross.’” Rex cleared his throat. “Without you, there is no group. It’s time to move on with your career and future. Our agent wants to set tour dates. You’re the lead vocals and we can’t tou
r without you.”
Armani interrupted him. “No shit. Well, tell Mr. Gabe Davis, our wonderful manager to stick it up his ass.” He closed his eyes wishing Rex would get the hell out of his house. His wounds would not heal for a long time and until then, the band was something he had no desire to be a part of. “On second thought, tell him to find a new lead singer.”
“What the hell is wrong with you, man?” Rex asked pissed off. “The fans miss you, they miss us. You need to think about others instead of yourself. All your buddies need to make a living, too. We have families and lives to lead, which requires making money. We can’t just sit at home doing nothing.” Rex regretted having to say this, but he was a man of blunt honesty, sometimes to a fault and this was one of those times.
Armani lifted his head and glared at Rex. “I hear you, Rex. I know you have a family. Well, I don’t and I’m grieving the loss of the one person who was my family. Don’t you dare say anything like that or you’ll never see me again.” He clenched his fists to keep from hitting Rex. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Sorry, man, that came out wrong.” Rex stood up and walked to the window. “It’s a beautiful day. Are you sure you don’t want company today?” Rex knew he sounded desperate. The words he said about family had cut deep into Armani’s heart like a double-edged sword. The worst part about it was that he couldn’t take them back. Turning around, he noticed Armani staring at him, an odd look in his eyes. His face was a mess on one side. If he was honest with himself he knew he’d probably hide away too and avoid the stares and gossip. If he wasn’t Armani’s best friend, Rex would feel repulsed by the left side of his face. “Hey, you know what? We can get a mask for your face if that would make you feel more comfortable going out.”
Undying Vengeance Page 4