Love Lost and Found

Chapter 23/?

He slammed his hands down on the kitchen counter, making a low guttural sound in his throat. “That’s not what I meant...” he whispered but John was already gone. Sighing he straightened himself before he went upstairs again. His appetite was gone. Not that he had really had one. He never had these days. He knew that John would not be far, the bodyguard had probably gone into his room or the living room but he felt that it would be better to leave him alone for now. Especially since he had behaved like a total jerk. He had really fucked things up again. //Seems that’s the only thing you’re capable of...// he thought as he came to look into the full-body mirror in the corridor. Angrily he eyed himself from head to toe, glaring at his reflection. He wrinkled his nose in disgust.
He looked like something that had crawled out from under a rock in a bad horror-movie. His usually olive complexion was ashen and his red-rimmed eyes bore a stark contrast to the dark circles beneath them. //Quite understandable that Viggo doesn’t want you, isn’t it?// the voice in his mind sneered full of malice. Shuddering he entered the bedroom, listening carefully but he did not hear a sound from John. //Maybe he has really left...// the voice started again. //You are all alone again... but that’s what I wanted!// argued Orlando, cringing as he registered how unconvincing even his thoughts sounded. Maybe he should stop talking to the voice. Or to himself. Or maybe both. With an irritated shake of his head he stepped back from the window and sat down on the bed, shaking all over. He could not bear being without Viggo. And now John had left him as well. And it was all his fault again.

He paced nervously through the room, whose confines were entirely too small for him, paying no heed to the elaborate antique furniture and the lush impressionist paintings on the wall. He did not care for them. Luxury meant nothing to him, even though he liked to surround himself with the beauty of it. He had inherited most of the items when his father died and sold a lot, only keeping just enough to fill a house with them. He did not have to work but he knew that he would not be content with just sitting around. He never had been. He had finished police academy summa cum laude but he had only gone there because his father had deemed it the right thing for him to do. Academy had been the place where he had met the one. The one whose face would most probably haunt him for the rest of his life.
The one had been another student at the academy and had soon come to be the bane of his existence. He shuddered as he remembered how this bane had seduced him, lured him into the very abyss of damnation.
A smile crossed his lips as he recalled the night he had got rid of him. Ah, and what a glorious night it had been. He could still see it. The writhing body under him, trembling first with pleasure and then fear; and oh so in need of salvation and deliverance. And to think that he had been chosen to be the one releasing this being from evil, been the one to rid the world of that brown-haired temptation with the soulful amber eyes. //Amber eyes...// he thought //and yet wickedness was all that shone from them...// He could not believe how easily he had fallen into the trap these eyes presented. Those wonderful eyes that seemed to know no wrong the first time he had looked into them. He had failed to notice it completely.
He inhaled deeply, fully convinced that he could still smell the scented candles he had lit the night he had finally released the evil soul. He had known peace for a few months afterwards but then the evil one had appeared again. And he had rid the world of him again.
But that had not stopped the evil one from coming again and again. No matter how often he killed him, he always came back. Oh, he was clever. He never choose the same shell, he always looked a little bit different from the way he had the time before but he was always recognisable. He stepped to a small drawer and lit one of the scented candles that stood upon it. Only seconds later the scent of cinnamon drifted through the big room with the high, lavish windows that overlooked a beautiful and tenderly groomed garden. He was still totally lost in his memories as he finally stood in front of one of these windows, next to the ochre curtains his mother had loved so much. He had soon realised that being a police man gave him a most valuable advantage. He could gather information about the citizens in his county and thus spot the new incarnations of the evil one more quickly. And he had never failed to be quick in disposing of them. Until now.
//Orlando Bloom...// his face twisted into a mask of hatred as he thought of the actor. The first time he had seen Bloom’s picture in one of the local newspaper he had recognised him for what he really was. Just another incarnation of the evil one. And to think that he had already failed to kill him twice only made things worse. He had to do something and he had to do it soon. The only problems were Mortensen and the bodyguards. //What were their names again? Ah yes... John and Torsten... I’d better remember them...//
The only explanation for Mortensen’s hiring the bodyguards was that he had already fallen completely under Bloom’s spell. This incarnation seemed to be more dangerous than the previous ones had been. At least he was able to spellbind more people at the same time than ever before. The fact that his enemy seemed to grow in strength and power only made him more anxious. Orlando Bloom had to die. And he had to die soon. Very soon.
He took to pacing the room again while he tried to come up wit a foolproof plan, since two of his minions had already proven themselves to be unreliable where gathering information and doing smaller jobs were concerned. This time he had to make sure that the job would get done indeed.
He only stopped in front of the canary cage to put some new bird-seeds into them. //Even animals have to feed...// he thought with satisfaction as he decided that his birds were well cared for. Lost in his thoughts again he started to walk around the table in the middle of the room, turning his back to the empty cage. He had forgotten that day, years ago, when his father had decided that birds were not the right kind of pet for a boy. He never knew what happened to them but he kept on caring for the nevertheless. Just like he kept on killing the evil one wherever he met him.

He sat on the couch in the living room, twiddling his fingers nervously, still seething with anger. Only that this anger was directed at himself now. He was of course still cross with Orlando but he knew that he should not have left the actor alone in his current state. Angrily he stared at Viggo’s painting on the wall. “Self-portrait”: He did not really see the self-portrait, however. To him the picture was nothing but a confused blend of colours, mainly ochre and yellowish ones. He thought he could make out an ear and a mouth but he was not too sure about that, and even if he was right they were not where they were supposed to be in a normal human face.
John groaned in frustration and sank back into the soft embroidered cushions that matched the dark green couch perfectly. //I was doing my job, dammit!// he thought grimly. //Can’t he see that I only want to help him?// Sighing he got up and stopped in front of the doorway that led to the corridor.
What if Orlando really did not want to see him? He raked his fingers through his hair, nervously disentangling the long blond strands. //No!// he decided firmly. He could not believe that Orlando wanted to be alone, he would go up and he would get Orlando to talk.
With firm steps John stepped into the corridor, his jaw clenched in determination.

Tbc...