Page 225 of Shadowman

Or… what’s left of it.

Vengeance, am I right?

Weird shit, man.

I guess I always thought about it in abstract terms. When I caught Michelangelo fucking my girlfriend, I had this urge inside me—a brutal antipathy.Animosity,like venom in my veins I couldn’t recover from. That bitterness called for action.Retaliation.

Something to tip the scales back in my favor.

I think the act of seeking revenge is like trying to control karma. Ultimately, you’re supposed to rise above, and let the universe work it out for you. But the emotions—the hurt, jealousy or rage—become a blinding hatred you just can’t shake. And if you’re like me, someone who needs control to keep yourself from spinning out, well… Simplyletting goandmoving onis much easier said than done.

You fixate on what happened, cause and effect, allowing it to consume your thoughts like a flesh-eating bacteria, until eventually, you develop a hardened layer of spite, just beneath your surface. And the only way to get rid of it is to take back control.

I had every intention of making Michelangelo Russo pay for what he’d done to me—unknowingly or not. But even then, it was an objective ideal. Vindication would depend on the person’sreactionto your malice.

The enemy has to play into your plan for revenge. And if they don’t… It can muddy the waters a bit.

We all know what ended up happening with Michelangelo.

This part is about Felix Darcey.

“Storm’s getting bad…” the timid, yet calm, voice rasps from the bed.

I cock my head.

Sitting in a large, ornate maroon velvet chair across the room, I stare at him. Gaze narrowed in the same speculative glower I’ve had aimed directly in his direction, and nowhere else, for minutes on end. Just watching.

Observing. Lips firmly zipped.

I haven’t taken my eyes off of him, nor have I spoken a word since Trevel left with Dr. Love twenty minutes ago. There’s a lot I could say to this asshole, and yet none of it really seems necessary. He already knows how I feel about him. He knows I hate his fucking guts for what he did to my friend, and that I’d love nothing more than to spill his blood as payback for him spilling O’Malley’s.

I told him all of that when I confronted him in the showers that day. And in the same way that Michelangelo Russo threw his complicated wrench into my plans for retribution, Felix Darcey has taken some of the satisfaction away from this revenge plot… By being a complete and utter sociopath.

But it’s like Trevel says, there are other ways to get revenge. Violence ismyforte, but he’s much more calculated—not quite apparent in this hastily organized plan we’ve embarked on.

There was no discussion about where Trevel was taking Dr. Love, or when he’d be back, and that’s making me itchy inside.What Idoknow is that Trevel wanted to separate Dr. Love and Felix Darcey. It’s a smart play because they’re obviously very codependent. Wrenching them apart is definitely the best way to expose their weaknesses and subtly poke at them until it starts to drive them both nuts.

Darcey is clearly uncomfortable; neck strapped to the bed, wrists and ankles tied. His glasses are sliding down his nose, chestnut hair strewn about, pale complexion flushed, most likely from the tightness of the belt and the overall stress of the situation.

His fingers wiggle where they’re resting over his lap. At first, I thought he was trying to wriggle them free from the rope, but after a while, I realized it’s just a nervous tic. Something to show me that, despite his apathetic demeanor, his brain is working overtime. Rushing through thoughts of what might be happening to his man, concocting plans or schemes to free himself from this vulnerable position.

It’sverysatisfying.

“Did the power go out in the prison too?” he asks me.

I don’t answer him, confident glare unwavering.

I’ve got you right where I want you, asshole.

Darcey puffs out a breath, frustratedly attempting to blow his hair away from his eyes. It brings an uncontrollable twitch to my lips.

“You know, Lemuel’s never spoken a bad word about Trevel…” He keeps going with the inane ramblings, meant either to fill the silence, or get me to crack. Or both. “And he thinks you could be good for him. Someone to make him feel safe.”

My eyebrow arches subtly. I can’t really help it.The audacity of this nerdy twink and his charlatan fucking boyfriend, I swear to God…

“Independence isn’t a bad thing,” he says with a small shrug. “Lem and I are both loners. Or, I mean, wewere…”

You mean, before you absorbed one another?