Page 4 of Cursed Shadows

The asshole spits at the man’s feet, carefully aiming the brown blob to avoid actually coming into contact with the worn black shoes of our visitor.

“This ain’t none o’ your business, Revenant,” he spits out.

At first, the stranger—Revenant—doesn’t respond; he merely reaches inside his pocket and pulls out a vial of blue liquid. Whatever’s inside seems to capture the asshole’s attention. Revenant slowly rotates the vial between his narrow fingers.

“It’s funny you should mention business, Ferchad,” he says, finally, in a voice that somehow seems familiar though I’m unsure how that could be possible. I don’t recognize the name Revenant. But I still haven’t seen his face, so perhaps it will soon become clear. “You conduct most of your business at Grisly Dour docks, isn’t that right?”

Ferchad scowls but remains silent. His eyes are fixed on the glass vial in Revenant’s hand. Revenant twirls it betweenhis fingers and I hope, for all our sakes, that it doesn’t contain anything airborne.

“It would be a pity if your access to the docks was suddenly jeopardized, wouldn’t it?” the man, Revenant, continues.

“Why would it be jeopardized?”

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but I’m… let us say… close with the shipyard watch.”

“Daltry,” Ferchad says.

Revenant nods. “He owes me a favor. Quite a few, actually.”

“Oh yeah? An’ what’s that mean?”

“It means I doubt you’d want to risk a steady stream of income over a squabble with strangers,” replies Revenant casually.

The asshole eyes him narrowly. “An’ why you involvin’ yourself? You never put your neck out for no one.”

“My reasons will remain my own,” Revenant responds.

Ferchad hesitates for a few seconds as he apparently weighs Revenant’s argument. Eventually, he expels a long sigh and backs away. The look on his face is still angry, hard. Underneath his calm exterior, he’s fuming.

“You’ll regret interferin’ here, Revenant,” he warns.

“Perhaps, and perhaps not.”

“We had us an agreement,” Ferchad continues, his jaw tight.

“We still have us an agreement,” Revenant replies, mirth in his voice. Ferchad doesn’t realize Revenant’s mocking him with his word choice.

Ferchad exhales strongly out of his nose before nodding quickly, turning, and walking out of the tavern. His comrade is right behind him.

The onlookers pivot back to their conversations, their slumped shoulders clearly communicating their disappointment at the lack of bloodshed. Revenant keeps his back to us,continuing to watch the door where Ferchad left as if he expects him to make a sudden return.

It’s maybe a few more seconds before Revenant turns around.

And I’m completely unprepared.

Cambion tenses beside me, and neither of us says anything for a few seconds because we’re both fully aware of the impossibility of this man standing in front of us.

“Baron?” Cambion asks finally.

***

EILISH

It’s the man from the vision.

Baron.

The one I knew to be alive.

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