Page 55 of Dark Shadow of Guilt

But now, he was hiding in a cabin that belonged to his ex-boss, fearing Dom or another of the asshole Feard would hunt him down. Eternity was unfair to Praevus. He deserved better.

He jerked when he heard a sound outside. Springing to his feet, he fingered the curtain, peeking through the slight crack.

Nothing.

What was going on out there? Had the hunt for him stopped? When could he come out of hiding? Surely, he wasn’t expected to remain here permanently. He needed a fix. He needed to explore a mind, one as delicious as Madeline’s. As challenging.

Praevus palmed the phone that he had kept, regardless of the command from Serita’s co-conspirator. But he’d wait.

Once again settling into the stained sofa’s cushions, Praevus contented himself with fantasizing about what Madeline might do because of his tampering.Yes. He rested his head and closed his lids. Retracing every step in his journey through her mind, he swallowed, moisture gathering in his mouth.Succulent. He had fought for every inch gained. She was strong-willed. Though he had never reached her core, he had ensured what was done would be effective. Others would understand his power. They would see how he had laid triggers and made the human a Sycophant, a living work of art that carried his signature. And best of all, her Sycophancy was delayed, and her slavish obedience would transfer to a new master.

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Still searching forsome sign of Praevus, Remi took a flight path over the southern range of the Razor Mountains. He banked left, flying low enough to see the jagged peaks. Below him, surefooted, cliff-dwelling goats scrambled up the rocks. Their stubby wings helped them move easily, though their hooves were their greatest advantage. High as they were, few predators could reach them.

He glided above the range, soaring when he caught a wind current. Adjusting a wingtip, he maneuvered left. In a meadow beyond a tree line, a pack of wolvers stalked a dorik, a grass-grazing creature, a tasty meal for the beasts of prey.

Just to the east of the mountains, he set down in Loneliness Desert. The sand was thick with Soul Suckers.

At this Ordeal, emotions flooded some of them. Abandonment. Loneliness. Loss of loved ones. Rejection. Isolation. Pity. They beat their chests, tore their skin and hair, and sobbed nonstop.

For others, the emotions were sucked out of them, leaving them hollow. Those Scourges wandered aimlessly in the desert, their eyes empty, their jowls slack, and their minds as deserted as the wasteland beneath their feet. They stabbed themselves, trying over and over again to commit suicide. Useless since they were once Immortals, incapable of death except at the hands of a few.

Remi hated the Ordeals for the Soul Suckers most of all. This region where the Scourges were tormented with either a surfeit or a lack of emotions was infectious. When his feet hit the sandy soil, he immediately felt sad, an emotion he hated. He persisted despite it, questioning a few prisoners but getting nothing. Most didn’t know Praevus. Those who did hadn’t seen him. No surprise. Soul Suckers and Mind Rats weren’t the closest friends, their maladies seeming to set off the other too easily, one all about feeling and the other about the mind.

Enough of this shit.

He spread his bronze-spiked wings and took off, seeking another Ordeal. Remi circled back to the Razor Mountains, heading north. At least the air up here was fresh, not filled with debilitating emotions. His feathers warmed, catching the sun, which sparkled through a break in the clouds. Before he could enjoy the warmth, he identified four dots in the distance, closing in. As they drew close, he recognized them as Scourges. What were they doing? Coming or going to an Ordeal?

Remi hovered in place. When they neared, he didn’t recognize any of the Scourges. Not unusual. One of his fellow assassins could have brought them to Angor.

They were Leeches, their mouths open, fangs protruding from their gums. One male flew in front of the others. Remi figured him as the leader. He spoke first. “You’re in our skies, Feard. Leave.”

Remi’s brows arched as a smile twitched on his lips. A challenge from a bunch of fucking Scourges? The day was looking up. “Your skies?”

“Yep,” said the male to the right of the leader. The remaining two winged over to flank Remi.

Strange encounter. Scourges challenging a winged assassin? Interesting.

Remi snatched his long-bladed knives from the holsters tied to his thighs. He grinned. A big fan of Earth’s Dirty Harry movies, he’d been dying to use the line. Here was his chance. It was doubtful these dumbfucks would get it. “Go ahead, make my day.”

One Leech chuckled. Remi would go easier on him. The response showed the guy had promise. Obviously, they enjoyed the same movies. The others gave him empty stares. Oblivious to fine film, they sealed their fate.

The leader charged forward. Nothing clever. Brute force. As the other Scourges flew at him, Remi shot up and flipped over, coming behind the four Stooges.Yep. They were a favorite, too.

The Scourges nearly crashed into one another. The bronze spike-winged assassin shouted, “You’ve got to ask yourself one question. ‘Do I feel lucky? Well, do you punk?’” Again, the Harry Callahan line would be lost. Maybe the one guy would get it. Remi caught a slight grin on his worried face.

He sighed, performing a few more aerobatics but receiving no applause. Ungrateful audience. When Remi settled, the four spun his way, their expressions puzzled by his antics.

He waved as best he could with a knife in each hand. “You were saying something about this being your skies? Could you be more specific?”

They flew at him again. No strategy. No skill. He figured they hoped to overwhelm him with bulk and numbers.

This time, Remi pulled in his wings, dropping straight down, boots first. When he powered back up toward his stunned spectators, his wings pounding the air, he sliced a tip off one Scourge’s wing. The guy wobbled, but the cut wasn’t enough to take him out of action. Remi hadn’t intended it to be. This was a game, wasn’t it? They would make lame attempts to injure a winged assassin, and he would toy with them.

Great fun.

The foursome slowed, whispering, trying to come up with a plan. Remi hovered patiently. Having devised a strategy, they surrounded him and moved in, hoping to smash him between them.Stupid. They were slow. He charged between two of them, slicing the tips from their wings. That left only the leader unscathed.

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