Page 7 of Avenger of Sins

“I was being literal with the throwing him over our shoulder bit.” Caleb unsnapped his seat belt. “Personally, I don’t give a fuck what this bastard wants. If I have to keep him alive, I’m doing it however I can, and there’s literally nothing he can do to stop me.”

The words sent a little frisson up John’s neck. Even without Gray manifesting, Caleb had a drakul’s enormous strength. No mortal could hope to resist; he could bundle up Foster like a newborn if he felt like it.

John had taken advantage of that more than once—it was hot, what could he say? But there was a vast gulf between being manhandled consensually and being kidnapped.

Caleb glanced in the back seat. “Take the wheel, would you, Zahira? You’ve had more sleep than John. Just drive around—I don’t like the idea of you sitting in one place if Ryan might be on the prowl. Call me if you spot him; otherwise, I’ll call you when we have Foster secured for pickup.”

John wanted to protest, to insist he go with them. But he’d already been controlled by Ryan once; it would be stupid to take the chance a second time.

“Please be careful,” he said, and leaned over for a kiss.

Caleb kissed him back. “Don’t worry, we’re not about to let Ryan get the drop on us again.” He opened the door and hopped out. “Come on, Night.”

Night followed him. By the time Zahira climbed behind the wheel, both drakul had vanished into the shadows.

Gray slips to the fore as they walk down the empty road. A few festive lights show from houses, strings of these new electric lights. Mortals love light; he has seen a thousand variations on this celebration, meant to drive back the darkness of winter. Candles and bonfires dance in the memories absorbed from his many hosts, defying the night which blinds them, making it his natural home.

“Will we hunt?” Night asks.

Her scent of night-blooming jasmine and copal mingles with that of the asphalt beneath their feet, the pine needles in the scattered woods. “Yes,” Gray says. “After.”

“We waste our time with these mortals. What do we care if this Foster lives or dies? He will be dust soon enough no matter what we do.”

She’s right, of course. But… “In this moment, he lives, and we must try to save him. What does the future matter? It is not yet here.”

Night remains silent for a short distance, then says, “I see. We will save him, then.”

“What does she think about the lights?”Caleb asks.“I mean, since this is a human pattern, and she’s, well, Night.”

His own curiosity sparked, Gray relays the question. Night cocks her head, considering.

“It is not…natural to me,” she says at last. “The light, that is. But I speak of the light of the sun. I can overwhelm or overlook anything a mortal can create.”

“Even the electric lights we have now?”Caleb asks.“I mean the ones with millions of lumens or whatever. Not Christmas lights.”

“This is nonsense,” Night says once Gray has dutifully asked in Caleb’s stead. “I have not encountered these lights. There are none here. Why does your host worry so?”

“He thinks like a mortal,” Gray explains.

“Hey!”

“Then you know what he asks is foolishness.”

“Hey! Wait…was that a joke? Can an undead drakul make jokes?”

Gray is unsure—jokes are still a concept he works to grasp.We should concentrate on the task at hand.

They slide through the darkness like a pair of shadows, passing single-story houses on large lots.“Doesn’t look like anything’s been built here since the 70’s,”Caleb says.“I guess this isn’t the swanky part of town. Though come to think of it, there might not be a swanky part of town.”

Gray ignores him; human architecture is of no interest. Light—steady yellow light, not the blinking dots of holiday lights—shines ahead through the trees. He slows, until their destination comes into view.

Unlike the rest of the houses, this one is three stories high and clad in brick. Floodlights beam up from the yard, illuminating the front. In the back, garden lights reveal a pool covered with a tarp.

“Looks like Foster bought the old homestead and plopped a McMansion on it,”Caleb opines.“Tacky.”

An iron fence surrounds the lot, but its gate stands open. Perhaps the fence is merely for show.

Or perhaps the telepath Ryan is here.

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