Chapter 17 Sylas #2
“Proceed with what?” Victor asked, struggling uselessly in Remnant’s indomitable hold, his steel band of a hand wrapped around the fool’s throat as he held him against the wall.
I swept forward, flipping my palms down and calling my crimson power.
My voice rumbled through the cell, drawing Victor’s attention to me now.
Something he absolutely did not like judging by the narrowing of his eyes.
“It takes a fuck of a lot to desiccate an Ancient. That’s why even though you feel the spelled weakness of having not fed for decades, you’re still standing there—correction: hanging there—without the slightest gray tinge plaguing your body.
” I cocked my head to the side. “Not for long.”
My power sparked on my right palm. “Remnant tells me that in your entire wretched existence you’ve never actually experienced desiccation.
How fortunate. I wasn’t as lucky. Thanks to your allies in Corvin and my father.
For three years I suffered from that shit.
Every day. Several times a day eventually.
I endured the kind of brutal, relentless pain that would break most beings.
” My eyes flashed. “But you didn’t need an assist there, did you?
Megalomania is what drove your madness, broke your fucking mind. ”
“Necromancer,” he hissed, dropping his fangs, features twisting as he vamped out. “I warned you. I’ll break every bone in your body, grind them down to dust.”
“And I’ll tear your fangs from your venomous mouth.” I grinned. “Or, let’s go this route.”
In the next second, I stripped him down to his boxers with a flick of my fingers, then I streamed my necromantic energy forth.
My crimson magic fused with a shadowy darkness spread over his chest and upper arms and the expected growls were forthcoming as he began to desiccate, that telltale grayish tint spreading.
Lazriel had told me that Victor had a staggering pain tolerance. But this was beyond any of that.
That was proven in the next few moments as I thrust my palms forward, driving a whole lot more necromantic energy into him, essentially breaking him down from the outside in.
Those growls graduated to screams of utter agony.
Through it, Remnant’s determined expression didn’t change as he held Victor there in an unbreakable grip, despite his flailing and failed attempts to bite and scratch at him.
“The location of your army,” Remnant ordered, his booming voice carrying over the shrieks.
“That’s what… this is… about? Not just… punishment?” Victor eked out. “Fine! I’ll… tell you.”
I continued streaming, the desiccation spreading down both his arms.
“I swear it! And I’ll tell… where… Genexis is.”
Remnant swung his head toward me.
I ceased my steaming, but kept my hands at the ready.
Victor choked, grimacing and groaning. I hadn’t healed the desiccation, I’d just ceased making it spread further. “You were… desiccating me to… reach inside my mind to… find out?” he asked Remnant.
It was common knowledge at this point that Puritas members couldn’t be broken through interrogation techniques, especially not physical torture.
However, Victor was a special case—his sire link to Remnant provided an in, a point of vulnerability that wouldn’t normally be possible. If he was weak enough, Remnant, as his sire, could reach into his mind through that link to forcibly extract memories and intel.
It was clear that Remnant’s earlier conversation with him had been highly strategic and honestly tactically brilliant, because he’d used it to effectively break Victor emotionally.
The desiccation was no longer tactically necessary—although, it was immensely satisfying and due justice for the crimes the heathen had committed against Lazriel.
“Speak,” Remnant rumbled, releasing him, wherein Victor dropped heavily into a slumped position against the wall, shuddering and grimacing against the pain still ravaging his body.
“My… army… useless to me now. Without you… without my pretty thing… there’s nothing,” he murmured and struggled through the anguish. Anguish he’d brought upon himself.
Remnant wasn’t having it. He saw through Victor’s attempt at pity and shut it down with a hard, “Where, Victor?”
“Krestaz.”
I frowned. “The volcano? You have an entire army sequestered inside there?”
“The lava blocks… scenting. Even from… the best. And as for magic… blocked by your daddy.”
“Morien is aware of the army?” I asked, stepping forward.
“Yes. But… not where. Gave me his… magic to… ward and protect. But if he wants to… seek it out… he could.”
I eyed Remnant and he shook his head. “He speaks the truth. There is no hint of a lie.”
