Chapter 8 Prey
PREY
Roan’s blood and flesh tasted meaty and rich like stew cooked for a long time at a low temperature over an open flame.
The bottom of the pot would always burn just a little bit no matter how often Legion had stirred it when their mother had made such a meal.
Their mother would slap them on the back of the head when it burned.
The truth was that they liked that caramelized, smoky taste that would permeate the stew so the smack had always been worth it.
Of course, Legion could have made her stop hitting them if they had so wanted.
They had secreted a knife on their person by the time they were five.
They’d used it by the time they were five-and-a-half.
An old drunk who had tried to fondle them.
He’d been left with a slit throat and severed cock and balls in his stupid mouth.
They hadn’t tasted the drunk’s blood, but the next one they did.
Touched the widening, cooling pool around the washer woman’s head and sucked on their fingers afterwards.
It hadn’t tasted like blood did to them now.
More like metal and dirt. But they’d felt like those few drops connected them with their prey. They were connected forever.
Murderer and victim.
Though Legion had never thought of them as victims. The word “victim” added a moral worth to the persons they killed.
But their prey, in the beginning, were the least moral.
Criminals or the deranged by drug, drink or metal defect.
People that others didn’t care about and didn’t realize were gone, or maybe didn’t care that they were gone.
Legion had only switched to other prey–prey of their choice, of their desires, of their dreams–after they grew older and the kills were more assured and they had gotten better at hiding the bodies.
Not even in those olden times when life had been cheaper, police non-existent and life far harder had the authorities looked at children as real threats.
Not because they were seen as children. They weren’t.
They were mini-adults. But as such they were small, weak, and mostly unnoticed.
Especially if they pretended to be a little dim and took abuse that others wanted to throw at them without hitting back.
And Legion had done that for a long time. Hadn’t hit back. Hadn’t bit back. If they wanted something other than death, they had to suppress their natural instinct to get it. And they had thought that Roan was the only way to get what they wanted most of all.
Weryn.
But Roan had only ever given them a cold stone that couldn’t talk to them, couldn’t hold them, couldn’t feed them, and couldn’t be by their side.
So they’d had the soul released and Weryn had been reborn.
They’d looked and looked for Weryn everywhere.
On every corner of the planet. They’d know him or her or them. They’d know.
Except they hadn’t known.
They’d met Ryder and knew all about him for years before they had known he was Weryn.
Ryder had hunted down War Children who broke the rules with the skill of a much older predator.
He’d been on Legion’s scent a few times.
Sent out by Lawson–one of their own cast away Children–again and again almost as if Lawson had hoped that one hunt Ryder would not return from, Ryder had proved himself strong, sure, and capable.
Proud of Ryder’s strength, but jealous and leery of it, too, Lawson had known that Ryder was a danger to his leadership.
Lawson hadn’t been wrong to fear Ryder. From the get go, it was clear that Ryder was a leader.
An effortless alpha of the sort that had existed in the Weryn Bloodline before the War.
Lawson was strong, but grasping. He’d had some personal appeal, but his own insecurities had overcome him.
Instead of making sure that Ryder was his friend, he’d made him into an enemy.
But that was because Lawson could never be what Ryder respected.
For Ryder mixed strength with mercy. Again, something that had not been in the Weryn Bloodline for some time.
Ryder had shown pity many times for the Weryn War Children, letting some go.
If there had been a way to turn them back to what was acceptable behavior, Ryder had done that instead of simply slaughtering them.
Legion remembered one lion shifter in particular named Lara who had been as great a believer in the Sect of Dawn’s cause as could be before she met Ryder.
But afterwards, she’d separated herself from the group and made overtures to join an older pack.
Legion had killed her because she knew too much about them and was sure to confess it all at some point. Especially if she met Ryder again.
Ryder had been feared greatly more for his ability to turn War Children back to the path than for his prowess killing them. It was almost as if he could reach into the souls of the War Children and remove their will to fight. Knowing now who Ryder truly was, it made sense that he could do this.
He was Weryn.
He was their Immortal.
Their leader.
Their maker.
And only he could offer absolution.
