CHAPTER SIX
BARON
One Hundred Years Earlier
Mortal Realm
The darkness embraces me, rocks me in its dark cradle.
“Arise my chosen one,” a melodic, sweet voice interrupts the nothingness of my slumber.
“Arise my champion of darkness, of shadow.”
Then the peace, warmth, and tranquility of the void is lost to me as a chilling cold takes its place, enveloping me with the breath of ice.
“Arise my Revenant,” the saccharine female voice continues, beckoning me forth. I am unable to deny her whisper, to resist her compulsion.
I can feel again. And all I feel is a chill that emanates from deep within me. My chest is heavy, constricted.
“Come, my Shadow Knight.”
The words, as soft as fluttering wings, are an order to a body that cannot refuse them. And I am locked inside that body. My eyes snap open of their own accord. And though it is pitch blackness, I can see.
But what I see does not make sense to me. It is the top of something round that surrounds me on all sides. I am trapped beneath it. I turn my neck. No, I am trapped within it.
“Call on your shadows, Revenant, tell them to free you.”
Something burns within me. Determination, perhaps.
I do not understand what the voice is saying but I feel something welling up within me all the same. It flutters and fills me with a buoyancy I struggle to describe.
I feel my hands come up on either side of me, and my palms place themselves flat against whatever is encapsulating me. I push.
What feels like wood begins to splinter beneath my hands, breaking away as something dark and crumbly falls against my face and into my mouth.
Dirt. And worms.
I close my eyes as I continue pushing against the wood, cracking it with the sheer force of my strength.
I feel myself sitting up as more of the wet earth pushes against me, trying to drive me back into the cold and moist darkness. I claw at the dirt, digging through it as I force myself into a standing position. The dirt falls around me, filling the cavity of the hole that holds me captive.
I dig upward, never pausing, never stalling, even when I realize I am not breathing—there is no expansion in my chest, nor the feeling of air filling my lungs. I do not breathe and yet I am animate. I cannot explain it.
Instead, I dig for what feels like an eternity. And when I finally feel nothing but air beneath my fingertips, I do not pause. I pull myself from the crevice even as it attempts to suck me ever downward.
“Open your eyes and behold a world you have not seen in far too long,” the voice announces, but its mistress is nowhere to be seen. “You have arrived, Revenant.”
The dirt falls away from my eyes as I blink, allowing my vision to adjust to the bright moonlight that acts as a beacon upon me. I do not understand where I am. Colors are dim, as though bathed in a wash of gray, and every sound is foreign, new. The world appears strange.
I glance around myself and feel a shudder pass through me at what I see.
Headstones, old and broken.
Some are nothing more than crumbling masonry. The ground is uneven, sprayed here and there with tufts of mostly dead grass.
I am in the hallowed ground of the dead, surrounded by those engaged in a sleep that has been denied me.
Brief images suddenly splatter through my confused mind. Before this place, I existed somewhere else. That place was dark, too, but the darkness was not akin to this. It was not so cold. A fleet of faces, scenes, and feelings blast me at the same time—all jumbled and confused.
“What has happened?” I demand, my voice sounding scratchy. As though I have not used it in decades. But it is my voice all the same; I recognize it.
“You have returned upon my dictate,” the voice answers. “I have awoken you from your forever sleep, Revenant, because I have need of you.”
My forever sleep? I try to understand what this means, to understand what came before this moment, but my memory is a blank slate. There is nothing there, other than the flood of images that feel more like a half-forgotten dream.
I do not understand how it is possible, but I understand what has happened.
I was dead.
Perhaps, I still am.
I attempt to stand, but I am wobbly on my feet and must grasp onto a large headstone so I do not lose my footing. As I do, a gentle rain begins to fall, bathing me in cold tears.
Looking down upon myself, I find the dirt that coats me becoming mud, successfully camouflaging my ripped and mostly disintegrated clothing. I wonder how long I was buried within the unforgiving ground.
Somehow, I have been returned to a world I vacated long ago. How long ago, I am uncertain, as the hollowness of my memory is unreliable at best.
I throw my head back and open my mouth as wide as it will go as a scream blasts from my lips, echoing through the headstones of the city of the dead.
