Blood of the Underworld(43)

“How have you enjoyed tonight’s entertainment?” Deathmask asked, sitting across from him in the only other furniture Victor could see, a similarly old and worn chair. “I’m not sure about you, but killing Spiders always gives me a smile.”

Beside him, a woman crossed her arms and leaned against his side. From what he’d learned, her name was Veliana, his second in command.

“I’m not sure he’s worth it,” she said. Victor peered up at her. He decided there was more compassion and mercy in her bloodied eye than the healthy one.

“Perhaps not,” Victor said, trying to remain calm. “Course, it’d help if I knew what value my life was being weighed against.”

“Coin,” said one of the two twins lurking against the wall, their pale skin making them seem like ghosts in the dim light.

“Lots of coin,” said the other.

“Right,” Victor said, turning his attention to Deathmask, the clear leader of them all. If anyone was to decide his fate, it was him. “But as ransom, or bounty? Or did you lie, and there actually is something my soldiers will soon dig up on your little guild?”

Deathmask scooted his chair closer, and his grin spread.

“You think you’re sharp,” he said. “You think your charm will keep you safe from what your soldiers cannot. But you’ve come to a city that eats men like you for supper. We spit your bones out in the gutters. At most, you’re just gristle to get stuck in our teeth. You aren’t a white knight come to save us all, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you and I might start to get along.”

“You’ve never faced a man like me before.”

Deathmask shook his head and wagged a finger at him.

“You see, that’s the thing...we have. I daresay you remind me most of Thren Felhorn. Oh, don’t give me that look; it’s true. Same cockiness, same certainty that you’ll live forever without meeting someone better. You know, it might even be true. But the problem is you keep acting like you’re special. You keep thinking that there’s something unique about you.”

He slid even closer and raised a palm to the ceiling. Purple fire burst into existence in its center, and it swirled in an unfelt wind, burned on fuel that was not there.

“If I shoved this fire into your lungs,” said Deathmask, “you’d scream like anyone else, you’d die like anyone else, and then your corpse would shit itself, just like every other man and woman who has lived and died on this joke of a world. When the worms are eating our bodies, there’ll be no difference between you and I, not a one.”

Victor took a deep breath, and was glad that the tight ropes holding him to the chair kept him from shaking.

“I’m not afraid of you,” he said. “Tell me what it is you want, or let me go.”

Deathmask chuckled, and he clenched his fist, banishing the fire.

“What do I want? I want you safe and alive, that’s what I want. And for you to do that, you need to start listening. If we work together, we’ll both meet our goals, and you might even live long enough to see the end.”

Victor tried to hide his revulsion and failed. He thought of his words to the Watcher and shook his head.

“I will not have you drag me down,” he said. “No deals, no bribes, no sacrificing a shred of my intent. You can’t defeat me, so you hope to make me like you.”

“Can’t defeat you?” Veliana asked. She grabbed his face in her hands and gave him an earful of her mocking laughter. “Can’t defeat you? Look around, Victor. Instead of removing that mask over your head, we could have buried a dagger in your throat and been done with all this. How about instead of spouting blind nonsense, you start listening to the words you’re saying?”

She let go, pushing his head back hard enough to hurt the muscles in his neck. He felt his face flush, and he caught the twins snickering in the background. Pride wounded, he looked to the floor, forced himself to think. They were right, of course. His life was fully in their hands. But that didn’t mean he had to surrender. It didn’t mean he had to break.

“I will not die a hypocrite,” he said softly. “I’ve come to Veldaren to cleanse it of your kind. I will not work with you to do it. It is a poor executioner who relies on the condemned to swing their own axe.”

“Are you so sure?” Deathmask asked. “We now have a common enemy. Thren will never forgive me for what I’ve done, and you, well, you’re dead no matter what. The only reason you lived through his first attack was with my help. Should you remain stubborn, we may not be so generous the next time.”