Death's Ink Black Shadow Page 5
It was a depressing thought.
But then Ben wondered whether he’d really altered either.
He owned a few more shiny toys now than he had before, but essentially wasn’t he still the nothing Nikolas had taken and shaped and moulded to his own design?
The idea that they were equals in this relationship was farcical. If they were, he wouldn’t need Nikolas to tell Steven about him. His existence, his status, would be obvious. He would have introduced himself, “Hi, I’m Ben, Nik’s boyfriend.” How hard was that?
Ben lifted his head, staring blankly at the wall.
Could he?
Nikolas had accepted Ben’s daughter…introduced Ben to his own baby, won him around…
Why couldn’t he do that with Nikolas’s son?
Wouldn’t that be the mature thing to do?
Here he was sunk in self-pity because Nikolas was being Nikolas yet again. Let him.
Ben’s phone rang. Squeezy. They had a meaningless conversation about nothing as he thought through his idea. It was only when he’d rung off that the first brilliant part of his plan occurred to him. He rang his friend back and begged a favour.
§ § §
Nikolas appeared pleased to find Ben packing a bag later that day.
“You’re returning to Devon?”
Ben was frowning over his passport and shook his head. “No, I thought I might go visit Ingrid for a few days. She’s been asking me for ages.” He caught puzzlement out of the corner of his eye on his favourite scarred face and smiled privately. Nikolas wasn’t quite so committed to his scheme of driving some space between them as to have Ben go as far as Denmark. Good.
“Ingrid?”
Ben hefted his duffle onto his shoulder and began to walk downstairs. “Don’t forget Radulf needs to be fed every evening and a light breakfast, and walk him twice a day.”
“You’re going to Aeroe? Today? How long are you going to be gone?”
Ben repressed a snigger. “Long enough for you to remember that Radulf needs to be fed and be…”
“Yes, I got it. But—”
Ben put his bag by the front door. “Well, I think that’s everything. Do you want me to call you, or will you still be on holiday?”
Something flickered in Nikolas’s eyes, some awareness perhaps that he was being played. He nodded slowly. “Call. I’m sure I will find time to answer.”
Ben smirked a little and jiggled his keys. “Bye then.”
Nikolas seemed torn. Ben waited, observing him carefully.
The doorbell rang.
This would be the interesting part. Ben stepped up his Nikolas-observation as he opened the door.
Steven was on the doorstep, also with a bag. He smiled. “Ready?”
“Follow me. We have to park in an under—”
A hand landed on his arm. “What is this?”
Ben turned. “I thought Steven would like to see Aeroe. Where you and Aleksey grew up? Where Nina lived? Squeezy said we could have the cabin. Don’t forget the dog. I’ll call then—when we get there.”
He nudged Steven with his shoulder to get him moving, and they went down the steps and into the cobbled street.
Nikolas’s feet were bare. Ben knew he wouldn’t follow. It was beneath his dignity. He couldn’t order him back either. That would be unthinkable, because he probably realised Ben would ignore him. Nikolas didn’t risk ordering him in front of someone else unless he felt confident Ben would obey.
They were driving out of London heading for Harwich before Ben could fully take in what he’d done. He glanced across and had a moment of utterly surreal wonder. Steven was twisted away from him, watching the passing suburbs, and from the back, he could have been Nikolas.
§ § §
“I’m really grateful for you doing this, by the way.”
They hadn’t spoken other than trivialities about stopping for coffee and what radio station they preferred for the first half hour of the trip.
Ben dipped his head to the gratitude and made a non-committal reply about wanting to see friends in Denmark anyway.
Steven straightened in his seat a little, facing Ben. “You know the country then? Aeroe?”
Ben flicked his gaze over for a moment. “I lived there for a while.”
“Ah. Is that how you met my uncle?”
“No. I’d met him long before.”
“Oh. So you…know him well?”