***
BARON
Mortal Realm
I sit in a plush, velvet lounge chair with a woman in my lap. I don’t know her name. She wears only stockings, held up by a black lace garter belt, and her breasts are in my face. Not that I mind. I busily drink from the generous artery in her neck. Her blood tastes like earth, which is unsurprising since she’s a satyr.
The woman isn’t the reason I’m here—the man just behind her is. He’s my target: a half-orc who looks mostly human, except for his immense height and girth, pointed ears, underslung jaw, and fangs. He’s beyond ugly.
The target sits perhaps ten feet to my right, with a faerie on his lap who is one-quarter the size he is. I’m not exactly certain what he plans to do with her or how he plans on doing it, but because this is a brothel, perhaps I’m just being ignorant.
Regardless, I have a job to do.
Once I have satiated myself on the satyr’s blood, I stand, feigning the need to visit the restroom. As I’m a bloodsucker, I have no digestive system of which to speak of, thus it’s unnecessary for me to relieve myself.
The satyr is so high on Atacomite , she isn’t bothered when I separate myself from her. In fact, I doubt she even realizes I’ve been feeding on her for the last ten minutes. And, no, the Atacomite has no effect on me. Over the years, I’ve developed a tolerance for most poisons.
Using the shadows that animate me, I bathe myself in a cloud of night, appearing as a space of relative darkness to anyone who cares to look my way. It would not behoove me for anyone to remember my face. Not that anyone in this room could, anyway. Prior to becoming shadow, I had used my inherent magic to alter my image, ensuring no one would recognize me if the need for such discretion ever arose.
I start towards my target, the half-orc.
He is busily kissing the faerie, nearly consuming her entire face and slobbering all over her in the process. Revolting. But also, not my business.
I move with the shadows until I’m standing just behind him, but he and the faerie are no more aware of me than anyone else in the room. Just as I planned.
I hold my hands together until my shadows take shape between them, then release the Death Mark —a black sigil of Shadow Magic. The mark latches onto the back of the target’s head, and the sigil pulses with my shadows, creating a bond between executioner and victim. I will be able to track him now, wherever he goes.
But my business here isn’t quite finished.
I glance down and unwind the leather reticule from around my waist. Opening the flap, I behold the array of vials of liquids and powders contained within it—my poisoning kit. I run my fingers across them until I reach the one I’m searching for: Spined Devil Venom. I pull the glass vial out.
The liquid is a deep midnight blue, oily and thick. Once it travels into the target’s blood stream, it will cause his body to become sluggish as the poison attacks the muscles and essential tissues that aide the body in movement. The Spined Devil Venom simply makes it easier for me to finish my job later.
Pulling the smallest of my daggers from within my shirt sleeve, I tug the cork from the bottle and dip the pointy end of the blade into the blue liquid until it coats perhaps a quarter of an inch. It’s not much, but I don’t require much—a slight scratch on the target’s neck will do the trick.
I replace the cork in the vial, then place the vial beside its brethren and tie the black, leather cord around my waist once again. Then, using the shadows to blind my activities, I approach the target. My feet don’t make a sound as the shadows surround me entirely, acting as misty buffers beneath my soles.
Holding the edge of the blade to the target’s neck, I graze him only slightly. It will feel like he’s been bitten by a pesky insect. As I imagine, he immediately scratches his neck before continuing to grope his acquaintance.
The target stands a few seconds later. His breath is already slowing; the poison works quickly. He lifts the tiny faerie and she wraps her legs around his waist with a high-pitched giggle. They exit the room, heading to the bedrooms upstairs to further their carnal pleasures. Or so he believes.
I’m quick behind my target, though I’m uninterested in watching his bedroom antics. But it will be easier to escape unnoticed if I make my exit where there are fewer onlookers. Upstairs provides an empty hallway.
Once I reach the top of the stairs, I start forward, my Shadow Magic allowing me to walk directly through the brick wall ahead of me. I do so and gently float down to the cobbled street below, my feet making no sound at all when they touch down.
I hide in the shadows, allowing them to envelop me in their welcoming embrace. And then I simply await my target to empty from the whorehouse. I finger the chain of bones I wear around my neck and wonder how much longer this bastard will be. I’m a busy man.
The target will not be long. The Spined Devil Venom will see to that.
I feel a pull from the Death Mark, alerting me that the target is coming closer.
I know nothing about the half-orc’s identity, other than his species, but neither do I care. All I care about is payment. And that will come soon enough.
