Seth by Nero Seal
Brightness wrapped aroundhim even before Seth realized his eyes were open. Indifferent evening light flooded the vaguely familiar, white room. He lifted on an elbow and glanced around. The fog in his head, slowly dispersing, caused a trickle of memories. Blood, gore, acid, and screams. Gustavo and a tiny, annoying movement of his hand as he pushed the foxy-eyed man behind his back. The long road and terrified blue eyes.
“Ignaz.” Seth sat up. The room shifted before him, making him clasp the edge of the bed.
The blue sheet slipped to the floor, revealing his naked body and a tight bandage around his middle. He pressed his palm to his stomach but only felt the soft texture of the dressing. A wire connecting to the finger clip stretched as his hand moved. He tore it away, then pulled the catheter out of his cock. Out of habit, he grabbed his smartwatch and fixed it around his wrist.
Getting up, he circled the bed, found the clipboard attached to the footboard, and skimmed through. His throat closed as he read through the succession of days and administered procedures.
Seven days. Seven fucking days.
“Please, return to your bed.” The familiar baritone reached him before Seth realized the door had opened. He turned around to see Haas snapping on gloves.
“Where are my clothes?” Seth tried to speak up, but only hissing left his mouth.
“Burned. Please, lie down.”
“I need to go,” Seth mouthed.
“You aren’t going anywhere. Lie down, or I will lock you up as a mentally disturbed patient dangerous to yourself and others.” Haas’ eyes glinted with steel.
“You don’t understand. I need to find Ignaz.” Seth cleared his throat, looked around.
“He’s with your friends.”
“What friends?” Seth spun so quickly his vision blurred. His heart sped up, every thud reverberating in his ears. “I don’t have friends.”
“DeSilva. He has been visiting you.”
“Fuck, David…” Seth growled in his own impotency. “I need to go.”
“Not before you tell me what happened.” Haas’ hand wound around his shoulder. “I need to know. Did you kill anyone?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Not enough.”
“Fuck! What were you thinking?” Haas gave him a hard shove. Seth’s ass hit the mattress. “You aren’t sixteen anymore. Your father is dead and can’t protect you, neither can I.”
“I don’t need protection. I need to go.” Seth got up, a soft smile on his lips. “I appreciate the care, but you can’t save me. People like me don’t live long anyway. It’s time to let go of your pet project.”
A hard slap across his face whacked his head to the side. Seth snorted. “You can’t hurt me.”
“But I can insult you,” Haas whispered. “Don’t speak to me like this. I’ve always treated you as my own child. I did everything to give you a normal life. Even now, when you ignore your routine, you have done no permanent damage to your body. During this week, I ran every test possible. You are healthy. You have decades of normal life waiting for you if you just follow the routine. Why do you have to go and ruin it all?”
Seth smiled. “I’m in love, Doctor. Let me leave, or I’ll walk over dead bodies.”
Haas shook his head. A pained expression pinched his features, adding another decade to his appearance. His shoulders slumped, and he pulled on the wardrobe door, revealing a pile of clothes. “I wish you would just stop.”
“Stop what, Doctor?”
“Loving. It only causes death and sorrow.”
“Without love, what’s the point in living?” Seth grabbed the clothes and pulled on the jeans. When Haas didn’t answer, Seth slipped into the shoes and walked out of the door.
* * *
Seth’s hands shook,heart drummed. He opened his mouth to call for Ignaz but changed his mind. He wouldn’t be heard in such a large space anyway. Ignaz’s words about his villa being too big had never made sense until now. He rushed up to the second floor, thrust open the door of the guest room, but only crumpled sheets greeted him. His vision doubled when he entered the bathroom, but it was empty. He stumbled through the endless corridor to the master bedroom, then the bathroom. His breath was ragged and short; dark flies flickered before his eyes.
“No-no-no… Where are you?”
Running his fingers through his hair, he turned to the door, and a low growl escaped his throat.
Gustavo stood in the doorway, dressed in a sharp black suit. He lifted one palm and said, “Easy. Before you accuse me of anything, I don’t know where he is either. He left four days ago. His phone is off, and he didn’t return home. I came to tell you before you raided my house and killed someone. Also, I came to return this.”
He shoved his hand in the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out the phone.
Their fingers brushed when Gustavo passed the device over, the black eyes watching him with an odd expression. It didn’t look like the fear or mockery from before, but more like deep-seated concern and something else, something Seth’s mind refused to catalog. A vaguely familiar expression raised sharp hairs at Seth’s nape. He stumbled back. Years ago, someone else had watched him with the same eyes, same expression—a mixture of sympathy and superiority. Seth hated it even more than the former mockery and cold curiosity.
“Leave,” Seth breathed, having no energy to fight. “Leave…”
To his surprise, Gustavo didn’t argue. He turned around and walked away.
* * *
Night sprawled its blackwings over the city. Oppressive and heavy, it weighed on Seth’s shoulders. His watch beeped, phone flashed with missed calls from David Haas, but he ignored it all as he drove through the night traffic toward NoLimits.
He wasn’t sure why, but his inner instinct, the one that never failed him before, insisted he look there.
