Total pages in book: 193
Estimated words: 184001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 920(@200wpm)___ 736(@250wpm)___ 613(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 184001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 920(@200wpm)___ 736(@250wpm)___ 613(@300wpm)
Gone.
The cabin is fucking gone.
“Savior, we have located the sacrifice,” the masked disciple announces. “We’ve found Ezekiel.”
Isaac turns and tilts his head, his gaze too discerning even behind the mask. “But that isn’t Ezekiel at all, is it?” The disciples surrounding him immediately tense as they look to each other in confusion and worry that they’ve failed him.
“Savior?”
“This is Seth. I remember him well. There’s a certain wildness to his eyes that can’t be hidden. Zeke begged me to stop. Seth laughed through the pain.”
“Yeah,” I say with a sneer, “but you screamed. Like a bitch if I recall. How’s your face, little bitch?”
Isaac reaches up and removes his mask. The charred skin around his lower jaw and cheekbone seems to split apart when he smiles. “Just fine, thank you. You’ve helped me more than you know. Because of your…intransigence I was able to show all of Death’s children that he will not forsake his most devout if we believe.”
Great. I blowtorched his face and made him a goddamn living martyr. And I’m sure that’s when the masks became a part of the uniform. To protect Isaac’s vanity at being a fugly piece of shit now.
“You mean if your sheep convince someone who loved and trusted them to kill themselves so your followers can live forever. I’m just curious. What happens if one of you does die?”
“They’ll rise again of course.”
“And let me guess, if they don’t, you just tell your sheep they must not have been a true believer. Kind of a convenient pile of horseshit, don’t you think? Your retention rate of followers must be through the floor.”
Isaac’s smile wavers a little as he holds out a hand rather than answers my question. “Come with us, Seth. Quietly, and we’ll let these nonbelievers flee unharmed. You were so close the last time I had you on my table. I’m sure it will all be over soon.”
“Well, that would be a mistake,” Thorin says. “Since he isn’t going anywhere, we don’t flee, and we have every intention of harming you.”
Isaac turns toward one of the unmasked disciples and gives a short order. “Convince him.”
Thorin immediately shifts into a fighting stance as the disciple moves to obey, but he isn’t the only one. Two of them grab Khalil before he can react. They throw him to the ground and pin him there with knees on his back and feet on his arms while six others descend on Thorin and proceed to beat the shit out of him. Of course, Thorin fights back and even gets the best of a couple, so more of the unmasked disciples join until there are so many I can’t see Thorin anymore.
I run forward to help, only managing to pull one of them out of a dozen off Thorin before I’m yanked back and shoved away. The disciples don’t restrain me though, and that’s a mistake. Instead, they create a wall between Thorin and me.
“Interfere again and that one will get the same treatment.” He points to Khalil, who is struggling and screaming obscenities and threats into the dirt. “Your friend is strong, but he isn’t one of us,” Isaac taunts. “He isn’t an Undying. He’s another lost soul for Thanatos.”
A disciple kicks Thorin in his jaw. The blow snaps his head to the side, and blood spews and hits the ground in a wet splatter. He doesn’t move after that.
“Stop! Stop! Stooop!” Feeling helpless, I crumble to my knees as I’m forced to watch Zeke’s friend—my friend—brutally beaten to death.
But Isaac doesn’t call them off, and he doesn’t lift a finger to end it. He watches me with that unwavering smile as Thorin is beaten long after his grunts of pain end and he falls quiet and then deathly still. Over the sound of my blood rushing, I think I hear Thorin’s ribs shatter and Khalil crying for him to get up.
Thorin doesn’t so much as twitch as he lies face down in the dirt.
“I said stop!” I don’t remember pulling the gun hidden in my waistband or shooting one of them in the head. There are still too many, but I can’t give a shit anymore. It’s Thorin. The disciple drops, and the rest of them quickly move away from Thor with wary eyes trained on me.
“You didn’t search him?” Isaac shouts.
I don’t see who he directs his ire at because my gaze is pinned on Thorin, waiting for him to get back up.
He doesn’t.
I don’t even think he’s breathing.
His face is mangled and blood coats his hair, and I’m pretty sure one of his arms looks broken.
Rage that tastes like ash and blood in the back of my throat rises up and I re-aim the gun. Something akin to fear flickers in Isaac’s eyes once I have him staring down the barrel. It’s gone in a flash when he remembers he’s not supposed to fear death, and his calm mask of control slips back into place.