Angel and the Assassin

left behind turned
    pale again until they blended in with Angel‟s fair skin.
    “What did I do, Daddy?”
    “Nothing. I‟m sorry, boy. I have a lot on my mind right now. Go and get the
    dinner out. I‟ll be there in a moment.”
    “Yes, Sir, Daddy.”
    “You have to be a good slave, remember? A good slave does what he‟s told. So
    be a good slave.”
    “Yes, Sir.” Angel gave him a quick hug and went back to the kitchen, his
    elegant walk keeping Kael‟s gaze fixed to his backside. When Angel was out of sight,
    he finished the sweep.
    They ate the macaroni-cheese in silence. Kael wanted to gag on it. It was
    disgusting. When he was a kid, he had loved it, but his tastes had become far more
    sophisticated over the years. He was no longer a kid, but Angel was.
    “Daddy, what‟s up? You were fine when you left. Did someone piss you off? Did
    I?”
    “Nobody pissed me off.”
    Right now his life was pissing him off. It had become unpredictable, and
    nothing distressed Kael more than unpredictability. For the past ten years, his life
    had depended on his ability to predict what would happen next. Even as a kid in
    College Grange and at home with his mum‟s string of boyfriends, being able to
    figure out what was coming had given him an advantage and a sense of control that
    made him feel secure.
    He put his knife and fork neatly in the middle of his plate, unable to eat any
    more. Angel had finished his plateful and was scraping the remaining cheese sauce
    up with the side of his fork. The scraping sound made Kael‟s already ragged nerves
    scream. He got up from the table to grab a bottle of water from the cupboard.
    He leaned his buttocks against the counter, waiting for the irritating scraping
    sound to stop. Angel put down his fork and looked up at him. Kael opened his
    mouth to say he was sorry about the bad temper when Angel stuck his tongue out at
    him like a naughty five-year-old.
    Laughter erupted from deep within Kael. Angel looked very funny but not so
    funny as to leave him near hysterical. So much nervous tension had built up inside
    him that it had to crack. Sex always helped, and he had to admit that chasing Angel
    around the flat had aroused him to the point where the mock rape on the dungeon
    floor was the only response. He spluttered on his water and managed to put the
    bottle on the counter before he dropped it.

    Angel and the Assassin
    91

    “You okay, Daddy?” Angel came over and began to pat his back. Between the
    coughing and laughter, neither of them heard the doorbell. In a moment of silence,
    the buzzer filled the room.
    Without pause, Kael grabbed Angel by both arms, propelling him out of the
    kitchen and toward the bedroom. “Stay in here.”
    “What‟s the panic; don‟t you ever get visitors?”
    “No, I don‟t.” He pointed at the bed. “Sit and don‟t move.”
    Angel held up both hands as if threatened with a gun. “I won‟t.”
    The bell sounded again, making Kael feel murderous. Angel sat on the side of
    the bed. “In the middle!” The boy scrambled into the middle of the bed on his hands
    and knees, looking up at Kael. The amusement had all melted from Angel‟s face.
    “Your backside is glued to that bed. Do not come out. Got it?”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    Kael closed the door behind him and ran on silent feet to the kitchen. He
    stacked the dishes and pushed everything into an empty cupboard—plates, glasses,
    everything that suggested two people had eaten dinner. The bell rang again as he
    hurried down the hall and opened the coat cupboard, reaching up to the top shelf to
    get his gun. He tucked it into his belt and looked at the CCTV. It was Conran, and
    he was right outside, not down in the lobby.
    Standing behind the door, Kael opened it.
    “Saunders?” The voice sounded tentative.
    Kael pulled the door slightly wider.
    “Saunders, what the hell are you up to?” He stepped inside. Kael closed the
    door and at the same time leveled his gun at Conran, who plastered himself against
    the door, his hands raised comically like in an old gangster film.
    Kael began to laugh.
    Looking both frightened and angry, Conran dropped his hands, pulling his
    dark gray suit jacket closer about him as if it could protect him from a bullet. “Put
    that thing down, and don‟t be an idiot.”
    Kael grinned. But he didn‟t think it was especially funny; he just enjoyed
    winding Conran up. He leaned across him to lock the door.
    “For God‟s sake, will you invite me in or