Neon is the Colour of Vengeance (Flappers and False Gods)

THE SAINT

Hugo could sense that he was in unfamiliar surroundings, even as the darkness pressed against his eyes. Something about the feel of the air in the room told him he wasn’t alone. Straining his ears, he listened for signs of immediate danger, but could detect nothing.

Calmly, he assessed the situation as best he could.

He had failed to kill Evan Carter. The last thing he remembered was careening through a set of French doors and then falling. He was injured. Badly. His body protested at the merest of movements, shooting a pain through him that made him want to vomit. Yet, someone had taken care of him. He wasn’t bleeding out where he had landed. He was lying in a bed, a thin sheet covering him. On the other hand, he wasn’t in a hospital, and he was completely naked, which, as a rule, didn’t bode well.

Hugo tried to sit up, but pain flared across his chest, on his side, and on his stomach. He gasped, the searing sensation robbing his lungs of air. It was all he could do to hold back a retch.

A light flickered on beside him. His eyes were blurry, but he could see well enough to know there was a man standing next to the bed. Hugo sprang to his feet, unable to withhold a yell of pain. He could barely stand but he rushed at the man regardless. Ignoring the agony that took hold of him, Hugo slammed the man into the nearest wall and pressed his full body against him, holding him in place as he hissed in his ear. “Where am I?”

“My apartment. Tenebrium Proper.” The voice was steady, though it betrayed his fear.

Hugo tried to blink his eyes clear. Slowly, they came into focus. Panting heavily, Hugo looked around. He was still in Evan’s apartment, and it was Evan himself that Hugo was pressed bodily against. The place was wrecked. Books lay all over the floor. The mirror over the small dresser was smashed and there were bloody smears in several places on the carpet. It had been so dark because the windows were shuttered, to cover for the fact they were broken. Remnants of the glass lay around each sill. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

“Does anyone know I’m here?”

“No one.” Evan didn’t resist.

“How long was I out?”

“Three days.”

Three days? Hugo’s mind was racing. The Contis would be looking for him. He was in big trouble. He had fucked up. Again.

“You’re shaking,” Evan said as if Hugo were a patient. “You need rest. Get back into bed.”

“I don’t think you are in any position to give orders.” Hugo pushed him harder into the wall.

“Are you trying to scare me?” Evan breathed.

“Yes.”

“You’re half dead. Try harder.”

Hugo’s own crack of laughter caught him by surprise. It was quickly followed by a groan of pain. He took a stumbling step back from Evan and looked down at his bare body. His legs were covered in cuts and bruises, some had been sutured. There was a large bandage across his chest and a heavy dressing on his side. The gauze stuck to his stomach was peeling as blood slowly oozed from underneath.

A wave of nausea washed over him. The effort of standing was taking its toll. Hugo started to feel faint. Before he knew what was happening, the carpet was rising to meet him.

When he opened his eyes again, Evan was carefully laying him down on the bed and pulling a blanket over him. He could only have been unconscious for a couple of minutes. When he finally accepted that he wasn’t going anywhere for a little while, Hugo allowed himself to doze.

“What happened?” he asked Evan the next time he managed to stay conscious for more than a few moments. He too hadn’t come out of their fight scot-free. His bottom lip was cut, and he had a large bruise on his left cheekbone, to match his blacked eye. When he moved, it was with a slight limp. That made Hugo feel a little better.

“You tried to kill me and then I threw you through a window. Or you threw us through it. The balcony railing broke, and you fell.” Evan’s eyes lingered on the closed shutters for a moment.

“How bad is it?”

“You have broken ribs. A stab wound on your side, penetrating traumas on your chest and abdomen, and I had to put your left shoulder back into its socket. You probably need a drain in your chest, but I don’t have the equipment here.”

“You patched me up? In your apartment?” he asked, impressed. Evan nodded. “You a doctor?”

“A surgeon.” The response was automatic.

“At Tenebrium Metro, right?” It was all coming back to Hugo now. “I remember.”

“And you are? I saved your life; you at least owe me your name.”

