NP on Vincent's Playlist: Worth a Thousand Words by Mayday Parade
You're cut away from something that I can't change
We're about to break and even if you lie
The world will just forgive you
I stared at seal carved on the double doors to Pilgrim's throne room.
The more I looked at it, the more it seemed to be moving, warping like a whirlpool trying to suck me in. I tried to blink it out. It wasn't working.
"Aramis."
It took a few seconds before Vincent's face registered to me.
"You sure you're okay?" he asked, limping closer, with Amyr's support.
"Yeah," I shook my head and flattened the crease between my brows. "Just a... headache."
With a final inspection, he said, "Try not to space out, okay?" before bumping his knuckle on my forehead just quick enough so I wouldn't make him puke blood again. It seemed like a reminder. I just didn't know yet what it should be reminding me of.
Unable to focus, I caught my forehead and pretended to tug my bangs into place.
I could hear Vladimir's voice from the other side of the doors. It wasn't common for the boy to raise his tone. The board meeting must be getting pretty intense.
Amyr carefully lifted Vincent's arm from his shoulder and helped him to his feet. "You sure you wanna go in, Boss? Sounds nasty in there."
"Yeah," he exhaled, motioning me to open the door. "Let's get this over with."
The door made a loud groaning sound as it swung in. As Vincent, Amyr and Luci filed in, the ongoing argument seemed to stop for a moment, like someone just pushed pause on the remote. Before Alexis could follow them, I caught his arm.
I waited until the insightful exchange of bright ideas resounded from the inside. Quietly, I pulled the door close.
"I don't trust him," I told Alex. "Vincent, I mean."
Blinking fast as if to think, he said, "I figured."
"Do you think... is there a really a way to kill Legion? You heard Luci. If the princess of hell can't kill the thing, what can?"
"Calm down, Aramis," he shrugged. "We're Reapers. Destroying tainted souls is what we do. I'll do some research."
"That's reassuring."
Hesitantly, he placed a hand over my shoulder. "You know, you shouldn't really be doing this to yourself. Vincent is a wreck, but he does care about you."
"Yeah," I forced out a chuckle. "And he cares way more about Adrianna and you know it. The moment they get face-to-face, do you really think he would do it? He will get everyone else killed before we could touch a hair on her head. I say, we find this thing and kill it while keeping my boss in the dark. What do you say?"
"You need him, Aramis. You can't do this alone."
I tapped my fingers on his shirt. "That's why you're here."
He raised a brow. "Vincent is still my brother. And he's a forced to be reckoned with whenever he-he is doling out that righteous anger of his. What makes you so sure I'll connive with you behind his back?"
"Because, Alex, you have decided to be on my side, remember?" I replied resolutely. And quoting his words during our first dance, I said "Don't ask me why because I have no idea. It's what you might call gut-feeling."
"Clever," he smiled, looking at me straight for the first time. "But if we get caught, you forced me into it."
"Copy that."
As inconspicuously as possible, we sneaked into the throne room. The heated conversation still raged on. Pilgrim sprawled in his throne, chin propped on the back of his hand.
"This isn't getting us anywhere," Vincent said bitterly, glowering at Pilgrim. "Come on, Vlad. He won't believe us even if the evidence is screaming right at his face. We're just wasting time. We should be... looking for Adrianna by now."
Vladimir tried to silence him with one look and stood up to face his father. "Cairo did this, Father. He sabotaged our Gates. That's what I've been telling you for ages. It may not matter now, but please, for once, believe us."
"You're right," Pilgrim admitted. "It does not matter now. That creature is now out there."
"And you're number one on its hit-list," Vincent pointed out.
"Whether Cairo is the culprit or not, is not of importance now," Pilgrim raised his head to engage in a staring contest with Vincent. Personally, I was curious who would win. "We have more urgent issues to attend to."
"You mean like how we're gonna have to save your neck from the thing?" Vincent scoffed. "Now I don't see why that's our problem."
The forbidding look on Pilgrim's face as he got up from his throne was enough to make your average Joe pee his pants. The murderous intent came off of him as if it was tangible. Even Vlad and Alexis appeared a bit shaken. Not Vincent though.
"Yeah," he rolled his eyes. "I've seen things much scarier than a guy groveling for his sons to take a bullet for him. Try again."
"Insolent little horror," Pilgrim growled through his teeth.
"Stupid old man," he smirked. "Clean up after your own-"
In a fraction of a second, Vincent hit the wall, cracks running every which way through the concrete. Pilgrim's hand was clasped over his neck. Slowly, he hauled Vincent up. Muffled gagging sounds came out of his mouth. It turned out, he was sniggering. Or at least trying to.
"W-why don't... you ask y-your favorite son to... s-save your ancient ass?" he choked out, staring Pilgrim down. "Oh, I f-forgot. He... w-went bonkers."
"I should have killed you before you came out of your mother's womb." His eyes glowed like molten steel. Taking Vincent's right arm, he ripped his sleeve and traced the number thirteen Bind with his nails. "I should not have given you my mark. You will obey me, boy, or I will make your life a living hell."
"Isn't it already?" Vincent growled through his teeth. He grabbed Pilgrim's hand and slowly pried his fingers off his neck. Once free, he flung Pilgrim's arm, smirking. "I got a better idea. You can ask the twins... except that they're both vegetables now. I know. You should call Irvine. Remember him? Your second favorite son? If you'd remembered to turn on the GPS on his phone like a good dad should before he'd gone AWOL, you'd probably get an idea where he's holed up by now."
Pilgrim's eyes widened with outrage. Alex and Vladimir were swapping anxious glances. Whatever luck Vincent had left, he was pushing it.
"Conrad," he beckoned his familiar. "My scythe."
"Father," Vladimir called, his voice small. "Vincent's just... angry."
Dutifully, the wiry, fair-haired boy handed the massive scythe to Pilgrim, sneering as he did.
I fidgeted with the rosary tattooed on my arm, swearing with every bead inked into my skin how I was so going to kill Conrad the second Pilgrim wasn't looking.
Now, if the Grandmaster's presence was frightening, the Grandmaster with the Master Scythe was way worse. Like I-thought-I-might-cry worse.
He dragged the scythe against the floor, leaving a corroded trail of granite behind him.
The air felt heavy and stale. Suddenly, the room seemed too small, too... cramped. The walls and ceiling closed in on us like a casket. Fear crept up my spine, deadening my limbs. The plants on the patio began to wilt, filling the room with the smell of withered flowers.
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