Epilogue
Cain
I lean back in my chair, sipping on my drink as I watch the show before me. At my insistence, I had a mage conjure up a different look to the hall that my father likes to hold audiences in. At first, he refused, saying my father would not approve and would punish him. Well, it didn’t take much convincing after that—just the death of his daughter.
The canopy of red and gold silk linen that flows down from the ceiling is more to my taste. The music swells and dips as the dancers swing their hips and bend in suggestive ways. The servers also sway to the music as they weave through the patrons in the room who have come to serve my father and secretly get a look at me.
I don’t mind, really. The fear I taste in the air is what fuels me. Just knowing that I can control all of them through their fear is what gives me the most power. Then there’s the knowledge that their personal accounts of me after their visits will do more good than harm in the end. It’s the best power play I could have in this new world.
“Did you really feel the need to turn my house into your play den?” I hear his bored tone before seeing my father walk into the room in his female form.
“Well, I figured what’s yours is mine. Besides, it reminds me of home,” I counter before sipping my drink.
My father, the new “Fate,” walks in and immediately scowls.
“Leave!” he demands, not sparing my topless dancers a look before coming in and staring at the monstrosity that is his favorite chair.
That, at least, I left untouched. I’m not completely heartless; I just use my heart less, like a bastard by nature.
Turning to a fleeing servant, he says, “Bring Tomas here.” She nods and scurries faster out of the room.
I chuckle but feel my father’s gaze on me and refuse to meet it as I get up and refill my drink.
“Tomas might be a little delayed,” I admit. “Want a drink?” I offer, finally turning to look at him with a sly smile while I raise my glass.
“Why would my mage be delayed, my delightful son?” His patronizing tone I could do without.
“He’s probably still sewing himself up. The poor man couldn’t follow directions the first time,” I say casually as I pour my father a drink and walk back. What I’m leaving out is that I gutted the man but left him alive. I’m sure he’s trying to gain enough magic to mend himself back up. Maybe next time I ask him to do something for me, the mage won’t hesitate to comply. He might think my father is the scariest person here, but I’ve been known to be slightly unhinged. If looks could kill, let’s face it, I would have been dead eons ago.
As I sit down and my father opens his mouth, a servant runs in, almost tripping over my new decorations, and bows before my father.
“Master,” he pants.
“Speak.”
“Jillian and Marjoriekine were both killed. We could not recover Jillian’s body, but we captured everything on the video feeds for you. We are preparing your office now for your viewing,” he says shakily as he eyes me. Pfft. Like I care about father’s puny puppets.
“And the girl?”
“She opened the p-p-portal.”
My father’s eyes narrow on the servant as sweat beads upon the shaky man’s brow. “And?” my father growls out.
“I’m sorry, M-Master, but she failed to come through the portal into our trap.” He looks around for support, but I’m sad to say he won’t get any here. Unfortunately, we are more likely to kill the messenger than the person it came from. Hence, the oily concoction slithering down the back wall behind the man before us.
“But our other scouts at the school confirmed that she portaled into the naming ceremony out of thin air.” My father perks up at that and cocks an eyebrow.
“Is that all?” he says, taping his nails along his armchair.
“Oh no, Master. She will be attending the Gauntlet next week.” He smiles, hoping to lighten the mood.
“Hmm. You are dismissed.”
The man bows and tries to discreetly wipe the sweat from his brow before he turns and scurries away. Two feet from the door, he glances back, and I give him an evil grin right as he steps on The Sulks. His jaw drops, letting out a silent scream as his body crumbles into ash.
“That never gets old,” I comment. Not getting a response, I glance over and see my father in deep thought. Internally sighing, I decide to ask what is wrong now.
“Problems?” I watch as my father’s eye slightly twitches, showing his frustration even through his disguise.
“Just slight hiccups,” he confesses. “I was hoping to have her already. She keeps slipping through my grasp.”
It’s not like my father to be this upset over something, so why does this bother him? This isn’t the first time he’s mentioned the girl. He’s been keeping track of her progress through Hell through his contacts, but why does he want her to the point of obsessing over her?
“What’s so special about her anyways?”
My father chuckles as he looks me over with a glint in his eyes. I know that look. It’s his you shouldn’t have asked look, because I’m “ going to regret it .”
“A lot, but I expected as much since she’s your sister.”
I quirk an eyebrow at that revelation. My sister? Since when do I have a sister and why is this the first time I’ve heard about this? I didn’t consider her that special when I was slumming it inside of Ezekiel. But I might have taken a closer look at her if I knew she was my sister. Way to go, Dad. Hmm, I take it back; my father might be as demented as I am if he captured and tormented his ex when she was the mother of his other bastard.
“Since when have you cheapened yourself with witches that run away to Earth?” I ask, not completely following the logic or timeline here.
“Jillian isn’t her mother.” He doesn’t offer anything else before getting up. “Come, I’ll explain more.” He starts down the hall toward his study as my mind whirls with ideas.
I think it’s about time to meet my sister in person, and I know just where to do that. The gauntlet sounds like the perfect place for a family reunion.