Chapter 8
S O R E N
N o words are spoken as I near a chair across from the Scorpion, sensing an aura that is familiar—glancing down, there’s a letter with a broken seal, one I recognize.
Why is Corvus writing Ritter?It’s so fresh I can still feel his energy on it.
My fingers roll as I think of the ring on my forefinger with a serpent imprint and how the Council’s customary wax merges with the heated ring to create something akin to naprese gold. It’s a seal no man can forge, and when it’s broken, it crumbles to pieces; impossible to read a letter and reseal.
An unnatural quiet surrounds us, despite Ritter being only a few feet from me—he might as well be a statue, so heavy in contrast to all the chaos outside here.
So, some part of me still works, even if I couldn’t feel Shade or him. Something is being blocked within me.
Narrowing my eyes, I raise my gaze to stare right at him. I wonder if this cunt knows anything about that? Yes… he’s absolutely shrouding himself, and I have no idea how or why.
“How is Jane?” he stiffly asks, sipping on a pewter mug that he taps with his forefinger.
“She’s had her life ripped from her, and now you’re back like you got lost on the way home. So she’s coping to the best of her ability,” I reply, sitting down on a moth-eaten velvet couch to alleviate feeling lightheaded.
I pour a pitcher of clear liquid, not realizing how parched I am. “Do I need to worry about poison?” The words lazily roll from my lips.
“No,” he answers dryly. “You’re not done being useful yet.”
I drain every last drop of water, sighing with relief as I stare at the ceiling that a fucking ruby grows out of like this place is infested with rubied mold.
Ritter sets his mug down before fidgeting with one of his rings—an elaborate one that’s made of silver with a hint of magic I can’t decipher—his hands part as he retreats them into the pockets of his cloak.
My eyes widen as a fierce wave of so many fucking layers that are unmistakably Ritter—of the Scorpion in all his enigmatic glory; I feel as if I’m trying to breathe underwater with how much it washes over me, pulling me deeper into a sea of unspoken crevices of his soul.
I can read him just as clearly as that room I walked through. “What the fuck just changed?”
He cocks an eyebrow, arrogance in his gaze. “Not going to read me in silence?”
“Answer my question,” I reiterate, my voice steady.
He scoffs, the sound dripping with condensation. “What authority do you think you have over me to make demands?”
I’m fucking your daughter .
I nearly laugh to myself, but I know that’s a petty comment. No, there’s one that, even after only a few seconds of being exposed to him that I know will crawl right underneath his skin. “Jane trusts me more than you. By a significant margin.”
After having been around him with no input, the emotions emanating from Ritter are profound and… deadly. Jane trusting me more than him is like a poisonous assault to his nervous system. My survival is born and bred in a dog-eat-dog world, and there’s incredible triumph in having such leverage over the Scorpion.
I’m relevant to him now.
Stupid fucker.
“Do I need to watch my back around you, Ritter?” I tease, so eager to rub salt deeper into the wound. “That might piss her off, you know, if you try to kill me.”
He leans over slightly on one knee, rich brown eyes digging deep into me in a look forged over decades of sharpening his threats. “I’ve lived as another man to hide from my daughter for over a decade to ensure the cunt that killed my wife will face a very undignified end, and to simultaneously protect Jane for as long as I can afford to breathe.” He tilts his head slightly to straighten it. “Imagine what I’d do to the man that hurts, or kills, my Jane.”
Now this is utterly fascinating to finally meet Charles Ritter . “Will be quite challenging if you’re dead, and the way this city is moving, that’s a high probability for all of us. So what’s your point?”
“Oh, I have ensured that in my unlikely death, vengeance will still reign.” He leans back to get more comfortable in his seat. “I may be out of shape, but I still have my networks, and many owe me a debt.” He pauses, a sense of exultation exuding from him that feels callous. “That sister of yours is your weakness—yes, I’m very aware of it. You hurt Jane, in any way, Soren , and I’ll see to it that she is hurt, too.” He casually looks at the rings on his fingers and the naked forefinger. “Perhaps even involve your dear mother, somehow. I’m not here to make others suffer if it’s not needed, though. I’m getting too old for this reckless shit, so don’t make it necessary.”
