Sin of Fury (3 page)

Auro’s and Lyne’s eyes
met, twisted smiles on both of their faces. “Forever ours,” Auro
repeated in a murmur.

He gasped, eyes opening wide. His
heart was racing, his arm and leg numb with the remembrance of pain
and a deep, long-ingrained hatred. Talon held his head tightly in
his hands, forcing himself to breathe through the tightness of his
chest.

He hadn’t spoken since
then.

Hated words fell on indifferent ears.
Talon could never bring himself to speak to them. If he did, he
would only attack. The urge to kill them almost overcame him.
Revulsion clouded his mind, the rough sound of his growl echoing
through the room.

His hand tightened around his neck,
the tense muscles so taut that they felt as if they were going to
snap, he forced himself to calm, and to also forget the past. It
was nothing, he told himself. It was just a memory, and it was
over.

Talon’s head dropped low, knowing that
that was a lie. The memory had become his life.

His head turned to the door, then to
the center of the room. The table that they manifested was gone
now. Auro only bothered to make one when Lyne was present. The cold
slab of stone had become Talon’s bane of existence.

The only nice thing he could say was
that it was the only clean place in the hell hole he knew as
prison. When Auro visited him for sessions, the table would be
cleaned and, if Auro was in a good mood, the toys that he liked to
use on Talon would be absent.

Shaking his head, growling in
discomfort, he shifted his position to look out the window. Soft
sunlight was streaming in, the whiteness only brighter as it
reflected off of the snowy hills. Bare trees were scattered around,
the fresh greenness of the leaves absent. The chirp of birds, the
skitter of squirrels and other creatures were long gone, the cold
of the winter driving them away.

He felt an ache in his chest as pink
hues strewed across his dark cave. While the animals were free to
leave, the trees free to rest in their dead sleep, Talon was forced
to stay.

Turning his head from the sight, he
moved lower against the wall, not allowing himself to feel the
warmth of the sun. He didn’t deserve to feel warmth, it made him
remember what he no longer had. Tucked in the back corner of the
room, it was only mid afternoon by the time the rays hit his feet.
Jerking back, he hissed as if they burned him.

In truth, it had felt wonderful, yet
it had still seared him—with pain and longing. Ashamed, Talon
turned his head into his arms and waited for Auro.

Talon knew that he would barely get a
helping today, not even enough food to drag himself across the
room. Stomach clenching, he felt as if his stomach was eating
itself. His mouth was parched from his shouting, and his arm was
numbed with an ache.

It was a routine. He would stay awake
till food was brought to him. If he could force himself enough, he
would eat it. If not, he would throw it out of the window.
Starvation was the one thing he hadn’t given up on, and it hurt to
eat. The loss of food was not that great—but the gift he wished it
would bring was a painful reach.

Auro knew that he meant to kill
himself, had explained numerous times that it was useless, that he
was going to live whether he liked it or not. The more energy he
lost, the closer he came to death, and the more he remembered. It
was a great treat for such a small loss.

Soon enough, the food appeared. The
dirty plate was an obvious diss to Talon. The dried steak was
barely an ounce, the blood that seeped from the sides long crested,
and the water that was on the plate looked…brown. The rim of the
cup had been used; grime and dried saliva was visible. He grunted,
taking the plate and considering. Dropping his eyes, he threw the
plate and cup out of the window.

They wouldn’t miss it, and he didn’t
mind feeding birds that weren’t there. Returning to his corner, he
bowed his head and waited.

Just like he had done for the last six
months.

Chapter 2

Auro gave Talon his meal for the day
and waited to hear what would happen. He stood on the other side of
the door, listening silently. There was a rough groan, and then the
soft scrape of plates against the ground.

He knew what would happen before Talon
did it. In less than a second, the cup and plate clattered outside
of the building. Auro pursed his lips in disappointment. He
wouldn’t mind feeding the thing more often, but his strength had
many cons—one of which was Auro’s possible downfall.

Silently, he left Talon to his
thoughts. The pain in his arm was enough to appease Auro, and Talon
would surely try harder to kill him if he tortured him anymore for
the time being. The thought left a smile on his lips. He almost
initiated the collar, thinking of Talon’s cries ringing behind
him.

Almost.

Lazy, he strolled down the dark halls
of his house. More a mansion than a house, the windows were draped
with dark maroon curtains. The floor was covered in thick black,
stainless carpets. It was one of his greatest prides, the
immaculate house he lived in. Auro hated to have such a wonderful
dwelling dirtied, and would kill anyone who thought to make a mess
of it.

As the modern language would say, he
was a spazz. Auro’s forehead wrinkled, his feet carrying him to a
short pedestal. On it sat the head of his previous master. The gray
marble was smooth and shiny. His frown stayed in place as he
studied the bust, trying to understand what was wrong with
it.

He could hear Lyne down the hall, in
the kitchen. While they had no need to cook for themselves, or even
eat at all, Lyne took pleasure in creating things. Auro was not so
enthusiastic. He only ate what his brother gave him if it didn’t
have worms festering inside it.

One of Lyne’s favorites was baked
scorpion drizzled in seasoned blood with a splash of
lemon.

Auro almost gagged, then finally found
what was wrong with the bust. Affronted, he stared at the hairline
crack that ran from the widows peak to the left ear. It was so thin
that Auro might have missed it if it wasn’t for his exceptional
eyesight. Sighing with agitation, hating that things aged, he made
the bust disappear and replaced it with a replica. He looked around
himself, pleased.

Everything was in order.

He continued down the hall, away from
the kitchen. He feared that if he entered the horrendous room, he
would be forced to try Lyne’s newest experiment. He thought, for a
rueful moment, that if they were humans, this taste deficiency
would not be a problem.

