They Who Slaughtered Hope 🌈| Slow Updates/Editing

Chapter 05

It was well into the evening, streetlamps penetrating the dark and forming a runway for their master of night-time dealings.

However, Lennox found it to be too quiet, even for a Tuesday night. He was only fifty metres from the Verita conclave, and he couldn't hear a thing.

Had the main event bothered to show up, hollow cheers would undeniably be resonating all the way to the cathedral where Lennox was headed. That meant his old man hadn't made his appearance as of yet. The florist still had time.

He ascended the limestone stairs as it started to drizzle. Lennox swept in the remainder of his trench coat to shield it from the droplets, and the September sky darkened further.

The florist cracked open the heavy, wooden cathedral doors. His pupils swelled at the cavernous, pitch-black area, and Lennox deemed it better to stand under the veranda outside where he was shielded from the rain. Before he left, he took out his matchbox and lit the cathedral's lanterns. The space lit up, casting gothic, mysterious shadows in its wake, and they danced along the walls as he took the lantern outside with him.

After he did so, the darkness suddenly seemed less imposing, the rain less bleak. It was a scented candle—Lily of the Valley to be exact, and it soothed his soul. He smiled vaguely.

Lennox waited. What was there to complain about if his buyer was late? He would miss his father's inauguration, make a pile of cash, and only have to suffer his mother's wrath upon his return. And that chagrin purely extended to something superficial.

He could be much more imaginative.

"Have you been waiting long?"

Lennox swivelled to face the source of the voice, almost dropping his candle. "Not at all," he said to a hooded figure with a false sense of calm as the florist straightened his spine. It was like they came out of nowhere.

Nonetheless, his buyer was here, and it was time to make some bank.

"So, I believe we each have what we promised to the other?"

"Yes." Lennox tried to lift his candle, to finally discover his patron's identity, but noticed something sticking out of the cloak. He stopped in his tracks.

What could it be? They never brought anything like it to any of their other exchanges.

His customer followed Lennox's gaze. "Just some extra protection," They explained.

The florist speculated that it might be a gun of some kind. It could be for protection... but protection from what?

"I see. Shall we finish up this exchange?"

"Of course." His cloaked companion nodded and opened their zip-up hoodie to pull out a stack of euros.

They were wearing a suit under their sweatshirt. It was an odd choice, to say the least.

Lennox moved to hand over the briefcase, subtly flicking open the clasps. He held the case closed until it was set to reach his buyer's fingers, then promptly dropped it. Its hinge collided with the ground and the case burst open, bottles filled with pills spilling onto the sleek stone.

The client scoffed, and their gloved hand—along with Lennox's paycheck—retreated into the jacket. "Clumsy much?"

The florist rolled his eyes, for he had done it on purpose. It wasn't his fault that they couldn't tell.

"Well, its hinge hit a sharp spot in the stone," Lennox lied, coyly disguising his intent behind the case's tumble. "Physics, wow, I know. How astonishing." He imagined the buyer's lips pressing into a thin line and grinned at the thought.