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He rubbed his eyes, wondering if he were imagining it, given not a soul was known to inhabit that stretch of mountain. Aside from the witch who lived somewhere in the caves below, anyway.
The figure must’ve been well over six foot tall, with broad shoulders. He wore a long, black, hooded cloak pulled up over his face, and black gloves. A glint of metal at his hip was undoubtedly a sword sheathed in its scabbard.
The bishop could feel his pulse hasten with every step closer, and when the stranger finally came to a halt, only mere feet from where he sat, his heart nearly galloped right out of his chest. The man blocked out the sun as he stood over him, and squinting, the bishop could just make out the roughhewn features of his face.
“Who are you?” Barchiel asked on a shaky breath.
A toothpick sat at the corner of his lips, as he smoothed his hands over his gloves. “Name’s Gabriel.”
The intimidating air of power practically crackled around them, setting Barchiel’s nerves abuzz. The old man cleared his throat and wobbled to the side again. “Very well, I was just leaving.”
He spat the toothpick to land not far from Barchiel. “You’re not going anywhere.”
A nervous laugh escaped Barchiel on turning back toward the stranger. “Excuse me?”
“Does the name Catriona ring any bells?”
Barchiel studied his features, wondering how he might know him, his mind contemplating a means of negotiating with the stranger. He’d done it before. Many times. When he’d found himself in the grasp of his infernal slaver, he’d convinced the demon to make him his dojzra and set him free. He’d done it again with The Fallen when he arrived in Nightshade. And of course, in Eradye, when Claudius had summoned him. It was only a matter of learning what the man who stood before him wanted. “I’m afraid I don’t know a Catriona.”
The stranger’s chest rose and fell as he glanced away, and the hint of a smile played on his lips when he brought his attention back to the old man. “Ah, Mr. Barchiel, or perhaps I should call you Bishop Venable?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “When I’m done with you, you will remember her. And what you did to her. And I can assure you, whatever pain you brought to her will only be a fraction of what I inflict in return.”
Barchiel’s body trembled as he spoke, and as the image of a red-haired woman burning on the platform spun through his head, he realized there was no compromise this time. No bargaining with the man.
"H-h-how did you find me?”
“Sweet little thing visited me not long ago. Told me all about you. Thegoodand righteous bishop.” His eyes flashed a menacing silver and Barchiel pressed himself tighter against the wall. “See, I’d given up hunting souls a long time ago, but when I found out what you did to Catriona, well, I decided to come out of retirement for one last hurrah.”
“Who? Who told you this?”
“Her name is Farryn Ravenshaw.” From the holster at his hip, he pulled a vicious-looking dagger, with curled serrated edges undoubtedly designed for tearing away flesh. “So when I’ve had my fill of your screams and decide to run this blade through you one last time, to send you into Voltusz, it’s her you can thank for it.”
The bishop’s blood turned to ice. Why he hadn’t killed the wretched little nuisance when he’d had the chance was the only repetitive thought in his head. He scrambled to get to his feet, and a force slammed into his throat, pinning him to the stony mountain wall behind him.
Enormous white wings unfurled behind the man, spread out at either side of him, and Barchiel shuddered a breath.
“So, this is how it goes from here,” the angel said. “No escape. No redemption. And no mercy.”
EPILOGUE TWO
FARRYN
One year later …
Afield of multicolored daisies stretched toward the woods, as I sat watching Jericho teach Elyon how to find his vinculum bond with Cicatrix. Over the last few months, Elyon had begun to replenish the powers that had been consumed by Infernium--powers he never even realized he possessed, inherited from his father. The three dogs darted in all directions around them, excited over the flock of birds overhead, and the sound of the boy’s giggles was music to my ears.
It’d taken some time for him to trust that no one was going to hurt him ever again. The night terrors he suffered had only just begun to wane a bit, and oftentimes, I would wake to find him crouched in the corner of mine and Jericho’s room, claiming that monsters were out to get him. Those were the nights I let him sleep between us.
Although he was estimated to be about nine, or ten, years old, his exact age was unknown. I’d asked Jericho how it was that Lustina had birthed him centuries before, yet he appeared so young. According to Jericho, time moved differently in Eradye. What had felt like an eternity being trapped there amounted to nothing more than minutes. The fact that Elyon had begun to show maturing features over the last year proved his theory correct.
For Jericho, fatherhood seemed to have evolved over the last few months. Not having had siblings, or much responsibility over another young life, it didn’t exactly come easy for either of us. Fortunately, Elyon proved to be both forgiving and patient, as we continued to learn with each day.
I tied the stems of the daisies together and set the pathetic looking crown I’d made from them atop my head. I’d planted the field in honor of Vespyr and made a point to spend the brightest days there, when the air was warm and fragrant. Unfortunately, Nightshade never really saw much sun, and seemed more overcast than anything, but it still made for some enjoyable moments. As I lowered my hand, I caught sight of an ant haphazardly crawling across my fingers, its movements jerky and slow. In its mouth, it toted a small crumb from the sandwich I’d eaten earlier. I held it up, noticing two of its back legs were missing. As it scooted itself over my knuckles, I set my other hand over top, to keep it from falling off.
Tingles tickled my fingertips and heat warmed the top of my hand. Little jagged threads of electricity danced over my skin, and on a gasp, I recoiled the hand which covered the other.
The ant scampered over my knuckles, its missing legs fully restored.
What the …
