Eye For A Fucking Eye
Bitch King
Bishop made his way to Seer’s room, ready to face the mud.
He paused at his door, trying to get a reading on what he was walking into.
He knocked softly after hearing no sound.
Still nothing.
He turned the knob and peeked in.
His eyes snagged on Seer. Breathing on his own but with respirator mask help. IV fluids, crash cart nearby.
It was the still as death part that Bishop couldn’t get past. In his head or stomach.
He sat in the chair next to the bed and carefully took Seer’s hand in his.
He wrapped his fingers around it, using every ounce of his upgrades to absorb all the details he never really considered.
Warmth, weight, texture. He moved his thumb over his roughened knuckles, letting his mind sink into everything they’d shared, diving into his memories and collecting each one then searching every second and facet for the things he’d missed.
Missed because he was too busy thinking of himself.
And Seer… he was always thinking of him.
“…I never told you this, son, but when you was in that dark spell, the Lord woke me up one night. Told me to pray for you… not light prayers, either. He had me on my face…. He still does that to this day... I’m hoping you can figure out why.”
“Make sure I don’t fuck up too badly?”
Bishop brought his forehead to Seer’s hand, still seeing the smile that had split his face. “Not quite. Because he likes you.”
The words burned just like they had the first time Seer said them.
He only knew God’s love through Seer. He never felt it other than what passed through his brother.
And that was almost too much to fucking bear, given his love affair with rage and bitterness.
All aimed at the One who used Bishop’s favorite human to love him through.
Bishop moved his face along Seer’s hand. “You have to live,” he strained, pressing his lips on his hand. “I just… want you here, that’s all,” he gasped. “Breathing the same air as me.”
Bishop’s phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket.
Fucking Creole Kings. Calling another meeting.
He scrolled through the texts and his heart dropped. A text from Seer.
Pray for me, Brother. Fiery trials are coming my way.
Air rushed out of him as he looked at the date. “Oh fuck,” he strained around a sob, grabbing Seer’s hand in both of his. “No. No, no no.” He’d called for him two days ago. And he wasn’t there, he wasn’t fucking there! “I’m sorry brother, I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I didn’t see it. I didn’t see it.”
Bishop fought with the bed rail and lowered it, laying on Seer’s chest, holding him tight.
“What’s wrong!” Cherie gasped hurrying in.
Bishop couldn’t stop the flood of agony, couldn’t let him go. “He asked me to pray for him,” he said, everything breaking in him. “And I didn’t see it!”
“When?” Cherie gasped, gripping his shoulder.
“Yesterday,” he forced out. “He was scared, Cherie! He knew this was coming and he needed me and I didn’t see it!” he wept, hugging him. “He needed me and I didn’t fucking see it!”
****
Another meeting in the hall.
Bishop sat in the center of his men at their table.
He’d talked Beth out of attending, then realized she hadn’t had the chance to tell him what she’d deciphered from that last drawing from Maggie.
He was too everything wrong to have her and the baby near him.
He couldn’t handle accidentally making her cry.
The room was full of the usual bodies, all of them blurry in his dazed vision. Nidev’s words moved in and out of his head, finding nowhere to land. He did notice his tone was missing an entire octave. The one that defined a King.
He tried to listen. “Coins… hostages… dead kings… new data…”
Seer would be fucking pissed if he knew his mind jacked off during the end of the world.
He forced his focus, moving his gaze over the room.
“Bout’ fucking time,” Shank muttered, as Nidev turned on a projector.
“We’ve put the Dead King intel in the order of hierarchy.
” He stood at the projector, oil pencil in hand.
“Starting at the bottom of the hierarchy, we have the first three Dead Kings under the first General. Then three more Dead Kings under the second General and the final three Dead Kings under the third General. And the Hollow King over all of them.”
He loaded the next sheet. “This intel defines who they are and the powers they possess. Starting with the General of Chains.”
He drew a slow black line under his title.
“He rules control, betrayal, and domination. His armies are three Dead Kings—Maltheron, Tharax, and Draxararmy.
Second is the General of Blight. He rules deception, corruption, and defilement. His Dead Kings are Vyris, Calverus, and Morvain.
General of Ash is the last General. He rules greed, violence, despair, and annihilation. His three Dead Kings are Ash, Xyrren, and Erythion.”
Nidev put another sheet up. “The most important thing we learned with the recent coin is how their powers are interlocked. Power moves down from the Hollow King, through the Generals, into the Dead Kings, then into the human vessels. When the vessel dies, the power returns up the same chain carrying the death with it. Fear, pain, rage, blood memory, final breath. Every return makes the power stronger.”
Murmurs of fury and shock moved through his men as these fatal dots connected with the ugly truth.
Bishop stood and his chair crashed to the floor and every one of his twelve stood with him.
Silence choked the room as Bishop stared at the King responsible for the refugees that were killed and his best friend being in a coma.
All for his fucking lust.
Bishop shoved the table out of his way and every person came out of their chairs.
Bishop stormed toward Nidev and his men formed a shield of fists around him while he calculated the blood he owed for his selfish sins.
His system used the eye for an eye measurement, and the sum was way fucking more than Nidev could pay.
Bishop’s rage locked on his face—ground zero for debt collection.
The King headed right toward him as Bishop raced through his moral codes for every form of extraction allowed.
He used his upgraded speed and took the King to the floor faster than his eye could calculate.
Rapid debt collection began, his fists harvesting blood, skin and bone before the King could even find the fight.
Bodies came at him from every side, but his Twelve were right there, ripping them off as he exacted their vengeance. Their roars fueled his adrenaline and the rest of the noise drowned in his rage.
“Bishop!” his wife screamed, her power slamming into his bloody fist inches from Nidev’s face. “Samuel’s awake!”
NOT THE END!
OBVIOUSLY!