A Rush of Wings

20 The Darkest Heart « ^ »

“Beneath still waters I lie / my mother’s fingers anchoring my hair / to the porcelain bottom / she ripples above me / a goddess / not a woman / seeking to wash taint from blood / beneath still waters I lie / my mother, my anchor / I close my eyes / and breathe / beneath still waters…”

E read the poem aloud, speaking over the gurgling, wheezing sounds issuing up from the sofa. He closed the book and slipped it back into his satchel.

“I fucking love Navarro’s work,” he said to the gasping thing on the blood-soaked sofa. “He speaks to the darkest heart.”

Leaning back in the easy chair, E tilted his head and regarded his latest creation. Thing was apt. He’d removed everything that made Keith male and placed them artistically around the room. On the coffee table beside a candle. On the bookshelf nestled next to a framed photo of Keith and someone…lover…sibling…who gave a rat’s ass?

He grinned. Well, Keith probably gave a rat’s ass.

The gurgling, wheezing sounds continued. E smoothed his latex-gloved hands down the front of the blood-spattered butcher’s apron he wore. Buck-ass naked underneath. Kept his clothes clean and was, frankly, liberating. He leaned forward and dug in his satchel until his fingers found the shape he sought. He pulled out a cordless drill. Tapped the on button. It whirred to high-speed life. He pulled down the welding goggles parked on top of his head and walked to the sofa.

Dead, was he?

Case closed, was it?

The wet gasping sounds became faster and more frantic.

“Time to recite a poem for me,” E murmured, lowering the drill.