Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
I push my hand into my hair just as Cummings walks up to my mother with a couple in tow.
“Evelyn, there you are. I want to introduce you to…”
I walk away, walk out of that ballroom, and come across one of my soldiers. “Where is my brother?”
“Went outside about twenty minutes ago, sir.”
“Outside? Which way?”
“Said he was going to take in the views.”
“Shit.” I walk out the way Caius went because I’m pretty sure of the views he means.
Wind howls like it always does out here. It sounds like banshees screaming. I banish the thought, force aside the feeling of foreboding their warning carries as I glance up at the looming structure of the lighthouse. I can’t see it separate of its history. First Madelena’s mother, then Thiago. Madelena almost dying out there once when she was five and once just weeks ago.
I stop for a minute and look out over the black night, the blacker waters. Waves punish the cliffs, and I wonder how many centuries it will take for the salt to break down the rock. For the sea to swallow the town of Avarice up along with its residents and its history.
Madelena is right. I am different here. I don’t like myself here.
In the distance closer to the lighthouse, I see movement. A figure. I recognize my brother and follow the winding edge of the cliff toward him. Drops of salty water splash my face at intervals. Lost in his own thoughts, Caius only notices me when I’m a few feet from him. It seems to take him a minute to recognize me. When he does, he turns back toward the sea without a smile.
“Calm tonight,” he says. “If this is calm.” He brings the bottle of whiskey to his lips and drinks.
I shove my hands into my pockets and stand beside him to look out at the horizon. Nothing but blackness for miles and miles.
“I’m sorry about the other day,” I say. From my periphery I see him turn to look at me, eyebrows high.
“Are you now?” He studies me.
“Don’t be an asshole. I’m apologizing.”
He drinks from the bottle.
“You didn’t know she did what she did?” I ask.
“Mom?”
I nod.
“What do you think?”
I reach for the bottle, and he hands it to me. I notice how much is in there and wonder if he drank the third that’s missing, then drink a swallow before giving it back. It feels good, the burn. There are days I miss that burn. The oblivion enough of it brings.
“So, I’m going to be an uncle,” he says.
“It’s up to Madelena.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you think I mean?”
He considers me. “She’s not going to get rid of it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“How do you know that?”
“I know. She’s tougher than you think. You treat her like she’s going to fucking break any second. She won’t.”
“You have all the insights tonight.”
He takes the bottle back and holds it up. “Whiskey will do that,” he says and drinks. We fall into silence as he watches the sea and I watch him. “Do you think you’re a monster, Santos?”
His question is odd, and he shifts his gaze to me to wait for an answer that takes too long to formulate.
“I know I deserve to burn in hell for the things I have done when my time comes.”
“Who is responsible? You for the acts you committed? The Commander for ordering them?”
“Just had this conversation with my wife.”
“So, you know the answer?”
“I’m responsible for my choices. I know that. I accept it. We are all responsible for the choices we make. Why are you asking this?”
He drinks. “Being complicit even if you’re not the one committing the crime also makes you a monster, you agree?”
“What are you getting at?”
He shakes his head. “Do you think monsters are born or made? Think it’s in our DNA?”
“What’s going on, Caius?”
He exhales on a chuckle, a private joke, drinks three glugs of whiskey, then turns to me. “What if I told you it was in mine?” His face is serious. I watch him and wait. “What would you say?”
“I’d say you’re drunk.” I reach for the bottle, but he holds it away, then stumbles backward. “Christ!” I catch his arm to pull him away from the edge.
“I know you know, Santos.”
“Give me the bottle, Caius.”
He shakes his head, walking away from me. I go to him, grab it from him, and throw it over the cliff’s edge. We both turn to watch it go but don’t hear it crash over the sound of the waves.
“Well, that’s a waste of good whiskey.”
“I’m taking you inside. You’re fucking drunk, and you shouldn’t be out here.” I put my hands on his shoulders, but he stops me.
“Did you hear what I said?”
“I hear you’re drunk. Let’s go.”
“I know you know,” he says more forcefully as I try to walk him toward the building. “I know you know I’m his son.”