Chapter 20

20

Jericho

Crouching on the parapet of an abandoned building, I scanned the alley below that was lit only by the flickering gas lamps off the main street. A black raven sat perched on my shoulder, a pet I’d affectionately nicknamed Pita--pain in the ass. His real name was Cicatrix, due to the scar that marked the path of the arrow that’d once pierced him.?In Nightshade, the birds served as spies, always feeding observations to their masters, and Cicatrix was most loyal, seeing as they were vinculum--a type of bond that allowed me to mentally communicate with the bird.

The occasions that I ventured out of the cathedral and into the nearby village were rare, but it so happened the shady snitch I’d come out to meet didn’t trust me enough to meet in a more secluded spot. While waiting for my informant to show, I’d happened upon a distraction, one that Cicatrix had alerted me to--a middle-aged man from what I could see, about six feet in height, slamming a rock into the skull of a boy. I recognized the blue laces of the shoe that lay on the ground beside them—it belonged to the boy from the market square. The sword I’d picked up that day lay across my arms, while I stared at the macabre scene taking place in the shadows beside rat-infested trashcans on wet, cobblestoned streets. The removal of the boy’s pants and the blood between his pale thighs suggested he’d been brutally sodomized prior to the kill, an unfortunate common occurrence in Nightshade.

One last blow, and the man sat back on his heels, breathing deeply.

I had arrived too late to intervene with the boy, but the night was young and the ache in my stomach told me opportunity still abounded.

I leapt from my perch, wings catching the air, and landed without so much of a thud onto the stony alley floor. With quiet steps, I approached the man from behind. The predacious nature of my kind made such encounters almost too easy, and before the man could turn to face me, fast as a thunderbolt I hauled him up from the ground and pinned him one handedly to the brick wall beside us, never once disturbing the sword still caught in my other grip.

The man’s hands flew to his throat, fiery amber eyes bulging with fear.

Cambion.

They always stank of the worst kind of sin.

“W … w … wait. P-p-please.” There were few things in this world that could terrify a half-breed, but a man with a long-standing reputation of Death never failed to stir a bit of panic. And given the tremble I could feel thrumming my appetite like the soft vibration of a spider’s web, the half-breed definitely feared his demise. “It was an accident.”

“It looked awfully intentional to me.”

“I didn’t mean to kill him.”

Most in Nightshade would’ve looked the other way and stolen the opportunity to feed on two souls. After all, when a human perished in Nightshade, their soul remained imprisoned in the place.

I tended to be less impulsive than most.

Closing my eye, I read the man’s past like the dog-eared pages of a weathered book. Growing up on a farm as a boy. His mother and stepfather beating him as a means of turning him into an acquiescent young man. And failing, of course. Catholic school. Torture and rape by the staff. Imprisonment. More rape.

By the time he’d been considered an adult, he’d been abused by countless men, and in turn had preyed on young boys, like the one bleeding out behind them.

“How noble to kill a child so young,” I said, opening my eye.

The man’s lips trembled and pursed with kettled rage.

“Perhaps you saw yourself in this young boy?” I taunted. “The victim that you were. Helpless and hopeless. Clawing for mercy.”

Tears shined in the man’s eyes, and if hate were a bomb inside of him, it’d only be a matter of seconds before he exploded from it. Of course, under the circumstances, he wouldn’t dare say a word.

“Get it over with, then. If you’re going to consume me, just do it.”

Head cocked to the side, I studied the resignation in the man’s eyes. How much I wanted to feed on it. To taste the bitter resolve against my tongue.?“I’m going to grant you something you’ve not been given in a long time, Mr. Crane.”

Brows furrowed, the cambion stared back in confusion. “What?”

“A second chance. In exchange, you’re going to focus your efforts on something much more worthwhile than helpless, young boys.”

“I’ll do anything you ask of me. For your mercy.”

“I’m not in a position to grant you mercy. But I can hunt you down and make every miserable moment of your life up until now seem like paradise.”

“What will you have me do?”

“You’re going to return to the earthly realm and find the men who hurt you. And you’re going to offer them the same ruthless compassion that you’ve given to so many children. From this day forward, you will hunt men just like them. Remove their tongues so they won’t utter a word of repentance. Cleave away the very source of their power and watch them bleed out.” Releasing his throat, I petted the man’s hair, which earned me a flinch of the cambion’s eye. “As many as you can. You’ll be the Pied Piper, leading them all to a grisly end.” The vacuous hunger inside of me clawed for the chance to feed, but the power of suggestion would yield far more fruit.

“And if I can’t?”

Fingers curled into the man’s hair, I tipped his head back.

A gasp flew past the cambion’s lips.

“If you fail …” I tipped the sword, holding it to the cambion’s throat. “I will be the one reveling in your screams. And when I finish, I will send you swiftly to Ex Nihilo.”

The half-breed’s eyes widened. “The endless void,” he whimpered.

“These children give you nothing. Do not be distracted by petty and useless desires. Killing the men who harmed you will restore your power.”

“I promise I won’t fail you, Master.”

“I’m not your master. But should you fail, I will be your executioner.”

“I will find them. All of them. And I will make them suffer. For you.”

