Bereft: Foretold

3 | A Remembered Place

I sat across the flimsy, slightly sticky table from the black mage and watched as the elderly waitress set down plate after plate from her overburdened tray. Cage smiled at her and chatted with an affable mien while his fingers once more toyed at the ribbon tied about his throat.

I said nothing as I stared at the single plate she had slid before me. 

We sat at a booth in a dingy twenty-four hour diner on the outskirts of the city, not far from the on-ramp to the highway that carved its way into the high desert. I'd been here once before, months ago with Sara, after the bomb on Mitch's yacht had exploded. It was impossible for Cage to know about that incident—and yet, I couldn't figure out why he'd chosen this place out of all the places in Verweald.

The window at my side was scratched and mutilated by lines of crayon wax, obviously the handiwork of an unattended toddler scribbling mercilessly upon it. Despite the damage, the window still offered a partial view of the city, the parking lot, and the crowded on-ramp. Verweald glittered in the distance, where its lights burned in the blackness of night like torches of an approaching horde. The parking lot was nearly filled to capacity, though I was unable to comprehend why. The diner sat alone on its weedy lot and didn't seem to me a popular destination for the humans.

"What's wrong now, boy?" Cage asked as the waitress departed. He'd ordered several entrees, and he began to eat with gusto. "You've got that ugly broody face on again."

I scoffed and glared at the mage as he stuffed a forkful of country fried steak into his mouth and a dollop of gravy dripped onto his scruffy chin. "I've never known a mage to be so juvenile," I said as I reached for my plastic cup of water. The cup didn't appear fully clean but I drank from it regardless. "Let alone a fugitive mage on the run from the Blue-Iron wardens."

He chuckled and dumped four whole sugar packets into his black coffee. "Technically I'm a fugitive black mage on the run from the Blue Fire Syndicate. Blue-Iron wardens are just the poor sobs those crotchety old bastards send after me." He drank the coffee in one go, tipping his head and the cup back until he smacked his lips and set the cup at the table's edge to catch the waitress's attention. "Not that you'd know anything about that or even understand the difference."

I sipped my water and shifted my attention from the mage before my irritation got the better of me. He was being intentionally aggravating, though I didn't see the benefit of his behavior. What did the mage stand to gain by pissing me off in a public place? Not that I could do much else besides yell and shout now. Balthazar had once said humans were needlessly noisy creatures, screaming without benefit.

My eyes narrowed at the thought of the dead Sin of Envy and my grip on the plastic cup tightened until my knuckles shown white through the skin. He hadn't suffered enough in his end, because there was no existing torment that would've sufficiently impressed my rage upon Balthazar.

I hadn't been able to kill him, though. I hadn't even survived him.

Sara killed him, Amoroth had told me. She killed him when he let his guard down. Shoved her hand right through his heart.

The frustrating mortal had once stated she'd kill Balthazar if I was unwilling to do so. I found it ironic that she was the Sin's end when I'd laughed at the absurdity of her statement.

I concentrated on the layout of the diner and the mixture of patrons savoring their dinners. Behind Cage was a table full of loud teenagers who'd most likely come from the bowling alley on the other side of the highway. One of their number, a young boy with thin arms and uncut hair had grabbed a chair to sit at the end of the booth, crowding the aisle. He kept shooting jealous glances at the oldest boy of the group who had his arm around a young, giggling girl wearing cosmetic glitter on her lips and down the line of her throat.