Page 128 of He Who Ignites The Flame
Maybe I’d be lucky enough to encounter a darkling tonight after all.
Rain dotted my face, and I lifted my eyes to the sky as more fell in quick succession, casting us in a downpour. The icy water soaked through my armor quickly, and lightning streaked across the sky. I froze as we rounded the corner to find a human girl on the ground, her lifeless body flat against the pavement. Her blood pooled beneath her, the rainwater drawing it away from her into a crimson stream. She couldn’t have been older than her early twenties, her brown hair matted and bloodied, skin marred with cuts and bruises, her throat twisted at an odd angle. I didn’t have to look to know her eyes would be hazel.
The rain flooded the street in a hazy curtain of water, leaving me to wonder if I was hallucinating when I saw a dark figure standing over her body. Lightning flashed, and for a moment, I wanted to believe Iwashallucinating at the bloodied face staring back at me, at the blond hair and cold pewter eyes.
“Marcus?”
55
BARRETT
“Long time no see,” Marcus crooned, his words sliding out like poison.
It felt as if I was staring at a ghost, dark circles shadowing his pewter eyes, his skin paler than I remembered. He didn’t look like the friend I remembered, more a shell of a man lost.
“Tell me you aren’t the one who did this,” I said, taking a step toward him. It had been decades since I’d last seen him—only a few years before Lucia’s passing when we’d lost Vivienne to the darkling nest.
He swayed, stumbling to the side as if drunk, and lifted his crimson-stained hand to his lips before dragging his tongue up his palm, coating his tongue in the girl’s blood. His head fell back, eyes falling closed as he let out a sigh that turned into a groan of frustration.
“It’s not her,” he muttered under his breath as he stared up at the sky, head tilted as if looking up at someone whowasn’t there.
My brows furrowed, and I followed his gaze to the storm clouds churning above us, rain stinging my eyes before I looked back at him. He had turned his gaze downward to the woman’s lifeless body, and he shifted his weight, tilting his head to get a better look as he hooked her chin with the edge of his boot.
“Such a shame,” he muttered, wiping the bloodied blade of his knife on his jeans to clean it. I’d hoped you’d be the one.”
“What the fuck are you doing, Marcus?” I demanded, taking another step toward him.
He stiffened, his murderous gaze snapping to me, and I stilled, my heart plummeting at the unrelenting fury raging within his eyes.
“Don’t fucking come any closer,” he growled, teeth bared as he pointed the blade of his knife at us.
“It’s been you this whole time?” I demanded, his face flashing across my thoughts, the soul I’d once called brother.
His hateful eyes fluttered as if he was close to passing out, and he blinked as he shook his head. His lips curved into a cruel smile. “It’s always been me. Every one of them. And I’m nowhere near finished.”
“Why would you do this?” Micah asked. “We thought you were dead.”
He huffed a laugh and ran his bloodied fingers through his hair, painting it in streaks of crimson, shoving it back out of his face as the soaked strands clung to his skin. “Not dead...never dead. I can’t rest.”
He began muttering to himself, words jumbled and slurred until it shifted in a near tune, as if he was singing to himself. “...no rest for the wicked.”
My mind raced, every face of every woman he’d murdered flashing across my thoughts.
“You still serving that murderous cunt of a goddess?” Marcus crooned, his eyes drifting between the two of us, cold and unrecognizable from who I once knew.
“Watch your mouth,” Micah snapped.
Marcus laughed. “Ah, Micah. Always loyal until the end. What a good soldier.”
“No more games, Marcus,” I growled, flames coming to life in my palm. Micah’s eyes shifted to me, but I held my gaze forward, watching Marcus’ every move. A Nous user would be difficult to take down, and Marcus was especially gifted.
“Nah, ah, ah,” Marcus said with a shake of his finger and I stilled, my eyes falling to my hand as the flames doused.
I tried to recall them, tried to spark whatever fire I could back to life, but they wouldn’t heed my command. “Fuck.”
“This is how we’re gonna do things,” Marcus said, twirling his knife as he paced to the side. “I’m gonna take my leave, and you’re going to go about your night.”
“Like hell we are,” Micah growled.
