She didn’t want to know.
Vivian’s shirt slipped from her shoulders and she felt blood rushing to her face. She felt mortified and exhilarated before him. She searched his expression carefully, taking pleasure in the lust in his eyes. His fingers brushed ever so gently against one of her breasts.
Vivian scanned his bachelor pad as he dressed her wound. If anything, it was a tribute to an era of vintage that radiated elegance and style. Curiously, she saw no photos of family, relatives, or former lovers.
Somehow it hinted at profound emptiness in his life. She could sense it under the alluring façade of souvenirs and scenic photos from his world travels across Southeast Asia and Europe. No amount of adventure would change that fact. Despite the magnitude of freedom and wanderlust, he was no closer to finding what he sought.
She wanted so badly to fill that void for him and be his everything. She wanted to be the only one he loved. No other woman could occupy that precious pedestal.
As those thoughts whirled through her mind, Vivian noticed the blood leaking through Milo’s shirt above his shoulder.
“You didn’t say you were hurt, too! What did they do to you?!”
“No, it’s not from the fight. A patient attacked me today when I tried to draw blood,” he chuckled. “Never underestimate the fear of needles. It took a nurse’s aide to get him off me! Damn, the fight probably tore the wound back open. I must look like a mess.”
Vivian’s gaze turned predatory.
“And who takes care of you when you’re injured?”
“No one. I live by myself here.” He smiled warmly. “But fortunately I know someone who plans on becoming a nurse.”
Vivian smiled cunningly. Those words were as much an invitation as she could hope for. Curled up in his lap, she undid the buttons on his shirt to “examine” him. His toned chest caught her attention before she could even look at the injury. Her hands ran over his thick shoulders to his arms as the firelight danced over their naked skin, drawing them both deeper under this heady spell.
At some point, Milo’s touch began to knead her body in delicious ways.
She relished the feeling of his teeth on her neck. His fingers gently caressed her flower where it was wet against her panties. She ached for him to explore her depths.
He knew exactly what to do and where to touch her. Vivian surmised that a woman’s body was no unfamiliar territory to a man as beautiful as Milo.
“Milo…”
He opened his eyes and gazed upon a veritable echo of Red Widow. The ferocity in her face drew him in until his lips barely grazed hers.
“Do you think you can dominate me?”
His mouth slammed against hers in response.
The next touch triggered an erotic adventure that knew no end to their hunger. She wanted him to devour her heart and soul. She wanted to die and be reborn as something greater.
Vivian didn’t know if she was possessed by the adrenaline still pumping through her veins or her appetite for physical liberation.
Damn whatever the cause.
Milo seized her by the throat and captivated her with smoldering eyes. She was throbbing between her legs for him. She couldn’t bear much more as she felt him teasing her, denying her.
“Beg for me.”
“Fuck you.” Anger simmered inside Vivian at the mere thought that he wasn’t giving her everything she craved, but at the same time it thrilled her. He pinned her hands above her head as he indulged her fantasy. Every curve of her body was his to explore at his whim, be that with his hands or lips.
Vivian threw her head back in pleasure as he pressed her firmly against the wall. Her first instinct was to fight this submission and yet she also wanted to be a slave to his passion. She wanted to be his only lover, his favorite tormentor. The taste of his lips burned into hers as he ripped off her clothes.
For the first time in her life, having sex didn’t feel unclean. She was giving herself to a man who longed desperately for her.
This was a far cry from the times when she plied her trade as the Red Widow.
No, Milo viewed her as more than just a tool to achieve physical release. Vivian dared to dream that the look in his eyes was unequivocal love.
Milo welcomed her punishment as her nails dug into his back. She claimed him as her property from this day forward. The bloody furrows in his muscled arms made it clear that no other woman was allowed to touch him. Vivian was hardly perfect but that made her all the more irresistible. Milo was drawn to her darkness, her sadness, her hunger, and her beautiful pain.