Here it was. Ben took a small breath. “I know him very well. I live with him. He’s my boyfriend.” Was there a better term? Should he have said partner? That might be misconstrued and imply they owned a company together. Lover? Ben shuddered. Would he still be a boyfriend when he was in his eighties? Maybe by then there’d be a better word invented. And wasn’t it amazing how suddenly the conversation had stopped?
Ben let the silence in the car play out for a while until he asked, “Does that bother you?”
Steven held his gaze until Ben had to return his concentration to the road. Eventually, Steven replied neutrally, “I don’t know. It’s kinda weird. Unexpected.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It just is. I need to think about it.”
“Okay.”
“Sorry.”
It was quiet for another few minutes until Steven asked, “Has my uncle told you much about my father?”
Ben kept his eyes on the traffic this time and gripped the wheel tighter. “No. Nothing other than he had a brother and that they were twins.” He suddenly had a moment of doubt about his plan and the level of deception it would entail. This was Nikolas’s area of expertise, not his. He added lamely, hoping it would forestall this unfortunate train of thought, “They weren’t close.”
Steven didn’t comment.
Ben changed tack. “Tell me about this biography you’re writing. Is there enough known about Nina to fill a book?”
Steven pursed his lips. “I’m beginning to wonder that, too. I’m thinking of changing the focus.”
Ben felt sweat trickle suddenly in the small of his back. “Really?”
“Yeah. I was thinking Nina’s story is only the beginning. I was thinking I might research and write about my father instead. He seems much more interesting.”
This was bad.
Did Nikolas know?
“Interesting. Does…your uncle know?”
“He never wants to talk about Aleksey. I thought I’d see how much information I could find before I decided for sure. I might take the angle of inherited instability—how Nina’s illness, her psychosis transferred to her oldest son. They say twins are the same age, but of course that’s not true—ever. One is always older, and studies have shown that it’s usually the oldest one that is more than half of the pair, if you see what I mean. It’s quite well researched. Uncle Nikolas is lucky to be alive at all, as first-born twins are much more likely to thrive—they suck up life from the second one. Very lucky.”
Ben flicked a glance over again, for longer this time, only just snatching it back in time to see lights turn red ahead of him. As they sat at the crossroads, Ben murmured, “I don’t think Nina was mentally—”
“She was very sick. It’s well documented. Her parents had her committed for a while when she was a teenager.”
Ben opened his mouth to comment, but nothing came out so he shut it again. This young man already seemed to know more about Nikolas’s past than he did. What did that say about their relationship? Shouldn’t he have known these things?
He thought about Steven’s allegation for a while until he was jolted out of his disturbing reverie by Steven adding thoughtfully, “Anorexia is the term now. It was an Englishman who discovered the condition a couple of hundred years ago, although it wasn’t widely known until Hilde Bruch published her work. Nina just stopped eating. It was as if the music was consuming her—so her doctors said, anyway. I want to know more about my father. Was he mad? Will it be passed down to me?”
Ben knew he was out of his depth, but ventured
, “Not eating isn’t mad—”
“She self-harmed as well. And then committed suicide. Madness is the flip side of genius. Perhaps you can’t have one without the other…”
“If your father—”
“Yes, I know, he killed himself, too. It’s only to be expected, given the genetic time bomb he’d inherited.”
That hadn’t been what Ben was going to say at all, but once Steven had pointed this out, Ben could think about nothing else.
He was beginning to see Nikolas in a whole new light.
He pursed his lips for a moment and then dug out his phone and sent a text. He knew he shouldn’t be on his cell and driving, but it was fairly simple to type a question mark. Once more he was reduced to checking for a reply every few minutes.
He didn’t get one, even to his simple, coded, are you okay?
§ § §
They arrived at Harwich and had a couple of hours to wait for the next ferry. Out of season, it wasn’t near full, and they secured two berths easily.
Ben sat in the terminal, trying to count all the ways things had changed since the last time he’d been there.
