A Dark Perfection by James Mark

Author:James, Mark [James, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Hampton Hill Publishing
Published: 2013-10-01T05:00:00+00:00

†

“Metaphorically, it’s a leitmotif,” the killer said.

“A what?” the Norwegian girl cooed.

“A leitmotif. Or, as the Germans would say, a leitmotiv,” letting the accent fall from his tongue.

“In music, it’s a recurring theme that a composer might use – Wagner, for instance – tying an orchestration together. It’s a melody behind the other notes, building. It derives from the German word, leitmotiv, meaning, ‘guiding motif.’ The red in the glass and the ceiling were placed there purposely. I instructed the architect myself.”

She looked back up at the enormous translucent orb projected on the wall, humming like the Red Giant star, Betelgeuse. She looked above it, to the bolt of rose in the frosted ceiling.

They were lying in a king size bed on their backs, the sun rising over the jungle and catching the house in places it wouldn’t feel for the rest of the day.

“Alright, so you designed it this way – the red in the glass, here and there, in hidden places. But I can only see the red splashes at certain times of the day, when the light hits it just so. I wonder, why any color at all? You have the frosting, it offers privacy, so why the color?”

She was always much smarter than she looked. It amused him, her small surprises.

“Because the world, in and of itself, is not clear. A reflective house reflects the world.”

This was not his true reason; he merely said it because, in that moment, it sounded good.

She rolled over against him, her hand moving beneath the covers, tracing his stomach and finding him rising like a horn.

“But why red?”

He paused. He’d never thought of it before. Sometimes he would think of things, do things, without knowing why.

He looked up again at the glass – his rose moon, his red spear, each beginning their fade as the sun moved higher. He waited for the answer, as if to be given.

She turned over on her stomach and he moved his hand down beneath her silk panties, finding the line.

“Because…”

He waited for the answer.

“…I couldn’t use black.”

He didn’t know what this meant. He didn’t care.

Forgetting it, he moved on top of her, past-life memories of Bathsheba surging across his mind, the ancient musk like a river through him.

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