Then he shrugged, throwing the thought
over his shoulder. To be human was to be weak, and to be weak is to
be an abomination. Auro was greater than that, and would not bother
himself with human problems.

The open window at the end of the hall
was dark, covered with a billowing curtain. The harsh wind and cold
weather didn’t bother him in the least. Talon, he knew, was
affected deeply. Sometimes he would peak into the room, and the
man’s normally dark skin would be blue. A smile would grace his
lips and he would leave, pleased with mother nature.

The hall came to an end. Going left
would take him to his room, going right would take him to Lyne’s.
Knowing that his brother was busy cooking, the choice to go right
urged him forward until he was in front of Lyne’s door.

Auro was not known for snooping. He
didn’t know what drove him, but as he opened the door, he shook the
blood that he had forgotten about off his fingers. The act was done
in less than a second, and the door was opened immediately after.
He covered his presence, lest Lyne be suspicious or wary enough to
notice it.

With a wave of his hands, candles took
flame and lit the dark interior of the room. The bed was grand, a
king size of pure down. A deep violet duvet covered the massive
space, with several pillows of the same design placed immaculately
against the head board. There wasn’t a thread out of place, not a
wrinkle to be seen.

He smiled at how alike they were.
Feeling mildly curious, Auro stepped further into the room. It was
only a second before he was drawn to the dresser. The curtains over
the window were pure black. The satiny curtains reached the floor
and rustled as they fluttered in a chilly breeze.He made them stop,
unsettled by the sound.

Auro felt as if he were snooping. He
felt as if he was defying his brother, or maybe betraying him.
Whatever it was, it was uncomfortable and he hated it, yet he
couldn’t stop his hand from opening the top drawer. His senses were
starting to override. His heart, dead inside of his chest, would
have been bursting with trepidation.

The wood creaked as he
pulled it open slowly. Looking inside, he had no clue what he would
find, didn’t even know if he was trying to
find
anything. It was empty. For some
odd reason, the pressure in his chest eased.

He closed it—then froze, eyes drawing
downward. There were more drawers, he told himself. He didn’t want
to do it, he really didn’t…but he did. His pale bony fingers
wrapped around the second handle.

The haunting flicker of the candle
light made it all the more suspenseful. He told himself not to
worry, that his brother was busy and he was being foolish for
thinking that Lyne would dare hide something from him. A soft
rasping sound had his eyes snapping to the curtain. He hissed
softly, forcing it to be still with a slash of his hand.

When he turned his eyes back to the
drawer, it had already opened.
His heart pounding, seeing the picture frame face down, hiding what
he knew would not please him. A trembling, thin hand turned it
over.

Auro hissed angrily, eyes
flashing to a bright bloody red.
The
betrayer!
his mind screeched, hand jerking
back as if he had been burnt. The drawer slammed closed. The face
in the picture stared at him, their eyes burning into his skull as
he whipped around.

He did not see his brother. He saw the
traitor.

Lyne walked in calmly, his face, so
alike to Auro’s, expressionless. His hand landed on the bed post,
watching Auro calmly. “Brother,” he said cordially.

Auro could not return the endearment.
His chest was tight, the image seared into his mind’s eye. He moved
from the dresser, making to walk past Lyne. He wasn’t about to
admit that he had been looking through Lyne’s belongings, wasn’t
about to admit that he was so hurt and traumatized by what he had
found.

“
You should have known,”
Lyne started, putting up a hand as Auro made to leave.

“
Known what?” He stopped,
wanting to exit but not wanting to touch Lyne.

“
That,” he said, gesturing
to the dresser. “You should have known. I don’t understand why you
look and think as if I have betrayed you.”

Auro turned cold, bloody eyes to Lyne.
“After all this time, Lyne?” he asked bitterly, turning from him.
The draping curtain was once again scraping against the ground, the
sound grating on his nerves.

Lyne’s pale face turned cold. “One
does not easily forget the tragedy of losing a loved
one.”

“
She was a
whore
,” Auro spat,
crossing himself even though he was a creature of the devil. “She
used us, betrayed us. Betrayed
you
!”

“
It does not matter!” Lyne
shouted hoarsely, his anguish filling the room. “I loved
her!”

“
She loved another man,”
Auro hissed, disgusted with his brother. “I knew from the start
that she was not what she seemed. I warned you—you failed to heed
my warning and look what happened! The whore went to that
bastard
. Is this the
reason you wish to keep him here?” Auro demanded.

Lyne shook his head, bloodied tears
threatening to fall from his pale face. “Brother, you know that is
not the only…”

“
But it is
one
of the reasons, is it
not?”

He stayed silent.

Auro hissed, pale hand slashing
through the air. “Destroy that picture—it’s holding you to the
past. If you must, take your anger out on him, but do not recall
her when you are with me,” he snarled, his thin voice rising with
anger. “It is an insult not only to me, but everything that I have
done for us.”

Lyne stared at him. He wanted so badly
to tell Auro what he thought of his highhanded remarks, what he
thought of his rules and what he had done. He wanted to shout back,
but knew that it would only earn him a cold shoulder and a long
night alone.

His gaze dropped, and Auro stormed out
of the room without another word.

Lyne moved to the dresser, opening the
second drawer. Within, the picture of his Amena lay. The old frame
was worn, the gold paint chipping. The glass was clouded, and the
drawn picture that he had spent several years on was faded. He held
it gently in his hands, feeling his chest tighten with
emotion.

With anger, at his brother for being
angry over the picture. With longing, missing her and her smile.
With pain, because of her betrayal. With hate, because of that
bastard. His fingers itched to wrap around Talon’s throat, to tear
away every limb that had touched her.