That makes me pause.
“What do you mean? Whose orders?”
I’m not surprised when he says, “Julen.” But it raises other questions.
“How did your uncle know Ames and Eliah would be on that street?”
“He didn’t.” He tries to sniffle only to inhale the blood dripping off the tip of his nose. “We … we called him. We…” He breaks off to glance down at his brother. “We saw them and called Julen. He told us to … handle it. Just business,” he repeats like that might make what they did okay.
“You killed them over a building,” I murmur. “They were innocent.”
I reach up and lightly touch the woven cord slung around Bernard’s throat. A thin, silver medallion hangs from the end.
The Archangel Michael.
“Don’t touch him!” Augustus snarls, sounding truly frantic as I smooth the pad of my thumb over the angel’s effigy.
“Do you think he’s going to save you after all the things you’ve both done?” I look straight into Bernard’s wide, wet eyes. “You are an awful person. Awful people don’t get saved by angels or go to Heaven.” I gingerly place the pendant down. “Cut him, please,” I tell Augustus.
“What…? No! No, don’t do this. No! Stop!”
His cries grow into screams as his arms betray him and lift, knife poised over his brother’s chest.
“All the way,” I instruct, ignoring his escalating shrieks. “Here to here.”
Being helpful, I poke a finger from the hollow of Bernard’s throat all the way down to his navel. The muscles of his stomach heave and shudder with his silent wails. His arms and legs flail, catching each time on Veyn’s tendrils and drawing blood that is pooling beneath him.
Augustus fights against himself, jaw fixed tight enough to shatter as he follows my command.
“Don’t. Please! Please. I’ll do anything.”
I watch the fine point of the blade settle with delicate precision against Bernard’s throat.
“You are both so much like your father,” I mumble, resting my elbow on the table next to Bernard’s shoulder and settling my chin in the palm of my hand. “He screamed a lot, too. So irritating. Your mom didn’t make a peep.”
Huffing like a rabid dog, Augustus glowers at me through soaked eyes with a hatred I actually understand.
“You did that? You killed our parents?”
“Not technically,” I admit, straightening. “But I was very amused watching them die horribly.”
“Bitch!” he screams. “You fucking bitch. I’m going to fucking kill you. I’m going to rip your fucking tongue out and clean the floors with it.”
Irritated, I glance back over my shoulder to where Veyn stands midway along the steps, dark eyes fixed on my face.
“Why isn’t he cutting?”
The ghost of a smile brushes his mouth. “I thought you were still talking.”
I turn back with a shake of my head. “No, I’m done.”
Only Augustus’s shrieks rebound off the stone pillars. Only his howls of beautiful agony spill down my spine as he’s forced to slice down the center of his brother’s heaving chest. Bernard watches the blade sink into the muscles and bones of his chest cavity as if he were made of cake. The smooth, effortless glide is unrealistic but satisfying to watch as blood wells up and cascades across the plains of his torso.
“Can you break open his ribs? I’m curious to see if either of you have a heart.”
Both men are hysterical.
I can only hear one of them, but the sounds Augustus is making are beginning to irritate me.