As soon as Seth stepped into the club, the noise pierced his mind. The mixture of body odor and wet leather enveloped him. He wanted to leave, yet he shouldered his way through the Friday crowd. He pushed open one door after another until his feet brought him into the black, silent room.
The bloody visual knocked the air out of his lungs, and every emotion died. Ignaz hung on the St. Andrew’s cross, thrashing with pain. His fingers clawed at the wood, face glistening with tears and sweat. Blue and black stripes covered his calves, thighs, buttocks, and back, but he kept mumbling “more.”
Seth wanted to leave. He hated seeing others touching what he thought was his. He didn’t want to hear the leer of a horny man, whispering crude words in the ear he’d kissed only a few nights ago. He needed to leave, but his feet rooted to the floor. His body stiffened, his head emptied, and the room blurred before his eyes.
Sharp betrayal penetrated his heart. He clawed at his chest as it became impossible to breathe. The air stuck in his throat, unmoving. Seth thought that he was about to collapse when a weak voice called out.
“Seth?” Ignaz stared at him, eyes wide, lips trembling. “Seth?”
Coming from Ignaz’s mouth, his name sounded like an insult. Seth stumbled back.
“No, Seth, wait.” Ignaz thrashed, but the bonds kept him in place. “Untie me, now!”
Seth fled. He didn’t see anything when he stumbled out of the club and hopped into his car. He floored the gas pedal, hoping to escape the sounds of his name ringing in his ears.
* * *
He sat in the carin the middle of nowhere. His forehead rested against the wheel. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting like this, but when the first rays of the waking sun stabbed the darkness and made it bleed, he lifted his face. The familiar silhouette of a burned-down church summer camp rose before his eyes.
“Ha…” Seth blinked then again and again, but the illusion didn’t disperse. He started laughing. He laughed so hard his vision failed, and he suffocated from lack of oxygen. He pushed the door open and stumbled out of the car. The burned wood crisped under his feet as he walked into the carcass of the once majestic building. Sour saliva filled his mouth as he scanned his surroundings. The loop closed. Once again, he stood where everything had begun. He remembered his excitement at leaving home without constant supervision and coming in contact with kids his own age for the first time. The bitter smell of cigarettes that had always cocooned around Brian, his stretched-out hand that on some mental level felt warm, and how foolish he had been for accepting it. Brian was the first thing Seth had ever remembered wanting to have and to keep. Instead, he’d kept his lighter.
I must be really stupid. I get burned over and over because I never learn from my mistakes. I’m stuck in a vicious circle of errors.
He lifted his face to the sky, knowing too well that the next time he fell asleep, his dreams would change again. The desert never forgot nor tolerated betrayal. He laughed even harder at the irony. For someone who didn’t know what pain was, it hurt so damn much.
Strolling around, he entered the space that had once been the playroom. Even though years had passed, it still carried the smell of burned wood. Seth remembered the screams coming from the buffet as he stood at this exact spot, laughing.
Maybe I should have died with them long ago.Haas is right; I should stop trying. They have all been right. Monsters like me don’t have a match.
Seth didn’t want to go home and see crumpled bedsheets, unwashed cups in the sink, and pillows gathered on the windowsill. He didn’t want to go home. Nothing waited for him there, except a too-big-for-one bed, tasteless food, shards of memories, and disappointment.
Seth returned to his car, pulled the spare gasoline canister out of the trunk, then searched the glovebox for the lighter. The silver edges sank into his palm as he strolled back to the place where everything had started. He halted in the middle of the former playroom and looked at his possession—the only trophy he kept after Flames. The lighter that once belonged to Brian Schütz was a physical reminder of how dangerous hopes could be and how bitter disappointment tasted.
I really don’t learn. Maybe I shouldn’t have survived at all. Haas is right. My love only causes death and sorrow, but nothing ever changes.He flicked the cap of the canister open and poured the sharp-smelling liquid over his head. His lids dropped; he squeezed the lighter harder.
I was never meant to live this long anyway.
* * *
“What the fuck are you doing?”Gustavo growled and slapped the lighter out of Seth’s fingers. The lighter fell and disappeared in old ash. He had been watching Seth for hours but didn’t intend to approach. After what he’d witnessed in the BDSM club, he thought Seth needed time and space, but he never expected to see this.
Seth turned around, eyes blank. Gasoline, streaming down his pale face, left red trails wherever it touched skin.
“What, not entertained enough?” Seth smirked, but no emotion surfaced on his face. “Come closer; I’ll light fireworks for you.”
“I figured you don’t care about yourself much, but what about Ignaz?” Seth cringed, turned away, so Gustavo continued, “People who hurt him are still alive. When the bodies are found, how hard will it be to connect the dots? He was fine before you, but now you’ve poked a wasp nest. He will be hurt, again and again, all because of you.”
“Why do you think I care?” Seth whispered, gasoline dripping from his hair. “It’s not my problem, not anymore.”
“Is that so? Oh well, then go ahead, light the fire. By the way, after your death, I’ll search your house, and I intend to break every sculpture you’ve ever created just to see what’s inside.”
