Page 83 of Dark Shadow of Guilt

Dominion unsheathed dangerous feather tips, honed to thin, sharp blades. Angling his body toward Praevus, he used them to lob off chunks of primaries, severely limiting forward thrust.

Praevus wobbled, grappling to maintain steady flight.

The black-winged assassin tossed out a net, capturing him like a fish. Though he struggled, he could not get free. To the backdrop of Dominion’s laughter, he plummeted into Angor. Unable to break his fall, he landed hard, his body bruised, his lungs punctured, his ribs and appendages broken.

Standing over him, grins curling their lips, were two henchmen, the greeters on Angor. They wore long black robes, the hems rustling across the dirt. Their hoods hung low, obscuring their faces. “Welcome, Praevus. You’re ours now.”

Praevus’s life changed forever. Taken into an alley, he had no place to heal. He scuttled behind a dumpster, which became his home for some time. With Angor’s changeable weather, he froze, sweated from heat, or was drenched with rain. His glorious lapis-tipped wings morphed into a leathery gray. As he scavenged for food, he glanced at his reflection in a cracked window. His eyes were white. He was a Mind Rat.

His first Ordeal was Fear Mines, where he found himself in a dark tunnel with a pickaxe. Even his Immortal vision could not pierce the blackness. A voice compelled him to swing the implement into the rock to find his way out. When he did, a thick cloud of dust filled the area. Coughing, he clutched his throat, his thirst unbearable. He explored for water, using the stony wall as a guide. Praevus stepped on something. A canteen, but it was empty. Again, he swung the axe, shattering rock. The mine caved in, trapping him under tons of debris.

When he escaped Fear Mines by digging his way out with his broken nails and bloodied fingertips, he awakened in the same alley again, still hungry, cold, and injured. After he healed, he had a brief respite from torment, during which he sought experienced Scourges for answers. Questioning other prisoners, he learned he needed a job if he wanted food or lodging in the hellhole.

“It’s not right,” he screamed. “I am the Immortal Praevus.” Passersby laughed, whispering he was a Scourge like them. Serita hired him for a maintenance position in a restaurant, assigning him to sweep and clean. The job came with a crappy backroom where he could sleep. He had use of a tiny kitchen while he awaited the next Ordeal.

Like other inmates of Angor, Praevus had stretches of rest and work, never knowing when or what punishment would come. The inconsistency. The wait. Others claimed it was the worst abuse. The OC called it “stewing.”

Praevus lost more than his physical characteristics. He lost telepathy and telekinesis. But nothing was so horrific as the loss of excellent subjects for his gifts. Sure, he used them on other Scourges, but something about their brains left an unsatisfying taste in his mouth, as it were.

****

Dom hovered above thecamouflaged site south of Necrosis Valley, relieved to be away from Maddy. His thoughts about her bounced around like the ball in a pinball machine.

Pounding his onyx-tipped wings up and down, Dom asked his Feard brethren, “Lucian doesn’t know we’re coming, right?”

Ohngel treaded air alongside, a fiery display of power. “Nope. Surprise visit. Hope we’re in time for tea.”

“It’s best if we fly in from different sides. I’ll go straight down.” Dom signaled Ely. “You take the left flank. Remi, the right. Ohngel, you wait until we’re on the ground. Then come in.”

Ohngel shooed his Feard brothers on their way with a chuckle. “Be safe. I’ll be watching.”

As quiet as usual, Ely took off, his icy wings carrying him into position.

“This’ll be fun,” said Remi, veering away.

When Dom touched boots to the ground, he strode toward Lucian, who posed, hands on hips, his long, golden blond hair tied back with a leather strap. The mutherfucker who had challenged the OC was big, and behind him were a dozen Scourges.

One side of Luce’s mouth curved into a sneering grin. “Welcome. Tell Ohngel to get his fiery ass down here. You’re in no danger from us.”

The Blood Leech rebel, who hid his wings and fangs as always, didn’t look worried about the drop-in visit.

Once Ohngel settled in the encampment, Luce signaled the Feard to tag along behind him. They did, but their gazes flicked around the place, looking for attackers, signs of danger, the works.

Nothing.

The encampment resembled a peaceful village. Tents. Cooking fires. Male and female Scourges walking to and fro while they gave the assassins grim looks and the evil eye. But they made no threatening moves.

Outside the most opulent tent, a Scourge arranged chairs in a circle. Luce flopped into the largest, flinging a leg over the arm, lazing against the back. He waved at other seats. “Take a load off. Tell me what you want.”

“Why the backup, Luce?” asked Dom, sitting between Remi and Ely while Ohngel chose to stand, his arms crossed over his chest.

“They are here in case you pull something wonky, Dominion. Give me the story in short sentences. I’ve got places to go and shit to do.”

Dom leaned forward, chosen as the spokesman. He rested elbows on his knees, ignoring the Scourges standing behind Lucian. “Strange shit’s been happening. A human was brought to Angor. Praevus, a Mind Rat, made her a Sycophant and has been in hiding since she escaped. We have her, but she can’t go home. Cured of Sycophancy, she is now a Scourge. Wings, fangs, and all. Ike, who put us on to Praevus, was extincted. Nobody knows anything. Serita, the trustee, is thought to be involved, but she’s missing.”

“As they say, don’t know nothin’ bout nothin’.”

Dom continued, “It’s been rumored you can create a Scourge?” He threw the question out fast, hoping to catch Luce off guard with the accusation.

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