My fingers twitch, knowing the exact blade I’d reach for and where I’d want to plunge it into him. Or grab one of the stone busts to smash his face in. No, stop. What else is expected from the Scorpion? He might have been gentle with Jane, but she has never seen her father outside that role.
He's a ruthless cunt to the rest of the world, an enemy no one wants to make. I didn’t know how to bring that up to Jane, who was barely keeping herself together when she asked about him.
The Scorpion is feared for a reason.
And I don’t like that he mentioned Serena. Or my mother.
“You know of my sister,” I calmly state, as I rest the empty water cup back on the table and clear my throat.
“Oh,” he squares his shoulders, glaring at me with a viciousness I’d expect from him. “ And where she is.”
My breathing grows deeper, and I control my eyes from revealing the shock flooding my system. I swear to the fucking sirens that I can feel he is speaking the truth.
In a fluid movement, my left thumb unhooks a sheath as an upside-down blade slides out from around my thigh, moving to my feet so I can catch the hilt as gravity takes it. Ritter removes one from his sleeve at nearly the same pace.
My heart pounds from blood loss, my body shot. My ego refuses to acknowledge reason, which tells me I know I’m not winning here. Even if I overpower an aged Scorpion, his men will kill me before mine reach me.
Maybe just one stab…
Grinding teeth, my knuckles are white as I grip my blade. “How the fuck do you know that.”
“If you’d like to have a real conversation, let’s have one without the metal.” He looks at my hand and motions to it with his armed one. Calm down . Hesitantly, I slide the dagger back into its sheath and re-secure it, waiting for any suspicion that he might strike while my blade is away.
“Like before, let’s not waste time.” Ritter rolls his head around in a stretch before languidly blinking and staring me down, retaking his seat, and I do so as well. “First, let’s clear up the fact that Cypress is Jane and I’s great aunt from many, many generations ago. Jane doesn’t know that. And I’m not proud of hiding it. To be frank, Cypress is pure poison, but she also is her own antidote. So I’ll use her, knowing she won’t let Jane die while I poison the rest, even if that includes myself.”
I bet that witchy bitch is laughing somewhere, her ugly eyes blacked out.
“So that witch knows where my sister is, then? She probably even knows what roof is over her head and the exact passage I’d need to take to find her,” I state with clarity.
I knew Cypress was aware of my sister’s wellbeing, but to really accept she knows where Serena is, and is using me, makes me feel like my skin is peeling away at the seam. My sister is out there, no doubt suffering, and I have to play Cypress’s game with no insight as to when it’ll end, and for all I know, every day that Misery is alive is another day that Serena is in pain.
I barely register him mentioning they’re related .
Ritter gives a deep nod. “Save Jane’s life, and Cypress will tell you. I’m aware you two met recently, and in her vagueness, that’s what she meant by keeping my daughter alive. You will be given absolute clarity as to where to find your family once Misery is taken care of, and only then.”
“Why in the hells does Cypress need Jane alive so much? How are you certain that Jane isn’t a victim of Cypress like the rest of us, and we’re not just fattening Jane up for the slaughter rather than keeping her safe?”
“I’ve nearly begged for that information, but all Cypress told me is that Jane is essential for Misery’s return. And I don’t think she’ll let Jane die, or walk her to her death. She’s loyal to her god and her bloodline.”
I nearly laugh when I consider a month ago I thought Jane’s name was rather simple, and her stature much too small to warrant a Zenith calling for her. Now, she’s like a bona fide treasure who requires utmost security.
“So,” I begin, languidly pointing at him. “You have a plan, surely, of what to do here? Cypress must have given some kind of directive as to how we fight Misery?”
His entire face hardens in the dim lighting, his eyes shining when the fire flicks in a certain direction. His jaw flexes from grinding his teeth. “No. She hasn’t said a damn word in that regard. Just that we have to secure Jane.”
“Then she’s the most useless general in an armada I’ve ever met.”
He smiles, but not from humor. “Except she’s incredibly surgical when we remember her true allegiance is to her god, who despises Misery. My daughter just so happens to be the thing Misery requires to reclaim his body—for whatever reason—which means all of our survival is absolutely conditional on whether Jane’s heart beats or not. So in that, we don’t need to know shit. We just need to be able to follow orders.”
A sardonic snicker escapes me after listening without breathing. It’s ironic that two Zenith—two people who clearly want to be in charge—are left in the dark, much like those who follow us.
