Free Sins 03 - Sins of Treachery by J.F. Penn Page A

by the wealth they were both supposed to inherit, his expensive tastes paid for by the ever-dwindling funds. Simon knew that lust had also ruled his grandfather’s early life, but the old man had wanted more as he grew older, searching for power and fulfillment beyond material things. Simon had succumbed to his own tug of desire for influence far beyond his brother’s petty pleasures, but there were still days when he longed to lose himself in an orgy of flesh, and take intimacy to the realm of ritual.
    “Well, how you live your life is your choice,” Gest said. “But I want what he promised me, then I’ll leave you alone in this melancholic place.”
    “His gift is in the lab.” Simon replied, walking ahead through the dilapidated hallway and opening a metal door. “It’s been extended since you were last here.”
    The neglected main house was in stark contrast to the gleaming laboratory, secretly constructed, where no one would have suspected that Simon and his grandfather continued to pursue the Great Work of the alchemists. It represented a mingling of cutting edge science with the occult, chemical formulas jostling for position with the symbols of medieval hermetics.
    Gest idly picked up a round-bottomed flask and swirled the ruby liquid within.
    “Careful with that,” Simon snapped, snatching the flask from his twin and placing it carefully back onto its stand. Gest moved around the lab.
    “That’s his book, isn’t it?”
    Simon turned from the bench to see Gest fingering his grandfather’s most precious tome, open to a page of intricately detailed drawings and symbols inscribed with spidery handwriting.
    “Actually, he gave that to me. It’s not what he left you.” Simon heard a childish possession in his own voice and he thought back to the night when he had ripped the book from his grandfather’s arms, the old man begging to hold it once more, his arms outstretched in need, covered with the tattoos of words he had never explained. His eyes had been shadowed with dread as he reached for the book, sinister memories the man couldn’t help reliving, but would never speak aloud. Simon had thrust the vodka bottle at him instead, for his grandfather’s addiction had become the only way to quiet him, while he delved ever more deeply into the contents of the book.
    Simon watched anxiously as Gest picked up the book anyway, desperate to tear it from his brother’s irreverent hands. Its cover was a patchwork of different coloured leather, sewn with cords and pulled tight like scars on a checkered board of human skin. The spine and pages were edged with gold, it was a work of art even without the precious words within. Simon knew that the art of distraction, that age-old sibling’s trick, was the only way to divert Gest’s attention.
    Turning away as if he cared nothing for the book, Simon walked to a large print on the wall. Etched in pitch black upon a white background were intricately woven symbols of the planets, astrological signs and their alchemical metals. Simon’s eyes were drawn to the iron of Mars, the god of war, next to Mercury’s quicksilver, ruling planet of the twins of Gemini. He touched one side of the print and it swung from the wall to reveal a safe.
    “So that’s where the old bastard hid his treasures,” Gest said, as his attention switched. Simon heard a thump as the book was dropped on the desk and a shiver of relief ran through him.
    “Grandfather always said this was for you, and that I wasn’t to open it,” Simon said, as he took a heavy cream-coloured manila envelope from the safe and handed it to his brother. It had clearly been opened. Gest arched one eyebrow as Simon met his gaze unapologetically. “I didn’t seriously believe you would come back for it.”
    Pulling the papers out of the envelope, Gest frowned as he studied the many pages, a combination of old handwritten diary entries scrawled with notes and modern GPS printouts. He looked up with a question in