Page 38 of The Arbiter

Now, it's been more than a few weeks since every living Rite felt the shift in power to the new arbiter. Exactly that long since I first started having the nightmare that wakes me up in a cold sweat almost every single night. The smart thing to do would've been to alert my superiors as soon as I realized it was reoccurring. Those tend to end up being prophetic in nature. If I'm honest, the only reason I haven't yet is because the idea of it coming true scared whatever Damnation I might've had right out of my soul.

Fire and brimstone have completely consumed this realm. Any humans that weren't killed in initial contact with what lies below become slaves to Cain and his minions who helped him break the seals and released literal hell on Earth. There at the center of it all is the exiled, cast down one himself, and a woman so hauntingly beautiful that it almost hurts to look upon her. In the dream, I always find myself making my way toward them but never making it close enough to speak to either. A damned surprises me every time and slices my head clean off with my own blade. That one small detail is the only one that ever changes. Sometimes it's a dark being with tall horns and wings of fire. Other times it's merely a familiar black shadow with burning red eyes.

Even in the daylight as I sit outside the airport awaiting the arrival of Larkan and the new arbiter, chills race down my body recalling the memory. Come to think of it, maybe this is a blessing in disguise. If there were ever another Rite I'd trust more than myself, it'd be Larkan. His reach is broad and no one who knows him would consider double crossing him. He might have a better understanding as to what this could mean, other than the obvious of Cain possibly managing to escape his prison.

Being lost in thought doesn't stop the power that flows through my veins as Larkan and his companion grow near. It's as though every step they take my way rocks the literal Earth beneath my feet. Then they step through the glass door of the airport and time stands still.

Nothing looks to be out of place with Larkan, other than the woman at his side who has captured my undivided attention. My breath stills in my chest as she draws closer and her features become more pronounced. There's no denying that she is the same one in my dream. Though, she appears different, no doubt due to the lack of Damnation surrounding her.

I manage to paste a smile on my face and share polite conversation as I open her door and we get inside the car. She seemed to be a bit flustered as I'd lifted my head just enough that she'd been able to see my face before I'd ushered her inside. It sent an odd feeling through me that I still haven't been able to work out even as we're driving down the road and she's teasing me about my name. I can't help but watch her in the mirror ever so often to compare her to what I've already seen. When our eyes clash the urge to ask her about what she knows rides me strong, but I settle for a smile instead. A small detail Larkan doesn't miss.

Showing irritation for the first time since I've known him, he shuts the conversation down as I ask for her name, demanding to know what I do about the situation.

As I fill him in, a swell of power grows within the car until it's almost a tangible thing. Then for another first, he turns in his seat to comfort her, saying we're going to find the Infernal that was taken. There's something in the way that he looks and speaks to her that leaves me with even more questions, but I leave it for now as I continue telling them what happened.

When Rite involvement comes into doubt, I have no choice, but to be truthful. More than just the dream, I get the sense that another war is brewing on the horizon, and she, more than anyone, being the arbiter, should prepare themselves.

We've just pulled up to the location when she tells us to stop. I watch in silence at first as her second form takes over and resurfaces those chills. This one looks more like the one I've been seeing in the dream. I know I should mention all of this to Larkan. I should, but I don't.

It isn't until I've taken them back to the airport and watched them disappear through the doors that I begin to question myself on why I didn't. To be honest, I'm not sure who this new arbiter is, and if she's going to sway one way or the other as all her predecessors have. The one thing I do know for certain is that she's going to need to stay perfectly balanced if we don't want the horror in my dream coming to light.

Once we’ve landed back in Maine, we’ve taken no more than ten steps off the plane before Larkan’s phone beeps in his pocket. I try not to eavesdrop, instead focusing on the fact that I can still feel Monroe, which means that it wasn’t a distance thing. I want to sigh in relief, but the look on Larkan’s face as he hangs up his phone stops me.

“What is it?” I ask him.

He cuts his eyes over to me, several emotions warring within his expression. “There’s been a new development.”

What now? I give him until we make it through the crowd and out to his SUV to question him. “Care to explain that phone call?”

The doors unlock as he says, “Get in the car, and I’ll explain on the way.”

I huff but do as he says and hop in. Once I’m buckled, my fingers tap an impatient tempo on the door, waiting for his explanation.

Since I’m already looking at him, I notice when his hands tighten on the steering wheel and a weird look passes over his face. “I wanted you in the car because I didn’t want you running off to try anything stupid.”

At this I want to either punch him, or…no, I just want to punch him. “Just tell me what it is, damn it.”

“There was an incident at the club while we were gone,” he spits out.

I laugh. “There hasn’t been what you call ‘an incident’ in years. My people know how to shut that shit down.”

He shakes his head as he looks at me with sympathy. “It wasn’t during business hours. The Rites on scene pulled your security cameras and confirmed that it wasn’t Rites that attacked.”

“Attacked?!” I bark. “Who the fuck was attacked, and it’s awfully convenient that the first ones on scene are Rites that confirm it wasn’t them.” I’m not sure why I’m lashing out at him or the Rites. It’s neither of their faults, and the small amount of time in Louisiana was enough proof of that for me. I just can’t seem to stop myself. I need someone to take this frustration out on. “Who was attacked, Larkan?”

His head tilts over to the left a little, and he licks his lips, almost like he was hoping that I wouldn’t ask again. “Jamie and Cedric were the only ones there.”

I can’t conceal the shock on my face that hits me right in the heart.

“Are they okay?” I whisper.

Silence fills the car, and I want to scream on top of murdering everything within a ten-mile range. First Monroe, now Jamie and Cedric. I turn back to him, trying my best not to stare daggers through his face. It’s not his fault after all. “So, they were taken too?”

Scrunching up his face, it makes it hard for me to read his expression. “They took Jamie.”

The implications of his words hit me square in the chest. There’s no way that they would have taken Jamie if Cedric was still alive. Fuck!

“And did those cameras show just where Enoch was during this whole thing?” I grind out.

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