Page 82 of Dark Shadow of Guilt

“Your life was shit before. Is that what you want again?”

Praevus had trouble focusing. What had he said? Oh, yeah. “No. Of course not. I want a Scourge to feed my appetite. Better yet, get me out of here and return me to Vast. I’ll find subjects there.”

“Neither will happen. I can’t get myself out of Angor. And as far as finding you a victim, I have no intention of doing that.”

Praevus clenched and unclenched a fist. “I’ll talk.”

The co-conspirator’s voice dropped to a snarled whisper. “What?”

“I’ll negotiate with the Feard. Give them your identity.”Yeah. Yeah.That should scare the guy.

Though his accomplice laughed, the sound was brittle. “Are you sure you wish to threaten me?”

“It is not a threat. I ... uh ... inspired Serita to give me your name.”

Another pause. “Where is she?”

Praevus chuckled, glancing outside where her body struggled to heal. “Don’t bother about her. I will find a winged assassin and spill my guts.” He strode one length of the cabin, tugging at his hair. “You’ll see.” He spun around and traveled in the other direction, his gait unsteady.

“You don’t want to do that.” The voice was thick.

A thread. Tug at the thread. He’ll know you are serious.

Praevus shouted into the phone, “I want a subject. I need one.” His chest pounded up and down, his breaths ragged.

The voice turned cold. “Calm yourself. Keep your wits about you. You’ve already made a mistake by calling me twice on this cellphone.”

“Couldn’t be helped.”

“Do you want Ike’s fate?”

Ike? Who’s he? Now he remembered. The snitch. The fog of Praevus’s obsession cleared for a moment. He was toying with a dangerous Scourge who had powerful friends capable of extinction. He continued his frantic pacing. “Threats won’t work on me. I’m desperate. Without a subject to practice on, I don’t care to exist.”

His associate seemed to understand. “I see. Where’s Serita?”

“Stop worrying about her,” he shouted.

Another pause. “Give me some time.”

“Okay, but not much.”

“I get it.”

Before the co-conspirator disconnected, Praevus heard a noise in the background. Music, he thought.

He threw himself onto the ratty couch, closed his eyes, settled his nerves, and imagined what he would do with a fresh subject. The images calmed his shattered nerves. Surely he deserved a new dalliance for keeping his mouth shut.

His fun with the OC’s favored Immortal, Elise, had ended too soon. But he remembered the last look in her eyes, the moment she realized he owned her. That was when he had fucked the broken female. Unfortunately, unlike his first subjects, who had been disposable nobodies, she had been popular, missed at court. Praevus had been sloppy. Someone who had seen them together squealed to the OneCreator. The uppity ruler of Vast put out the order for the Feard to capture him.

Though Praevus had fled, he was no match for the asshole black-winged assassin who chased him. Hiding, he was flushed out like a covey of birds.

He took to the skies, his glorious lapis-tipped wings pounding against the air to increase his speed. Dominion was faster. The one-eyed assassin dropped from above to block him. Praevus trembled at the sight of the Immortal, his brute size, his long hair whipping behind him, the patch over his eye. He was the most fearsome of the OneCreator’s killers.

To avoid capture, Praevus made a sharp turn, zeroing back toward the direction he had come. Swooping beneath him, Dominion once again prevented his escape.

The asshole Feard laughed.

Treading air, Praevus poked at the assassin’s mind. No way. The shields were too strong. To prevent his imprisonment, he tucked his wings and arrowed into a steep dive. Looking to his side, he spied the assassin keeping pace.

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