Retribution(75)

“It didn’t bother you that your sister was gone?”

“No. She was a sweet girl, but nothing on earth is permanent. It doesn’t make sense to mourn loss; you’ll mourn your whole life. Even at nine I understood that, yet others waste their entire lives trying to disrupt the cycle. And what happens? They spend all their time mourning not only loss, but their perpetual failure.”

The theory made little sense to Guthrie. Accepting loss and causing it were two different things. But he kept his mouth shut. If he disagreed with the boss, he’d be accepting the loss of his life sooner rather than later.

“Most of the coven branded me a lost cause at that point,” Agro went on. “I was locked up and mostly ignored. My mother tried to fix me by calling in magicians who specialized in healing and mental magic. But see, the thing is, I couldn’t be fixed, because I wasn’t broken. I was simply one of the lucky ones who somehow escaped the shackles of a delusional society hell-bent on fitting people into nice and neat boxes. Compassion for the dead is useless. And guilt defies human nature. I proved that at the age of one. Babies don’t cry over lives lost. They don’t feel guilt and compassion. It’s taught to them. Children are brainwashed into acting against the laws of nature, so their true colors stay hidden, seeping out only when they think no one’s watching. I eventually played along with my family, but only as a means to escape. I grew into an old man never feeling what they wanted me to feel.”

He turned and looked at Guthrie, like he wanted feedback, so Guthrie gave him a contrived reply. “You see things crystal clear, sir.”

“And you?” Agro returned. “Do you still feel guilty when looking down on your fresh kill?”

Guthrie swallowed, disheartened by the truth. “No, sir.”

“Then you’ve found your roots, a gift given by nature and restored by me.”

Guthrie bowed his head and replied through clenched teeth. “Thank you, sir.”

“I’ve spent over sixty years giving magicians the freedom to release their natural born instincts, washing away the guilt drilled into them by covens. And in return, I demand their respect and a portion of their plunders – a small price to pay considering the weight I take off their shoulders. Now, one might wonder what my motivation is. Do I do this because I want wealth and supremacy? Or because I care about the quality of your lives?”

Care? The notion was laughable, and Guthrie smirked as he shook his head.

Agro lifted an eyebrow, a smile stretching across his gaunt face. “You’re right. I don’t give a shit about any of you.”

Ooh… shocker.

“Nor do I strive for wealth and supremacy.”

Now that was surprising.

“I do this for one reason,” Agro explained. “Self-preservation. And I don’t do it because I think my life is important. I do it because I know it’s not.” Puffing his pipe, he started pacing again. “I’ve lived longer than I thought I would, and while there are misconceptions that I’m a greedy man, the truth is – I’ve never wanted anything. Sure, I’ve been intrigued by things and I’ve taken things, but I don’t stay intrigued, and I don’t hold things dear, because this world is a toy on loan. What happens to it is none of my concern. Desires are fleeting; those I embrace can be disregarded in the next breath. The only constant in my life is the act of staying alive. And to do that, I must stay in power, which happens to be a position with perks I can use and abuse with mild interest.” He paused and looked over, motioning to Guthrie with his pipe. “You look confused.”

Guthrie smoothed his expression and leaned forward, placing his goblet on the table. “I guess I’m wondering why you’re telling me all this.”

“Because,” Agro answered, fire flashing in his steady stare, “after a life of wanting nothing, I’m ready to collect.”

Guthrie had seen the fire in Agro’s eyes many times, usually when a kill was moments away, but lately, the flame flickered constantly, threatening to roar into a blaze at the slightest misstep. “Collect?” Guthrie asked.

“Yes,” Agro confirmed. “I never mourned a loss, not until twenty-one years ago… almost to the day. And I’ve never wanted something so much I’d be willing to risk my life for it, not until now.”

Guthrie’s confusion ebbed as he sighed. “The witch.”

“Yes,” Agro bellowed, throwing his hands in the air. “The fucking witch.”

“Why?”

Agro’s fit paused as he found Guthrie’s stare. “Come again?”