Vivian’s thighs melted as he made his desire all too clear for her. She rode the decadent waves of pleasure that sent her into spasms.
Vivian didn’t even feel the bullet wound in her side anymore. Her orgasms dulled her flesh to the pain. She felt healed by this angel who took her in and showered her with undeserving mercy.
Vivian’s head was in such a haze that she was only aware of the slick sensation of skin. One moment Milo cradled one of her breasts against his palm and the next moment his wandering fingers pushed her up against a cliff of sheer mania. She screamed in ecstasy before his kiss silenced it.
She wanted to be enslaved.
She felt every facet of pleasure and joy that always seemed so tantalizingly out of reach.
These explosions in her veins were so potent, so thrilling that she feared she would only taste this once in her lifetime and forever lose sight of it.
She futilely tried to hold onto one speck of happiness.
She didn’t remember the next few seconds. She couldn’t even hear the words Milo spoke as he left her feeling empty inside. She reclined on the couch in a ball of warmth. She felt so good that she wanted to laugh, but she had expended all of her energy in sensual highs.
Vivian curled up against Milo’s chest, taking comfort in his feather soft skin. Content in the sanctuary of his arms, she drifted off to sleep.
Into this soulless void.
FIFTEEN
Strahov Monastery and its literary treasures harkened back to an age when Camilla wandered Uncle Sebastian’s cottage with a book in hand. She would end up spending more than a few evenings by the lakeside reading a novel while mischievous winds ruffled the pages. Even as she left the monastery and emerged into the rain, she longed to return to her childhood home in Adršpach.
How many years had passed since she last heard Sebastian’s voice? Not only that, she wanted to tell him about her maternal dilemma. Sebastian was likely the last person to see her mother when he saved Camilla from the horrors of the Magdalene asylum. Maybe he could help in some small way.
Feeling anxious, Camilla called him as the storm thickened over Prague. She watched the streetlights sizzle into existence and peel away the darkness over Strahov.
A familiar voice tolled over the phone.
“Camilla?”
“Hi, Uncle Sebastian. Sorry for calling at such a late hour.”
“Don’t be sorry, dear. What are estranged uncles for if not waking them for a friendly chat?” It took the sound of his laughter to realize how much she missed the mirth in his voice. Sebastian quickly filled the gap in years between them with conversations about newly discovered stories, the weather on the lakeside, and every shade of his hermitic existence.
When Sebastian realized she had gone mysteriously silent, he stopped rambling.
“What’s the matter?”
“Someone is trying to kill me!”
“What?”
“My mother has been stalking me for the past few months!”
“That can’t be right, Camilla. You must be mistaken, your mother has no reason to—”
“She tried to strangle me in the park—and she was outside my apartment, waiting for me! I had to fight her off the first time when she had her hands around my throat.” For the next few minutes, she recounted the stalking and violent encounters until Sebastian roared over the phone to be heard.
“It can’t be her!”
> Camilla fell silent.
“But she was here, waiting outside my apartment for me.”
“Why else would she want to see her daughter after years of separation?! After she was just freed from the asylums?!”
Camilla almost dropped the phone. Could every illusion she held about her mother be misplaced? She was relieved to know her mother wasn’t a bloodthirsty maniac walking in her footsteps, but it put her plight in an even more sinister light.
“…Then who? All of my relatives are dead.”
Sebastian couldn’t keep the shudder out of his sigh.
“Not all of them.”
Standing alone in the dark, Camilla looked around the rain-washed streets. She was too overwhelmed to speak now, too nervous to inquire. She almost wished Sebastian didn’t impart the truth on her and hung up instead.
“I…I kept one of your relatives hidden knowledge from you… I thought it would be for the best that you never met him. If he’s on your trail, you must promise me—”
“Him? A man is after me?”
The words became lodged in Uncle Sebastian’s throat.
“Yes, a man… though he bears more in common with a beast than a human being. If you met him, you would question if he is even human.”
“How dangerous is he? What does he want from me? Am I going to die?”
