Page 90 of Dark Shadow of Guilt

Dom found his voice. “You were never my shadow. You were loyal. Honorable. My friend. Gareth, I never saw you as my sidekick, a follower rather than a leader.”

“You were always bigger than life, Dom. The glory-seeker. The barn-stormer. The path-clearer. My role was to back you.”

Had his friend so misunderstood him? Had he thought Dom a grandstander? Sure, he had always been his own male, fearless and a risk-taker. Yes. He was strong-willed. He enjoyed the pranks they had pulled. He thought Gar simply took longer to see the merits of a mischievous plan. But he felt they were in their adventures together.

“Now what, my friend?” His eyes diverted to stare lustily at the body parts beside his feet.

Dom shook his head to clear it. “Accompany me to Angor. Do the Ordeals. Reform. Return to Vast.” His gaze rolled over the Flesh Eater’s form. He had not yet developed any physical signs of being a Scourge. But each progression varied.

Gareth smiled and attacked without warning. He whipped out his copper wings, unsheathing the razor-edged tips. As a backup, he flashed a knife in his fist when he charged.

Though they had often sparred, Dom always showed restraint, realizing he was the stronger of the two. Grabbing Gar’s arms, he flung them both to the ground. Landing on his back, he tossed his friend overhead.

“Good one.” Gareth shot to his feet. With his wings flared, the tips arching forward, he rushed Dom. At the last second, he feinted to the right.

Dom fell for the move, and Gar plunged the handheld blade into his eye.

As he swiped blood from his face, Dom realized that Gareth was lost to him, unwilling to go to Angor. He needed to incapacitate his friend. Snapping out his wings, he liberated his sharp, obsidian-tips.

Gareth shouted with glee, “Bring it on, Dom. Finally, a real match between us. Know that I can still extinct an Immortal. Even a moralistic do-gooder like you. Don’t look surprised. You led me into pranks, but that’s all they were—meaningless, weak games thought up by an Immortal with no real spine. Now we’ll see who is better.”

Dom shut down, not allowing the mad utterings to reach him. His friend sounded like all Scourges, drinking their personal Kool-Aid.

Gareth’s razored copper wingtip sliced into Dom’s shoulder before he sidestepped the assault.

“I will never go willingly, Dominion. You have two options—I extinct you and flee, or you allow me to go on my way.”

While his once-treasured brother preened over his strike, Dom attacked. His knife-like feathers cut into Gareth’s neck, nearly beheading the fifth member of the Feard.

His once-friend slapped a palm to his throat, falling to the ground. His eyes clearing, he reached for Dom, who clasped his desperate hand.

Gareth’s words were a low rasp as he faced the injury and his capture. “I guess you took option three, my friend. You brought me to my inevitable end. No remorse. No guilt. Now, do your job.”

Dom was too choked up to speak.

“What? No admonitions? No wise thoughts to send me on my way?”

“This is not what I want, Gar.”

“Nor I, but here we are.” He squeezed Dom’s hand. “Remember me as a bright-eyed youth, sparring with my best friend. Remember me as a young assassin with a future, flying wing-to-wing beside you.”

Dom swallowed the rock in his throat as he nodded. “You can still accompany me to Angor and heal there.”

Gar laughed, a death rattle. “Remember me as a Flesh Eater you had to extinct because you are the honorable Immortal I failed to be. Goodbye, my dearest friend. Now finish the fucking task.”

“I cannot.” Dom rose, his legs wobbly.

“You must.” His eyes grew hungry. “I will regenerate, and I desire female flesh. I will tear a lissome body limb from limb and bathe in her innards. I will...”

Before he finished his tirade, Dom struck, his sword fully decapitating his childhood friend and comrade. He uttered the words, his voice tremulous, “May my blade bring you peace.”

Gar’s body began the slow process of ashing.

As the copper-winged assassin ceased to exist, Dom felt no victory. He flew from the site to the OneCreator to report on his assignment and to seek aid for Gar’s victim. The boss’s response was a single nod.

The OC unslung his leg from the arm of his throne, rose to his full height, and strode down the steps that separated him from his subjects. He reached out a hand to heal Dom’s eye.

“No. I will keep this reminder.”

---