Henri
The Thrones had finally returned. As it was before, it was again, with their spirits congregating in the council hall. I personally escorted Orcus from where we’d been keeping him in custody in one of Lena’s palatial rooms to the hall of souls to retrieve the one belonging to the angel Thirran.
“It seems you’ll have no more use for me once the trade is made,” Orcus said. “What will you do with me then?”
“I don’t know, but it might help me to decide if I knew your stake in this revolution.”
“I wish to take possession of the Angel of Death’s soul.”
I was surprised by his uncharacteristic forthrightness. Assuming we vanquished Azrael, someone would need to take charge of his everlasting soul. Could we trust Orcus not to trade it for the next bright, shiny thing?
“What will you do with it?”
“In the under realms, as in the earthen realms, a being is measured according to what they own.”
“A rather shallow mindset,” I remarked.
Orcus shrugged. “I didn’t make the rules.”
“Why did Azrael wish to possess you so long ago?” It was a question I should have asked before now.
“For my visions, naturally,” he said, though I sensed that wasn’t the whole story.
“Why didn’t you threaten him with revealing the truth about Thirran?”
“He suppressed my Itinerate abilities. Not to mention, I had nothing to offer Bastet, so I would have risked my reputation for nothing.”
“Meaning Vincent was your offering all along?” I asked as the vengeful beast inside me stirred.
Orcus studied me a moment before speaking. “Children of Ra are rare and precious in the earthen realm and Bastet is something of a curator. Though I didn’t know about his cat, I did have a suspicion she’d look favorably upon me if I brought him to her. Sometimes the fates align.” Orcus selected one of the skulls from Lena’s macabre collection. “I must admit, I was surprised by his move against Lena. That was not something I’d foreseen. Without her ability to summon an army, you are at a great disadvantage.”
“We’ll manage,” I said tersely, though he spoke the truth. “And I have no mercy for those who wish to harm Vincent, so choose your friends wisely.”
“You are still behaving as if you’re immortal.”
I stiffened. “Meaning?”
“I know what you offered Bastet in exchange for Thirran’s soul and Vincent’s return to the earthen realm.”
I eyed him suspiciously. “You told the Council you didn’t.”
“I lied.”
I didn’t trust the shadowborn not to use it against me. “What is it you think you know?”
“Mortal souls don’t make the journey between realms quite so easily. It was a struggle to bring you back whole. And it took much longer than it should have.”
I’d arrived back in my body hours after you. I’d never asked Orcus the reason. Didn’t want to rouse any suspicion.
“Fortunate for me, the shadowborn are known for their secrecy,” I said.
Orcus’s thin lips curved in the shape of a reaper’s sickle. “That we are.”
When we arrived in the Council Hall, you were relating the story of how you’d travelled with Orcus to the under realms, this time for the benefit of the Thrones. There were a few new flourishes to your narrative as well as a more theatric delivery of events. Despite his mourning over the loss of our mother, Lucian had been coaching you on presentation—how to rally the Council members under your banner and spellbind them with a story. His lessons were surely paying off.
“And then, as I was luxuriating under the golden light of Ra with the rest of my sunborn brothers and sisters, who should appear but my ever-faithful warrior and protector, Henri.”
At this you motioned to where I stood with an extravagant sweep of your arms, and I felt both honored by your praise and ashamed of my deceit.
