Page 48 of Priest and his Anarchist

“There’s something you need to know, and I couldn’t tell you until you took this.” He hands me the bone hammer, dribbled with gold. I’ve never thought about this moment. Not once has it crossed my mind the way that it did Dad’s because this, the gavel itself, is irrelevant to me. I don’t care for it.

My fingers curl around the trunk. “What? More secrets?” It’s a joke, but I’m not joking.

He chokes on his laugh, running his hand through his beard. It disappears beneath his suit jacket and returns with a black envelope. “When I give you this, you must understand that this is part of what it is to be a Hayes. For as long as your great-great-grandfather, this has been a requirement. Until me. How you handle it is your business. I’m not stupid, son.” He pauses, his eyes softening as he stares off into the distance. “I know you won’t be running the EKC the same way I did.”

I drown his words in whiskey. I’d kept much of how I would handle the Elite Kings close to my chest. When the time came, I’m sure those who need to know would.

“What gave it away?” I hide my smirk from behind my glass.

“Probably that you remind me of someone.” I fight my eyes from rolling. How many times have they compared me to my Uncle Daemon?

Too many.

I am nothing like him. From what they have said, he was sick. I’m not. My brain works at the same frequency as everyone else, without one essential component. Empathy.

“We don’t have to talk about that. You don’t owe me anything like I, your grandfather, but that right there…” He flicks the black envelope. “Is the key to your last name, as you will need to have this same conversation with your own.”

“I’ve given my sperm to Pop. I won’t be birthing any kids.”

Dad ignores me as if I’m talking a bunch of shit. I’m not. “The first thing you need to know about that is that it is never to leaveus. No one is to know. Not Vaden, not War, not even your sister. This is for you and you only.” His eyes collide with mine. “Tell me you understand. I cannot go further until you say it.”

I stare back at him. “You don’t need to ask, but yes.”

“This goes back to Humphrey. When he created the Kings, he did so with intention. As deranged as he was, he had the intellect of a damn genius.” Dad swigs back another shot of whiskey. “There are translations of our last name being Devil or Fire. Ever wonder why?”

“Nope. Never once crossed my mind.”

Dad chuckles. “Inside that envelope, you’ll begin to find out the reason why.”

I tear the envelope open and tip it upside down. A key falls into the palm of my hand with a thud. With the surface of worn craftsmanship, the shaft of the key ends with the carving of a skull. “And what does this open to?”

When he doesn’t answer, I study him while balancing the metal between my fingers. “A nightmare that is now yours. I’m sure you’ll handle it with much better finesse than I ever did.”

I’ve idolized him all my life, but I’d be lying if I said I agreed with his choices when taking the gavel.

“A nightmare?” I flash a wide smirk. “Color me intrigued.”

Dad falls onto the sofa in the corner of the room, his mouth in a straight line as he loosens the buttons on the top of his suit shirt. “This is something I wish I didn’t have to give you.”

“Is there anything else I should know about this mysterious key?” He balances his glass on his thigh, regarding me closely. I’ve been told I am his replica all my life. I don’t see it.

He leans forward. “Three things about that key. But first, get me the whiskey.”

Even in the comfort of the Watch Tower, the air grows tight the closer I get to the bar. Passing the other bottles, my fingersfind the encasement of Louis XIII Black Pearl. Only a few bottles still exist, and I own all of them.

Dad’s eyes fly up to mine when I lean forward to pour a finger or two into his waiting glass. “Luna was there tonight.”

I snicker, placing the bottle between us and falling onto the chair opposite.

He continues, because of course he fucking does. “You gonna talk with her?”

“Why would I?” Lifting the glass up, I follow the hue of polished honey.

“You know why. Because of what happened when you were last together.”

I sigh. “When I fucked her or when I killed her?”

He swallows his liquor and clears his throat, swiping the residue off his lip. “Gonna skip the underage sex and go right to the kill part, even if I do think your colorful wording is a matter of choice.”

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