Marcèllian whipped around.
What I saw on his face wasglorious.
That was true, unadulterated fear I saw swimming in his eyes. And I reveled in it.
He’d kept hisbibia secret. But thanks to the infinite, I knew about his son’s existenceandhis whereabouts. As my souls ravaged the bloodhounds, and my gargoyles eviscerated the ashbats, I lifted my arms, flexed my hands, and launched a vortex of souls towards the manor.
“NO!” Marcèllian screamed.
Screaming at the top of their lungs in shrill voices, the chains of my souls dragged both Yvette and Saccarièl from their bedchambers. Marcèllian howled unintelligibly. I snapped my hand, using my souls to chain him in place.
“Tassarion!” a savage howl. “You willbend your willto mine.”
Zemshaza had resurfaced, taking over Marcèllian.
Except I didn’t need Zemshaza.
I needed Marcèllian.
I shot a blast of souls fused with backfire at Marcèllian’s chest. Using the ethèr almost brought me to my knees. Again, I marveled at Nahomie’s strength. How in therotdid she deal with all of this crippling power every single dawn?
Zemshaza screamed through Marcèllian. The unholy sound rang out all over the courtyard.
Then, one by one, every ashbat and bloodhound dropped dead, their carcasses tumbling to the ground. It was some time before an eerie silence covered the blood-soaked garden.
“Please.”
The weak whimper came from the true Marcèllian. He was broken and battered. Bruised. Bloodied. I drug a screaming Yvette, and thrashing Saccarièl, to the stone ground as they both begged to be released.
“Marcèllian, you should have known. When angels play God, the consequence is always death.”
I strolled towards him, blood staining my leathers, most of which wasn’t mine. My wings and cape dragged over blood, bone, and dirt.
“I am malicious, Marcèllian, becauseyoumade me, miserable, asheating wretch.”
When I reached his crumpled, pathetic form, I jerked back my foot and crushed my boot into his skull. He spat out a wad of blood, crumpling to the ground like the disgusting pest he was.
“You chose to be the creator of my pain, my misery, you blasphemous dog.”
I grabbed him by the collar of his blood-stained tunic.
“But now I am your master, and I will break you like the slave of the Hèls that you are.”
I wrapped my fingers around his neck, then squeezed, choking off his airflow.
“Please,” Yvette begged. “Please, I am begging you, Roi Tassarion. Have mercy. Am I not your constituent? Am I not to have the right to plead my cause? My innocence? My Papi’s actions were treacherous. But why am I to pay for his sins?”
I turned to look at Yvette. Her legs swung in the air where I held her by souls. Her hair and eyes were wild, and her skin dull and dark. She wouldn’t stop crying. The sound grated on my last nerve. Pathetic. The entire lot. Saccarièl mouthed off profanities.
I’d had enough.
Leave none behind.
“You crushed my soul by robbing me of every good thing in this life. My family. My islanders. Our home and land, molested by your greed and betrayal.” I snarled, squeezing Marcèllian’s throat again. “Before you die, you will share in my suffering.”
“Please,” Marcèllian wheezed, clutching at his neck.
I ignored him. I looked first at Yvette, then Saccarièl.
