Sinners' Kingdom #1: The Book of Lust (Complete)

36

My wrist burned, a twisting heat stabbing through it with such force that I cried out. Pain — it hurt! The contract brand had never hurt like this before. What was wrong with it! Had I done the wrong thing? Was it too late? Oh, God, it hurt! It hurt!

"Sable."

I stilled. The stabbing cold all over my skin, the sinister warmth starting to spread underneath it, both stopped at the same time. My breathing ceased, too, as the curling, sibilant sound finished carving into my skull through both my ears. It was like being slowly filleted, a delicate tip of a blade separating my spine from my body, every bone from my body, with ever-so-slow strokes.

"Sable, I'm coming for you. Wait for me."

That was... Lust's voice. It was calm, calmer than even Sarina's voice as it rose from the depths of the unseen pit I had been yanked out of. But laden with malevolent magic, it amplified his voice so much it overpowered even the howling wind, and the monks that had all been advancing with their weapons forward stopped in their tracks as the power curled around each and every one of us.

Evil.

That was what it sounded like. If evil had a voice, that was it, and it drove the cold out of me as if someone had peeled it off my bones.

Not calm, I realized. Not calm at all.

The voice was level. The voice was composed.

But underneath...

Rage.

A shadowy shape emerged from the pit. The silhouette of a head first, hazy through the thick and fast snowfall. Then it grew, shoulders, torso, a whole body. A billowing black and red robe interrupted the strange wonderland sight, a splash of foreign color amid the endless white snow and the red-orange blots of the monks' robes dotting it all like fire ants.

Ants. Insects. Because that was what they were, compared to the horrible presence that emerged before us now.

Lust was smiling. We shouldn't have been able to see it, the storm rendering the visibility to almost nothing, yet it was as if the snow deliberatedly parted to reveal him to us. Red eyes. A wide, slashing grin. A hand outstretched toward me across the distance that suddenly felt all too small.

"Give her to me," said Lust. "And I just might spare you."

Sarina's grip tightened on the humming cord. She squeezed so hard I could literally hear it, the leathery noise of the handle abrading her palm.

"Positions!" she barked. "Now! Quickly!"

The monks who had stood frozen leaped into action again, all of them streaming toward Lust although they stopped at a safe distance... or was it safe, really? And what were they doing now? Those wooden staffs were useless if they had to get close enough to use them in the first place. So what were they doing, pointing the ends of their weapons at him all at once?

They encircled the pit as well as Lust who stood at the edge — and brilliant yellow-orange jets of light erupted from the ends of the staffs. They streamed up and converged like a great fountain in reverse, meeting at the top where the lights swirled together and spiraled around and around, forming a dome with the lateral lines binding the jets of light together.

A dome? No. A net? Yeah, that was what it looked like, a great net. Lust was trapped inside, and the monks held their positions around the formation, dozens and dozens of them with hard faces and determined grimaces. Warriors, all of them, warriors who would go down fighting, but there was no way they didn't know...

It was futile. They would lose. Lust was too strong. He did nothing but stand there, staring at me with that carefree, hungry grin, but I knew it nonetheless.

The mark burned. I couldn't see it, but it must be swollen, inflamed and angry, flesh charring and curling in blackened strips. I moaned through my teeth, hot tears gathering in the corners of my eyes as panic melted my throat and spread through my chest, hotter than any fire could ever be.

I had to get away.

Forget the Coven, forget Sarina, forget all the monks who would lock me up until my executioners came to chop off my head and dig out my heart, like a proper traitor witch. I had to get away from Lust first.

"Wasting time. You know the humans can't understand Adamic. Idiot."

Another voice, but I recognized this one too. Mammon, Prince of Greed, as he, too, climbed up out of the collapsed pit. His voice was a half-growl, man and animal mixed, and his form was the same way. He loomed larger than Lust, black fur all over as he stretched and rolled his shoulders.

Wait, what did he say? Adamic? The spoken form of the first language, that Adamic?

But of course. That was why the words sounded — no, felt so strange. It wasn't English at all. But then why could I understand it? I shouldn't recognize a word.

"Good," Lust purred, unperturbed. "I wasn't going to spare them anyway."

"A truce, until we get her?"

"Not we. I." Lust smiled almost sweetly at me. "My bride would only want to be saved by me."

"We'll do it the way we usually do, then. Whoever gets to her first gets to keep her."

"Well, I'll kill you afterward, so it doesn't matter, I suppose."

"I'll laugh over your carcass after I feed her your liver. No games this time. After this, we fight. To the death."

"Just the way I wanted it, Mammon. Shall we?"