Read Online The Black Lotus (Night Flower) by Claire Warner - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Claire Warner
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voice that suggested that Melissa could handle the secrets that he carried on his shoulders like weights. With a sneer at his old romantic notions that could only come to naught, he lifted the bottle again to his lips.
He drained the last dregs of the bottle and threw it into a corner where it smashed into pieces. Justin did not notice the sound of glass breaking; he was staring into the blazing fire, his thoughts drifting back along the years, back further than anyone would have thought. Everyone who met him alluded to his maturity, how much older he seemed to be than his looks. Men and women commented on his cynical and jaded approach to life, some seeing it as an affectation that he had taken to displaying yet the truth was far stranger and much more tragic. As he sometimes did at times like this, he touched a finger to the enamel flower at his neck and wondered once again how his life should have gone and why he spent nights following the fashion in the capital and thinking up new ways to amuse himself. He wanted to tell someone about the nightmare of his life, yet there was no one who would understand. Even if he did dream about confiding in a girl like Melissa, what could she do about it? He hadn’t found a solution even after all this time. How much use would she be?
The fire popped and drew him from his brooding thoughts, he glanced up at the clock on the mantle and pursed his lips, Alistair was exceptionally late and while he didn’t keep tabs on his brother, he did worry about him. It was a habit that he hadn’t been able to break even after all these years. Alistair would not thank him for his worry; in fact he would probably feel a perverse sense of satisfaction that Justin had spent an evening in concerned silence. He sighed and stood, his fine evening wear was crumpled and his valet was currently installed at the far more proper town house. He struggled out of the fine garments and pulled on different ones, more comfortable garb for relaxing in his parlour. His fingers pulled off the brooch and he placed it on the mantle where it brooded darkly. It was late and he couldn’t drag his mind away from the nightmares in his past. The lotus reminded him of his folly and when it did not, his brother filled the gaps. He sank back in the chair and pressed his hands over his eyes. This nightmare had to end, one way or another, despite his efforts to divert himself from the horror he lived in, he still felt it late in the night. Sat in the chair, with the warming affects of alcohol flowing through his veins, he drifted off into an uneasy doze, the only sleep he ever managed these days.
Something cold pressed against his neck and his eyes jerked open, standing above him, shadowed by the light of the fire was his brother. A thin bladed knife rested lightly in Alistair’s hands and the cool metal pressed against the thin skin of his throat.
“Evening Alistair. ” Justin’s voice was light and untroubled; he ignored the pressure of the knife at his neck as he looked upwards at his brother’s form. Alistair had darker hair and his eyes were a warm brown, yet of late they held all the appeal of the grave. Alistair had not adjusted well to their new existence and from time to time Justin worried about his once happy and kind brother. Still given what the others had done with their time, it could have been worse.
“Was your night entertaining?” He stared at the heavy lace on the cuffs of Alistair’s shirt and wondered briefly why he was being civil.
“About as usual. ” Alistair Lestrade stared at his older brother with a sneer, he did not loose his hold on the knife and a thin bead of blood escaped from the skin at Justin’s throat. “Were you waiting up for me brother?”
“Not so you’d notice. ” Justin sent his brother an irritated smile. “Do you mind moving the knife? I don’t want blood on this jacket.” Alistair sighed and stepped back,
He drained the last dregs of the bottle and threw it into a corner where it smashed into pieces. Justin did not notice the sound of glass breaking; he was staring into the blazing fire, his thoughts drifting back along the years, back further than anyone would have thought. Everyone who met him alluded to his maturity, how much older he seemed to be than his looks. Men and women commented on his cynical and jaded approach to life, some seeing it as an affectation that he had taken to displaying yet the truth was far stranger and much more tragic. As he sometimes did at times like this, he touched a finger to the enamel flower at his neck and wondered once again how his life should have gone and why he spent nights following the fashion in the capital and thinking up new ways to amuse himself. He wanted to tell someone about the nightmare of his life, yet there was no one who would understand. Even if he did dream about confiding in a girl like Melissa, what could she do about it? He hadn’t found a solution even after all this time. How much use would she be?
The fire popped and drew him from his brooding thoughts, he glanced up at the clock on the mantle and pursed his lips, Alistair was exceptionally late and while he didn’t keep tabs on his brother, he did worry about him. It was a habit that he hadn’t been able to break even after all these years. Alistair would not thank him for his worry; in fact he would probably feel a perverse sense of satisfaction that Justin had spent an evening in concerned silence. He sighed and stood, his fine evening wear was crumpled and his valet was currently installed at the far more proper town house. He struggled out of the fine garments and pulled on different ones, more comfortable garb for relaxing in his parlour. His fingers pulled off the brooch and he placed it on the mantle where it brooded darkly. It was late and he couldn’t drag his mind away from the nightmares in his past. The lotus reminded him of his folly and when it did not, his brother filled the gaps. He sank back in the chair and pressed his hands over his eyes. This nightmare had to end, one way or another, despite his efforts to divert himself from the horror he lived in, he still felt it late in the night. Sat in the chair, with the warming affects of alcohol flowing through his veins, he drifted off into an uneasy doze, the only sleep he ever managed these days.
Something cold pressed against his neck and his eyes jerked open, standing above him, shadowed by the light of the fire was his brother. A thin bladed knife rested lightly in Alistair’s hands and the cool metal pressed against the thin skin of his throat.
“Evening Alistair. ” Justin’s voice was light and untroubled; he ignored the pressure of the knife at his neck as he looked upwards at his brother’s form. Alistair had darker hair and his eyes were a warm brown, yet of late they held all the appeal of the grave. Alistair had not adjusted well to their new existence and from time to time Justin worried about his once happy and kind brother. Still given what the others had done with their time, it could have been worse.
“Was your night entertaining?” He stared at the heavy lace on the cuffs of Alistair’s shirt and wondered briefly why he was being civil.
“About as usual. ” Alistair Lestrade stared at his older brother with a sneer, he did not loose his hold on the knife and a thin bead of blood escaped from the skin at Justin’s throat. “Were you waiting up for me brother?”
“Not so you’d notice. ” Justin sent his brother an irritated smile. “Do you mind moving the knife? I don’t want blood on this jacket.” Alistair sighed and stepped back,
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