Seth growled, lurched forward, aiming for the throat. Gustavo ducked aside, intercepted Seth’s wrist. Their chests bumped. “Gasoline got into your eyes. They are red. If you aren’t going to burn yourself, you need to wash them well, or you’ll have a chemical burn.”
Seth laughed. His mouth gaped, but it didn’t look like merriment. The hissing sound died, and blood-shot, leaking eyes settled on Gustavo. “For someone who hid behind a gun only a week ago, you are too brave. Do I look so pathetic you think I can’t kill you? Even if not today, there’s always tomorrow.”
“You don’t look pathetic. You look exhausted, and you are weaponless. I don’t feel threatened. You intend to die today, and even if you don’t, you have a great chance of going blind. Why would I be scared?”
Seth snorted, and the loneliness returned to his eyes. All aggression draining from his features, he strolled out of the burned-down building.
* * *
Seth lay on the rearseat of his car, feeling exhausted and humiliated by his own weakness as Gustavo drove through the morning traffic. The requirement for help had allowed him to accept Gustavo’s aid, but his pride bled out with black ichor. He hated feeling helpless, being in need. The situation reminded him of his childhood. And by the same reason, the familiarity of the situation permitted him to lay on his back while the man he itched to kill poured water into his eyes.
“Fuck…” Seth breathed out a powerless curse. A wet compress on his eyes kept leaking drops over his temples. A prescription from the ophthalmologist and eye drops were clutched in his hand as he listened to Gustavo’s soft hums.
He couldn’t understand what Gustavo wanted from him and why his touch was so gentle. The thought melted as he realized he didn’t care. He needed to go home, lock himself in the bedroom, and forget about Gustavo and Ignaz altogether.
When the car pulled to a stop, he removed the compress and looked at the man. “I’m not going to thank you, so don’t wait for gratitude. A day will come when you regret this.”
“I doubt that,” Gustavo smirked, “but you’re welcome.”
Seth stepped out of the car and entered his villa. The mirrored corridor greeted him with multiplied images of his ashen face and bloody-red eyes. His eyelids were inflamed, and red trails colored his cheeks.
He entered the kitchen, then stumbled back, every cell of his body demanded he flee. But it was too late.
Ignaz darted to him, grabbed his hand. Seth turned his face away.
“What’s with your eyes?”
Seth didn’t answer. He couldn’t think of anything he wanted less than talking or listening to excuses. He had heard enough of them in his life to ever find them entertaining.
“Let go.”
“You smell like gasoline.” Ignaz lifted his hand to his nose and sniffed. “You are drenched in it…”
“Let go…” Seth repeated, avoiding looking him in the eye. He wanted to tell him it wasn’t his business, but words stuck in his throat. He yanked his hand away and rushed upstairs. Undressing on his way, he crumpled the clothes and tossed them in a bucket as soon as he entered the bathroom.
“Won’t you even listen?” Ignaz’s voice broke. Seth knew he was crying again, but his tears didn’t touch him anymore.
“No…” he said and undid his jeans.
“This isn’t fair.” Ignaz’s words stopped his fingers. He slowly turned to see indignation on the beautiful face. Ignaz’s chin trembled, but he fought back his tears. “You weren’t here. No one was. I didn’t even know if you were alive. No one told me. I needed something to distract me from thinking, or I was going to… You didn’t call. I was scared. I needed pain. Why didn’t you call?”
He scratched his wrist and lowered his face, hiding behind his hair.
Seth swallowed against the lump in his throat, thinking that he’d always known that Ignaz was hollow and that only in math did a negative multiplied by a negative equal a positive. In real life, it never had. He didn’t know why he had ignored this rule and let Ignaz enter his life.
He lifted his palm and touched Ignaz’s cheek, drawing the boy into his embrace. “It’s okay. Don’t worry, I’m not mad.”
* * *
Black vortexes swirledaround his hooves, licking his calves in silent gratification. Every swirl raised more and more ash into the air, eclipsing the sky. Gloomy and gray, silent and listless, the desert sprawled before him. Every creature disappeared, knowing what was brewing. Only the boy knelt on the sand. A layer of black ash covered his honey-blond hair. He looked like he couldn’t lift his head because of its weight.
Set clenched his fist, and the Was-scepter swirled around his arm and crawled into his palm. It solidified, ready to serve its master. He thrust it in the air and rustled, “Let it storm.”
The desert howled, the boy at his feet shrank, hiding in his hunched shoulders. Set lowered on one knee and wrapped his arms around the subtle body, obsidian skin contrasting sharply with the pale human one.
Hours passed. Set raised one sandstorm after another, slowly cleaning his land of the filth of dead souls. When the vortexes died and the air cleared, Set laid back his ears to shake the ash off. He brushed his muzzle against Ignaz’s honey-blond hair and whispered, “Don’t worry, Little One. No one will ever hurt you again.”
Seth woke uprobbed of breath. His gaze settled on the slender body, curled up by his side. He filled his lungs with air, closed his eyes, and smiled. Maybe, after all, Ignaz is the one.
