“Well, not…” That pinched annoyance came back into his face, and he rolled his eyes. “I suppose.”
CHAPTER 5
SACRIFICIAL DESIGNATIONS
Asquat building of dark stone was positioned near the gates of Aszath Koth proper. It stood on a corner, its entry angled toward the intersection of the main road and another that boasted a tavern with chamber pots that only needed to be shared with one other room. The choice was purposeful, making it hard to miss for those entering the city.
Amma had given it a wide berth a day prior when she first saw it. The angled door at its front was flanked with columns, each topped with a statue of a winged beast positioned as if they might dive off and attack, and above the door hung a banner, black with a red, embroidered circle styled to look like it was wearing horns and dripping blood. Amma could not read the language that was painted on a sign propped up beside the door, but she didn’t feel she needed to in order to know to stay away.
Damien, of course, led her straight to it.
The door, a wet-looking wood with iron bars across the small window in its center, was pulled shut unlike how the building had stood during the day, wide open with an unwelcoming void of an entrance. She fidgeted at Damien’s side as he raised a fist to knock. “Sanguinisui, say nothing of the talisman.” As he rapped twice on the door, the magic he spoke invaded her, sending a terrible chill through her brain like biting into something frozen.
There was a scuffle from beyond the door, and then a low, baying voice that requested, “After hours pass phrase?”
Damien spoke words similar to the one he used to enchant her, the sibilant tones giving her a second chill.
There was quiet, and then the voice rose up again. “That was last moon’s pass phrase. We need this moon’s pass phrase.”
Damien rolled his eyes, thought a moment, then offered up another foreign utterance that crawled up Amma’s spine like frigid fingertips.
“Sir, this is the Infernal Brotherhood of The Tempest. Applications for admittance to the fold are taken every—”
“It’s me, you fool, The Tempest’s son.” The sharpness of Damien’s voice cut off the drone of the other, and an eye peeked out between the bars of the door’s window.
There was a scuffing against the wood, a worried curse, and then the door was thrust open. “Master Bloodthorne!”
Amma had seen the man who stood in the void of the building’s entrance before. With a set of ornate vestments, a shaved head, and eyes rimmed in purple blotches, the priest was hard to forget, though now instead of murmuring to himself and ambling through the streets, he had an arm thrown out, head bowed, welcoming the two of them into the building. Amma didnotwant to go inside.
“Apologies, apologies,” the priest wailed, bowing even lower and shuffling out of the way, the symbol he wore, the same from the banner, swaying heavily about his neck on a thick chain. Damien stepped past him, and Amma hesitated but followed, still compelled against her wishes.
Cave-like, the building’s small entry was dark and narrow. When the door behind them shut with a creaking rattle, its echo climbed up the walls, and they were plunged into pitch black.
“We are honored by the shadow of your presence,” the priest’s voice filled up the space as sounds of him skulking about reverberated around them. “Anything you request, anything you desire, it shall be yours.”
Damien groaned. “Some light would be nice.”
“Of course!” There was a bang and then a bright burst in Amma’s face from which she and Damien both recoiled. Above the sudden light, the priest was grinning, exposing every last one of his teeth, tinged with the nauseating glow off a ball of arcane green flames held in his palm. “To what are we to give unholy gratitude for the dark delight of your visit, Master?” When he bowed again, the irritated nicks on his scalp from a messy shave were illuminated.
Damien’s eyes flicked over to Amma, and for once the disgusted curl to his lip wasn’t meant for her. “The, uh, prophecy is to be fulfilled.”
“Truly, Master?” The priest’s head popped back up, pale eyes glazing over.
Damien shrugged a shoulder. “Sure.”
“Infernal powers, we weren’t planning on such a celebration, but we still have the altar up from Belracht, and we’re sure to have an appropriate blade in the ceremonial drawer.” His smile stretched impossibly wide over his bony skull as he gestured to Amma with the magicked flame. “Andwe just got a new, dragon-shaped gravy boat, but it’s never been used, so it should make a lovely collection vessel for the blood from the virgin you’ve brought to sacrifice.”
Sweat broke out on the back of Amma’s neck, gaze shooting up to Damien. He cocked a brow at her, half a smirk on his face, then he shook his head. “Mmm, we’ll see how the night progresses. I might not want to waste her—she’s a…minion.”
“Well, a minion of The Tempest’s son is a minion of The Brotherhood. Come, come, we want to see you, to celebrate the fulfillment of the prophecy!” He held his lit palm out to illuminate an archway. With a hearty sigh, Damien stepped through, and Amma was compelled to follow despite every fiber of her being wanting to bolt in the other direction.
The rest of the building opened up into a chamber with a bit of light from candles gathered in waxy pools in the center of long, wooden tables. Others in robes were crowded around the globs of light, working at parchment with nubs of charcoal or holding cloth close to their faces and stitching. The flames danced in the reflection of each bald head, some even human, though there were others too who didn’t need shaving, covered instead in scales or thick green hide, and one who looked like he would have fared much better if he’d been covered in fur but every inch of him was smooth and pink.
When Damien entered, they each dropped what they were doing, heads turning in unison, realization spreading across their faces like a wave. “Master Bloodthorne,” rose up from the crowd in one, awestruck voice, and then in a flurry of squealing benches, they all fell to the ground, supplicant on their knees, heads down. Their host even followed suit, and the two were left standing there in the silence of three dozen faces planted firmly against the floorboards.
Damien squeezed his eyes shut, groaning quietly in the back of his throat, then he seemed to remember Amma was there, straightening as he cast a glance at her, something like unease passing over his features but replaced too quickly with disdain to be sure. “Yes, hello, get up.”
Following the order as if they had enthrallment talismans embedded in them, each robed being scrambled to their feet, practically vibrating with excitement at whatever would be asked of them next.
