Chapter 9: Revenge
"Was zur Hölle!" Wolfgang cursed, throwing another bank statement onto the pile in front of him. No one liked sorting through the bills, but today they were especially vexing.
The numbers weren't adding up, and Wolfgang kept forgetting what each organized stack meant in the first place. His head kept drifting off. Back to the steady beep of Felix's heart monitor, back to the sterile environment of the hospital, back to the last bits of glass Wolfgang just couldn't seem to wedge out from floor of the shop -
He couldn't focus. And the voices weren't helping either. They buzzed in his mind like flies, annoying and insistent.
"Everything is so much better now," one declared, the tone fake, placating.
"Yes, so much better." Another man's voice chimed in, toneless yet agreeable.
What's going on? Wolfgang paused as he unfolded another statement.
"We spoke to the astrologer, and he says the horoscope for the new wedding date is even better than the last one."
The piece of paper slipped out of Wolfgang's grasp, his brain finally catching up to the meaning of the conversation.
"The last one was not bad." The second voice was cheerful, as though nothing was wrong, as though the last statement hadn't just ripped Wolfgang's heart out of his chest.
"No, no, no," the first voice said, quick to reassure. "Not bad."
"But this is better."
"So much better. Clearly, the gods wanted it this way."
"So, uh, you wish to use the temple of Ganesha?"
"Yes." And suddenly she was there, sitting right in front of him. The woman looked intently towards the voices - all dark curls and bright earrings and dewy skin. Wolfgang could barely tear his eyes off of her -
Until she was gone.
"Fuck!" Wolfgang swore. He snatched the fallen piece of paper from the floor, his knuckles scraping against the untreated wood. He slammed the statement back onto the wood of the desk. Stay out of it, he told himself.
"Help! Help! Somebody! Help!"
Fear, distinct and sharp raced through Wolfgang's veins. Undistilled panic.
A drop of liquid splashed out of his mug.
Somewhere inside him, Wolfgang knew the panic was not generated from his own emotions. He didn't care. She was in trouble.
He tried to reach out, tried to find the source of the terror. His mind grasped around him, stretching for something out of view. But his eyes stayed stuck, his feet stayed still, and he couldn't leave the quiet of his flat.
Wolfgang set his coffee down onto the counter. A singular dark drop broke free of the rim to run down the surface of the ceramic. Like a teardrop, his brain supplied, suddenly profound.
Wolfgang jerked his gaze away from the cup with a crack, frowning.
He knew the connection was fragile. Innately, he distrusted it. Avoided it. Widening the link was like holding mud in a rainstorm.
It was only a matter of time before it fell apart.
Ignore the connection, Wolfgang told himself. It's for the best.
The hospital smelled as it always did, of antiseptic.
Wolfgang tried to block it out, tried to ignore the reminder of Felix's condition.
Wolfgang tried to watch the movie, Conan, tried to focus on the familiar cadence of the actor's voice. He could quote each line aloud, one by one - but he didn't, in hopes somehow the sound would reach Felix, jolting him into consciousness.
The movie was just reaching a good part when the door opened. It was one of Sergei's bodyguards, followed closely by the man himself, clad in a beige trench coat.
Wolfgang tore the earbuds from his ears, immediately snapping to attention.
"What are you doing here?" He demanded.
"You and this dummkopf are like my own boys." Wolfgang twitched, the movement both at the comparison to Sergei's sons and the insult to Felix. "We are family." Sergei paused a moment. He strode closer to Felix's bedside, opposite from where Wolfgang sat.
"How is he?" The older man asked.
"The doctor said he should be dead," Wolfgang replied, his eyes never leaving the planes of his uncle's face.
"Good man." Sergei leaned forward, taking Felix's hand into his own. Wolfgang leaned closer on instinct, his eyes glued to Sergei's form. "Never listen to doctors," Sergei whispered to Felix. "All they know is death. Life is a mystery to them." Sergei scoffed, his gaze swinging over to meet Wolfgang's eyes. "But we understand life, don't we?" Sergei's expression was falsely earnest. A trap. Wolfgang opted to stay silent, his eyes flickering towards Felix's limp hand, trapped in Sergei's grip.
"Life is simple. Life's just five things," his uncle continued. Wolfgang snapped his head up, his fingers involuntarily clenching over his knee. " - eating, drinking, shitting, fucking, and fighting for more, right?"
Wolfgang watched as his uncle's fingers counted down the phrase. He watched as the man's body thrust forward, his hand a fist, his body a challenge. His uncle laughed. "When we were boys, your father would say that to me, and then he would punch me as hard as he could." Sergei shook his head in boyish disbelief, a low chuckle escaping past his lips. He glanced toward Felix, his gaze marginally softer.
"After he was killed, I realized this was bullshit." Sergei's skin tightened, his face wrenching back to its original cold veneer. He pulled back from the bed, his eye contact with Wolfgang breaking. "At that moment, all I wanted from life was one thing. Not five, no, no, just one." Sergei's hand palmed the bed corner as he strode towards Wolfgang. Wolfgang's eyes locked onto the wedding ring, something dark and vengeful taking shape in the pit of his stomach.
"Revenge." Sergei was now a meter away from Wolfgang, so close Wolfgang could see each individual link on the man's gold chain.
Wolfgang stood up, a defensive motion, an offensive reaction.
"And for that one thing…" Sergei was too close, centimeters away, the smell of his ever-present breath mints overwhelming in Wolfgang's nostrils. "I would have given all the rest." Wolfgang stared back at his uncle unflinchingly.
Sergei reached out, his ring suddenly cold against Wolfgang's cheek. A reminder. Wolfgang's uncle stroked his cheek threateningly, the gold edge of his ring catching against Wolfgang's short stubble.
"My blood is in your veins, Wolfgang." Sergei slapped Wolfgang's cheek - once, twice, three times. Wolfgang barely moved, his eyes refusing to leave the man's face. "I'm sympathetic. But please, tell me you are smart enough to know that this was a mistake. Tell me that you understand that this can go no further." Wolfgang's eyes searched his uncle's. Both of their faces showed no sign of yielding, no sign of submission. A family trait, Wolfgang thought bitterly.
His uncle turned on his heel and walked away. Suddenly, he came to a stop. Sergei pivoted, his eyes once more latching onto Wolfgang's face. "I love you, Wolfgang." Somehow, the phrase was twisted into a threat. "But please, don't make me choose between you and my son."
The door clicked shut, loud and final.
A muscle ticced in Wolfgang's jaw.
"Don't make me choose between you and my son."
Don't worry, Wolfgang thought, taking up his vigil at Felix's side once more. You won't have to choose.
