Bereft: Demise

28 | Of Guillotines and Their Sway

The phone rang from beyond the wall until the call went to voicemail.

The wind rose again as it was wont to do in these southern climes. Amoroth waited with her manicured fingers still pressed to her cell's front as the air rushed in from the coast and crashed into the mountain with a burst of sand and dirt. The Sin waited, though she didn't know what exactly she was waiting for. 

Amoroth dialed again, and the phone began to ring. Hesitant, she paced the outer limit of the foundation's deck to approach the far edge of the wall. The click of her heels on the porous concrete was hardly audible over the excited bluster of the wind, but she could still hear the tilted jingle of the unanswered phone. 

Irritated by her own sense of unease, Amoroth pushed herself to move faster, mitigating her weight so the wind couldn't push her about. She rounded the corner of the tallest beam and came into the shadow of the concrete wall. The Sin stopped at the edge of the pit—and finally discovered her tardy contractor. 

The man was suspended in the middle of the pit by several crooked, unbent spears of black rebar. His pale, bruised hands were clenched upon the rods as if he had tried to pry himself free before death claimed him. The blood created a dark, unnatural lake below him.

Amoroth's dispassionate gaze flicked from the contractor and studied the surrounding area. He hadn't fallen in; the man had clearly been thrown. 

She finally spotted the Sin of Envy sitting on the other side of the pit. He was invisible in the oily shadows but for the gleam of his jade eyes catching the barest blush of the sun. The contractor's phone was pinched between his thumb and forefinger, ringing still. Balthier smiled as he watched Amoroth and chucked the phone into the waiting pit with its owner.

Amoroth felt as if she had dived headfirst into a vat of ice water—but she forced her stiff fingers to hit the first number on her speed dial.

The Sin of Envy tutted as he stood, his voice carrying over the distance between them. "Little Amoroth, what are you doing?"

The call went through almost immediately. "Yes?"

Amoroth sucked in a breath. "Cuxiel, hel—!"

The Sin of Lust's voice was stolen by a sudden wave of pain in her hand and wrist. She jerked away—just avoiding another punishing strike from the Sin of Wrath, who stood just inches behind her. 

Amoroth hadn't sensed either of them. They had learned to mask their presences so well, luring her into this cleverly laid trap. 

Her phone was now in Sethan's disinterested hand. He held it as if unsure of what it was exactly, his bloody eyes firmly fixed upon the Sin of Envy. Balthier brushed concrete dust from his slacks and nodded. 

"Amor?!" Peroth's voice yelled from the phone's tiny speaker. "Amor, answer me—!"

Amoroth jumped when Sethan crushed her phone in his fist, cutting Peroth's shouts short. It, too, was thrown into the open pit.

"What do you want?" Amoroth demanded as she backed away from Sethan and kept her gaze on Balthier. She hadn't seen Sethan in nearly a century. It appeared the Original Sin was having difficulty assuming a fully human form, as he was still several inches too tall and his features were too narrow. He dressed similarly to Balthier, in slacks and a button-down shirt—but where Balthier was always impeccably well put together, Sethan was only partially well-dressed. His collar was loose and tieless. He didn't wear a vest like Envy did, and the tails of his white shirt had come untucked.