Page 82 of Antiletum
But stealth is paramount. And though I’d never blame her motivations, information is always valuable. Too much has already gotten out, too soon, seeing the necessity for actions I should have had much more time to make.
Besides, I’ve been aching for this death. Playing the long game in seeing these men knocked from their pedestals, thinking they’re untouchable. Roarke thoughthe was slated for a seat on the cabinet, even after his family lost the illustrious title ofAlter. Leave it to him to brag about being pegged for a position that requires identities to be anonymous. What a tragedy that he’ll never make it to their “vote.”
He threatened my wife today.
And while I might have been able to stomach his and his father’s wrongs in years past, to wait to deliver justice, well… Causing my Delaney any amount of distress is a crime that will not go unpunished. Not for any amount of time.
Thank thedeos, only short minutes later I hear a distinct, aggressive sound of male pleasure, indicating that Roarke’s finished exerting a coward’s level of power over someone less fortunate than the nepotism he has known.
Few words are exchanged, whispered and, on Roarke’s end, annoyed. Next comes the clinking of far too few coins, followed by the awkward gait of the whore leaving the alley. Her long shadow slides by the sliver of space I hide in. Roarke stays behind, making my task easier. He’s still tucking his miniscule cock back into his pants when I emerge from the darkness.
Typical.
“I had a feeling it would be small,” I say smugly, Delaney’s ebony mallet dragging across the alley floor with a nefarious hiss. “You and your tiny cock. Always trying to prove something.”
Roarke jumps at the sound of my voice. When he sees my face, he openly scowls, trying to hide his shock. “Of course you’re here. Do you make a habit of watching people fuck? Does your pretty wife know about your voyeuristic ways?” He snaps his finger, pointing at me with a grin. “I’m guessing this is your transition into a full blown cuckold. Fitting for you, Val. Maybe you can sit in the corner and stroke yourself while you watch me fuck your wife. I planned to do it anyway. If you’re good and don’t intervene while I make her beg for help, I might tell you that you can come.”
I laugh. Cold and cruel, the heady fire of predetermined murder roiling through my blood. I am going to enjoy this kill.
Roarke’s cool composure folds, glancing back behind his shoulder and being met with a brick wall. Cornered. I can see it in his eyes—hear it in the cadence of his scared little heart—knowing his mistake. Having spoken far too boldly and that I intend to make him pay.
With another stalking step forward, he glances at my croquet mallet, still dragging against the ground. Collecting filth along the way. I can’t wait to smear it in his face.
“Did you know that your father likes to fuck poor boys?” I ask.
Roarke’s eyes flick to the mallet and back to me, crossing his arms and grinding his jaw. Unwilling to answer, but the truth flares across his features.
Oh yes, he knows.
“I’d wondered before if maybe you’re so vile because he liked to fuck you too. But I don’t think that’s accurate. His golden boy.”
A hint of panic crosses Roarke’s face. “What is this, Val?”
Ignoring him, I continue, finally lifting my mallet so the head rests right above my fist. I point it towards the fucker before me. I really do hate him. Always have. Roarke is one of those people that upon firstsight just chafed the senses, screamingwrong.Even before I knew who his father was. Made sense after I learned.
I’ll never forget the look of panic that man wore, seeing me within The Citadel. The bastard son of the newNoctuaAlter—the very person who took the position he lost because of his disgusting tastes.
How things often come full circle.
I was beyond the age of his desire at that point. But still, he recognized me. Of course, he wasn’t able to say anything. Trying to keep his image as quiet and clean as possible lest he find himself dead—as he should have when he was caught by that boy’s sister in an alley not so different from this one, and she managed to make his transgression known.
Before she wound face down and bloated in the river.
“When I say poor boys,” I continue, “I don’t mean struggling young men—like so many in this city, across the world. Thanks to Parliament keeping all wares and magic and commerce under their control. I mean little boys, Roarke. Children. Barefoot. Dirty. Starving. Abandoned and helpless. Trusting in their desperation and innocence.”
Raorke takes a defiant step towards me, outraged. People really struggle with hearing truths they already know aloud from others. “Yes. This is all very funny, Valledyn. I’m leaving now.”
“No. I don’t think you are. In fact, you aren’t going to leave this alley ever again. Not breathing at least.”
He makes to walk around me, but he meets the head of my mallet, crushed into his stomach. Roarke doubles over with a delicious littleoofing noise. Such a weak thing. Can’t even take a hit. Why he’s even been in talks to join Parliament, who can say. Probably reward for ratting me out.
Alas, Parliament must throw scraps to the mongrels, keep them from wanting to bite the hand that feeds.
I bend down to be eye level with him, his crystal blue irises shining, his breaths coming in gasps.
“Maybe you didn’t know that was the reason why you lost yourlegacy. That your father was found with his pants at his ankles and his cock in… Well, in a very unpalatable place, so to speak. I won’t get too graphic, but I’m sure you can imagine. He should be dead. Tried publicly for his crimes. Punishable by execution. But thanks toParliament, not wanting to sully their esteemed reputation for caring for their own, his transgressions were buried. Still are.”
Roarke straightens, glaring at me with hatred. He tries to grab my mallet, but I pull it out of range of his grasp before his grimy fingers can curl around it. “So what? You think you’re going to kill me because my father made mistakes?”