But Ryder was so different from Weryn. That was why Legion hadn’t recognized him.
The madness, the grief, the raging loss was not there.
Ryder smiled and laughed. Ryder took care of people around him, caring even for those that didn’t deserve it.
No brooding, violent, acid-tongued Immortal was he. No, he was warm and strong and loyal.
That’s who Weryn used to be. Before losing Ashyr. Before the War. I never knew him at all. No! NO! I did know him. I sensed this within him. And now he is the person I always knew him to be.
Not that this version of Weryn wasn’t without flaws.
He had arguably let Lawson live too long and bring weak members into the Bloodline.
He had not taken any fledglings for his own, separating himself from others, not acting as pack.
But now with Lawson gone, he was rectifying that latter point too.
But he’d chosen a pretty–if weak and vapid–human boy, Grayson, as his next fledgling.
He was letting those who had simply run away from the War to rejoin the Bloodline without any punishment.
Perhaps he does not know what they did. His memory is uncertain. But I could remind him. I could make him remember everything. The soul gem will only give him the ghosts of his past, but I could make them real.
“You–you–YOU!” Roan shrieked as he cradled his injured hand to his chest.
Shaela had taken a step away. Her eyes widely flickering between the two of them as if she wasn’t sure where the true danger lay. Legion swallowed the fingers. Their long tongue slithered out to lick up the blood that stained their jaws and teeth. Their stomach rumbled. Wanting more.
Due to their need to hide their activities in the Ever Dark, Legion had not been able to indulge. They always drained their prey eventually, but what gave them the utmost pleasure was eating them alive. The soft parts first. So many soft parts. Legion wanted more of those now.
“You shouldn’t have said those things to me, Roan,” Legion said in a small, light voice.
Insane rage was pulsing through Roan’s eyes.
The veins in his temples were pulsing. Spittal collected on his lower lip.
He was shaking. But in this rage, he was weak, because he couldn’t control himself or his gift.
Despite being in an Eyros form and being powerful with the mind control gift at times, Roan could lose that control. Slip. And he was slipping.
I should kill him. He will not forgive this. But killing him does not rid me of him. Then I will just have the other hims after me.
“You fucking moron! You really have done it this time!” Roan raged. “You think I won’t destroy you, Legion? That I won’t use you as a goddamned finger puppet? People may follow you, but just as many will be relieved if I get rid of you!”
“You’re right that I came here because I want Weryn to find me,” Legion said quietly. “I told you from the very beginning what I wanted. But you wouldn’t give it to me. Or perhaps you couldn’t give it to me.”
And that was why Legion hesitated now. Were they right that Roan could not use the Eyros gift to turn Weryn towards them?
“I put that bastard in a gem for you! You had him in your pocket for thousands of years!” Roan roared.
“I didn’t want him in a gem. I wanted him alive and with me,” Legion said with a shake of their massive head. “Only you would think having a gem was the same thing as having a person with you.”
“It’s better!” Roan spat. “Because people will sorely disappoint you. Each and every damned time.”
Legion advanced on Roan. A simple shuffle of clawed feet.
They needed to be a bit closer before they truly lunged if they had to.
Roan was trying to collect himself. He seemed to need that quite a lot these days.
If they were close enough, Roan wouldn’t be able to grab their mind before they had his throat.
If he is no longer useful to me… is he? Isn’t he? Is he truly just withholding Weryn from me because we haven’t completed our goals? But what are our goals now? Daemon has returned and nothing, not even the artifact that Roan retrieved, can truly eliminate him.
“I used to think that you would resurrect him as you promised. Caemorn–Kaly–brought back two people at once,” Legion said. “So it was possible. But then I realized that maybe it wasn’t for you. Maybe you’re too weak to do it.”
Roan’s eyes narrowed. “You really want to get into more trouble with your mouth tonight, Legion?”
“You are not Kaly,” Legion said. “Not anyone. You are a shadow of a shadow. So I do not believe that you could have resurrected Weryn for me back in the day.”
“Why would I waste effort and energy bringing him back after I got him in the soul gem?” Roan asked.