Page 72 of Anathema Codex

"Apparently Pops isn't a fan of her."

"Apparentlyshe's your aunt," I reply, glancing at Aftyn who just sneers at me.

"I really don't fucking care who she is, or why she's got her own little shrine here."

I shake my head, still not understanding why Aftyn isn't at least a tiny bit excited to have found his father and have him be someone who really lives his life instead of coasting along. Bored and boring. Lakyn doesn't see limits on the world. He doesn't see the rules that society tries to force on everyone. He's just… above it. Free.

And isn't that what we all strive to be?

"Damn," the priestess whispers, turning toward the stairs in a rush, and that's when I hear it.

Screaming. Panic.

It sounds beautiful.

"What the fuck is he doing now?" Aftyn growls, stomping over to the door, and I stay right on his heels as he heads up the dark steps, both of us getting closer and closer to the random shouts and panicked cries.

But the closer I get to the door, the more clear the underlying voice becomes. It's Lakyn, and he's shouting… about Beatrix.

"Come on. It's Beatrix. Blonde? Irritating and crazy? Self-professed Satan's favorite? Someone here knows something." Lakyn's voice is loud, echoing down the hall as we step out of the stairwell and move toward the main part of the church, or whatever this place is. Anti-church? I have no fucking idea what Satanists like to call their stuff, but a feminine yelp catches my attention as Lakyn finally comes into view.

He's got a pretty blonde girl tucked against his chest; one arm wrapped across her chest to hold her there. Although the presence of the hatchet so close to her throat is probably doing most of the convincing for her to stay still.

"Listen." Lakyn chuckles, shifting his grip on the hatchet to point it at the people gathered around, moving it in a slow arc. "You have a fucking altar to the bitch downstairs, so that means someone here has a hard dick for Beatrix St. Germain, and all I want to know is where the fuck she's squatting now."

"Let her go!" a man shouts, and Lakyn brings the hatchet back to her throat with a wild grin.

"Come on. Tell me what to do again, Lucifer boy." Lakyn leans down a little, just enough to press a kiss to the girl's hair, and I feel a frisson of jealousy even as the blonde starts crying harder.

Her whimpers are fucking annoying, and I can almost imagine the spray of blood if he cuts the girl. Her heart is definitely racing, blood pressure spiking, and if he slices through the carotid with that sharp as fuck blade… we'll all get a show.

"Excuse me?" the priestess steps forward, her hands out to her sides. "Beatrix hasn't come to visit us in a long time, but I do have some people I can call to ask about her. Would you like me to do that?"

"Go ahead," he said, shifting to face the woman. "We'll wait."

"Please don't kill me." The blonde girl pressed against him is dressed in all black, and Lakyn leans his cheek against the top of her head, shushing her softly.

"Don't start begging yet," he mock whispers, more than loud enough for everyone to hear. "You'll spoil the effect."

"Everyone calm down, please. Just take your seats. Everything will be fine." The priestess doesn't seem scared of Lakyn at all as she moves closer. If anything, she seems drawn to him—which I can understand—but Lakyn has already had me trim the herd once for this road trip, and I won't hesitate to do it again. When the bitch lays her hand on his arm, I'm tempted to slice it off, but Lakyn just tilts his head at her and she drops it. "Will you please let Brittany go? I'm more than happy to show you my office and I'll make the calls. Then… perhaps we can talk about some other things?"

Bitch.

"What do you say, Brittany?" Lakyn asks, leaning down to speak right against her ear. "Do you believe your priestess?"

"Allisandra h-has the m-member rosters," the blonde girl stutters, sniffling loudly. "Sh-she'd know."

"Fantastic." Moving the hatchet, Lakyn grabs Brittany's arm and spins her away from him like he's dancing. She quickly loses her balance from the force of it, stumbling into one of the people crowded near the pews, but they manage to keep her from falling. "Lead on."

"Of course. This way." Allisandra gestures toward the other side of the room, heading toward a door against the opposite wall, but a tall man stops her.

"Priestess, are you sure this is—"

"He's a friend of Beatrix St. Germain, and he's our guest," she replies, pointing toward the stage at the front of the room. "Why don't you lead service this evening, Roderick?"

"But, Priestess…" The man trails off, glaring at Lakyn, who just offers a grin as he adjusts the hatchet on his shoulder.

"Go lead the service, Roderick." Allisandra's voice turns hard, intense, and I have to give her some credit. She's the top bitch in this place, and that has to mean something since they're all supposed to be a bunch of Satan worshipers—although none of them seem very intimidating.

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