Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

Deacon

A fter the Dreck attack, we regrouped to follow the path to the swamp temple. Still unsure where Augur was, and still trying to make sense of what we’d just seen with Sarah and the jem’hora, we forged ahead and hoped that she caught up.

Sarah and Jac were in the front with two of Rex’s men, the rest of them were in the middle, while I was in the back with Omen. She was a cunning warrior, and I was glad of her company. I intended to learn much from her.

“I thought conduits raised drecks,” I said to her.

“Yes, sometimes,” she said, her eyes still searching the swamp for enemies. We were all more alert since the attack, and the deeper into the swamp we went, the more we tensed.

“Did you not raise some?” I asked.

She chuckled. “I did. They are an interesting animal. A bit nippy when young, but fun to have around until they get too old. Then you release them into the wild. If conduits did not raise them, there is a good chance their populations would have died out eons ago. Not the smartest creatures—they eat their young.”

I gave her a sidelong glance. “I would have thought you would not have feared them, considering your affection for them.”

She met my gaze and raised a brow. “What’s the one thing that kills a ghost?”

I frowned. “Being mortally wounded by bone, of course.”

“What are teeth made of?”

Point taken. “Ah.”

She continued trudging forward. “Their bite force is too much for their long sharp teeth, so they grow a lot of teeth in those huge heads to replace the ones that shatter when they attack. We’re talking about an animal that can have over a hundred teeth at a time. All it takes is one good bite, and I’m reborn to the ether, so while, yes, I do have affection for them, I have much more respect for them than to assume we could be friendly, once they are adults.”

As we walked along the path, the bald cypress and mangroves tightened against it until the trail wound around them. The mud trees, one of my botany teachers had called them. They were a gift Ladrians had bestowed to many planets, to help create land from water. I always liked mud trees, but not at the cost of being in a swamp. I wanted to leave as soon as possible.

“I hope we’re going the right way,” I said, not knowing where we were.

“Same here. Since we lost Augur we could be completely off track,” she said, then a confident smile lifted her lips. “Save for the fact that I know what to look for in a conduit path.”

“How do you mean?”

“Look up.”

I did so, and directly above us, the tree canopy was open. Two steps to the left or right, it was closed. I smiled down at Omen. “Clever.”

“Everyone looks at the ground for signs or symbols on trees and rocks, or some such. Understandable, but obvious,” she said. “No one ever thinks to look up for a path, but if you singe the ends of branches above, they almost never grow back, leaving a long-lasting clear path in the canopy. A difficult task for anyone without powers, but all you need is one pyromancer in your midst, and you can mark an easy clear path.”

“Brilliant.” I didn’t want to ask her about the loss of Augur since the drecks—they had seemed close—but I needed to know where her head was at. “Are you worried for Augur?”

“I hope she’s fine, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she was off, chasing whurlers or something,” she said, and shrugged. “She was a great conduit, but that girl is always in her own head.”

“You’re not worried the drecks got her?”

“I’d be shocked if they did,” she admitted. “She was the first to run…which is odd, come to think of it.”

I frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

She paused. “Remember when I told you to hide instead of running? And you thought I was daft, until the drecks ran past us?”

“Of course. You said they liked to give chase and it was better to hide.”

“Augur knows that, too.” She glanced back up at the canopy as we continued along the path, then she chuckled. “Maybe something caught her attention, and that’s what she was running to. I don’t know.”

“Hopefully, one day, you’ll get to ask her.” The last thing I wanted was harm to come to anyone who’d joined us on this mission.

The trail became a wooden plank walkway that elevated a half meter over dank water below as the land drooped, seemingly under the weight of the dirty water. The walkway was wide enough for three Ladrians to walk side by side, a common formation for marching conduits. Nothing followed us, not even Sarah’s jem’hora. My gratitude for their help was equal only to my gratitude for their absence. Branches formed a tunnel around the walkway, and I could not help but feel closed in, save for the open canopy directly above.

Rex lingered from his men, allowing the two of us to catch up to him.

Omen spoke in a quiet tone that only I could hear. “I don’t imagine he has anything of value to say to me. I’ll leave you to it.” Before I could protest being alone with Rex, she jogged past him and caught up to Sarah and Jac ahead.

Annoyed, I caught up to Rex. “Yes?”

He fell into step beside me. “I am glad to see you haven’t forgotten everything I taught you.”

“Meaning?” I asked sharply.

“The tallest should cover the rear to watch for surprises from behind, while they can observe the front of the line.”

Yes, I had learned that from him. “Is there something else you had to say to me? Or are you merely here to take credit for my tactics?”

