Reaper Kissed

25. Son of the Devil

In Gomorrah's orphanage, the employees were speculating over a possible prison break out.

"I've heard that's why there's been no date set for the execution," a young carer whispered to his colleague. "Because he's escaped."

"Ryder – loose in the city," the older woman shuddered at the idea.

"Are we out of arm bands?" The lead asked, marching briskly into the room and breaking up their discussion. "Some of children aren't wearing them."

"Wyder! Wyder!" Little Mason lisped unhappily, kicking out at a carer who was trying to dress him. His little face was flushed scarlet and fat tears were rolling down his adorably chubby face. The workers exchanged scandalized expressions.

"He's a horrid little imp," one exclaimed angrily, massaging her bruised jaw. They all knew where this child had come from.

"Do you think he's his son?" One whispered fearfully.

"He's got the look of him."

Mason began to wail, a high pitch awful sound.

"Shut up you little monster." One woman snapped sternly. Little Mason continued to bawl until the lead slapped him across the face.

The others stared at her in alarm. They never hit the children. Mason stopped wailing, the tears falling silently instead, as he stared wide-eyed up at them.

"Well?" The woman demanded, glaring at her colleagues. "He's the son of a killer. He'll grow up to be just like his father."

With these disturbing words slinking through their minds, nobody spoke up in Mason's defence.

             Lucjan stood on the rooftop of the House of Justice. Beneath his feet Chloe and her fellow traitors, languished in their individual cells. He could hear Frederick, now stationed on guard outside of Chloe's cell - protecting her. The breeze ruffled Lucjan's feathery tawny hair and he sniffed deeply the jumbled cocktail of scents that it carried with it. Looking across at Gomorrah's rooftops, his sharp gaze found the space that was being cleared for his brother's mausoleum. Deep melancholy weighed down his head beneath the waning sun.

People were lighting candles and leaving them in the windows of their homes. He knew that if he went down there, onto the streets – that he'd be assailed with condolences. But, though he was hurting, his heart craved to be alone. He knew how special his brother had been – he didn't need to see their grief to be reminded. Aleksey had been born beneath a different star to the rest of them.

"Lucjan," Jordan called out – seeming to materialise behind him. Lucjan's brooding gaze darkened. He raised his head to show that he was listening. "I need your help."

For a moment, Lucjan held still – considering refusing. Slowly, he turned – his expression a mask of calm.

"What can I do?"

                  Lucjan and Jordan stood over the corpses of Romina and her followers.

"You brought your cousin here, behind my back – didn't you?" Lucjan's voice was emotionless. Jordan nodded.

"I was worried that you'd want..."

"Revenge?" Lucjan guessed. Jordan nodded. 

"How much more can I do – to prove that you can trust me?" Lucjan asked, brushing his bronze hair away from his eyes. Jordan hung his head guiltily. "I've done everything you've asked." Lucjan continued, "I've told every lie necessary to protect you."

"I know, I just couldn't risk-"

"You're a brother to me, Jordan." Lucjan cut in. Hope kindled in Jordan's previously bleak gaze.

"Will you help me find her?"

Lucjan stiffened, his gaze roving warily around the room.

"She's escaped?"

Jordan nodded.

"Well then we better be fast. Before she kills anyone else."

Jordan and Lucjan discreetly mobilised the Sanguinem Guard. Sworn to secrecy, they were instructed to hunt for a new monster that was lurking within the city walls. Their orders were to trap it but not kill it.

"I ask one favour in return," Lucjan had stipulated as he'd covered Romina's body with a sheet.

"Say it."

"We spare Ryder's whore."

Jordan had turned to look up at his friend in surprise.

"Why?" He'd questioned. Lucjan had turned away, hiding his face from Jordan's scrutiny.

"She's my friend." He answered simply, his tone sincere.