When she didn’t, the man whipped around awkwardly and swung at her, aiming for her jaw. But the punch he threw was sloppy, and the woman sidestepped it easily, circling behind him. He scowled as he missed, and threw another wild swing. Again, it hit nothing. When it missed, the woman clicked her tongue in a taunting manner. The sound of it seemed to push him over the edge, and with a growl, the man charged at her.
Just as he lunged, the woman’s arm shot out. It locked around his throat, elbow ramrod straight. A strangled grunt slipped from his lips, followed by a flicker of disbelief in his eyes. I could feel her Wrath clawing through me, demanding more, and I gave it freely. She believed it was hers by right, and in that moment, I allowed it to be. Her fury was absolute, elemental, and I felt there was nothing in the world more worthy than surrendering my own rage to fuel hers.
My Wrath. My rage. My power.
“I said,” she seethed, low and feral, “look at my face.”
He gargled, throat still caught in her vice-like grip. He stood a full foot taller, but it didn’t matter. Her hold was something more than human. It was unnatural. It was god-like. His arms flailed, fists swinging wildly, but they never quite reached her. Eventually, he grasped herwrist, desperate, clawing, trying to pry himself loose. But her grip was immovable. Nothing he did made her flinch, not even a fraction.
Then his panic bloomed. His eyes widened, not with anger now, but with raw, frozen fear. He let out a sound that was high and broken. A half-whimper. Half-scream.
I felt Raithe’s Vengeance rise, as if the woman herself were sunlight to his ossiraen, blossoming beneath her glare. His power swelled into something monstrous, into something beyond comprehension. And I stood in awe of him. I could’ve sunk to my knees in worship if we all weren’t bonded as one.
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten,” she snarled. “Or I’llmakeyou remember.”
With a single thrust, she slammed the man back. His spine struck the alley wall with a sickening crack.
“A week ago, you visited the very brothel you just stumbled out of, didn’t you?” Her tone turned cold, conversational, as if recounting an errand. “You paid for a girl. Any girl. You said, ‘I don’t care which whore you give me, just make sure she has brown hair.’ And the Madame gave you exactly that.”
She paused, voice dropping to a quiet, simmering rhythm.
“But you didn’t stop there. No, you got greedy. Selfish. You took more than what you paid for. So tell me, what did you do?”
Her grip loosened on his neck just slightly. An invitation to speak. But the man only thrashed his head from side to side, whether in denial or protest, it was hard to tell.
“Picture my face,” she said, voice like venom. “But younger. Softer. Eyes a shade darker than mine. And a voice so sweet even sugar itself couldn’t be made of it.” Then a sad smile ghosted her face. “Do I look familiar now?”
He kept shaking his head frantically. But something in his eyes shifted. A clarity crept in, sobriety slicing through panic. I recognized that look. It was recollection.
“You paid for her,” she said, voice flat. “But then you did something awful. Something worse. Something wrong.”
“No,” the man cried out, voice ragged with terror. “A—a devil! You’ve come back to kill me!”
“So you do remember,” the woman said, voice as vicious as it was victorious. Tilting her head mockingly, her lips formed a pout. “It’s a shame, really, with you being both right and wrong. I’m no devil risen from the dead, but I have come to kill you.”
“Help!” he screamed gutturally. “Help me! By the gods, help me! H?—”
His voice choked off as her grip closed again.
“Her name was Enid,” she continued quietly. “She was my sister.” Her eyes were wet, but her words sounded hollow. “And when you were done with her, you killed her.” She leaned in, her face inches from his. “Now, you’re going to die the way she did.”
The man tried to scream. He tried to fight. But the woman held the strength of two gods in her veins. Both of her hands were locked around his throat, pinning him harder against the alley wall. The sheer force of her Wrath and Vengeance was blinding, but it was the only thing keeping her from shattering.
Raithe and I poured more of our divinity into her, feeding the bargain that bound us. It was ravenous, that pact. It demanded everything. And nothing else mattered but the terms.
Her thoughts flooded into me relentlessly. They crashed through my mind in waves of pain and grief, guilt and fury, sorrow deep enough to drown in. So much of it was unspoken, shards of emotion too raw for words.
Why did you kill her?
I couldn’t protect her.
It should have been me.
I’ll make you suffer like she did.
I have nothing without her.
I miss her.