He spoke Danish now.
He was going to a place he knew.
He didn’t have Radulf with him.
Radulf was now blind.
He had a daughter.
Molly Rose existed and before she had not.
Kate was dead.
Kate wouldn’t be coming to Aeroe to help him if he needed it.
He had a vast house in Devon.
He was the heir to an ancient bloodline.
Nikolas had a son.
Ben laughed suddenly. Squeezy was gay. What the fuck? Where did he start to count the ways his life had changed since he’d last waited for this ferry? He sensed Steven watching him curiously. Was chuckling to yourself the first sign of madness? No, apparently not eating was. He was safe. “I’m going to get some tea. Do you want some?”
Steven didn’t. He was texting.
Ben left him to it and went to the café.
He was staring up at the menu on the board, trying to decide what to have and thinking about the coming motion of the ship, when he sensed someone standing behind him.
“Hello, Benjamin.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ben had the immediate and embarrassing thought that he’d kidnapped Nikolas’s son and now he’d been caught.
He turned slowly, letting none of this show on his face. “Hello, Nikolas.”
Nikolas ordered tea for both of them and added a large slice of cake to the order for Ben and paid.
They took a table.
Ben pursed his lips. “How?”
“Train.”
Ben nodded. Typical. “So…?”
“So.”
Ben leant forward suddenly. “It’s a good idea, isn’t it? Why shouldn’t he see your old house? Some of your old haunts.”
Nikolas didn’t bother to reply. He just tipped his head a little to one side, studying Ben.
The tea and cake arrived. It seemed ridiculously domestic for some reason and Ben wished he had a beer instead. He sagged a little. “It can’t do any harm, Nik. A few days.”
Still no reply.
Ben mashed his slice of cake with the fork for a while. “I can’t not go now. I’d look like a bloody fool.”
When there was no response to that, he glanced up. He’d never thought Nikolas’s eyes were empty before. They were always predatory, always had the kind of feral interest that burned hot with hunger. He slumped back in his seat. “You want me to not go?”
“I have already told Stefan you cannot. That there has been an emergency and you must return. He is waiting in the car. I merely want you to finish your cake and get in the car, too.”
Ben nodded again.
He pushed his tea, untouched, to one side and stood up.
He hefted his bag onto his shoulder and walked out of the café, Nikolas following behind him.
As they reached the terminal, Ben swerved to the left, went through the ticket barrier— showing his ticket—and onto the boarding ramp.
He didn’t even say goodbye this time.
§ § §
Ben had made a number of grand gestures in his life before. He’d made quite a few with his father when he was a child; missing his mother, seeking her, he’d run away dozens of times. He’d committed petty crimes. He’d messed around at school. Only in the army had he found what he’d been seeking, the missing parents, the home—the army being all these things and more to those who joined. Grand gestures weren’t needed or appreciated in the army.
He’d made one or two since with Nikolas—foolish declarations, name changes.
This was probably the dumbest thing he’d ever done.
He was stuck on a ferry on the North Sea on his own for no reason whatsoever. But more than this, Nikolas had achieved the very thing he’d wanted to—driving Ben away—and he hadn’t actually had to do anything. Nikolas was now back with Steven in London, and Ben was fucking miles away, heading in the wrong direction.
At least Steven now knew Nikolas was gay.
Ben smirked at the thought of the conversations Nikolas might now be enduring and wished he’d told Steven a little more about his father’s preferences in bed. Mentioned the cock word, perhaps. There was quite a lot he could have said. Nikolas had a lot of interesting predilections. In and out of bed, come to think of it.
It was a long night. He had to think about something.
When they docked in Esbjerg, Ben sat in the terminal waiting for a return berth. Who else was so lucky to have a two-day cruise on the North Sea?
He was tempted to call Nikolas and tell him he wasn’t staying for the week on Aeroe after all, that he was coming home, but couldn’t be bothered to be put through to voicemail again.