“You’re not going to die! I won’t let him near you!” Sebastian sounded frantic. “Come back home. Maybe I can protect you here—but as long as you’re in the open city, you aren’t safe from him! He’ll seek you no matter the cost! You need to leave Prague at once!”
Camilla couldn’t conceive that another Vesely still drew breath. Her mother wasn’t stalking her or scrawling sigils in blood to torment her. This was something entirely different. At least when she suspected her mother, she had an idea of why she was being hunted. Now she felt even more terrified because she had no clue what would happen next.
What did this man want from her? She almost hung up when Sebastian’s tired voice stayed her hand.
“Camilla… Please forgive me for trying to protect you. I never wanted you to see this.”
* * *
“Will you stay with me for another night?” Milo asked. He gazed through the opaque curtains into the shrouded city. As Vivian wrapped her arms around him, she saw the markings her nails left in evidence of their cruel lovemaking. On the surface, he looked cold and calm, but a distinct restlessness simmered underneath.
Vivian wondered what reflected in his heart tonight. Did he want her to stay because he loved her? She wanted to pry the depths of his mind and unearth every secret. Alas, those temptations would have to wait for another night. Camilla called her not too long ago about her conversation with Uncle Sebastian, pleading with Vivian to accompany her to Adršpach.
She nuzzled against Milo’s shoulder.
“I’m going to Adršpach tomorrow night. Camilla says she needs me and it’s extremely urgent. I should get going soon.”
Milo fell silent.
“I don’t understand what you’re getting mixed up in and part of me doesn’t want to know.”
Vivian stopped midway as she pulled on her jacket. The tone of his voice grated against her nerves.
“You don’t think I’m doing something bad, do you?”
“Of course not. I want you to be safe. I’m just worried, that’s all.”
“I promise I’ll come back in one piece. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Remember, I have experience dealing with psychopaths before, and something tells me this one can’t take me down.”
Milo smiled coyly.
“I pity the man who makes an enemy of you.”
* * *
Twilight deepened in the lowlands beyond Prague where they were awash in an amber glow. For the most part, Camilla’s silent journey was marked by questions about an uncle she hadn’t seen in years.
“Don’t you think it’s awfully weird that he can’t just tell you on the phone about this family member?” Vivian asked. “Is it really necessary to see him in person? It just seems rather quaint, doesn’t it?”
“Uncle Sebastian raised me like his own daughter. You might doubt his intentions but I trust him with my life. He urged me to get as far outside of Prague as possible. Maybe he wanted me to stay with him for safety.”
“But for how long? Until you become a hermit like him? Something about this just doesn’t feel right.”
Camilla gripped the steering wheel tighter. The lights of the cottage glowed from atop a hill in the distance. As they neared her childhood home, Camilla admired the honeyed surface of Adršpach Lake. Had it truly been that long since she left the hospitality of Uncle Sebastian?
She was so intent on orchestrating the downfall of the asylums that she didn’t make time for her sole family. She would make up for it tonight, she promised. She couldn’t wait to sit down with Uncle Sebastian over tea and mull recent events.
The car growled to a halt on a thin stretch of dirt leading to the hermitage. Time didn’t leave its mark on the cottage, as though it was immune or accordingly trapped in the past. Camilla rapped her knuckles on the door and waited for it to swing open.
Uncle Sebastian didn’t greet her with a hug and kiss as expected. In fact, she didn’t hear anyone stirring inside.
“He might be asleep,” Camilla said, and on a whim she pushed the door. Even as it effortlessly swung in, her hairs stood on end. Darkness saturated the cottage. Suddenly, she felt as though she was wading into a viper’s pit. Faint candlelight undulated at the end of the hall, whipping the shadows into a writhing sea of black.
“Uncle Sebastian?”
Camilla set foot in the dining room and screamed. She floundered back into Vivian, jaw agape at the atrocity awaiting her inside.
Vivian saw a figure in the dark.
