“That’s what they tell me.”
She smiled sadly. “And they would be right. Do you know where we are?”
“Not a friggin’ clue.”
She laughed. “It is a place that never was. A land of where there can never be. Neither here nor there. It’s where we’re sent to bleed.”
Dang, she was starting to sound like Nashira now. Made him almost want to reach for his grimiore to see if he’d left it at home. “That makes no sense whatsoever.”
“You’re the Malachai, Nick. You know all things. Just look inside and trust in yourself. The answers you seek are already there. You know them. You just don’t want to face them. It doesn’t matter how many polls you take, or friends you ask. The answers never change. They’re already in your heart. You just need to believe in the truth. Believe in yourself. Have confidence.”
That was easier said than done. He was too used to being told he didn’t have enough experience. Enough sense. That he was too young to have a clue about anything.
Now she was telling him to trust an instinct he doubted.
It was as confusing as his mother teaching him to walk and talk and then the moment he started asking questions about things she didn’t want to answer, telling him to sit down and shut up.
Life. It really needed to come with some kind of instruction booklet. Or at least a help manual. ’Cause most days, it just baffled the crap out of him.
And before he could get a handle on it, a zeitjäger appeared to his left.
Nick’s eyes widened at the creepy plague doctor whose bandages were covered in blood.
He held his hands up at the creature as it eyed him suspiciously. “Hey, bruh, not the one who broke your time sequence. You’re sniffing up the wrong Malachai here.” He gestured off to the side. “Head that way. Over there. Off with you. Go on … Find the other dude.”
Instead, it approached him slowly.
Fantastic. Just what he wanted for Christmas. Along with a head injury and thorough degutting.
Nick didn’t move, but he did eye the grisly adamantine sickle the beast carried—’cause that was just gooey and gross. He could have done without the bloody stage theatrics. “You know, I heard Ozzy was in town, looking for some new backup singers. You might want to try out …” Nick’s voice trailed off as the creature gave him a menacing glare that said he wasn’t amused. “Never mind.”
Cocking its head, it studied Nick even more intently.
Nick studied him back with the same level of intensity. But this time, he wasn’t afraid of the creature. He was beginning to understand it.
They weren’t enemies.
Nor were they allies.
He wasn’t really sure what they were. At least not until the thing finally spoke in a chilling, broken voice.
“Cyprian is after you.” The zeitjäger’s voice was brittle and harsh—like an old man who’d smoked too many packs of cigarettes.
“Pardon?”
“He has fractured this time and will destroy it all. You have to reset it.”
“How?”
The zeitjäger opened his hand and manifested a glowing skull in his palm. It wasn’t quite human, but rather demonic in nature, with tusks that protruded over the jaw, toward the eye sockets. Nick knew instinctively that it belonged to Monakribos. Though how the zeitjäger had come into possession of it, he wasn’t really sure he wanted to know.
“You will know what to do, when the time comes.”
“Y’all all keep saying things like that. But really … I’m about as useful as the G in lasagna.”
It made a peculiar noise that some might consider a laugh. Nick wasn’t sure.
“Reset the sequence and reclaim your fate.Youare the Malachai.”
