Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Lagos
Twenty-three years ago
I thrash my head from side to side. The sandstorm outside roars, roars, roars, building the ache in my cranium.
Behind my eyelids, I see… her.
The last girl. My last innocent kill. The one on the bed, with cum and blood dripping down her thighs and my finger marks marring her slim, white neck.
I hiss, wanting the disturbing vision to go away, desperate to be released from her, from whoever she was, and the incomplete memory of what happened. What happened? What fucking happened? I fucked her and killed her—that’s what happened. Why? Because of the coil. The coil. The fucking coil…
I come to… Tormented and half-conscious, my heart continues to break against my ribs. I’m in the back seat of the truck... Not in the room anymore. I realise this.
Half-asleep, I lift my hand to the side of my head, feeling the tender skin around my metal plate. It’s been there for five months now, but they removed bone and sliced into my grey matter— Healing is taking its toll.
It's gone; the coil is gone.
I open my eyes. The sight of the girl dissolves, but the self-loathing stays in its impenetrable fort within me.
“Lagos.” Tomar opens the truck door and slides in the front seat, his face filled with excitement at first. He stops, his expression dropping. “Another nightmare, brother?"
I blink the sleep away, clearing the vision of him, only then realising there were tears. I had fucking tears in my eyes.
I jolt up and wipe at my face, fixing my features into hard lines, defiant of emotion. “What do you want?”
“Well,”—he lifts a brow— “good first-light to you, too.”
“Leave me,” I snap.
“No.” He dismisses, and I try to focus and awaken. As I fully align myself with reality, I realise there is no sandstorm. There is no noise at all.
So used to the constant noise torture I endured at the compound, my mind fills my dreams and nightmares with riotous sounds as a default. Similar to any other standard of life: grass is green; water is clear; rocks are grey, and the skies fucking roar.
It's just more torture… More torment. I remember what they called it, Noise Conditioning.
Tomar twists to face me. “I have something to show you, my young Xin De Shadow.”
I drop my head back. “I’m only eight years younger than you, Tomar.” Vulnerability over his sharp gaze on my tears churns into anger. “Let me sleep!” I snap defensively. “I was dreaming about pussy, something you’ll never understand, or you’d weep, too.”
He hums, momentarily unimpressed that I taunted his beliefs. Archaic beliefs almost long forgotten— almost.
God. Jesus. Mary.
Just more fairy-tales.
But it is this belief system that secures him connections and loyalties across The Cradle. Other believers are present in almost every pocket. The doctor who removed my coil—a believer. Trade men, even lords, many who keep this faith in secret.
“I have something to show you,” he repeats. “Wake up.”
And I snarl, closing my eyes to block him out. “Why is it so fucking quiet?”
“Because…” His voice fills with enthusiasm, my mood washing off him like it always does. He has a twenty-second rebound rate, and he’s back to his Purpose. “I parked the truck in a fucking cave , brother. No Redwind.”
My eyes cut open, and I straighten. “What do you mean in a cave?” I get a good look at him—bright—as if he has been solving problems and dealing with people all day while I slept in the back of the truck. Through the window, I study the jagged rocks on all sides of the vehicle. My heart slows down, but thumps deeper, heavier as if the organ draws in a breath and relaxes.
“You remember I told you about the Half-tower? How it’s The Trade’s most neglected tower? How there are people who want to escape? People we can help, people you can help, heal your soul?—”
I snarl.
It’s too early for this.
“What fucking hour is it, Tomar?”
“It’s first-light.” He waves his hand, way too eager for my liking. “I drove through the night. Now listen. You remember the underground town? The Bite. The one near the Half-tower. The one we thought didn’t exist…” He nods his annoying head, his lips drawing out into a huge smile. “I found it! We’re here!”
Here.
His words find their mark inside me, joining my anger, self-loathing, and disdain for life.
Help people.
Heal your soul.