Seth by Nero Seal
The buzzing of the high-voltagewire added to Gustavo’s irritation. He’d sat in the damn car for so long that his ass hurt, and every nerve vibrated with tension.
When curiosity took the better of him, he got out of the car and strolled through the overgrown industrial site, Diego shadowing close behind. The initial thought of using the front door of the silo crashed against a shriek of pain. They returned to the factory and used the old bridge connecting the main building to the access door in the silo’s dome.
Rusty iron screeched under their weight as they approached the slightly ajar door. The screams grew louder. Animalistic, uncontrollable, they told a horrific story of torture.
Gloom cocooned Gustavo as he froze on a tiny metal platform above the ladder. Railings chilled his palms as he bent over and looked down. Old paint flaked off under his grip and fell on the concrete floor covered in blood and water.
Gustavo had seen a lot of torture in his life. He’d done it himself, still, his stomach turned as the stench of death and feces slammed against his nose.
Looking at the dead bodies, disemboweled and split open, he thought that if Hell existed, it would look like this. Some of the captives didn’t have eyes, others gaped with tongueless mouths. A few faces were eroded to the bone with acid. If Justin’s murder seemed like an act of love, permeated with romanticism and aestheticism, this mass murder reeked of hatred and was devoid of mercy, of humanity. Gustavo closed his eyes and opened them again to take into the angry, merciless act that didn’t seem to have any goal except destruction.
This could have been Hans…
The realization washed him in cold sweat. All this time, he’d only seen in Seth what he wanted to see. He’d treated everything as a game, when what was happening in the silo could have easily become his reality. His vision doubled and now he saw Hans sitting on one of the metal chairs with his guts spilled all over the floor.
“You look like you saw a ghost,” Diego said in a low voice.
“I need air,” Gustavo mouthed. “Let’s get out.”
His shoulder bumped against Diego’s. In the darkness of his failing vision, he stumbled out of the door and seized the railing of the bridge to quell the nausea. He gulped the air down. Drenched in sun, it tasted like dust but refreshed like a gulp of water. His vision cleared.
“What is it?” Diego asked, leaned next to him. His fingers mechanically unwrapped a lollipop. Wavering for a second, he proffered it forward. “A candy?”
Gustavo shook his head.
“Disappointed?” Diego dropped the wrapper and put the sucker in his mouth. “It’s pretty brutal.”
“Disappointed?” Gustavo settled his gaze on the bulged cheek. “I don’t think that’s what I feel. This doesn’t look like anything he’s done before.”
“No shit? Would it be the right time to tell you ‘told you so?’ or should I wait until we take our places in that damned silo?”
Gustavo parted from the railings and strolled toward the factory. “I need to clear my mind. Let’s get out of here.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere…”
“Wait, let me wipe our fingerprints.”
* * *
Reality sharpened as Sethemerged from his trance. Black vortexes swirling around him tore the dying souls apart, disintegrating them into black particles. Unlike Seth, the sand fed on them, becoming more empowered with every bite.
Seth stepped back, arms heavy and sluggish alongside his body. He hated destroying souls. The process was nasty, carried no beauty, and it always left him empty, revolted. It also dusted the desert of his soul with black ash, forcing him to raise one sand storm after another to clean the filth away. It didn’t charge him with electricity, didn’t drug him with adrenaline and endorphins, instead it filled his limbs with lead.
Absolute death looked nasty and carried no hope. While mortal flesh basked in blood and bile, the vortexes consumed the last shards of the souls of those he’d killed. Watching them die, he thought that his death would look similar—oblivion without redemption, rebirth, or hope. Maybe that was the reason behind his repulsion toward soul destruction, as it always made him think of the dying god’s rotting flesh from his dreams.
The three men he confirmed as guilty of the murder and rape still lived. Glass shards filled their stomachs and bladders. Blood oozed from their every opening. He had extracted the names of all the culprits hours ago and had no reason to keep them alive anymore, yet he wasn’t satisfied. He craved their agony, their pain. He didn’t want to finish the torture, wanting them to taste all the pain Ignaz went through, but time was running out.
Removing the evidence of such a bloody mass murder would be a lengthy, exhausting process, and if he dawdled for too long someone would discover the place before he disposed of all the bodies, but he was too tired to think about it now.
Seth glanced at his watch. Midnight had passed, meaning he had been here for hours. The thoughts of Ignaz tightened his chest. He wanted to go home and find comfort in his shy embrace. To press his ear to Ignaz’s chest and listen to his heartbeat. To once again see his smile. He was sure that after tonight the smile would return to his face. It has to.
