Read Online Wrath James White and Maurice Broaddus by Orgy of Souls - Free Book Online

bit of your blood. The contract has to be signed in blood.”

    “Oh, Jesus! Are you serious? Honey, you are just too melodramatic.”

    “Maybe. Still, that’s the only way you’re getting a piece of me.”

    Jacque stared at Samson for a long moment with the hypodermic needle between them in Samson’s outstretched hand. Samson smiled when he saw the first hint of fear break through the photographer’s façade. For a split second the flamboyant fashionista appeared almost sad—his eyes moistened and his bottom lip quivered. Then he sighed and took the needle from Samson’s hand.

    “Fuck it. You only live once right? This could be the most expensive piece of ass I’ve ever had. You’d better be worth it. Oh, you know what I heard? I heard that Icon magazine has you in the running for this year’s “world’s sexiest man.” Can you believe that, shit? Now I’ll be able to say that I fucked the world’s sexiest man. What a trip!”

    “Yeah. What a trip.”

    Jacque slid the needle into the thin blue vein in the crook of his elbow and drew out his blood with an ease and sureness that belied his assertion that he wasn’t into hard drugs. He signed his name on the contract in a theatrical calligraphy and slid it back to Samson. Samson smiled and stroked the blade strapped to his thigh beneath his loose-fitting Tommy Hilfiger jeans. He was so excited that his erection was almost as hard as the knife that had inspired it.

    “Let’s go to my place.”

17

    Samuel remembered a night, soon after he got his license, when he and Samson were following some girls home after a party. Ostensibly it was to make sure they got home safe and had nothing to do with the fact that the girls were having a sleepover and the brothers were trying to crash it.

    The road was four lanes of street and the tract of land it cut through contained overdeveloped lots of expensive subdivisions. Back then, the road was a long, straight, poorly lit stretch, going from two lanes down to one whenever it came to one of its frequent bridges. Samuel knew it well and was used to playing chicken with oncoming traffic, other cars yielding to let him pass. Too late, he saw movement along the shoulder of the road, a black Labrador retriever charging into the range of his headlights. Samson cried out “Watch it!” but there was no time to swerve.

    Everything moved quickly after that. The braking squeal of the tires interrupted by the double thump of something hitting the car. Samuel saw flashes of two bodies coming over the windshield, suddenly feeling worse that he had hit a mother and her pup. Pulling the car over, he watched the taillights of the girl’s car speed off into the night, oblivious to what had happened. The brothers sat there for a minute, Samson’s hand still locked onto the dashboard, having braced himself for impact. Samuel’s heart fired against his chest, pistoning so fast he didn’t know if he’d ever catch his breath again.

    “You all right?” he asked with a weak voice. Samson only nodded. They opened the doors to survey the damage. Blood smeared the window and streaks of shit trailed along the car. Wet, rasping winces led them to the brush along the side of the road where Samson found the mother, or rather, what was left of her.

    Blood was everywhere; pools slowly formed, Samuel was amazed at the body’s ability to keep going, to fight for life even when all hope was gone. The dog’s breathing was reduced to gasping puffs of steam in the cool night air. Samson knelt beside it, the blood staining his hands and clothes, and put his hand on the poor beast’s chest, letting it feel his warmth and presence until it finally stopped breathing. The sight of his brother, kneeling and covered in blood, haunted Samuel. The picture of both horror and compassion – he looked so lost, so in need of someone to guide him, and Samuel never felt up to the task.

    At times like these Samuel wished that his father was still alive.