Page 1 of Lay It Bare

Episode 4

Ellisandre

Ellisandre stood over Sevastyan. He’d stopped weeping eventually, his body too tired and drugged to carry on. The soft whimpers had almost been worse, but then, even those had tapered off and the shivering had set in. His shirt was still half on, and so were his pants. He’d pulled so hard on the restraints he’d torn open the skin on his right wrist. It was going to bruise. For now, it was were only bloody. Letting him loose had been the only answer once it was clear he wasn’t going to harm himself.

Anton was evil. If he hadn’t been evil before, he’d fallen to that point. There were so many more to blame, but for tonight, Anton had their ire. Their hate needed a name and a face. His would serve.

For now, their boy needed them.

Ellisandre went to the bedroom and returned with a med kit. Slipping a needle into Sevastyan’s arm and setting up an IV with saline was simple. He’d cried so hard his body was bereft of hydration. Bruises and blood loss required not just water but salts to heal. They covered Sevastyan with a weighted and heated blanket and then checked each of his limbs, uncovering one at a time and keeping the rest of him wrapped for warmth. Each cut and bruise needed cleaning and checking. His left wrist was going to be painful for a while. Only waking him would show if it was merely strained or also sprained.

The work was a meditation. Ellisandre fell into it and stayed there, with the failure, the grief, the reconnection. Their boy slept under their hands, soft and helpless, but not from trust. It was an empty triumph.

Had they chosen wrong? Should they have sought him out in previous years instead of waiting?

In the end, there was nothing left to tend or clean, not even the food, all of it spirited back to the kitchen and returned to its place. Hunger had fled. Soft shapeless tops and bottoms were found and pulled on, fabric that made almost no sound when moved. They made tea and swept the rug, then set up a legless chair beside the couch and sat, their hand under the weighted blanket against Sevastyan’s skin.

He had been abandoned before. They wouldn’t leave him now.

Their phone went off. Ash asked if they were coming back. A simple text confirmed that they were not returning that evening. Ash sent back pictures of his latest fashion attempt, a black button-down shirt on which he was changing out the buttons and slashing the sleeves. He asked about the cuffs, and they reminded him to not add anything that would prohibit typing while wearing the garment. The teenager sent a thumbs-up in return.

Alice had texted a picture of Dana sleeping on the couch with Su-jin, one of Jun’s group members, a thick blanket between them. Ellisandre texted her back as well, checking on the young woman’s mental health. Alice and Dana were still up at the estate with Jun and his group members.

Then there was nothing to do. At least nothing urgent.

Ellisandre sat in the dim light and gazed into space. They weren’t alone. The text messages, the planning just to have the evening free, the responsibilities all pointed to the fact they were not alone, but in this—this bond with their boy—they were. Secrets on top of secrets.

Out of everyone in their circle, Richard Reevesworth or his husband Émeric Moreau would be the best to ask for guidance, but again, secrets on top of secrets. They were all linking together, creating a gridlock.

Someone was going to have to lay some of the unspoken out into the open and break the dam. But which secret, and to whom?

Rei kept half an eye on the camera feeds while putting together his daily intelligence report for Sevastyan, heavier than normal to make up for the days missed while traveling. Keeping his finger on the pulse of various online spaces was one of the tasks that had become a weapon as Sevastyan navigated the layers of power and intrigue that was both the international art trade and the criminal underground. Watching over long periods of time allowed Rei to absorb the rhythm of normal behavior.

On the cameras, none of the faces moving constantly back and forth from entries and exits in the building for the past few hours had yet to match the ones Sevastyan had shown him.

He looked up at the camera feeds and almost looked down again when something tugged on the edge of his senses.

Rei leaned forward. No, he wasn’t wrong. That was Lisa, dark hair pulled back in a messy ponytail with the ends sticking out in every direction behind his head. His tanned cheeks were red with cold; he wasn’t wearing enough clothes for the snow and ice layered beneath the wind blowing outside. He stood near the front entrance of the building Rei was in, but on the far side of the sidewalk, out of the way of other pedestrians, shivering and appearing to be waiting, shoulders hunched up to his ears and blowing on his bare hands to keep them warm.

Rei cursed and grabbed his phone to text Lisa.

No answer. Rei stared at the screen, as if glaring at it could make Lisa give a damn about himself and move inside.

He texted again. Nothing. Perhaps Lisa had lost his phone. Perhaps he was really there because he needed help and had no way to contact someone.

Rei ran his hand over his face, groaning. He shot off a text to Sevastyan, asking for orders.

Again, nothing.

He grabbed a different phone and texted his device just to make sure the message system was working.

That reply showed up on his phone screen. So he wasn’t the problem. Lisa and Sevastyan were both not taking calls. Might not be able to accept calls. That wasn’t unusual. There was no real cause to worry.

Rei looked back to the camera feeds. Lisa was leaning against a light pole now, slowly sinking to the ground. He sat in the snow. Rei ran his fingers through his hair and tugged on it. It wouldn’t be the first time Lisa showed up hurt. He had a way of making people hate him, or getting caught out doing dangerous jobs for Alexi.

What if he were bleeding? Or drugged?

Rei screwed his eyes shut. He was going to have to go out there.