22. Chapter Twenty-Two Immortal’s Lament
Chapter Twenty-Two: Immortal’s Lament
Maverick
I didn’t know why I felt such a pull to keep her close and safe, but it had to be something to do with the way she radiated light like that—and only to my eyes. I had to find out what it meant. With the Seraphim Guard hovering close lately, I had to consider she was one of them, but damn, I really hoped she wasn’t.
If she was a hunter, I’d rip her to pieces.
I’d fuck her first, though, because hellfire, just the sight of her out of the corner of my eye had my dick as hard as a steel blade.
Unfortunately, that presented a problem.
Technically, we couldn’t both leave. She was right; if it came down to her and me, we’d be expected to fight each other to the death. That was never going to happen. They didn’t log details about the contestants going in, and I wasn’t interested in the kind of scrutiny winning would bring. I only needed to find the information I was here for and phase out. But I could get that in other ways, too. She was way more interesting.
I would have wrapped my arms around her and phased out right then, but her confession gave me pause. According to her, she’d only joined the games to make sure her abuser lost. And while the odds were already against him, she didn’t think so. If her story was true, she might like to watch him die.
It would give her closure.
And then, when I got her out of danger, all that cortisol would rush out of her system, leaving her enraptured and begging to fuck.
It worked every time.
“This guy’s your boss?” I asked, my voice hushed.
She nodded, the candlelight etching sinister shapes across her face.
“What do you do?” I continued, ignoring the whispers emanating from the towering bookshelves surrounding us.
“I’m a tattoo artist,” she replied, her words almost drowned out by the creaking of the old floorboards as she shifted in her ornate, high-backed chair.
My gaze fell to the artwork adorning her arms, and I wondered just how covered she was under her clothes. I suppressed a shiver, acutely aware of the temperature drop near the strange symbols etched into the floor around us. My cock stiffened at the thought of peeling her shirt off, and I had to shake my head, unsure why such an innocuous thought would get me so excited.
I’d probably fucked millions of people from every realm, and even some beasts from Hell, so the mere idea of this woman’s tits should not have affected me. Starting to worry she really was a seraphim plant, I closed my eyes and counted to three, resolving to get myself under control, at least until I knew what was up with this chick. Maybe she had me under some kind of spell. If I found out that was it, she’d pay for that. The vision of how she’d pay was something like her chained to my bed, though, rather than gutted and sent back to Hell.
She smirked and threw out a sassy, “What? You don’t like tattoos?” Her voice echoed through the chamber, bouncing off the book-lined walls.
I shook my head, digging my fingers into my thigh to give myself something sensory to ground with. The musty scent of old paper and melted wax filled my nostrils as I breathed it in. Grunting to choke back the monster inside, I focused on gaining control of myself. She’d never trust that Maverick. “I love them. Your work?”
She shook her head, the movement causing the candles to tremble. “No, I can’t tattoo myself. A colleague did it.”
I licked my lips, peering up at her and hovering at her lips before catching myself and making eye contact. The broken crystal ball on the table seemed to swirl, as if reacting to the tension between us. “So your boss. He’s the manager?”
“He owns the shop,” she replied, her fingers absently tracing one of the strange symbols etched into the table’s surface.
“And what, he doesn’t pay overtime?” I asked, still ignoring the persistent whispers around us.
She scoffed, the sound sharp in the oppressive silence of the room. “Fuck you. I told you, he’s evil. Dangerous. And he drinks that shit up.”
“And you can’t get another job?” I pressed, leaning closer to the edge of the circular symbols on the floor.
“He owns me,” she explained, her voice barely above a whisper.
“How so?”
“I agreed to a deal. We did a binding ritual. I can’t get out of it.” As she spoke, the candles sputtered more intensely .
“Now, why’d you go and do a thing like that?” I asked, my eyes drawn to the dusty, stained wine glass in the reading nook.
