anomaly.
“He has taken a leave of absence.” These questions
were starting to make Mordecai feel uneasy.
“What is he doing in Brazil? Do you know?” Balzeer
sipped Mordecai’s discomfort like a welcome wine. The instincts, which earned
him his position, were newly awakened and abuzz. Finding the boy was tied to
finding Mordecai’s little Greek. Mordecai didn’t seem to know why Haggios had
chosen that location. It was exquisite. “He is under your tutelage and you
don’t know why he is there?”
“He does not have to answer to me for everything he
chooses to do.” He did not know why Balzeer was berating him.
The master focused his sapping gaze on him. He had
seen others falter, offering anything to turn away those terrible eyes.
Mordecai had nothing to offer. He knew none of the answers, which Balzeer
sought.
“However, everyone must answer to me. You will go to
Brazil, find your little Greek and bring him back here.” There was no doubt in
Balzeer’s mind that Haggios was planning to take Mordecai’s place. He was
convinced that the little poof knew something about the location of the boy. It
didn’t seem like Mordecai knew anything of his student’s plans, but a little interrogation
might be in order. If nothing else, it would lift Balzeer’s spirits.
“Mossy, go with him. Do not let either of them out of
your sight.” From another part of the room, behind identical black curtains,
emerged the short, balding man with tulip petal lips. He plodded forward and
sunk to his knees in front of his master.
“Now, where to begin?” Balzeer’s hand rubbed the
baldpate backwards and forwards, mimicking masturbation. He lowered his gaze so
that his heavy brows hid his eyes. He used his penetrating gaze like a weapon,
but sparingly. “Mr. Aronovich, I want an answer to my question. Why has your
little Greek run away?” His hands met, forming a steeple in front of his face.
The wide sleeves slid down to reveal forearms, covered with sleeves of cryptic
tattoos.
“To what end? An acolyte in our church is not like a
student in some keg-chugging frat house. He is to be constantly watched. Never
is he allowed to be out of sight.” He rolled his head back and closed his eyes,
taking a deep breath as he flared his nostrils. “Due to the nature of our
worship, and the offerings we must give on our Sabbaths, we must have complete
control over those who are prone to outside influence. Do you follow me, Mr.
Aronovich? Is it clear?”
“Yes, sir. It is clear, Master. Crystal clear.”
Mordecai saw that Balzeer McGrath was picking up steam. This was not going to
be a good day for Mordecai. He needed to find a way to deflect some of the crap
that Balzeer had begun slinging. He had to direct it so that it would stick to
John Haggios. He would not take it up the ass for anyone, especially someone
who was out of harm’s reach.
“So, you little insect, you worthless pile of shit,
why is he there? Don’t presume to tell me that you don’t know, because, quite
obviously, you are the worst fucking liar in the church!” His voice was
distinctly menacing, though he had yet to raise it. Mossy marveled at his
master’s well-honed vocal manipulations.
“He has left the church, Master. He did not wish to
continue his studies. I tried to talk him out of it, but I couldn’t convince
him to remain.”
Mordecai dropped to his knees beside Mossy and hoped
for the best. This was the only explanation that would save his life. Any other
and he would be implicated with Haggios. Those terrible eyes opened, shriveling
most of Mordecai’s courage to nothing. If he continued to ask these questions,
he would no longer be able to keep anything from him.
“He left and this is the first I hear of it?” The
question hurdled towards Mordecai and he cringed, not knowing where it would
go.
“He is barely in his first trimester, sir. Your
knowledge of him is only because of my personal involvement.” This was going
well. He did
“He has taken a leave of absence.” These questions
were starting to make Mordecai feel uneasy.
“What is he doing in Brazil? Do you know?” Balzeer
sipped Mordecai’s discomfort like a welcome wine. The instincts, which earned
him his position, were newly awakened and abuzz. Finding the boy was tied to
finding Mordecai’s little Greek. Mordecai didn’t seem to know why Haggios had
chosen that location. It was exquisite. “He is under your tutelage and you
don’t know why he is there?”
“He does not have to answer to me for everything he
chooses to do.” He did not know why Balzeer was berating him.
The master focused his sapping gaze on him. He had
seen others falter, offering anything to turn away those terrible eyes.
Mordecai had nothing to offer. He knew none of the answers, which Balzeer
sought.
“However, everyone must answer to me. You will go to
Brazil, find your little Greek and bring him back here.” There was no doubt in
Balzeer’s mind that Haggios was planning to take Mordecai’s place. He was
convinced that the little poof knew something about the location of the boy. It
didn’t seem like Mordecai knew anything of his student’s plans, but a little interrogation
might be in order. If nothing else, it would lift Balzeer’s spirits.
“Mossy, go with him. Do not let either of them out of
your sight.” From another part of the room, behind identical black curtains,
emerged the short, balding man with tulip petal lips. He plodded forward and
sunk to his knees in front of his master.
“Now, where to begin?” Balzeer’s hand rubbed the
baldpate backwards and forwards, mimicking masturbation. He lowered his gaze so
that his heavy brows hid his eyes. He used his penetrating gaze like a weapon,
but sparingly. “Mr. Aronovich, I want an answer to my question. Why has your
little Greek run away?” His hands met, forming a steeple in front of his face.
The wide sleeves slid down to reveal forearms, covered with sleeves of cryptic
tattoos.
“To what end? An acolyte in our church is not like a
student in some keg-chugging frat house. He is to be constantly watched. Never
is he allowed to be out of sight.” He rolled his head back and closed his eyes,
taking a deep breath as he flared his nostrils. “Due to the nature of our
worship, and the offerings we must give on our Sabbaths, we must have complete
control over those who are prone to outside influence. Do you follow me, Mr.
Aronovich? Is it clear?”
“Yes, sir. It is clear, Master. Crystal clear.”
Mordecai saw that Balzeer McGrath was picking up steam. This was not going to
be a good day for Mordecai. He needed to find a way to deflect some of the crap
that Balzeer had begun slinging. He had to direct it so that it would stick to
John Haggios. He would not take it up the ass for anyone, especially someone
who was out of harm’s reach.
“So, you little insect, you worthless pile of shit,
why is he there? Don’t presume to tell me that you don’t know, because, quite
obviously, you are the worst fucking liar in the church!” His voice was
distinctly menacing, though he had yet to raise it. Mossy marveled at his
master’s well-honed vocal manipulations.
“He has left the church, Master. He did not wish to
continue his studies. I tried to talk him out of it, but I couldn’t convince
him to remain.”
Mordecai dropped to his knees beside Mossy and hoped
for the best. This was the only explanation that would save his life. Any other
and he would be implicated with Haggios. Those terrible eyes opened, shriveling
most of Mordecai’s courage to nothing. If he continued to ask these questions,
he would no longer be able to keep anything from him.
“He left and this is the first I hear of it?” The
question hurdled towards Mordecai and he cringed, not knowing where it would
go.
“He is barely in his first trimester, sir. Your
knowledge of him is only because of my personal involvement.” This was going
well. He did
Similar Books