“What about Genexis? Where is that disgusting extermination facility? Where is the entrance point to the pocket dimension?” I pushed.
A sinister smile spread over his face, somehow in spite of the agony, as he held my gaze. “Glasswake Settlement.”
I jolted, my magic flaming unstably.
No.
It was just the sudden and unexpected mention of the place. Nothing more. It couldn’t impact me in the severe way it used to. I’d been dealing with it, seeing to the guilt and regret, the grief. I wasn’t… raw to it like I used to be. I’d seen to that.
I snuffed my power out and cocked my hip, regarding Victor steadily.
He went on, “Perfect place… under the radar. After it was forsaken, abandoned… considered tainted ground. Because of you… the massacre you… perpetrated.”
“The massacre Corvin Morvain engineered,” Remnant corrected him.
“Not how it feels, is it?” Victor asked, grinning at me, between gasping and convulsing.
“Wrong,” I ground out. “You’re the only one being tortured here. The only one who is powerless, a powerlessness that you’ve brought upon yourself with your vile actions.”
As Victor went to utter another ruthless retort, Remnant intercepted with a burst of speed forward, snagging Victor’s jaw with one hand, then shoving his hand against his forehead with the other.
“Ah!” Victor cried, trying to jerk away, but failing in his weakened state, and the mental hold Remnant had clearly just activated. He was reaching into his mind using their sire link.
Victor’s eyes flickered wildly for several moments, before Remnant abruptly released him, and the nightmare collapsed in a heap shuddering and whimpering.
Remnant came to me, informing me with absolute certainty shining forth, “The entrance truly is currently at Glasswake. If any high-ranking members are compromised, however, there is a schedule in place that marks the move to another location. I was able to pull it from his mind. Although Victor has been removed as a Puritas member, they have still not moved the entrance from Glasswake, likely because they believe Morien can protect it should Victor lash out and attempt to destroy the facility. They don’t know Morien is playing both sides.
Victor’s death will be felt. He is an Ancient with much power, much blood on his hands.
That will not go unnoticed by those attuned to influence and power.
It could push Puritas to not only move the entry point, but to also revise their schedule. ”
“And we wouldn’t know where the hell they move it to next. Back to square one.”
“I’ll mobilize The Shadowed. They will take Victor’s army. You meet with Ryker Morgan, give him the coordinates to Genexis and allow the Guardian Movement to see to that. And broker the deal he wishes to make with us both.”
“Yeah? You’re on board with his proposal that I showed you?”
“It’s the way it needs to be.”
“For now?”
His lips quirked. “We shall see. For now, at least, it will provide both you and I with what we want, what those we love need from us also.”
“All right, yeah. We’re in agreement.”
He nodded. “Very good.”
And then I saw him tense.
In the next moment, he was holding his hand out expectantly. “If you will.”
I knew well what he was asking for, and I conjured forth the stake imbued with holy water and magically-infused sunlight, that which had the means to take the life of an Ancient.
Just as he clasped it, I heard scuffling behind him, where his body was blocking my view of Victor.
In the next second, he shoved me back, making me stumble a few feet into the sealed cell door.
Then he spun around, just as Victor lunged with the last vestiges of his strength, clearly being driven by a shitload of adrenaline borne from rage, heartbreak, and grief.
Remnant snagged his shoulder as Victor moved in for the bite, stilling him just a moment before he plunged the stake into his heart.
He lurched, gasping, his fangs retracting as his eyes shot wide.
He latched onto Remnant’s leather jacket with trembling hands.
“Rhodric,” he spluttered.
His skin visible in his shirtless state began disintegrating rapidly.
Remnant twisted the stake, earning a weary grunt from Victor, then leaned close to Victor’s ear and uttered in pained words, “As your maker, I unmake you.”
He ripped the stake out, then kicked Victor to his knees.
He didn’t remain there long, as the decomposition accelerated, and then he collapsed into a heap, his eyes on Remnant.
Victor’s body exploded in a mass of ash, blood, and bone fragments, until that was all that remained of him over the cell floor.
It was done.
Victor Halrow was no more.
Another enemy fallen.
And soon they would all follow.