The Mosaic

Chapter 27

Had Alessandro known what he would wake up to, he would've forced his eyes open the entire night.

The dream turned toxic soon, ghosts of long buried memories rising from their graves, howling in his dreams. Whispers whisked around him like wild winds, but he couldn't make out what they said. Only one voice was as penetrant as nails scratching over chalkboard. It was always the same one. It always hissed the same word. Over and over and over ... That's how Alessandro knew he was dreaming: the voice had long gone silent in the real world.

The scenery changed, wafting and reshaping like fog around him. He was back in prison. On the stairs. Giacinto was there, a black silhouette against the torchlight. Knives drawn to cut down the guards that came rushing down. There were no guards.

Alessandro jogged up to him. "We need to -"

Giacinto smiled, putting a hand on Alessandro's shoulder. Then he suddenly pulled him close. He plunged a knife into Alessandro's stomach.

Screaming hot pain pierced Alessandro's body, ripping apart his mind. He jerked, struggling, but the hand on his shoulder kept him there.

Giacinto lips twisted into a devilish grin. He twisted the blade. Bowels and blood squelched, copper filling the air.

Alessandro looked down, blood warming his skin. Then he was falling, shoved down the stairs, eyes wide --

Alessandro shot up, hands flying to his stomach. When he looked down, they were as clean as his crisp white shirt. A bead of sweat trickled down his neck, cool on his hot skin, sending chills down his spine. Cool? He spun around.

The shutters were open, flapping in the wind. The sky was dusted pink above the roofs outside, a blush spreading over the narrow line of light blue that turned dark and deep high up. The sun had just begun to rise. Alessandro groaned. How had the window opened? He had closed it himself.

Then he turned and wished he hadn't.

Giacinto stood at the foot of the bed. He wasn't smiling eerily like in his dream. There was a knife in his hand. Little rubies rolled down the blade, dripping slowly from its tip.

Every muscle in Alessandro tensed. He could feel his insides turn to stone. He didn't feel the breeze wafting through the room. Didn't hear the rain on the roof that had died down to a steady pitter patter. His gaze slowly lowered.

To Giacinto's feet lay a man. The stranger's stomach was bloody, hands pressed tightly against it to stop the blood. His eyes were closed. He didn't move.

The Greek turned his head. "Good morning, Giant. Slept well?" He tilted his head slightly, keeping an eye on the motionless body beneath him. "You must have, didn't wake up at all."

Alessandro twisted slowly, catching a glimpse of Laelia on the bed. She was still asleep. Or worse ... His hand slowly crept to the side, feeling for his sword. Eyes still trained on Giacinto, fingers brushed behind a pillow, rough linen scratching his skin before cool metal kissed his finger tips.

Deep down he knew he was no match for the Greek. He wouldn't last a minute. Keep him occupied. He opened his mouth to talk.

Giacinto beat him to it. "No need to get your panties in a twist. Not gonna kill you." Then he looked down again at the man on the floor. "Him however..."

Only then did Alessandro notice the shallow breaths the man took, quick and hectic like a trapped rabbit.

"I'm not a murderer," Giacinto sounded exasperated. As if somehow Alessandro had wronged him. His mouth pulled into a slight frown. "He tried to kill us. Would've succeeded if I slept as sound as you two babies."