Another surge of anger infused him with energy. He turned to those who kept him away from his boy to notice one of them sinking into unconsciousness. Seth lifted the bucket of water to splash it on the man when the door flew open, and three men entered the building.
Such bad timing… Seth looked at the bucket, at the men whose souls he nearly destroyed, then into the light eyes of Ernst Sommer and the black muzzle of his gun.
Ernst’s footsteps boomed through the space, echoing against the walls. His focus darted from body to body, then back to Seth.
“What-what-what the hell? Are they dead?” The thickest man with the oily, red face and beady eyes squealed. Seth cringed. Like hyenas attacked the weak and scared, these men were only brave together. Break the group, and you would get a few trembling dogs that bark but don’t bite.
“They are alive.” The deep bass of the third man sounded indifferent. His hulking figure migrated from chair to chair as he pressed his fingers to the victims’ necks. “Some of them, anyway. Should we call an ambulance?”
“Wait.” Ernst lifted his palm, face etched with curiosity. “And who might you be?”
Seth kept his mouth shut.
Ernst started speculating. “Walter didn’t arrange this. You did. And he is dead, isn’t he?” He stood at the same height as Seth. When he came closer, their eyes leveled. “And it was you who sent me the picture. Bravo, I swallowed the bait. Did you do this all alone?” A heavily tattooed hand drew circles in the air. Seth automatically refocused on the trophy Death's Head Ring1 glinting on the ring finger. “For a dead Jew? Oh, no, for the whore. Tell me, what is it in that little bitch that makes people so eager to die for him? Did I make a mistake not fucking him?”
Screeching laughter broke from Ernst’s mouth, a golden tooth glinting inside. The red-faced man sniggered; the hulking one remained silent.
“I’ll make sure to make up for it after I kill you.” Ernst’s smile grew lecherous. “We came here to have a party, and we are going to have it. Honestly, I’m a little thrilled to have you as a substitute. That little whore didn’t excite me, but you… I can’t wait to strip you down, pin you to the floor, and rape you with a knife until you cry and beg me to stop, just like they begged you. Isn’t it exciting? Grab him.”
The silent man prowled through the room. His hooded, heavy eyes groped Seth’s body.
Seth let his breath out, watching the second gun aim at his temple.
I guess this is the end. He glanced at his reflection splashing in the bucket. The water sparkled, resembling Ignaz’s eyes brimming with tears. How long will Ignaz wait for me to return home before reverting to his old lifestyle? Will Ernst look for him as he promised? Yeah, he will.
His thoughts turned, streaming to Gustavo. For someone who pursued him for weeks, his absence in such a critical situation almost felt like a betrayal. Seth couldn’t understand where the thought came from, but it fired his chest with rage. Since when do I rely on him or need saving? Since when am I afraid to die? I might perish tonight, but I’ll take you all with me. You’re all doomed.
He lifted his face and granted Ernst a smile. Under his gaze, the man froze, and the expression of a predator ogling prey invaded his face. To erase it, Seth splashed the content of the bucket at Ernst’s face.
Glistening cascades rushed down the bare scalp and cheekbones. The muzzle of Ernst's gun jumped from side to side, but Seth didn’t wait for him to re-aim. Another pistol glared at him from the door, held by pink, plump fingers. Seth threw the empty bucket at the bulky man and skidded over the wet floor to dive under his arm and hide behind his back. The gun boomed, bullets crashing against the walls. The bulky man staggered backward, caught by friendly fire.
“Stop shooting, idiot!” Ernst shouted, but he was too late. Another boom deafened Seth.
Flattening his chest against the massive back, Seth wound an arm around the man’s stomach and wrenched the gun out of his weakening fingers. He peeked out from the leather-sheathed shoulder of his living shield, pointed the gun in Ernst’s direction, and pulled the trigger. The gunshot kicked back, deafening him. The sound empowered by the empty, round space made the red-faced guy squeal and clasp his ears.
Ernst stumbled back and looked down at the hole that ruined the right breast of his jacket. His hand went limp. The metal clanged against the concrete as he lost his grip on the gun. “Fucker…”
Seth shot again, aim jumping. Bullets biting into the walls made him regret never visiting a shooting range. When the last boom rang through the space and his pistol clicked with an empty chamber, he threw the weapon aside and released the wounded man.
Holding his chest, the bulky figure dropped to his knees and hunched over. Blood dripped on the floor to be absorbed by cement dust.