When he docked back at Harwich, exhaustion weighed him down.
The car was gone, of course.
He had to take the train.
Public transport was a pisser, and for a moment he allowed himself to appreciate a certain billionaire more than he had been doing for the past forty-eight hours.
Ben arrived back at the house by taxi late in the evening. There was no light on downstairs. He heard a noise from the bedroom and jogged up the stairs.
The light was on low.
But it was enough to see by.
Jackson Keane was sprawled naked on his belly on the bed.
He was cutting a line of coke onto the back of his hand.
The door to the shower opened.
Nikolas came out.
He was also naked.
§ § §
Ben had never used the expression heard a pin drop before, but now it played on a loop in his head, heard a pin drop, heard a pin drop, heard a pin drop because it was—so quiet you could have heard the tiny plink of metal hitting the old wood boards.
Jackson snorted the coke on his hand, which broke the absence of noise in the moment.
Ben stumbled out of the room. He tripped at the top of the stairs and had to grab the banister.
Nikolas followed him out, his eyes so dark and cold Ben wondered if he was actually the same man, his bizarre thought that Aleksey had died returning to him.
“I tried to tell you. You never listen to me, Benjamin.” Ben backed down the stairs. Nikolas tied the towel he’d been holding around his waist and followed him. “Do not just storm out. Listen to me. Ben, listen to me.”
Ben couldn’t hear anything over the rush in his ears. He assumed it was blood, but it sounded more like air—as if he was flying very fast, being sucked very hard down a tunnel. He felt Nikolas’s hand on his arm and was drawn into the kitchen and eased into a chair. Nikolas leant on the counter, his superb, long, lean body displayed in all its beauty.
Even now, even now Ben couldn’t see the corruption beneath the surface. But he knew it was there.
Nikolas’s gaze had not left him all this time. It was why Ben hadn’t just gone. He was pinned by
the weight of the horror of seeing Nikolas look at him like that. “Go back to Devon. You have Babushka and Emilia. Bring Molly Rose to you as well. She is yours, and they won’t fight it for long. I will assist with that if you need me to. We can still be friends. If you want. I would like that. After a while though. Not now, perhaps. I understand that.”
Pin drop, pin drop. Get the fuck out of my head! Ben’s mouth was too dry to speak. But his eyes were welling. How could he have moisture for one but not the other? He dashed his arm across his face as something nudged his leg. Radulf.
It was too much. “Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!” He couldn’t breathe. He felt a hand on his neck, pushing his head down. Everything swam around him.
“Ben. Breathe.” Nikolas shook him a little, and Ben pulled away, shoving blindly at Nikolas and stumbling for the door.
A hand held him back. “You can’t leave like—”
Ben turned and punched Nikolas.
He’d never hit him before in unadulterated anger.
Never caught him so completely unawares.
Nikolas went down, skidding on the kitchen tiles.
He was bleeding. His nose had never fully recovered from being broken on Aeroe.
Ben didn’t care.
He didn’t.
At last. He was free of this man.
He clipped Radulf to his lead and took him, too.
Nikolas didn’t deserve their dog.
Nikolas didn’t deserve anything.
§ § §
He needed to get to Tim’s.
It was all he could think of to do.
But the car wasn’t in the garage. Neither was his bike.
Everything was too surreal to worry about these things, so he led Radulf back to the street and hailed a taxi.
Tim was in bed.
With Squeezy.
Ben was ridiculously pleased to see this and told them so for some time, until they could get him to calm down and tell them what had happened.
He stopped himself then. He’d never really told them anything about Nikolas. Their odd relationship was private. It always had been.
But then he told them.
Why shouldn’t he?
Nikolas didn’t deserve his loyalty.
He didn’t.
Tim looked sick. It had happened to him. He knew. Ben tried to tell him that this was nothing like John. This was…then he saw it, if he hadn’t seen it already. This was exactly like John. Nikolas had found someone else at last.