Page 63 of Dark Shadow of Guilt

The first table he approached vacated before he arrived. This wasn’t gonna work. Despite the loud rap playing through the speakers, he shouted. “Keep your asses in your seats. I’ve got questions.”

The audience froze.

Ely dragged a chair over to a round, wobbly-legged table which was about to fall to the floor. “Gents.” Four Scourges nodded, their eyes wide with terror. “May I join you?”

They nodded again, dropping their gazes to their glass mugs. A brave soul spoke aloud. “Could we stop you?”

“Good point. No.” Ely slammed his drink onto the table, hauling out a chair. He chatted them up with questions about Praevus, but they were low-level Flesh Eaters who knew nothing. He needed to quiz Mind Rats.

Ely glanced around the dirty bar with its gummy floor, stained walls, rickety furniture, dim lighting, and desperate patrons. If he could feel sorry for Scourges, he would. Had he ever? He couldn’t recall. As the oldest of the assassins, Ely found himself having trouble recalling bits of his past. He supposed the faulty recall was normal after eons of time. His brain had to search through mountains of material to grasp a small detail. He had even slept for a century, hoping to awaken from stasis recharged. Then some bad shit had happened—he didn’t remember what it was—and the OneCreator called him back to work.

He didn’t say, “Hey, OC, buddy, fuck off. I need more time to get my shit together.” No. What he said was “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”

Though Ely had awakened refreshed, his good vibrations didn’t last more than a few centuries. Now, here he was again with a major case of the blahs. Immortality was a bitch. Each of his fellow assassins handled it differently. Ohngel chose to scheme and plan for millennia. All to keep Aeternals and humans from wiping each other out. Remi dived into sadistic shit. Chains. Whips. Sex. Who knew what else. Gareth eventually lost the battle. He turned Scourge and had to be put down. Dom ... Dom just plowed forward. If eternity got too heavy for him, the black-winged assassin crashed into it head-on, slamming it out of the way. He overpowered it as he did everything in life.

Ely spotted a bunch of Rats at three o’clock. Dragging his chair along with him, the feet leaving marks in the floor grit, he joined the group. “Assholes.” It was a good greeting as greetings go. “What do you hear about Praevus?” He might as well throw it out there.

Glances pinged from one depraved Scourge to another.

Ely extracted a short-bladed knife from his holster. He jammed it point first into the table. The males fell all over each other to see who could talk first. Bunch of white-eyed Nancies. He pointed. “You first.”

The selected Mind Rat glanced at his companions. “We’re not in Praevus’s circle. He’s ... beyond our skills. But I know where he lives. Saw him coming out one night.”

“Already found his elegant digs. I need new news.” Ely pointed again. “Next.”

“I hear he’s exempt from the Ordeals. Has a backer.”

“Yeah? Who is it?”

“Some valued Scourge.”

“Yeah? Who?”

They shrugged in unison. The first talker said, “A trustee, I hear.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ely saw Malacour come out of the back room and signal two stagehands.

Suddenly, the bar quieted. All gazes flipped to the front. A cage, the bars wrapped in black velvet, was wheeled onto the stage. Inside was a female, sitting on a swing. Her back, where long red hair flowed in curls, was to the audience.

One of the Scourges at the table shushed Ely, who jerked up his brows. Now the guy gets a spine?

The two Leech stagehands, their fangs pressing into their bottom lips, twirled the cage around. The female faced her admirers. Ely took notice, an oddity for him. In his current state, he eschewed most pleasures, including sex, but she stirred his groin, until he spied her eyes. They were white. Fucking Mind Rat. He hated Mind Rats.

Strange, though? When he looked more closely, he saw her eyes were translucent, more pale green than white, almost pretty.

When she drew a deep breath, her chest expanded. She opened her mouth. A plaintive song poured out, its melody and lyrics sad. Sadder even than the run-down, dirty bar. Ely glanced around. All the patrons perched at the edge of their seats, enthralled by the sound, by the words, by the female who was messing with their minds.

Ely rose from his chair, her voice getting to him a bit, though the Feard and Michael were mostly immune to Scourge tricks. He wasn’t gonna get anything else from this audience. They were about to be knocked out by the song. Literally. Then the fun and games would commence. He left the club before the floor was littered with writhing Scourges, holding their heads, screaming from pain.

Her voice was a weapon to paralyze the patrons. Once they collapsed, frozen in their own bodies and unable to fight back, the play would begin. Maybe a certain note she’d hit would fry their brains. Fun times for all.

The hypnotic voice followed him out the door. “I wanna be loved by you, just you.” It was sultry, soul-deep. He shivered.

Ely pathed Dom.News. Praevus has a high-placed Scourge friend. Possibly a trustee. Don’t know who.

Doesn’t tell us the Immortal who kidnapped and handed Maddy off to him.

No. But it’s a baby step closer.

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