1873
Gluttony said everyone experienced nervousness from time to time. Sins were no different. Finding the purest soul as an offering to Him was an honor.
To disappoint him was terrifying.
And that was why I didn't stop walking toward the curly-haired woman. Pride had spotted her that morning; the innocent daughter of a traveling merchant. I'd been the only Sin without a pure soul offering. Pride thought it was my turn.
Nearly a hundred years a Sin, I was long overdue.
"Excuse me, would you care to buy a flower?" The woman stood beside her father's wagon. He knelt inside of it, sorting through bags and boxes. With him distracted and her back to me, this would be easy.
There wasn't a reason to be nervous. The blood would spill, drenching the road red. It wasn't my color, but it was a sight to see.
I slowed my steps, avoiding the pieces of gravel. There were another hundred years before I could fly. Until then, I walked like mortals. Like her.
"Priscilla," the merchant called from inside the wagon, "stop rehearsing your sales and check the horse. If he gets free again, we will be stranded here."
The woman looked at the flower in her hand. There hadn't been anyone around; no witnesses for her murder. But I'd never heard of a "rehearsal" to sell plants on the side of the road. Were roses a lucrative business?
Mortals.
"Sorry, papa." The woman put the basket down on the ground. It splashed mud from the recent rains on her stockings. Noticing the stains, she huffed and wiped at her dress. "I'll get to the horse."
The slight fog worked in my favor. With the on-and-off storms, the sun barely had the energy to break the clouds. With the merchant's traveling store sitting on the side of the road, I knew I could swoop around the wagon and the animal she was ordered to tend to.
With the speed of a Deadly, she'd never see me coming. And her father would curse himself for being inattentive.
'One swipe. Twist of her neck. Avoid the look in her eyes.'
"Papa, Duloc's hoof is caught in the mud." The woman flattened her hand against the side of the horse. "I'll need more than just my hands if you can just—"
"Priscilla, please," the merchant's hands shot up above his head, but he didn't come outside, "free Duloc's foot, and we can be on our way."
When she grumbled, I laughed. Then stopped because the sound echoed. As she turned around sharply to see who was nearby, I pressed myself against a tree.
First mistake. Silence should have been my skill.
But she also made a mistake. She ignored her suspicion, figured my laughter was nothing but the wind, and turned back to her horse.
Oh, the innocent. A life was short-lived.
"All right, Duloc, Priscilla's here—"
As she moved back toward the horse, gently adjusting the straps of his reigns, I slid away from the tree. I rolled my head around my shoulders. My fingers stretched, nails extending, as sinful blood prepared me for murder.
"—I'm going to move your leg, get you out of the dirt, and we can head home."
The horse neighed as I got closer. I saw myself in its dark eyes, reflecting the dim light of the road. Black hair combed back to resemble a nobleman. The scar on my brow had become my signature look. My smirk was clear in the horse's eyes, too.
"Won't you want that, Duloc?" She stood there promising a horse its return, unaware she wouldn't go with it. Shame.
"Come now," she said to the horse, but I took it as an invitation. As she gently pulled at the horse's straps, I charged. My hands stretched out beside me. With her back to me, my instructions would be flawlessly executed. I couldn't look into her eyes. And her neck was so snappable. Until it wasn't.
She turned. "Oh!" She gasped. Not frightened, but surprised.
I stopped a few inches from her face; teeth bared, snarling, ready to kill her. But her eyes; hadn't changed from the love and care she displayed with the horse. That same gaze was focused on me. Pure, unsolicited kindness wrapped in the golden hues of the Gods I was against.
I couldn't blink. I couldn't look away. My heart slowed as it allowed kindness to seep into my chest.
"What is going on out there, Priscilla?" her father shouted.
Priscilla, the mortal angel standing before me with the soul He needed, smiled. She passed her fingers over her slightly tanned skin, gently tucking a dark curl behind her ears. And on that ear was a gem, blue in color, small and dainty, yet precious. Humble.
Why was I noticing her more than I should? She was a soul. THE soul. I needed to kill her.
"Oh, nothing, Papa." She looked up at me with her holy eyes. "There's a gentleman out here, and I believe he wishes to help with Duloc."
I lowered my arms. I felt my expression soften, my teeth contracting back to normalcy. The burning sensation in my chest fueled by Envy evaporated, disappearing into the air and the aura of his woman.
A woman I was going to kill. But instead, I reached for the horse's reigns to help.
Why was I helping?
"A man?" The merchant's head quickly appeared. Wide eyes shot in my direction. Looking at his face, the burning returned. Thoughts of lies, trickery, and brothels filled my mind; his thoughts, his sins.
How could a man with such darkness have a daughter with a soul like hers?
"Why are you here?" he asked suspiciously. "We don't require assistance."
Priscilla leaned in close. "Please, help me. Duloc is terribly heavy, and I can't do this alone."
Still holding the straps, I wasn't sure what to say. How to act. I was failing the Deadly Seven. I looked into her eyes. This was supposed to be easy. I would've had the Soul to present. But...
"You wouldn't want to be alone, would you?" she asked me.