Every part of Ritter seems just as annoyed as I am, this room teaming with animosity directed toward the rubies that encroach upon the space.
“So then explain,” I say, a thought crossing my mind, leaning forward and speaking quietly. “How do we keep Jane safe if her literal existence is what makes or breaks Misery’s revival? People will come for her like she has the biggest bounty on her head.”
“Precisely the reason for so much caution. Cypress is aware, and it’s why she’s meticulous in her execution. The Order of Ash may very well know, same with Blackwell. But they have a vested interest in keeping Jane alive, so they won’t speak. But we have to get her out of the city before word spreads, if it does at all.”
I nod slightly, shifting in my seat. “I still want my first question answered, that you skipped over.” I slide my tongue over my teeth, my gaze lifting up at him. “Why can I feel you now?”
Ritter moves as if every minute gesture is purposeful, and as his hand dips into his pocket, there’s no rush as he pulls out the ring, like this moment—the entire situation—belongs to him.
He holds up the silver jewelry. “We are all like fish, being dragged around by a lure, unaware that those who use us are so much more powerful than we can fathom,” he answers, moving it around in his fingers. “Whatever magic connects all of your kind that allows you to see, feel, or read others can be manipulated. Cypress has made it so this ring and the ruby inside, when worn, can block prying powers, such as yours. She can control how much bleeds out, but if I take it off, its ability is moot.”
I glance immediately at one of the rubies growing out of the walls, no longer ‘guessing’ if that’s their true purpose.
Blackwell .
I nearly rise to my feet with this understanding, my racing heart staving off the exhaustion, even if it’s false. The fighter in me wants to storm the castle and rip the truth from him. Staring at the rubies, I accept that Cypress is probably aware of everything in here. Perhaps even controlling Jane somehow with the earrings she wears. My gaze lands back on Ritter. “Before anything else is said, are we allies in this, or are we to become enemies?”
“I exist to ensure Jane’s safety and happiness. So that answer is entirely dependent on you .”
The lamina of his facade seems so inconsequential when I can sense out the broken, angry man underneath the confidence.
“Let’s skip unnecessary chatter, then—Blackwell and Shade had the same issue as you,” I say, needing these answers. “And you said Blackwell is working with Misery, so does that god have the same ability to block them?”
He looks off, tucking the ring back into his pocket as he says, “If that’s true, then it does confirm Blackwell’s direct connection to Misery. Someone is granting him that ability, and I doubt it’s a Sensor. I’ve never heard of one giving their power to another. It’s either innate, or transferred from an ethereal source. And Cypress would never help anyone associated with Misery.”
“That bitch can’t see what Blackwell is using?” I ask with a little too much attitude.
I’m so fucking ready to gut someone.
“No,” he says, resolute, unaffected. “Whatever form Misery takes on now is akin to a corpse, but even then, his corpse-like state rivals Cypress, who's just a witch living off of her god’s endowment. If Misery wants something hidden from her, it will be so.”
I consider those words, and it’s hard to imagine a deity literally among us. “I can’t believe there’s a god who is creating all this mayhem. It honestly sounds like a fable.”
“Who knows what a god really is? All I know is that there are beings out there with powers that make us feel mortal. And you’d do well to accept this reality as quickly as possible. You’re useful to Cypress in all of this, and you have good leverage with your sister. You’re exactly what she wants, which means she’ll drain every last drop of potential you have.”
Our eyes connect, and no matter the skin he takes on, his atmospheric impression is the Scorpion —capable, determined, and I can’t ignore how the man feels utterly broken. Like finding a priceless painting with a giant gash ripped down the middle.
He has not been thriving, even if he looks like it. Seems his witchy aunt is draining everything out of him, too.
“What’s really happening, Ritter? You want my help? Then, reveal all the layers. And tell me everything, before you tell Jane.”
His chin tucks into his neck, like the request disgusts him. “Why the fuck would I tell you everything, especially before Jane?”
“Her heart is in a delicate place,” I respond in earnest. “I want to know what she has to take on.”
“Like you fucking care.” His voice is almost a growl as he leans back into his chair. “I’m honestly torn on whether it’s worth killing you after this is all said and done. Jane only believes she has affection for you because survival demands it of her.”
“And what would you know?”
