Codename: Aconite Chapter Forty-Four

Codename: Aconite Chapter Forty-Four
Lamps are knocked over, sofa cushions are strewn about and torn-up clothes are scattered about like the debris left behind after a tornado. Silas steps in front of me, his expression now looking like an attack dog seeking a target. He places the groceries down, walks over and picks up a few tattered pieces of clothing to examine them.

“These are all mine,” he remarks.

I look at him in surprise. I begin to wander around, checking every place in my apartment where I keep a weapon stashed, to find them all untouched. Silas follows the trail of tattered clothes to his room while I make my way to mine, a sinking feeling settling in my stomach. As I walk to my bedroom, I notice the whiteboard where I had organised all our research on Sathariel, has been knocked over with the papers tossed around without a care. I enter my room and immediately feel bile travelling up my throat.

My bedroom looks even worse than the rest of my apartment. My bedsheets have been torn to shreds, my clothes thrown all over the place, picture frames shattered, and my drawers left hanging open. The dread and rage only continue to intensify as I walk in and find the dagger I usually keep in my underwear drawer, currently protruding through the framed picture of my parents and me that hangs above the dresser. The blade has been impaled through my face with great deliberation; it’s like I can see the fury rolling off the dagger in waves. It’s as though the act itself has left a malevolent shadow upon my home.

I look through my drawers as if magically the dagger in front of me will reappear in the drawer safe and sound, but instead, I only come to another disgusting realisation: most of my underwear is missing. I scan the room but don’t note a single pair amidst the mess in my room which causes me to swallow down the rising bile with great force.

I look up as Silas enters my room, his face freezing in shock when he takes in the sight of my room, but that all changes the moment his eyes land on my vandalised portrait. His jaw clenches as his fist grasps the door handle firmly, his eyes narrowing with murderous intent.

“That fucking does it,” he hisses.

He turns on his heel, storming back out with a speed that should leave behind a smoke trail. I chase after him, following him to his room, pausing in the doorway when I see the absolute chaotic state it has been left in. It looks even worse than mine. It’s like Freddy Krueger had a field day in here; the entire bed has been tossed and slashed to smithereens. I look over when I hear a familiar click and see Silas loading his gun. It’s the exact same gun he pulled on me that night in the alley. It’s a gorgeous gold inlaid ASP handgun, with an image of Death, carved into the grip. He effortlessly loads the gun with his signature bullets – each one perfectly engraved with a scythe – then tucks the gun into the back of his pants.

He storms past me as if I don’t even exist and I know instantly this won’t end well.

“Where the hell are you going?” I demand as I follow him.

He grabs my keys out of the bowl and continues out the door, moving with single-minded determination. I chase after him, shutting the door behind me as I follow him back down to the parking garage. He unlocks my car and gets into the driver’s side, and I quickly jump into the passenger seat before he can speed off without me.

“Would you just stop for a moment and talk to me? Since when do you just go into any situation half-cocked like this?” I ask him, but he doesn’t answer me. It’s like he’s not even here. Physically he is, but mentally he is already figuring out where he’s going and what he’s doing to the point there’s no room in his brain for conversation.

He pulls out of the parking space, the tyres screeching as I’m thrown forward by the force. I brace myself against the dashboard as he spins out, and steps on the gas, speeding out of the parking garage and narrowly missing several pedestrians and oncoming cars.

“Hey! I really don’t need a warrant out on my car because of your reckless driving, now slow the fuck down and tell me what you’re doing!” I shout at him.

Still, he doesn’t answer me. I grab the seat and the handle above the window and hang on while he weaves through traffic, the whole time I’m silently praying this doesn’t end up in a high-speed chase with police. In no time at all, we’re passing the city and driving down familiar roads flanked by Cyprus trees. I look over at Silas, my eyes widening in panic as I realise this is a route I’ve taken a million times.

“Silas…how do you know where my parents live?” I ask apprehensively.

“It was in your dossier,” he says offhandedly.

I stare at him in horror. I don’t know which is worse. Realising I missed the fact Sathariel had my parents’ fucking address in that stupid dossier or the fact an enraged and armed Silas is driving there right now, likely to do something stupid.

“What the fuck do you hope to accomplish? You’re a smart man Silas, but this is stupid. Please just pull the car over and we can talk about this,” I calmly beseech him.

“THERE’S NOTHING TO TALK ABOUT!” he screams at me, “You saw what I saw, Dasha! You’re a smart woman, so don’t act so fucking naive as if you don’t know who did this and why!”

I gulp listening to the fury in this voice, the volume and force so loud I expect the windows to shatter. I’ve never heard him raise his voice before, and there’s something unsettling about it. He’s not acting calm and collected like he usually does. Silas is like me; he goes into his jobs with a cool head and a plan. This thing with Sathariel is personal, and yet we remain level-headed, but this is different. He’s not thinking, he’s just reacting. This is just pure emotion leading his actions, and it worries me because if he’s not careful, he’s going to get himself killed.

“Can we please just talk about this?” I gently try to sway him.

“Time for talking has passed. You thought you handled it, but you didn’t, so now I will,” he says through clenched teeth.