disciple (ch. 8)

by Tom Stuckey

8

Back at the hotel, Thomas and Olivia were having a late dinner in the restaurant. He cut his steak steadily, looking at each pink slice of meat with a tear in his eye; he was brimming with gratitude and compassion. It was staggering to see the top of the food chain in such a clear way; the cow had suffered a brutal and short life; its bright spacious eyes had gone dull so that Thomas could take on that form, and he knew it. Olivia watched him like a predator, and I never once saw her blink. She wore a short, black dress and looked stunning, I must admit. Once or twice, she caught me looking at her; it was hard not to. I decided to take some time and learn about The Vatican Police. They were known as the guardian angels and consisted of over 150 members, all elite military and stood shoulder to shoulder with the Papal Soldiers. In addition to policing duties, they also acted as tax police and prison guards, having their own justice system; some we were beginning to meet. The website also stated that they were constantly seeking brave, young men to sacrifice themselves for the church and to the Pope. I looked up at Olivia again, and her skirt was so high on her thigh that, as hard as I tried, I could not break my gaze. I forced myself, though, by starting to talk with F. “So, tomorrow we will go clothes shopping.” He looked a bit concerned. “Yes, we can, but who will follow Thomas?” I began to reassure him, “It’s ok. I have a plan, and also they are staying here too, and I will ask the women concierge to help.”

“OK,” he responded.

After finishing his meal, Thomas went over to the piano in the corner of the room and began to play, making the music up as he went along. It sounded magnificent, and everyone looked and listened, memorised, so I took the opportunity to go and speak with Olivia.

She was even more beautiful the closer I got to her little features started to come into view—the mole on her cheek and her eyes that were so captivating. “Can I sit down?” She smiled and agreed. “You have been looking at me a lot, and I’m pretty sure that you have been following us.” She was intuitive, smart and calm and I decided then and there that I loved her. “Yes, we have - and I for a long time. You are not scared?” She deepened her smile. “No, I know that Thomas has protectors, and I know that he has enemies, and I am sure that you are here in his best interests.” Her English was exquisite, and I pictured us not having a problem communicating in our future lives together. “But the other one looks at me a bit funny,” she went on. “Yes, he is in love with Thomas too.” She chuckled, “I can tell. You should know that Thomas is grateful to you both.” I was momentarily stunned. “You mean he knows of us?” “He knows he has shadows. He also knows that it is sometimes best not to meet those shadows.” I felt instantly validated. She went on, “I am grateful to you, too.” With this, she touched my hand, and it felt so precious and exciting. “You should also know that he has plans to connect more with the people of Rome.” An image of the cardinal and the goons played before my mind’s eye. “You will need to keep him safe.” I looked into her eyes, really for the first time, and felt a hope like no other I’d ever known. “OK, I will do my best.” We swapped numbers, and I took one last look into her eyes and got up to return to F.

F looked like a puppy, so eager to know what had been said that he wriggled in his chair. I relayed the information to him, also giving him her number, and for once we all felt like a fully functioning machine. Personally, I felt relief that I would not have to kill her anymore, but like in all good machines there are weak parts, and there was a high probability that even the strongest of them would eventually fail.

In the hotel room, I looked at my phone and then at the TV, then back at my phone; I wanted to talk with Olivia. I wanted to declare my love, wanted her to come to my room. I wanted to take her. I didn’t care about the messenger, the saint, the mission; I simply wanted to fuck her in the most loving way that I knew how.   

*Read the next instqallment of Tom Stuckey’s new novella Disciple coming on March 17, 2025, at 6PM CST.

Photo of Tom Stuckey

BIO: Tom is a writer from Devon in England.  His work can be found at A Thin Slice of Anxiety, Bristol Noir, Nut House Press, and Pulp Magazine. He is the author of The Canary in the Dream is Dead and The Sun Marches upon Us All. Learn more about Tom Stuckey at www.tomstuckey.com.