“And you will not touch another boy. You will feed your desire to kill with those more deserving of it.”

“You have my word.”

“Your word is meaningless unless etched in blood.” With the sharp tip of the blade, I carved my personal sigil into the cambion’s flesh. Tarry, black blood oozed from the wound and hardened in the trenches of the mark. If summoned, the cambion would be powerless and forced to return to me, a fact that seemed to horrify the half-breed, as he stared down at the wound with fear in his eyes. “I’ll be checking in on you, Mr. Crane.”

One hard push threw the cambion backward, and he stumbled over his own feet. He took off running in the opposite direction and disappeared down the alley’s corridor until he was out of sight.

It wasn’t out of mercy that I’d let the half-breed go. Whatever shred of mercy that was left inside of me had shriveled long ago, leaving nothing but a cold and callous void. I was an opportunist. The power of suggestion fed my hunger, and preying on molesters meant fewer young boys ending up in Nightshade. The place of those who failed to believe in anything.

I turned to where the boy had lain just moments before. Only the telling, bright red blood of a human child remained. The rest of him would be trapped in Nightshade for eternity.

Such a shame the young and innocent feared the light so much that they hid in the darkness of Purgatory.

As I headed toward the mouth of the alley, a tingle innervated my nerves, and I turned, just as a clawed hand reached out from the shadows and into the light. Behind it, the bald crown of a creature’s head tipped forward, and a long, serpentine tongue lapped at the blood on the ground. Its back curved in an unnatural arc, and the skin covering its body bore the dark, mottled sign of decay.

I’d never seen one so close before. The rumors throughout Nightshade had described the creatures as animals, but the distinct humanoid form beneath all of its deformities was undeniable, even though it was clearly not human.

A number of fatal attacks had been reported throughout Nightshade, describing monstrosities that not only fed on humans and cambions, but Fallen, as well.

What luck to stumble upon one.

Shifting the sword in my hands, I stalked closer, careful not to disrupt its feeding. I raised my sword for a swing to lob off its head. At my lurch, the creature hissed and flashed past me in a streak of gray. A sharp burn struck my flank, and I let out a grunt, twisting to find my jacket in shreds where three claw marks ran horizontally over my abdomen.? Blood oozed from the wounds, and I set my hand there, grumbling as I spun around to find the creature was no longer there.

Instead, another figure hobbled toward me, hunched over from a severe deformity that gnarled his spine. The telling sign of the bullio he’d been born with. They were known throughout Nightshade as Intortui, and in addition to their contorted appearance, which tended to frighten the villagers, they were also known for their ability to see the future.

“Master Jericho?” the Intortui rasped as he limped toward me.

“You’re Tartys?”

“Yes.” Words affected by a lisp from his crooked jaw and teeth, he spoke slowly and with effort. “I understand you’re looking for someone.”

Instead of answering, I studied the grotesque deformities of the man, ones that made him a monster in Nightshade.

“Virgil.”

At the sound of the name, I snarled. Virgil was one of two fallen angels who’d managed to escape me when I’d sought revenge on the men who’d tortured me years ago. “What do you know of that?”

“He remains a close acquaintance of my master, Mr. Barchiel. I overheard him bragging. Bragging about things they did to yo--”

Propping my sword at his throat, I caught the flinch of Tartys’s eye. “Careful,” I warned.

“No disrespect. I would love nothing more than to watch him die.”

“And why is that?”

“My master allows him to ridicule and torment me.”

“I’m not here to effectuate your revenge.”

“Of course not. I’m only saying, I would greatly benefit from his absence.” His gaze dipped toward the sword still at his throat. “The question is … what would you give for this information?”

Groaning, I lowered the blade. “What is it you want?”

He cast his gaze aside for a moment, as if hesitant to say. “A female companion. For one night. I’ve not felt the softness of a woman since my mother. My master refuses me this favor.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t bring one with me.”

“I don’t require immediate payment, so long as you agree.”

“I agree.” Where the hell I’d find a female willing to entertain him was a mystery. One I’d have to figure out later.

“Very good. Now I will tell you. My master has a Hallow Harvest Ball planned in two weeks’ time. He will reveal a passion project he’s been working on.”

“What kind of project?”

“I know nothing of the details, but I can assure you Virgil will be in attendance that night. I will see to it that you’re added to the guest list.”

“How? Most here aren’t particularly fond of the name Van Croix.”

“Least of all, my master. Which is why I intend to add your name after he’s reviewed the final list. It will be a costumed affair, so you can remain concealed with a mask. I’ll list you under the name Havenash.”

“And Virgil?”

“Surely, you will recognize the man who nearly killed you, even in costume. I ask that you bring a female, as slaves are expected to accompany each guest.”

“Slaves for what?”

“I’m not sure. It was a request of my master that each guest bring one. I will take her to my chamber that night, and she will leave with you, I promise. If you fail to grant me this, I will expose you and your intent, and you’ll no longer have a clandestine advantage.”

I chuckled at his audacity to threaten me. “My, aren’t you a tricky one.”

Even after such bold words, he lowered his gaze from mine. “Ambitious is what I like to call it.”

“Fine. Add me to this list, and in good faith, I’ll bring you a female.”