Seth growled as his vision doubled. The vortexes, sensing blood, twirled around his feet, feasting on a new soul.
“I’ll kill him.” The red-faced man squeaked and thrust both hands forward, fingers tight around the gun. Seth’s shoulders involuntarily tightened as if flexing his muscles could stop bullets from entering his flesh.
“Stop fucking shooting!” The enraged snarl morphed into unpleasant, hoarse laughter that sounded like nails scratching against a chalkboard. The man winked and sent Seth an air kiss. “There’s no need for guns. That would be too boring. Piggy, grab him.”
Seth zeroed in on the man. For hours he’d been covered in blood, but it didn’t bother him as much as this gross gesture. The need to take a shower itched at him.
A loud grunt came from his right. A shadow flickered. Seth’s attention darted from one man to another, then to the duffel bag filled with weapons, laying so close yet too far from him. The distance of forty-five feet had never seemed so insurmountably huge.
Piggy charged at him. Seth did the only thing he could think of while standing under gunpoint. He lifted his gloved hand, curled his fingers around the tubular light bulb, and flicked his wrist, hoping that his latex gloves wouldn’t let the electricity through.
SNAP.Everything went black. Seth ducked aside and merged with the wall. He couldn’t see a thing, but his mind’s eye estimated the distance between him and the bolted chairs. Keeping his head low and steps small, Seth stretched his hand and touched cold, dead flesh. His other hand fingered the glass tube as if trying to figure out its strength. Glass had always been his most loyal ally, and he hoped it wouldn’t fail him tonight.
“Where the fuck is he?” Ernst shouted. “Find him. I’ll guard the door. And don’t fucking shoot, or you’ll kill me too, idiot.”
Seth didn’t need to strain his ears to locate the other man; his heavy breathing betrayed his whereabouts. He squeezed his eyes for a heartbeat before peering into the darkness. His eyes, adapting, made out a triangle of weak light cast on the floor below the roof entrance, right where the bag with the guns sat.
Fuck!Seth cursed in his heart. In the bluish moonlight, he would be a sitting duck.
The screech of a spark wheel yanked Seth’s attention to a tongue of fire. Orange light washed over Ernst’s sharp face. With his palm, he covered the fire and sucked on a thick cigar. A curl of smoke wrapped around his fingers and melted. The lighter clicked closed as an exhale of satisfaction drifted through the air. The red, burning dot moved from side to side. Seth relaxed a fraction. Constantly keeping the red dot in his field of vision, he scanned the space for the other man.
With a hand on the dead shoulder before him, Seth peeked out when light blazed, and the beam of a cell phone’s flashlight sliced the darkness. He ducked down just in time as the light scudded above his head.
“I can’t see a thing,” Piggy complained. The beam blazed above Seth’s head again.
The white spot jumped to the opposite side of the silo, neurotic, jerking movements betraying the mental state of its owner. Seth held his breath and rose to his feet. He flipped the glass in his hand, holding the tubes as he would a knife. He circled the chair, and leaped forward.
One arm wound around the thick torso; Seth drove the tubes into his throat. A not very manly squeal burst from the soft chest and drowned in a gargling noise. The glass tubes fell apart from the impact, leaving only shards in his hand. Seth’s sleeve weighted with blood.
The cell phone dropped from dead fingers, and the beam of white light streamed upward. Piggy staggered and fell forward.
An iron grip closed around Seth’s belly and imprinted his back into a rigid chest. Seth shot a glance at the red spot on the other side of the silo. It hadn’t moved an inch from the last time he’d seen it.
Fuck…
“Caught you. A cigar, a little saliva, and voilà. I can’t believe you bought such an old trick.” A chuckle resounded in Seth’s ears, and a wet tongue lapped over his earlobe with a squelch. “You know what they say? I licked you, so you are mine.” Shameless fingers snaked under his shirt and ran over his torso when the man spoke again. “Now, just like I promised, let me show you real pain.”
Seth’s stomach tensed in sheer instinct as something pressured his right side. His eyes unfocused, a vibration ran down his marrows, informing him that his body was cutting off unneeded functions to stop the blood loss. In the dark, he didn’t see a thing, but his palm covered the knurled hand wrapped around the knife handle, sticking out from above his hip.
I guess this is it…
“How does it feel?” The man moved the knife in and out of the wound as his other hand fumbled under Seth’s clothes and pinched a nipple. “Do you feel the heat and tension? Because I do. Should I show you how excited I am?”