“I’ve been following you both since you left Coalfell. Saw you walking her in chains .”
“It’s called putting on a show.”
“You took my daughter to appease the Council.” He grips the armrests tighter. “I get it. But still. Do you not think I’ve been trailing your shadow this entire time, not ready to stab your heart while you couldn’t read me? To take you down when the opening is so clear and easy?”
I stare at Ritter under this novel light of judging a man I once only knew through legendary tales. What if the fucker is telling the truth? I don’t get a single negative emotion from him toward Jane. Even then, I will dissect him as much as I can before he and Jane unveil more to each other. He is the reason her heart is wound so tightly, shredded in places she has tried to mend but failed. The way she kept looking at me when speaking to him, as if she needed me, fuels me with something dangerously tempting.
She knows who she is with. Who I am. The way I’d love would not be gentle, and that includes guarding her even from her father. And it seems like I’m affixed to that woman like an anchor to a ship, no matter what I do. Especially if the premonitions of her being in my future are true.
I’ll absolutely go out of my way to take care of her.
“Why didn’t you kill me already, if it was so easy?”
Ritter seems to mull that over. “Right before you arrived, Cypress warned me Jane would be in your company. Not when, or how. Just that she would be and not to interfere. But I would have killed you if you crossed a line. Too many of our kind are selfish and cruel. I wasn’t going to risk it.”
His proclamation to murder me hardly phases me—I’m quite used to, and expect many to take me down if they ever saw it as a benefit. One thing I note is that his passion for my death hits as deep as his words for Cypress. So, he speaks the truth about the witch, then? “How do you feel about Cypress if she was manipulating you? Why did you ever trust her?”
“I am kin, and she always saves her kin. Even if she fucks us over, she’ll keep our hearts beating. And I wasn’t ready to die. Nora—” he pauses, as if he can backtrack. But he has to know I read him just now—he grieves her still . “Would want me to live as long as possible to keep an eye on Jane. Even if she never saw my face again. Nora would want Jane to be safe. Truly safe.”
I lean forward to place my elbows on my knees. “Tell me everything, Ritter. Let me do what I do best, which is piece things together. If we both want out of here with as little carnage inflicted upon us as possible, I need to know it all .”
It’s odd to negotiate with him as if we are allies. Then again, is it really? We are both Zenith. His daughter is my charge now, especially if I want my sister back, let alone how I feel about her.
This is what I do among our little Council.
That changes something in him, just barely soothing out his irritation.
“First, tell me what you want with my daughter,” he declares, the indelicacy returning in his expression. “You have known her for just over a month.”
True. Even I have to remind myself of this often, and yet what I feel is profound. Does one really need to have been with someone for years before they know they’d stab a man for them? Or is it my unique magic that makes me so confident in her?
“That’s personal, and you know it. So instead, how about this—you tell me the truths I want, and I’ll ensure Jane believes your sincerity and trusts you once more,” I offer. I wait to see how that feels, and oddly enough, my gut guides me to this being the correct path.
That piques his interest more than anything I’ve said so far. “We can start there.”
“And one more thing,” I say, knowing this is going to piss him off, but I’m claiming this . “I stay in her quarters.”
“Oh, fuck off.” I’ve hit such a nerve that I can tell he doesn’t even believe me, although the grate in his voice says otherwise.
“You want my help to get her to trust you, and I know about Kathleen.” Ritter’s brown eyes are so very careful to hide the absolute annoyance brewing in his chest. “I can be very critical in how revealing that plays out. How all of it does, actually.”
“How chivalrous to threaten her father.”
I lean over, and I don’t know why, but even now, I can’t quite bite my tongue. “She doesn’t want me for my chivalry.”
Ritter is so conflicted he can’t stand it, his body so still it could morph into a statue. I can read him so fucking clear, and he’s so uncertain on how to parent a child who thinks he’s been gone for over ten years, while also respecting her adult autonomy.
“I have every motivation to see her heart is beating by the end of this,” I add. “I also don’t want her alone. I kept the Council from getting to her, and I didn’t even have to work that hard to do it. Don’t act like I’m some petty thief.”
I’ll never tire of knowing when I’ve won in a conversation before the other person admits it. “If Jane has any hesitation, or any hint that she doesn’t want you there, we will fight over it.”
A sly smile slowly spreads on my face. “And I can work with that.”