Page 37 of A Touch of Gold and Madness

It took every remaining sliver of self-restraint to not turn on Dash after what I’d done. The more blood I shed, the more it wanted. It wanted complete control of me. Its incessant call to cave to temptation was driving me madder by the day.

Since linking up with the princess, it had waned a bit, but not enough to make a difference. The darkness seemed to blame her for its lack of intense prominence as it began to rage in my chest with a white flame that rivaled the heat of fire Elementals.

After crossing another street, I found a two-story house that stood in shambles.

It had clearly been raided long ago. The lack of upkeep, along with the holes in the siding and windows, allowed the weather to rapidly deteriorate its structure. It didn’t matter. Every house was basically the same—nothing remained untouched.

I took measured steps across the debris, and the overwhelming odor of musk assaulted me upon entry. A set of stairs descended into the living room leading to the foyer; I made haste in its direction.

I couldn’t wait to drop the princess. My arms burned and shook from carrying her unconscious body so far. It didn’t help that my magic reserves were nearly depleted from the events of the past twenty-four hours. I needed sleep, but I knew none would be granted to me anytime soon.

I ascended the unstable stairs to the top floor of the house, convinced that the floor would collapse beneath our weight. Surprisingly, it held firm as I crossed the threshold into the first bedroom available. I picked the top story for logistical purposes in the event the princess awoke while I was absent from the room. It’d be more difficult for her to escape down rickety steps rather than darting out the door on the bottom floor.

A bed pushed askew and stripped of its sheets sat off to one side of the room. I took hurried steps toward it and placed the princess with ease onto its bare and dusty surface. Instant relief flooded my chest. I shook out my arms, but frustration warred through me at my weakened state. That shouldn’t have sucked so bad. Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I stretched out my muscles and took a moment to observe the vulnerable little assassin beneath me.

Her restful state smoothed out her typical scowl into a peaceful expression. The cupid’s bow of her full lips stood out from the natural pout. She wore the black leathers of the Kinetic Guild uniform for assassins. Hers was form-fitting, highlighting the toned curves. The rise and fall of her chest were slow and melodic, and I had the desire to run my fingers through her glamoured ice-white hair.

The sudden jolt of longing in my heart had me gripping my chest for reasons I didn’t understand. I had no reliable memory of her other than our recent encounter at the speakeasy. But the intuitive part, albeit deeply suppressed, begged to differ.

Frustration beat its fists against my skull to recall my lost memories. My breaths picked up in harsh pants as my anger at all I’d lost came slamming into me with renewed vengeance. And as I looked at the sleeping princess,I blamed her for it all. It washerfather who ruined my life, corrupting me in the worst ways. She got to live a life of luxury and ease in comparison while innocent lives winked out of existence at her hands. Meanwhile, her sanity was still intact, so in my eyes, she was the enemy.

At least, that’s the words that the voice coaxed in my mind.

Kill her. Take what’s owed to you.

My hands shook at my sides, the itch to plunge my dagger deep into her chest cavity growing too strong. “No,” I gritted out through clenched teeth. “We need her.” I needed cocaine, alcohol, my violin…anything.

There are other ways, Prince. Take the rightful vengeance that’s owed to you.

“Fuck off. No.” I shook my head, my eyes sealing shut in my hopeless effort to push him out.

Think of the power—the rush. Think of the satisfaction of seeing her corpse at your feet. She is to blame for it all. Her suffering was nothing in comparison to yours. It’s too late for you. Your will to fight this call is weakening with each life you take. You know what you truly need from the deaths. You’ll give in. It’s inevitable. Stop delaying your suffering.

I tried to block out the alluring words from the inexplicable need to protect her, but the temptation… it was too powerful. He was right; my will to fight it was dissipating with each death. Why not just…take the plunge?

I opened my eyes, and nausea swelled in my gut at the sight of my dagger pressed against Princess Gray’s throat. The violent tremors of my hand indicated my intuitive resistance in the background of my psyche. I didn’t recall even removing the dagger from my belt.

Do it.

I reeled backward, stumbling over an abandoned shoe on the floor. Dagger still in hand, I spun and launched it at the wall. The deepthunkechoed throughout the eerie home. I laced my fingers into the roots of my hair, the long black strands curtaining over the sides. I tugged and tried to force air deep into my lungs where a wall seemed to block its access.

“No, no, no, no.” With another look at Gray, blissfully asleep, I took large strides from the room and down the stairs.

I slid into the main bedroom and slunk down the wall. Images of lifeless eyes flashed through my mind, either taunting me with the desire to do it again or with the guilt from killing so joyously.

I hated myself. I hated what I’d been molded into becoming, shaped and sculpted to be savage and merciless. To be the ultimate killing machine until I reached a point where that was all that kept me functioning.

No one knew the real me—not even Orion. What was the point?

I rested my head back against the wall. “Just leave me alone. Please. Just…go away for a bit.”

No, boy. You’ll come where you belong eventually. Freedom. That’s what you’re forsaking. Ultimate freedom.

“No,” I whispered, my voice breaking, “I’d be a slave.”

After composing myself long enough to appear unafflicted, a skill I learned long ago, I set out in search of Dash as promised. I’d been sure to restrain Gray to the bed, even though she lay unconscious, not wanting to take any chances. The Endarkened’s body was gone when I arrived, and Dash was in the process of cleaning up the blackened blood from the asphalt. I assessed the area for anything he could’ve missed that would lead back to us. “Looks good.”

Dash’s relief was visible in his slumped stance. “Great. I’m never killing another Endarkened again.”

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