Ernst thrust his hips forward, the full-blooded erection grinding against Seth’s crack. “I intend to make more holes in you and fuck each one. Please, don’t die until I finish.”
Seth felt like his blood reversed its flow.
Fuck, I’ll die here tonight.As Iron fingers stabbed his flesh, tearing on his clothes, Seth regretted not spending more time with Ignaz. The knife kept fucking the wound. His jeans soaked through on one side. With every drop of blood, energy drained from his body.
I wish I could see him again.
Heavy paralysis shackled his limbs as black sand filled his eyes, visible even in the dark. It informed him that the rapacious vortexes turned against their master. No. Go away. I’m still standing, moving; he didn’t cut the abdominal aorta. I have time; if he didn’t catch any organs, a lot of time.
Seth’s hand formed a fist; the remnants of glass crunched under his fingers, breaking further. With his head emptying, he slapped his palm against the man’s face, rubbing tiny shards into his skin.
“Fucker!” The arms disappeared. The man flinched back. Seth swiveled.
A hiss tore from his chest as he grabbed the knife protruding from his side and pulled it out of the wound. Blood splashed on the floor.
“What the hell?” Ernst lost his grin as his eyes fixed on the knife, then on the wound. “How can you even stand?”
The blade caught the dispersed light coming from the cellphone as it entered the man’s chest below the collarbone to withdraw in a heartbeat.
“How?” Ernst shook his head as he looked at his chest bleeding from both sides. He stumbled back. Seth lurched forward. His knee skated over the rough crust of concrete as he cut the tendon on the back of Ernst’s knee.
Blood trickled down his side, but he didn’t care. His desert howled in bloodlust. The blade slashed upward, splitting the man’s stomach in a thin vertical line. With a swipe of his leg, Seth kicked the feet from under the man. Ernst dropped on his ass, arms clasped around his middle.
“No-no-no, wait. Let’s talk,” he blurted.
The hungry vortexes licked the blood from Seth’s blade, the floor, and his oozing wound. He needed to give them something before they consumed his own soul.
“You like to watch people suffer?” His voice was a whisper of a desert. Bright spots bloomed at the corners of his vision as he fisted the collar of the man’s shirt and hauled his prey to the ladder.
Ernst’s back bumped against the metal bars. Seth bent over the duffel bag and grabbed a rope. Light tremors settled in his fingers when he tied the man to the ladder. Another rope entered Ernst’s mouth and fixed his neck in a sharp back bend.
The man moaned and pleaded, but his words didn’t reach Seth. He grabbed the acid canister, fixed it to the ladder, and stabbed it with the tip of the knife twice.
The first drops oozed out and swelled in the dead light of the moon and the flashlight. When they fell, an inhuman howl cut through the night.
Seth lowered to the floor as the vortexes pounced on the man, tearing his soul apart. “Enjoy the front seat.”
* * *
Diego drove for hourswithout stopping. His weak attempts to start a conversation and lighten the mood crashed against the wall of Gustavo’s heavy thoughts.
The car stopped under a traffic light. Diego rested his forehead against the wheel. “Let’s go home. It’s been a long day. I’ll crash if we drive longer.”
“Let me drive?” Gustavo blinked bleary eyes.
“No. Honestly, I trust you even less than I trust myself.”
Gustavo snorted. “Fine. Let’s go home. Drive past the factory.”
A weak “why” lacked any resistance and made Gustavo feel guilty. Diego looked exhausted. His habitual cocky grin disappeared, and the corners of his lips drooped.
“I don’t know, Diego. Just do it.”
“Fine…”
The cityscape blurred before his eyes. A chain of streetlights flickered with colors. Gustavo’s forehead constantly slipped down the window as he nodded off. When the cityscape morphed into the industrial one, Gustavo perked up.
The car was speeding, obeying Diego’s wish to pass the empty streets as quickly as possible. The familiar silhouette of the white silo rapidly approached when something triggered his instincts.
“Slow down.”
With an annoyed sigh, Diego obeyed. “What?”
“Was this Land Cruiser here before?” He pointed to the black vehicle, parked next to the Jeep.
“I honestly can’t remember.”
“Pull over.”
“Gustavo.”
“Pull the fuck over.”
Gustavo was out of the car even before it halted.
* * *
Seth slumped onthe floor next to the medical cloth. His hand felt as if it didn’t belong to him when he fetched a syringe of adrenaline. He snorted at the irony of the torture tool becoming his only chance to return to Ignaz before his soul disintegrated.