“I was seventeen years old, starving, and homeless,” she replied, her words hanging heavy in the air.
I grunted as an ache pierced my gut out of nowhere. My gaze roved the room, looking for more signs of hexes or spells. The leather-bound tomes seemed to watch us silently from their shelves, their faded gold lettering glinting in the low light. Nothing obvious, but the room felt alive, as if it were holding its breath, waiting.
I was becoming more and more suspicious of her.
Glaring across at her, I searched for any signs of glee or guilt. The candlelight spasmed, causing apparitions to dance across her face, making it difficult to read her expression. She looked tortured and was shaking subtly, her trembling hand causing ripples in the surface of the crystal ball between us. “What did you do?”
“I took part in the ritual...” she began, her voice barely audible over the creaking of the old floorboards as she shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
“I mean to me. Just now,” I clarified, my words sharp and clipped. I had to control myself.
Her eyes popped open wide, and she leaned back like she was ready to flee, the high-backed chair groaning under the sudden movement. “What? Nothing. What are you talking about?”
She seemed genuine, but I’d only just met her. Maybe she was a good actress, and that’s why the Seraphim Guard had chosen her for the job. I’d file it away as evidence, and over time, we’d see if it built up or not. The strange symbols etched into the floor seemed to pulse faintly as I contemplated this, adding to my unease .
Confident I could find any patterns, I shook my head and waved my hand, disturbing the musty air. “Nothing, never mind. Probably all the adrenaline.”
It wasn’t all the adrenaline—I could handle myself—it was an excuse I thought she’d buy. As I spoke, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the leather-bound tomes on the surrounding bookshelves were watching us.
“Okay,” she said weakly, her gaze darting nervously to the shadowy corners of the room. “I am a witch, but I didn’t do anything to you, I swear.”
“Forget it.” My voice cut through the tension as I moved on. “What’s your boss’s name?”
“Ivan.” Her reply was a breath, barely audible over the faint whispers from the walls.
“He’s powerful?” I asked, leaning forward. The table’s purple velvet covering brushed against my arms.
She nodded, her face shifting in the mercurial light, accentuating the fear in her eyes.
“What do you know about that power? Our best chance is if I know everything.” As I spoke, the crystal ball on the table crackled, as if reacting to the significance of our conversation and breaking further apart.
“He has a wraithshade.”
“Shit,” I muttered.
“And an enchanted tattoo that helps him store the fear-based mana…” she continued, her fingers absently tracing one of the strange symbols etched into the table’s surface.
“A what now?” My surprise caused me to shift in my chair. The floorboards creaked ominously beneath me, amplified by the room’s unnatural acoustics .
She nodded, grimacing at the ghastly admission.
“How?” I pressed, acutely aware of the temperature rising again as I leaned closer.
“I figured out how to enchant the ink with charging and storage capacity.”
“Why would you do that?” My eyes were drawn to the dull silver bell on the table, half-expecting it to rise into the air and ring of its own accord in this unsettling room.
She batted her eyelashes, the candlelight reflecting the depths of sarcasm coming my way, and made no bones about how stupid I sounded. “I’m not sure if you heard the part where I explained that he owns me?”
As she spoke, the room seemed to react, the air growing heavier and the darkness in the corners deepening, as if emphasizing the gravity of her situation.
I huffed, appreciating the snark, my cock twitching under my jeans. “Yeah, I did.” My voice was almost swallowed by the oppressive air. “So he’s running around here right now, getting stronger with all the fear floating around.”
“Yep.”
“We better get to it. Every second we waste makes it harder to stop him.” As I spoke, the strange symbols etched into the floorboards seemed to pulse faintly, as if emphasizing the urgency of our situation.
“I know.”
“Don’t worry. We just have to find him, and then you can leave it to me.” As she pressed her lips together, her features shifted with the stuttering flame. I raised an eyebrow, and she turned away, her gaze falling on the broken crystal ball swirling with mist. She was holding something back. It was all over her face. “What aren’t you telling me? ”
She didn’t answer. The room seemed to hold its breath, the silence broken only by the faint creaking of the old floorboards. I cocked my head. “What’s your name?”