“You saved the life of a hitman who’s trying to kill you. You’re either a saint or an idiot.” Hugo paused; when his statement failed to garner a reaction he said, “My name is Hugo.”

“Why are you trying to kill me?”

“Why did you save me?”

“You first.” His voice was hard. A mark in his favour.

“I suppose seeing as you patched me up, that’s only fair. You witnessed something you shouldn’t have.”

“You did kill that man in the alley.”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Something dark crept into Evan’s expression, something Hugo couldn’t place.

“He was a snitch, and my boss told me to.” Hugo wasn’t quite sure why he was answering Evan’s questions other than because, in that moment, he felt like it.

“That simple?” Evan’s face contorted in disbelief and disgust.

“It is for me.” Hugo tried to shrug but only one of his shoulders complied. He enjoyed Evan’s disgust in a slightly perverted sort of way.

“Don’t you care about the lives you destroy? He could’ve had a family. There are people who will miss him. Everyone is something to someone.”

Hugo laughed croakily. It hurt. “You got unlucky, but the chances are if I’ve been sent after someone—they’re bad news.” Not a downright lie, but hardly the whole truth. Hugo had taken many civilian contracts in his time.

“Because he was a criminal, he deserved it? Is that it? The world isn’t that black and white. What gives you the right to deal out death and judgement?” The passion in his voice surprised Hugo, as if perhaps Evan wasn’t only talking about him.

“It’s not about having the right; it’s about having the stomach.”

Evan blanched and his eyes were on the floor as he said, “By your logic, you deserve it too.”

“This life isn’t built for longevity.” Hugo attempted to shrug again.

“He was a person. Why doesn’t that matter to you?”

“Barely. Harvey Demming, the man you saw me ice, was a pimp, a pill pusher and a human trafficker. He took kids off the streets and forced them into prostitution. I won’t be shedding any tears for him, and neither should you.” This time, Hugo was telling the whole truth. He was enraptured by the surgeon. How could someone show so much compassion for a man they had never met?

“And what about me? I’m not any of those things. Would you have lost any sleep over killing me?”

“Not a wink,” Hugo said without a beat.

Evan just stared at him. “I shouldn’t have helped you.” The sentiment was half-hearted at best, like he was talking to himself.

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Hugo paused. “Not letting me bleed out was a bad move.”

“I’m not like you.”

“Well, I hope that’s of some comfort to you in the afterlife.”

“You’re in no position to be making threats.”

“That wasn’t a threat.”

Again, they stared at each other, a strange and tense kind of electricity passing between them.

“Why did you save me?” That was the question nagging at the back of Hugo’s mind. Any normal person would have called the police and Medicus if he was lucky. They would have let Hugo be taken away never to darken their door again. So why had Evan taken him in, cared for him, and harboured him? Why had he gone out of his way to keep a man who actively wanted him dead close by?

“Do no harm.” Evan shrugged.

Hugo laughed again in surprise and again he immediately regretted it. “So that’s it? You saved a man who tried to kill you because of some oath they forced you to take in med school?”

“No one forced me. I believe in people. I want to help them. Unlike you I don’t deal in death.” There was some truth in his words, but Hugo could tell he was withholding.

“That’s not all though, is it?”

Evan spluttered and Hugo cut him off.

“How do you know I won’t kill you the first chance I get?” Hugo was finding it hard to fathom the man before him.

“I don’t, I just have to hope that the fact I saved you means something.”

“It doesn’t.”

“I don’t believe you. If you are such a cold and ruthless killer, why am I still alive?”

“I got distracted.”

“Why?”

“You’re beautiful.” It didn’t occur to Hugo to lie.

Evan’s eyes widened in shock, but there was something else mingled with it on his face.

“Do what you want with that information.” Hugo shrugged, unembarrassed.

They lapsed into silence for a moment, a charge in the air.

“What happens now?”

It was a good question for which Hugo had no answer. He needed Evan Carter to die, but he was too weak to make it happen. Evan clearly wanted something, but he didn’t know what. Hugo wasn’t used to being at a disadvantage. He didn’t like it.