Page 26 of The Lawgiver's Firebrand
“About that, you need to get out more. Meet friends. Go on dates.”
“How can I when I’m off to Cincinnati?”
Though she hated keeping secrets from her father, it was too soon to tell him the tumor had returned. She needed space. But she also needed the comfort of his untroubled eyes before they dulled with the news.
When the familiar bug shimmied along her spine again, she peeked over her shoulder. Since no psycho was about to cram an ether-soaked rag over her nose, she turned into Post Alley, taking a shortcut to the office. Braelyn cleared her throat. “While I head your way, give me the newsflash version of the crazy…”
****
Scath, Present Day
Rein blended into the shadow of a large tree, rage washing over him. If he had arrived five minutes earlier, he could have saved the female.
Now, he eyed the Kallikoi wilding who had drained her blood. The hairy killer stretched out on his back in the grass, sated, naked, resting his crossed arms on his chest, his lids closed. He propped his feet on the young witch’s body, avoiding her mauled, savaged neck.
When Scion Firebrand Rein stepped from his shelter, the heavy-lidded tunnel creature sat up, fear in his eyes. He pushed off the ground. Too slow.
Too bad.
Rein bare-handed his revenge, snatching the murderer mid-air before he could run. Holding the Kalli by the throat in one fist, he allowed the creature’s legs to scissor in a fruitless attempt to escape.
Let him suffer.The witch had.
He squeezed. Tighter.
The wilding clawed at Rein’s fingers, his raspy voice a grating plea. “Please. Please.”
Rein laughed, staring into the terrified eyes of the tunnel-dweller. If the creature was looking for mercy, he was begging the wrong male. Killing was a rush, a perk when the death was sanctioned.
As the murderous wilding’s hands dropped to his side and his legs stilled, his seven-foot-tall body sagged.
KIA.
Rein took a moment to savor the feel of a lifeless form before he got down to business.
Breathe. Breathe. Control.
He tapped the D-chip embedded in his wrist to call Chay. “I’ve got a dead witch here along with an equally dead Kalli. Since it takes more than one to bleed out an Aeternal, a partner is nearby. Find him.”
Rein bent to scoop the female gently into his left arm. As the Scion Firebrand muscled through high, tangled vines, cradling her against his chest to protect her from scattered thorns, he fisted the Kalli by his tusk, whipping his corpse back and forth, yanking it along behind.
Most of the year, these rangy, sentient wildings lived a peaceful existence underground in tunnels that spanned the realms of Darque and Scath.
Until mating season.
During this two-month period, they followed an uncontrollable urge to procreate. The frenzied males raced to the top to glut themselves on the blood of Aeternal females. Engorged, their penises grew hard, swollen, allowing them to return to their underground homes where they could impregnate their own mates. Only in this way could they produce offspring.
Rein had no empathy for the males, though. Blud dens provided professionals to sate the Kallis’ needs while security prevented them from taking too much blood. Still, some opted to hunt in pairs and kill their victims. This earned them death at the hands of a Scion Firebrand.
Tramping into a clearing, Rein dropped the murderer’s body at his feet.
With a tap of his D-chip, he opened a portal and sent the witch through to the Eastern Stronghold in Covenkirk. Because she deserved a clean space, uncontaminated by the vile wilding who had stolen her future, he dispatched her alone.
Next, he snatched a blade from the sheath strapped across his chest and whacked off the Kalli’s head. He seized it by a tuft of hair and tossed the bloody mess into the gateway, sending it to the same locale. The proof of death would be delivered to the female’s kin.
With a flick of his other hand, Rein created a stream of fire to incinerate the killer’s decapitated remains. Oblivious to the flakes of drifting ash along with the acrid odor of burning flesh, he wiped the blade of his combat knife on his pants, the red blood invisible on black fabric.
If Rein had notched each kill on the hilt of his dagger, he would have tallied the highest count in Firebrand history. But he didn’t need the 1, 2, 3s. Death etched its marks on his soul, a soul that walked a tightrope since his Awakening. On one end was the savage bludfrenzy. On the other was control. His life was a circus act, a balance between the two with the great abyss below, just waiting for him to slip again.