The target walks past me, where I lurk in the shadows of the alley. His gait is already sluggish. I step out from my hiding place and follow him. Using the shadows that pollute me, I weave them around myself until I simply blend into the darkness and no one can detect me, all the while running my fingers over the bones that decorate my neck.
I watch him unlock his vehicle and take a seat behind the wheel. He starts the car and proceeds forward. No matter. As a vampire, I’m known for my exceptional speed. It’s no feat to keep up with him.
He pulls into the garage of a well-to-do home in one of the few prestigious areas still remaining. I imagine he works for Variant. Otherwise, he wouldn’t enjoy such blessings. If such is the case, I’ll enjoy finishing this job more than I thought I would.
He turns his vehicle off and throws the door open, lurching to his feet. He sways before struggling to his front door and, once inside, collapses on the floor. I’m seconds behind him.
Before entering, I close my eyes and send my shadows out to detect if there’s anyone else here—anyone I haven’t planned for. There isn’t. The place is clear. I proceed after the target.
He still doesn’t know he’s being followed. He drags himself across the marble floor. Even though we’re bathed in the pitch of night, I possess Darkvision and, thus, can see. And this bastard is loaded. I’m certain his riches are ill-gotten.
He stops moving once he reaches the center of the room and then just lays there. Then he flips himself over until he’s facing the ceiling, his chest rising and falling with his elevated breathing. No doubt he’s wondering what’s happened to him.
I stand above him and allow my shadows to melt away. In the guile of night, he won’t be able to decipher the features of his executioner. And even if he does, it won’t matter much longer.
I untie the leather straps from my waist and glance down at my family of poisons.
“Who do you work for?” I ask as I lean over him. Of course, he’s too far gone at this point to respond, so I do it for him. “Variant? Blink twice if the answer is yes.”
He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t blink. Just stares straight ahead.
I chuckle, a menacing, ugly sound. “We can do this one of two ways. Either way, you’re going to die. But I can make that death a fairly pleasant one or, with the help of Ghoul Oil , I can ensure you suffer a long bout of insanity before the Death Knight finally claims you. Or perhaps you’d prefer to be eaten from the inside out, courtesy of my Lich Dust?” I pause, mainly for dramatic effect. “I don’t advise death by Lich Dust. It’s painful and messy.” Leaning down, I put my mouth right next to his ear and whisper, “so I shall ask you again, do you work for Variant?”
He blinks twice.
I stand up with a quick nod. “I thought so.” Then, I shuffle through my menagerie of poisons. Yes, I could simply drain him, but the Spined Devil Venom will have spread through his entire system by now, and it’s not the most pleasant taste.
Instead, I reach down into my reticule and produce the vial of Unknowing Death . To the ignorant onlooker, it appears as though the vial is empty—but therein is the Unkowing Death’s beauty. Quite the contrary, it’s full of an invisible agent that, once inhaled, provides death almost immediately.
Owing to the fact that I have no respiratory system, I’m safe when handling airborne poisons.
I uncork the vial, then bring it just below the target’s nose. Gripping his jaw with my free hand, I press his mouth shut. It’s a matter of seconds before he’s forced to breathe through his nose. As soon as he inhales the Unknowing Death , I recork the vial and place it back in my armory, then stand to watch the poison take action.
The Unknowing Death kills by evaporating all liquid from a target’s body, reducing him to a pile of bones. And it does so within perhaps two minutes.
The paymaster who hired me for this job requires proof of the target’s death. Thus, I must take the extra step of securing what’s left of the half-orc’s body. Releasing the clasp, I pull the chain of bones from around my neck. Each one is hollow, open on one end, and two to three inches long. I select one of the bones and hold it up, willing my shadows to blow into it since I’m unable. Rather than the sound of air coming from the other end, the bone plays a note, deep and doleful.
My shadows begin to swirl around what was once the half-orc and is now merely a pile of bones and bodily debris, shrinking everything into a mass that is perhaps a centimeter in length and width. Then, the mess is summarily whisked into the hollow recess of the bone. When there’s nothing left on the floor, I stand and replace the chain around my neck where it belongs. Soon, I will deliver the remains of the half-orc to the paymaster. Once the remains are freed from the bone, they will return to their original size.
The target will be identified by his teeth.