Page 49 of The Villains of Winter

The sugary aroma of hot chocolate poured merrily through the door like nothing was wrong. Soon, they would be out of Connecticut, heading southwest to Arkansas like it was a holiday trip. Lucien was gone because of them.

Adrenaline and endorphins still propulsively shot through his blood system, and before Elliott could stop himself, he opened the wintry window, letting in a shock of wind to catch his breath.

Elliott wanted to leap out of the window and into the snow and run until he couldn’t think or breathe. Except, he dressed. The clasp of Elliott’s belt, the wet, fumbling fingers of himself kneading the buttons back together, were all clumsy movements as he forced himself to put on his clothes one sleeve at a time. All of it felt like Herculean feats of effort. Afterward, his heavy breaths were the only sound in the condensation-dense air.

Elliott left the shower in a haze of steam and stood by the wintry window on the other side of the doors. The towns grew smaller. The mountains became sparse. There were two four-post beds, a simple desk, and the massive windows.

Elliott’s words suffocated in his trachea in the tense air. He repeated himself for what felt like the hundredth time. “Stay in Connecticut. There’s a life for you here.”

James fixed Elliott with a hardened glance. “There’s nothing for me in Connecticut.”

A warm cloth ran over his ears as James dried Elliott’s drenched hair, and Elliott grasped his wrist to stop him. “You’ve been invited to deliver a formal speech in front of Congressman Pittman. His Head of Staff only hires one political aide every year. His senior staffer has never recommended anyone out of college before. Take the shot.”

James’s voice lowered with a tint of solemnity. “There was never going to be a senatorial race for me. I have dark secrets everywhere, Elliott. The people deserve better. I was a campaign volunteer every summer. That is my legacy.” He exhaled a second time. “I need to make peace with it.”

Are you punishing yourself because you’re a torturer? Was Lucien right about what you’ve done? Elliott wanted to ask, but he couldn’t bring himself to even utter the words. It had to be wrong. Instead, all he could think of was one plead. Don’t follow me into the depths of the wasteland, James.

“James, there’s a part of you that would despise yourself if you didn’t even finish college.” Tears gathered in his eyes, and Elliott felt underwater. “Eventually you’ll regret killing someone for me and surrendering your entire future.”

“My political future died the night Arthur Newton died, Elliott. You know that. I only went to college for a chance to work for the congressman.” Maybe it all could’ve been different if that night never happened. Maybe James could’ve gone to an honorable political college of high éclat, like Harvard or Georgetown, where the politics were cleaner without the sacrifice ceremony. If he had, it wouldn’t have been over for him this soon. However, that night did happen. There’s nothing they could change about that. “I’ve made my decision.”

However, Elliott refused to let James burn his life down for him. “We can’t be boys forever, James. You were right. Be an adult and look after yourself instead of me.”

What they did on that mountain…It couldn’t be undone by fleeing to the countryside with James. James still had a chance to live a normal life. To improve society.

To ensure there’s never anyone else selected for another human sacrifice.

James exhaled a final time in a strange, distant sound. “It should’ve been me, Elliott. I should’ve been the honorarium slain there. It’s what I wanted. You should’ve never been chosen.”

Those words. The twenty-one words drained Elliott in an exsanguination he couldn’t express beyond profound, bloodless anguish. James sacrificed a boy in Elliott’s place. All of this was Elliott’s fault. How could he subject James to suffer that guilt alone?

He didn’t mean to make it sound as if he was abandoning James.

The warmth from the shower water leached out of Elliott’s skin. Linen clung to his forearms in wet, freezing fabric. Soap dripped from behind his ear.

“None of this is your fault, James.” Elliott left a damp trail of footprints as he treaded forward, resting his forehead against James’s forehead. “It shouldn’t have been any of us chosen. Promise me you’ll at least finish college. Then we can meet again.”

James promised him, if only Elliott would leave the entire matter alone. However, bile stung the back of Elliott’s throat.

Elliott’s mouth went dry. “Lucien’s final words…Did you hear any of it?” He winced in the mere memory of it. He extracted himself from James.

He took a further step back from him. James traversed the room towards their belongings, unaware that Elliott feared him.

“I was performing the recitation. I never heard a word.” James unfolded sixty-five thousand dollars in cash and the map location where Knox would meet them a few miles from Helm Station. The sixty-five thousand dollars was the payment to Knox. He would receive the payment monthly for however long they needed to seek refuge on his remote farm. He would receive a final million dollars wired to him afterward in an off-shore account. James glanced over at Elliott’s trembling frame, quivering like branches in the wind. “Why do you ask that?”

“Lucien believed…He thought…” Elliott stammered as he sat in a chair and he scraped his sleeve over his sickened mouth. “He claimed…you’ve…mutilated human bodies before.”

James stopped counting the cash. “What did he tell you exactly?”

Elliott stuttered through the words as he repeated the gruesome remarks, because James still hadn’t visibly reacted. His countenance was composed. Evaluative. He watched Elliott. “Lucien told me that the honorarium isn’t simply slaughtered, they’re kept alive for alchemy–”

“He lied to you, Elliott,” James responded without a further note of conversation. He returned to counting their cash and cashier’s checks, compiling all of it into the record book he kept in his argent case. Eventually, James tilted his head. “You don’t believe everything Lucien told you after he set you up for execution, do you?”

“No, of course not.” He was right. Lucien had manipulated Elliott before, conspiring to murder Elliott in cold blood. Why would Elliott believe Lucien now? Lucien was trying to torment Elliott before death. Lucien had no friends; only strategic allies and baleful enemies.

Thank goodness he would never be governor now.

Elliott involuntarily shivered at the thought of Governor Montclair. He mumbled with a bit of a stammer. “I-I don’t know what I was thinking. Sorry. By the way…thank you for saving my life. I owe you everything, James.”