“Tess.” Her voice echoed slightly in the eerie chamber.
“Tess, you have to trust me, okay? We’ll get him. He’ll pay for what he’s done. But you have to tell me everything.” As I spoke, the temperature in the room dropped further, making me suppress a shiver.
Tess hesitated, her eyes darting to the shadowy corners of the room as if checking for unseen listeners. Finally, she leaned forward, her voice subdued: “I had a vision, and it wasn’t you killing him. It was me.”
As she uttered these words, the candles flared wildly. The crystal ball on the table between us swirled more vigorously, as if reacting to the weight of her admission.
My eyebrows rose skyward. “A vision? Is this normal for you?”
She nodded, the motion causing her chair to creak. “Unfortunately.”
“You see the future?” I asked, excited by the revelation.
“I see things that seem to come true, so yeah, I guess,” Tess replied, her fingers absently tracing the edge of the tarot cards strewn out on the table.
I leaned forward, my elbows resting on the table, causing the crystal ball to wobble slightly. “Alright. Good. How do you kill him?”
As I posed the question, the symbols etched into the floorboards pulsed faintly, as if reacting to the pivotal nature of this moment.
“I threw a match on him, and he went up in an explosion.”
I stared at her. Clenched my fists hard to concentrate on my physical reality in the room. “Okay, we can work with that. Did you bring matches?” The room itself seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for Tess’s response .
She shook her head. “I forgot to.” The whispers from the bookshelves grew more insistent.
I ran my hand over my head, disturbing the heavy air and sending dust motes swirling in the candlelight. “Well, you saw it happen, so they’ve got to be here somewhere, right?”
She shrugged. “I guess so.”
I scanned the dimly lit room, as if they might be right there in front of us. “We need to find some matches and something flammable. He’s not going to go up in any explosion without it.”
She nodded, her silhouette painting inky figures on the book-lined walls.
“What’s he look like?” I asked, the table’s velvet covering bunching up against my arms as I moved.
She pressed her lips together, her hesitation drawing the moment out. “As big as you, but flabbier.”
Without thinking, I winked, then ground my teeth because I was supposed to be controlling myself with her.
“His face is tattooed like a creepy clown,” she continued.
“His face ?” I echoed, my surprise ringing out against the silent room.
“It took all day,” she replied, her fingers absently tracing one of the strange symbols etched into the table’s surface.
“That’s a guy who’s committed to the cause,” I said, the sarcasm in my voice seeming to bleed into the air.
“He’s nothing if not all in,” she agreed.
I clapped my hands together, the sharp sound shattering the eerie quiet. “Great. Me too. Let’s go.”
As we stood, the room seemed to resist our decision. The temperature plummeted further, and the shadows in the corners writhed, as if trying to ensnare us. The symbols on the floor pulsed with an otherworldly glow, growing brighter with each step we took toward the door.
My heart raced, adrenaline surging through my veins. Tess thought we were about to face a monster, but he was only a man with the power of a wraithshade. I was the bigger monster. I glanced at Tess, her face a mask of determination tinged with terror.
As my hand touched the cold metal of the doorknob, Tess’s voice halted me back. “Reaper,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the quiet cacophony surrounding us. “Whatever happens out there... I don’t care what happens to me. Promise me we’ll end this. Finish him.”
I nodded, my jaw set with grim determination. “I can’t wait.”
With a deep breath, I turned the handle. The door creaked open, and as we stepped over the threshold, leaving the eerie chamber, I vibrated with glee.
The hunt had begun. And with every second that passed, the man grew stronger in confidence, feeding on the fear that permeated the very air we breathed. But he was just a baby monster compared to me.
I couldn’t wait to meet the motherfucker.