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He smirked, and I didn’t sense any fear. Instead, he was annoyingly confident.
The watch on his wrist began beeping like some alarm went off. The sicko in front of me started laughing as I pulled the hammer back and fired. Bullet hit his left leg, and he went down, landing on his back as he continued to laugh.
What the fuck?
“See you in hell!” he yelled before I saw him crunch down on something with his teeth.
Putrid-colored liquid filled his mouth before he swallowed. His body shook once as he turned and fired shots into the desert. There was no point in doing so, and I couldn’t help but think he lost his fucking mind. Foaming at the mouth, he began convulsing as his eyes rolled back into his head.
“Fuck!” I shouted, running forward. “Who do you work for?”
He was never going to answer, but I had to try.
Frothy spit spilled from his lips and mixed with blood as he coughed, turning on his side to throw up the vile mixture. He jolted a couple of times and then flipped me off before dragging in a shaky breath.
My Reaper was pissed, and I let him come forward, reaping this asshole’s soul before he had a chance to die on his own. It wasn’t much consolation, but at least he would suffer torment in hell at Lucifer’s hands. His soul drifted up from his body, and the thin, transparent spirit hung in the air wreathed in oily darkness. No surprise there.
I shoved my gun into one of the large pockets inside my cut and summoned my weapon of choice, enjoying the way the scythe hissed with expectation in my hand. Bullets were far too easy and not nearly enough finesse. He needed to feel pain as I sent his soul to hell.
“Meet your fate, motherfucker,” I snarled, twisting with my hand and swiping with the scythe that was always ready for use. The resulting slash cut into his essence as the assassin’s flesh was permanently separated from his wretched soul, and he was cast into the pit to await judgment.
Horrified and anguished screams launched into the air, and I tilted my head back with a roar, letting in his shock and fear as they fed my Reaper and renewed his strength. This was what fed my inner beast. The one thing that never failed to soothe the monster within. There was nothing as bittersweet or thoroughly fulfilling as witnessing the terror of those who reaped what they sowed and met justice at the hands of a Reaper.
When he was nothing but an empty shell, I kicked at his body and watched as the dried-out remains burst into a cloud of dark dust that drifted away into the early evening breeze.
Only the sporadic parking lot lighting was witness to his demise.
“No one fucks with the Royal Bastards.”
I spun with a dark chuckle and found Wraith and Exorcist behind me. Ex was having a smoke and giving me a twisted grin as he puffed away. Wraith dropped a body on the ground and ticked his head toward the guy. “Brought you a present.”
My Reaper grew excited, immediately sensing the dark connection to the soul we just reaped.
“Looks like I’ll get some answers after all.”
“Sure will, brother. He was waiting in a car about half a mile away. Has to know somethin’.”
Grinning wide, I knew I was going to enjoy the upcoming interrogation. Just needed to have him secured in the dungeon of the Crossroads.
“Prospect is outside Mimi’s room. She’s safe,” Wraith promised, looking me straight in the eye.
“Good,” I exhaled in relief, relaxing my shoulders as I reined in my Reaper. “I want this fucker back at the Crossroads. As soon as Mimi is awake, I get the first word with him.”
“Yeah, brother. I feel you.”
“We got this,” Ex added, flicking the butt of his smoke on the ground before he pulled out his cell and started tapping in a quick message. “I’m texting Grim now.”
If Mimi wasn’t fighting for her life, I would never be able to walk away from this asshole on the ground. Approaching Wraith, I kicked the hitman on the ground in the gut with my boot and then pulled out a smoke, dragging the nicotine through my lungs before I returned to Mimi.
Prospect better be guarding her with his life, or he was gonna regret it.
“He’s mine,” I snarled, flinging open the basement door and running down the stone steps that led into the depths of our own version of hell. The dungeon was a place where we played with our captives and unleashed the beasts within.
Rael was standing next to the table where our prey was confined. Thick leather straps held him down by his wrists and ankles, attached to the wooden beams that bordered all four corners. The outside edges were carved into and the grooves moved from the outside in, going down a ¼ inch with every rotation around the perimeter. The result was a table that dipped downward consistently until it ended with a drain in the center, far below the body of the unlucky bastard who hung suspended above it.
This was Rael’s latest invention and I had to admit it was a thing of beauty.
I’d seen some strange shit overseas but that wasn’t half as