Ernst thrashed against the metal ladder. The skin on his eyelids boiled and melted as the acid kept burning through his flesh. Seth barely heard him. All noise drifted to the background as a deathly hush washed over, and then the desert howled. The vortexes swirled around him, and the black blood, seeping out of his stomach, dispersed. The desert sprawled before his eyes, black with ash.
His smartwatch buzzed, informing him that he needed to use the bathroom and drink some water. Seth blinked at the now useless notification, bared the needle, and stabbed his thigh. He plunged down; his head knocked against the wall, and everything stopped existing.
His surroundings returnedwith the hammering of his heart and screams of anguish.
Seth pressed his hand to the wound and got up. The vortexes swirled around four men, sucking at their vital energy, but Seth knew they would be dead before sunrise.
He pulled at the sides of the blue medical cloth, and it folded, gathering the tools. Without looking at the mess behind, he stuffed what he could into the duffel bag, threw it over his shoulder, and stumbled out of the door. The wails of anguish escaped the silo and crashed against the night and Gustavo.
The man flinched, eyes straining. His gun twitched but didn’t lower.
Another scream shattered the darkness, making Gustavo’s gaze flick over Seth’s shoulder. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he thrust one hand behind himself to push Diego away in what looked like an instinctive gesture.
One heartbeat, another, Seth looked in the unblinking eyes but didn’t see mockery. Disappointment flared, morphing into anger. Seth raised his chin.
Are you afraid of me now, you who pursued me, you who sought meetings with me?
Repercussions of Gustavo’s words invaded his head.
“What are you looking for? Tell me, and I will give it to you. Acceptance, understanding, thrill, a similar mind?”
Seth wasn’t sure why he felt disappointed. He’d never harbored hope toward this man, but the way Gustavo shielded his friend annoyed him. Even his gaze had changed. No curiosity shimmered in the depth of his soul-eating eyes. Just caution and alarm.
“We are more alike than you think.” The memory of the deep, tranquil baritone slithered through Seth’s mind, reanimating the words. “…he will never be able to understand a monster, a murderer like you.”
Seth wanted to laugh at himself for considering Gustavo’s words for even a split second. The bitterness of disillusion that someone in this world might understand him made him feel even more alone than ever before.
We are nothing alike, fly, but you are right. No one will ever understand a monster like me, so why try?
Gustavo licked his lips, his gun twitched. The simple gesture cleared Seth’s doubts.
That’s right. Be afraid. Seth laughed, contempt curling his lips in a sneer, but his laughter died as quickly as it started. “Move, or I’ll squish your worthless soul.”
He slammed his palm against Gustavo’s chest, pushing his way through. It took him ten minutes to get to his vehicle and pull the car onto the road.
* * *
Gustavo stood unmoving.The lonely expression had returned to Seth’s face only to be washed away by a bitter mixture of contempt, scorn, disappointment, anger, and flat-out, icy-cold despise.
After the hot palm collided with his chest and Seth ghosted by, cocooned in the stench of blood, filth, and chemicals, Gustavo stepped into the silo. The smell made his eyes prickle. Holding his breath, he grabbed his phone and turned on the flashlight. The beam jumped from a dead body to someone alive, before it settled on the thrashing man whose throat was tearing in constant screams. A canister dripped fluid onto his eyes dissolving the surrounding flesh.
Diego stood in the doorway, pressing a handkerchief to his nose. “If I were you, I wouldn’t go any farther. You might leave footprints.”
“I’m not.” Gustavo pulled at his suddenly sticky shirt; it felt wet and cold under his fingers. He turned the beam on his chest and blinked at a bloody handprint. His nape prickled. He rushed outside.
“Give me the keys.”
“Why?”
“He is hurt, I think…” Gustavo pointed to his shirt.
Diego folded his arms over his chest. “He walked fine, threatened you, and drove away. Look at all these bodies; he bathed in their blood, and he will wash in yours.”
“It was warm; that’s why I didn’t notice it at first. It’s fresh.”
“So are the bodies.”
“It’s not a request.” Gustavo extended his palm.
Diego’s eyes narrowed. “If you think I’m staying in this ghost house while you get to have all the fun, you are delusional.”
“Didn’t you want to go home?”
“I still fucking want to go home, but I have no desire to stay here even a moment longer.” Diego closed the door with his handkerchief and strolled toward the car. “Erm, what about the bodies? I think some are still alive.”
“Ignore them. If he left them, that was his intention.”
