Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
“May I go now?” a third person asked.
Rathbone didn’t bother to face the visitor who’d dared interrupt the torture session half an hour ago. There was no need. Mystical eyes known as mátia covered his body, granting him a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view. Less apparel meant cataloging more details.
Today, he’d opted to go without a shirt. Since the apron strings hid little, he was able to observe the cell from every angle. Each element registered in unison, crafting a three-dimensional picture in his head.
A fae prince stood near the exit. Well, the spirit of a fae prince. The mystical defenses surrounding the Realm of Agonies prevented anyone from teleporting in without a special key. In fact, if someone attempted it, their spirit was ripped from their body, bound with enchanted chains, and whisked straight to Rathbone. If they tried to walk in, they had to first overcome countless traps.
The vampire had walked. The prince had gambled with teleportation. Both were suffering because of their choice.
“Let’s recap what you’ve told me so far,” Rathbone said to the fae, his tone casual. He reached for a crimson-stained dagger on the wheeled cart at his side, sending the vampire into another round of sobs. “Your name is Bogart. You are the consort of a harpy, and you’ve come from her land, Harpina. Three months ago, nine warlords invaded the realm, slaughtered the males in their path and temporarily incapacitated the females. You would’ve died, too, but a harpy-oracle, also known as a harpacle, visited you days before and told you what to do during an invasion, even providing you with a blueprint to escape. Now the warlords and harpies are allies, working together to defeat Erebus Phantom. As payment for her kind deed, the harpy-oracle asked you to deliver this message to me. She has seen where the rest of my wife resides. For the right price, she’ll spill every detail. Do I understand you correctly?”
“You understand,” the prince confirmed with a sharp dip of his pointed chin. Despite the manacles around his wrists, he waited at attention, as a good soldier should, showing no reaction to Rathbone’s gruesome activities.
“Help me, Bogart. Please.” The wounded vampire struggled against his bonds. “I’m innocent! I would never spy on the King of Agonies! I’m not a fool.”
Rathbone cut out the immortal’s tongue, as promised. A fresh howl of pain morphed into a choking fit. He tossed the muscular organ in the bucket. “Tell me more about the harpy-oracle,” he commanded the fae, replacing the dagger with a scalpel. He’d used a different weapon for each removal. So far he thought he preferred the ice pick. But he might change his mind. He had sixty-four other weapons to utilize. “Every detail.”
“Her name is Neeka the Unwanted. She’s half harpy, half oracle, as I previously stated, and all sex appeal. Her addition, not mine. She instructed me to tell you she’s the owner and operator of Greater than Greatest at Finding Stuff. She also mentioned the vampire, who is indeed a spy. He came on behalf of the Astra, and he’s a herald of their newest task.” A pause. Then, “I’ll be honest. Neeka might not be entirely sane. Immediately after she explained the situation, I asked her a question, but she’d already forgotten who I was and what she’d said. She threatened to castrate me.”
Neeka the Unwanted. Not a name familiar to Rathbone. Had this harpacle spoken true or lied? For that matter, had this prince spoken true or lied? In the Underworld, you could trust no one at any time. Including yourself.
“Despite this supposed insanity,” he said, “you decided to do as she requested, three months late, putting your life in my hands because...?”
“I owed her, and I always pay my debts. But I’m not late. She told me when to come.”
Yes, but why would any oracle worth her salt summon an enraged King of Agonies to her doorstep? And that was exactly what she’d done with this stunt. Rathbone would be in her face before sunset. If he wasn’t convinced of her authenticity and talents, she would die on his table like thousands of others.
He didn’t like being reminded of his only failure.
The scalpel bent in his grip as memories assailed him. In a split second of time, he remembered how, all those centuries ago, he’d etched the Song of Life into Lore’s bones, one after the other. How innumerable demons had surrounded him while he’d chiseled, not to stop him or launch an attack, as he’d expected, but to wait. Each time he’d completed a bone, a small contingent of the creatures had collected it and fled, laughing. Because they’d known the consequences, just as he had. Rathbone couldn’t resurrect his wife until the pieces were reunited.
Back then, he’d been forced to allow the thefts. Having begun the Song, he couldn’t pause his task without slaying Lore for good. In the end, he’d retained only the last bone he’d etched. The others, he’d soon learned, had been sold to the highest bidders.