Page 66 of Death Dance

That I believed. I gave the decapitated head another nudge, contemplating giving it a solid punt across the dockyard. “Do I want to know how much this head is worth? Technically, you got the killing blow, so you get the bounty.”

Ben’s eyes widened. “Can you claim the kill? I don’t want the bounty. Or the attention. Or any of it.”

I sighed. “Ben, you deserve the money.”

“You did the hard work. If he hadn’t had that necromantic charm, you would have gotten the killing blow on him three times over.”

My father chuckled. “That part is true. You would have gotten the killing blow had he not cheated.”

Men. Why was I constantly surrounded with a pox of men? “I will give you both assisting credit for the kill, but if you two are going to be wusses, I’ll take the bounty. Fine.” I scowled, heaved yet another sigh, and bent over to grab the bastard’s hair. “This is the first and last time you’re going to hear me say that I’m glad I did not have to experience what this one tastes like.”

The blood on the ground flashed in a bright light, and when the illumination faded, the stains were gone, and the asphalt appeared as though freshly laid, glossy and black. I made a thoughtful sound, and the effect spread. When it reached the nearest shipping container, a golden luminescence washed over it, leaving it pristine and shining in its wake. “What the hell is going on, Dad?”

My father smiled, came over, and he kissed my cheek. “The weapons we gave you are old and are the polar opposite of necromancy in many ways. The hunt is over, but the objects are riled. They purify what they can, and as he didn’t get to use any real power before we killed him, it purifies what is around us.” My father gestured to the asphalt. “Renewal and decay are the opposite faces of the same coin. Think of the situation as two children pushing against each other and one falls over. The other’s momentum is still there. Instead of also falling, the magic is pulsing. It’ll settle soon enough, once there is no evidence of necromancy left.”

In the distance, someone began to scream, but the noise died away. My father shrugged before adding, “And what it finds, right now, well, it’s dealing with harshly.”

One day, I might understand the world I lived in. “I would be very appreciative if the fancy shiny magic lacking direction visited my ship and made her hull sparkly and her paint fresh and everything okay. I will be distressed if anything happened to my ship.”

“She’ll be fine. She’s headed for dry docking after this, so you have nothing to worry about. Even if she got some dings and scrapes, she’ll be as good as new in a few months. Just don’t give anyone or anything any ideas. Ideas are dangerous things in the wrong hands.”

Right. My father had good reason to want magic to be something tamed and controlled.

Such powers had torn his family apart.

I regarded the head I held with a frown. “Where do we go from here, Dad?”

“We follow his footsteps and uncover his secrets, of course. We seek out the necromantic trinkets he imbued with power, and we make certain they are destroyed. We have the tools for that. Once that surge of magic has been neutralized and is no longer at risk of running wild, then we resume our lives. You will finalize luring your husband into your web, you will attend the ball aboard your ship, and I will even be a generous and kind father and take over most of the planning. I have been planning events aboard that vessel since the day she hit the water. We will work with young Edgar, that baby in Japan, and the twins, and we will see them grow. They will do so with an easier time than you because we learned from you. And your mother and I will still harbor some guilt over that, although we will never regret our choices. Because of what we did, you are here now.”

As he shouldn’t. I regarded Breckenan’s head, regretting it had a significant monetary value—money I would use to right all his many wrongs. “And that wicked god he sought to bring to life?”

“We will hunt for his lairs, we will tear down every one of his idols, tokens, and icons, and we will vanquish any hope of such a dark being rising. Those days are over, and we mean to keep it that way.” My father scowled at the decapitated remains of the man who’d caused us so many problems. “I suppose that meager time we got to toy with him was justice enough—justice he crafted at his own hands, as had he not toyed with such powers, he would have died much sooner. We would have been merciful had he not taken such an option from us.”

Yes, we would have. “Are you happy with this, Ben?”

“I am. This was the best for everyone involved. All we have to do now is finish taking out the trash. Unfortunately, I suspect there is a great deal of trash to be taken out, and we’ll find most of it deep in the heart of Amazon.”

Ugh. The Amazon. “I hate humidity, Ben.”

“We all do. We’ll survive. We won’t like it, but we’ll survive.”

Overconfidence proved to be the source of Breckenan’s downfall—overconfidence and impatience.

Had he waited a single day, he would have had an extra three hundred vampires at his call, which might have been enough to transform our slaughter of their group into something more lethal for us. With the death of both master and controller, Breckenan’s brood fell into tatters. The victims, in a state of shock and horror, turned themselves in. They did not beg or plead for mercy.

Instead, they babbled about the nightmare they’d been forced to endure and wept over the blood staining their unwilling hands.

My father and his uncles made the time to interview each and every one. Most returned. Those who did not were shown mercy and given burials along with our promise their loved ones would be cared for.

On the fifth night of our stay in France, I waited for my father to finish one such interview before cornering him. “Are you going to give me a straight answer about the people who aren’t surviving?”

“Their souls were broken beyond repair; the things they were forced to do went so far beyond what they could accept that it was kinder to let them go to their final rest after absolving them of their guilt. The Bible I loaned your husband helped. They found comfort before their deaths, and it was painless, that much I can promise you. My family and I are seeing to their families, not that they have much in the way of family left—that’s the real tragedy.”

It was then I understood what my father hadn’t said.

They had, much like his grandfather, murdered their families.

“Did his atrocities truly have no boundaries?” I grumbled.