Sebastian Vesely sat naked at a table. His mandible had been pried from his face, leaving only a tongue hanging from a void.
His small intestines were wrenched viciously out of his abdominal cavity. They stretched across the room like bloody streamers with the ends nailed to the walls. For all impression, it looked like tentacles outstretching from Sebastian’s chest, transforming his flesh and blood into an occult being.
The Vesely seal was painted in arterial spray on the wall behind him. For the first time, Camilla looked at the dinner spread. The table was decked with plates of cheese, a loaf of bread, and a bowl of wine.
A mass of candles gleamed around Sebastian Vesely, as if he was a morbid centerpiece to the feast. His flesh looked waxy in the golden glow, lending itself to an otherworldly creature.
“Uncle Sebastian…” Camilla whimpered, fighting down the tears as she cautiously approached. She couldn’t look upon his disfigured face as she stumbled around the table. She almost took his cold hand in hers, but she couldn’t bear to touch him. It was like looking at a mannequin, not a man who once lived and breathed.
They stared at the plate in front of him, upon which lay a coil of flesh.
“What is it?” Vivian asked.
Sweat beaded on Camilla’s brow as the stress threatened to catapult her into full blown panic.
“Another… umbilical cord.”
Vivian grabbed Camilla before she could spill sideways onto the floor and vomit. She could hardly hold her own weight now.
“Another one? Why?” Vivian stared at the horrendous object as if it might animate and slither forth.
Camilla swallowed the lump in her throat and noticed a few documents under the cord. Careful not to touch the flesh, she extracted a birth certificate on faded parchment, eager to be spill its revolting secrets.
“It seems even children who don’t exist get birth certificates,” she murmured, leaning closer to read the fine print. “Camilla Vesely, child of James Vesely and Ada Kysilka… Ada.” She let the name roll over her tongue as she envisioned the woman who gave her life. At least she had a name to put to her mother. She couldn’t dwell on the revelation for
long because she noticed a second birth certificate stuck to the first. As she considered the umbilical cord before her, a sinking feeling assaulted her.
“Born December 11, 1973... Sex: male. Child of James Vesely and Ada Kysilka.” Camilla’s tongue dried. “Ezran Vesely.” She spun toward the mutilated face of Uncle Sebastian, wondering how many secrets he harbored from her. “He knew I had a twin brother. Why would he try to hide the fact?”
Vivian drifted closer into the ring of scarlet candlelight.
“Maybe this will tell us why.” Her hand shot out, clutching several letters bespattered with Uncle Sebastian’s blood. “I found this along with his mandible.”
Steadying her hands, Camilla pried open the letters to learn about her brother’s fate. By all accounts, Ezran Vesely was sent to St. Ignatius Sanitarium at a young age when he became ill with tuberculosis. Uncle Sebastian willingly surrendered him to the asylum when the symptoms first came to fruition. The idea that her uncle would send her only brother to such a place sparked fury and shock in her. In that rare moment, Camilla almost felt pity for the child.
Ezran must have despised his father and uncle for the betrayal. It wasn’t hard to imagine the boy shifting that blame to his mother for bringing him into a painful existence. While he was carted off to suffer in filth and isolation, his sister lived a life of love and care.
As Camilla read on about her twin, her horror grew. Several letters addressed from the sanitarium to Sebastian painted the portrait of a troubled youth who graduated from stalking to assaulting other inmates. During the rare times when Sebastian visited Ezran, it almost always ended with violence from the latter.
She turned to Sebastian’s cadaver again. The savagery of the murder stunned Camilla to the brink of tears.
That is, not to suggest that any murder was more pleasant than the next, but this went beyond the realm of rage or reason. This was violence for the sake of violence.
“He tore him to pieces,” Camilla said, finally setting down the letters. “I’m not sure this was ever about the Magdalene asylums or revenge for shutting them down I think he’s hunting me for an entirely different reason.”
Arsenic for the Soul Page 14