The Mosaic

Chapter 60 | Dear Brutus

"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars / But in ourselves." (Shakespeare, Julius Caesar) Cassius to his friend Brutus, opposing fate and will.  

It would be over fast.

Alessandro should be afraid. The arrow glinted like a hungry fang as it shot through the sunlight, but he was only mildly annoyed. His emotions had let the Reaper fool him like a child.

He heard the others' shouts, distant, as if muffled by the sudden stillness washing over him.

A storm of purple knocked him aside.

Pain exploded through Alessandro when he hit the ground, black fragments flashing through his vision for a split second, he heard a heavy thud next to him, felt the weight of a body crashing over him -- and then everything was just gone.

And then everything came back, in flashes of too bright sun and pain piercing his skull. Alessandro's head rang, colours swimming before his eyes. He was alive.

Chaos erupted around him. Glass rained down onto the altar in a blindingly bright hailstorm, falling suns, sharp as razors, as the Reaper shattered a window and leaped out onto the roof.

Warm blood seeped through his shirt. So much blood. It warmed his skin like a macabre kiss, filling his senses with the stench of copper caress and angry mistakes.

The familiar scratch of that damn moustache against his neck.

"Amand," Alessandro rasped, shaking the body covering him. It was limp. "Amand!"

Nothing.

Amand had been right next to him, after Alessandro had yanked him back from rushing to Marius. But Amand was supposed to dislike him, not to take an arrow for him, this wasn't right, this wasn't --

"Amand!" Alessandro struggled against the weight covering him. Flashes of white shot through his head, but he dragged himself up to his knees. Soft red streamed through his vision, warm blood running down his face, copper filling his mouth. He ignored it. He kept shaking Amand, fear starting to claw up his throat.

Move. Hashem, please, make him move.

Amand groaned, rolling onto his back. His eyes were unfocused. "We're even," he coughed, "That was for the beard burn."

No, no, no. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Panic seized Alessandro as he pressed his hands over the bishop's stomach. Blood seeped through his fingers. The arrow had been for him.

"I hate you so much right now," Amand grit out, features strained. He twisted in pain.

Alessandro's laugh came out forced. "Hey now, don't –"

"Amand!" Marius fell to his knees beside his bishop. "You terrible –" Tears fell down Marius' chin. He was screaming for Laelia, cradling Amand's face.

Amand's crooked smile broke Alessandro's heart.

"He won't die." Alessandro clenched his jaw as if he could force fate itself.

"Hell doesn't want me yet," Amand struggled to push the words out, blood trickling from his mouth.

Marius was sobbing like a child, desperately clinging to Amand. The bishop lifted a bloody hand to cover Marius', staining the priest's white gloves an ugly red.

What was taking Laelia so long --

"The good thing... with this idiot –" Amand flinched when he winked at Alessandro. "Is that he can't read others when his own emotions are too strong."