I looked into her eyes. Warmth filled me. I wanted nothing more, at that moment, than to let her soul gift me the sensation of life; a feeling I lost so long ago.
"No one likes to be alone," I whispered, the words bleeding out from the remains of my mortal heart. I then looked at her father and his aura of sins and lies. "I am assisting, good sir. It looks like you need it."
***
"Excuse me." I hurried past Megan, the girl at the front, and ignored her when she quietly asked if I was okay. I wasn't. Thoughts and memories rushed through my head. I needed air, and the second I was back in the city streets, I took it in gulps.
Priscilla Dumas showed me love one hundred years ago. It was more than her soul, more than her smile. The light in her eyes brightened the world around me; because of it, I saw life differently. I dreamt of normalcy, of purity. I itched for every chance to see her, feel her, and when she opened her arms and heart to me, I touched her. I needed her.
I loved her.
She is not my Priscilla.
Stumbling into the street pole, I looked at the lights swarmed by flies. They bumped their heads against the bulbs. They buzzed. If I looked at them long enough, it could be a distraction. I needed one; I needed to be present.
Sometimes the light is better than the dark. Isn't that what you've always said, Octavio?
A car zoomed past me. Mud from the street splashed against my jeans. I glanced down at the mess, at the stain, and ground my teeth. "Shit..."
This is what you've waited for. The opportunity is within reach.
What opportunity? The voices confused me. They were either with me, against me, or some tone blended within the two. Tugging at my ears, I wanted them to stop. Giving bits and pieces of a puzzle meant nothing to me if I wasn't interested. This wasn't a game to me. There wasn't a reason to put together a pretty picture.
I had one job. One job!
Just go back in there and look into her eyes.
"Fuck!" Twisting my body around, I turned back to Prima's Art Gallery. The aesthetic hadn't faded. Not even my view of it. I focused on the red and brown romantic hues, ignoring the glances from those who watched me rush outside. Still clutching her flyers and tablet, Megan hid half of her face with them as she looked at me. She turned back once to speak to someone, but I didn't see them.
I didn't want to. Closing my eyes, I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Pride knew it was her," I hissed. "He wanted me to take this. Sick fuck."
I took in a deep breath and looked up at the dark sky. I wanted the stars to guide me. Shit. It was bad if I needed human superstitions to grant me some path, some idea of where to go.
She taught you that. You want her to help you, not the stars. Just look at her. It only takes a second. Don't you remember how fast it was?
"Over there?" The wind carried Priscilla's voice before I saw her face. She touched Megan's arm and made apologetic gestures to the guests inside, but when she looked back out the open door at the street where I stood, she smiled—a small, innocent, even worried smile.
She leaned close to Megan, whispering something. I could tap into my powers to hear her, to listen, but why? I didn't plan on staying to talk to her. I planned on running. I needed to. Pride tricked me into coming here. My ass, so thirsty for acceptance, took the bait off the hook like a fucking fish.
I'm still on the hook. I'm wiggling. Struggling. I should've listened to you, Glutt. You were always my only friend.
Leaning back against the light pole, I squeezed my eyes shut.
"No." This wasn't happening. Looking back across the street, I stared at her. Priscilla. Confusion clutched my chest.
I knew rules had changed since I sat in my seat, but souls weren't reincarnated. Not like this. Especially not a pure soul. After being absorbed by the dark, they were gone, erased from existence within either realm. Death by a Sin didn't give someone entrance into the next life. If the Seven wanted one dead, they'd cease in every way.
No lights.
No memories.
No soul.
You always remember her, Octavio. Don't you? So, how can that be?
Forcing my eyes open, I watched her. Standing across the street, her arms folded over her chest as she cocked a brow. The corner of her lips pulled into a seductive grin. No. She couldn't be doing that to me right now. This was my mind playing tricks on me. This was a trick. It had to be.
Laughing to myself, I shook my head. "This is Sloth," I whispered. "It has to be. Fucker..."
I didn't move. Why would I? This was a trick. Sloth, as lazy as he came to be, did too much when bored. When he saw me at the temple, he must have seen it as a chance to be vile and ugly. How else could he mess with my head but make me believe Priscilla was near me? She was reborn, reincarnated, with the same natural beauty that captivated me in one night.
No. She died. And it was my fault.
"Okay, maybe he's on something." Priscilla glanced back at Megan. "Can you call someone?"
"Are you sure?" Megan bit her lip before glancing at me. "He's never been to a show, so who knows? His guest's name was Sinner. Do we want that?"
"We're judging off party names?" Priscilla blinked. "It's an art gallery. People are creative."
Megan frowned. "Um... I mean..."
"Exactly." Priscilla clapped her hands. "So, if he's on something and needs help, I won't take the chance. Let me be a good person, so make the call."
Megan's face changed from slight sorrow to disgust. She didn't want to make a call. Not that I knew where that'd be. If it were the police, I'd run. They wouldn't be able to catch me, and once my dormant abilities showed themselves, I'd be gone.
Only to return because I agreed to this. To try to kill her... again.