Rex softly chuckled. “Don’t be so emotional, Deacon.”

I loosened my tongue to ask the one question that had been on my mind since we arrived in his company. “Why haven’t you told them yet?”

Rex looked surprised. “I would have thought you’d figure that out by now.”

I hated how he talked in riddles. “Figure what out?”

“I suppose it makes sense that someone like you wouldn’t have realized it, though,” he went on, more play on words. “One of the many differences between us…I enjoy the mayhem of torture. You never did.”

“Tell me,” I said through gritted teeth.

He smiled immorally. “Because, my boy, I like having something over you.”

Of course he did. My fists bunched. It had been so obvious from the start. Rex was right—he had always had a taste for tormenting people.

“I should have known.”

“Yes, you should have,” he said, in almost a chastising tone. “You’re too distracted by your loves to see the bigger game at play. It’s a shame, really. The Deacon I knew was more cunning.”

“The Deacon you knew is dead,” I spat viciously.

“Yet you still remembered to cover the rear,” he added thoughtfully.

“Because it’s the obvious thing to do,” I said, staring straight ahead and refusing to give him any credit for my actions. “Not because you taught me that.”

“All of that aside, there are things I do not understand about you, New Deacon.”

“Like what?” I snapped.

“Like why boasting about murdering me was not the first thing out of your mouth after I died.”

My stomach churned at the memory. “Why would I—”

“Because I am not your average foe,” he cut in. “I am Rex Terian, the fiercest of my deadly family. And you took me down, hard and fast. Were I you, I would have bragged about that accomplishment until my end.”

He was such a sick bastard. “You are not me.”

“Clearly,” Rex smirked. “So if bragging about my murder is not how you bedded Sarah, how then?”

I laughed sharply. “Is that what this is about? You’re still trying to figure out how to bed my consort?”

“Not entirely,” he said, his tone now goading. “I am trying to figure out how she ended up with a boring Ladrian such as yourself.”

“I am not boring,” I objected, hating that Rex could provoke me.

“Look around you, Deacon,” he said, waving a hand in the air to indicate our dank surroundings. “We are in a filthy swamp. This is where you take your lady to show her a good time?”

My stomach twisted at his words. I hated how true that was. I should have taken Sarah places. Shown her the rest of Orhon or any other planet she wanted to see and showered her with gifts and jewels like an attentive lover. I had never even asked where she would like to go. Merely conscripted her into this alien life because of my own selfish needs…

“Perhaps there is room for someone like me in her life,” Rex went on, driving the knife deeper. “I’m sure you recall that I know how to show a woman a good time.”

Anger bristled through me. “You know how to show women to an early grave.”

“Women, men, whomever,” he said blithely. “That is true.”

His attitude was appalling. “How can you be so casual about such things?”

“Because I know what I am, my boy.” His tone and gaze darkened seriously. “I am many things, but most of all, I am a killer. That was what my family made me. That is what the army loved me for, and what they tried to make you to be. But you could never do it—”

“I killed,” I bit out, the words echoing in my ghost.

He laughed. “Indeed you did. But you were never a killer. You never learned how to enjoy it. How to crave it, need it. Your heart never ached to watch the light leave someone’s eyes.” His sigh was romantic, and his voice crackled with lust as he continued. “Your cock never hardened as the bodies fell before you.”

My guts spun like a wheel. “No. Never. After… everything with you, I failed out of infantry and, had my father’s standing not been taken into account, I would have been sent to prison for not measuring up. But I was sent to officer school instead.”

“No, you didn’t fail out of infantry,” Rex said firmly. “ The army failed you , Deacon.”

I snapped my gaze to his in confusion. “I—”

“They did. It was their job to create another killer. They didn’t. You remained soft. That is on them, not you.”

I could not fathom why he sounded kind , considering the topic. “Are you trying to make me feel better about all of that?”

“The choice you were faced with…it wasn’t an easy one for someone like you,” he said, taking me back to years ago and our past together. “I was trying to break that softness from you, to do what the army had not yet accomplished.” Quietly, he admitted, “I failed. And it cost me my life.”

“It was a mistake, Rex.” I swallowed hard, keeping my gaze pinned ahead, even as I admitted, “It is my greatest shame.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Deacon, I forgave you years ago,” he said, his tone almost compassionate. “Truth be told, that is the real reason I haven’t ratted you out to Jac or Sarah or anyone else.”

“I do not understand.”

Rex sighed. “You were not the one who made a mistake that day. I did, and I do not particularly want that knowledge getting out—”

A frantic shout curdled my blood and grabbed my attention. At the front of our line, conduits. They were everywhere.