Page 33 of Tainted Souls
“The Ravens?” Real fear flashes across his features now, different from the pain-induced scare of moments before. “I’ve never met them, but word has it that their leader is the only one able to challenge Cain. And no one challenges Cain.” He swallows hard. “They’re a very secretive group. You don’t find them—they find you.”
“Names?”
“No one knows.” The defeated slump of his shoulders tells me he isn’t holding back.
I’ve been tracking the Ravens for years and always hit the same wall of silence. Not even Redmoore has managed to get any names beyond my brother’s.
“Their masks,” I press, desperate for something, anything. “The insignia—”
“Please,” Egon begs, his eyes darting nervously to the boundary line. “I’ve told you everything I know. If Cain finds out I’ve spoken to you at all…” He trails off, trembling.
I consider killing him. It would be easy—one clean shot through the heart. But his distress isn’t an act. He genuinely doesn’t have what I need.
“Fine.” I rip the arrow from his thigh. He screams, collapsing onto his side. “Tell Cain that if he ever steps foot in Penn City again, which includes anyone that works for him, I will personally hunt every single one of you down.” I gesture to nothing beside us. “Take your friends with you. Let them be a message.”
“T-they’re gone,” he stammers, confusion momentarily overriding his fear. “You killed them.”
“Exactly.” I throw him a wink while yanking the other arrow free. He cries out, curling into himself. “Leave before I change my mind about letting you live.”
I step back, lowering my bow but keeping it ready.
Egon staggers to his feet, clutching his wounds. “Cain won’t stop,” he says as he backs away. “Not until he gets what he wants.”
My stare is cold. “Neither will I.”
As Egon disappears into the shadows, I glance at the decaying bodies of the vampires I’ve killed, already turning to ash in the cool night air. The arrow beside them is untainted by their corrupted blood, as if their existence were merely a figment of imagination.
I retrieve the projectile, sliding it back into my quiver before tapping my comm unit. “Contact with three hostiles at the eastern perimeter: two terminated, one escaped.”
“Terminated?” The general’s voice is sharp with disapproval. “The orders were to capture, not kill.”
“They didn’t give me a choice,” I lie, scanning the horizon. The sun will be rising soon. “I’m heading back now.”
Dawn breaks as I enter the central district, the first rays of sunlight painting the skyline in hues of pink and gold that belie the darkness spreading beneath. By the time I reach headquarters, the building is buzzing with activity. Keepers escort handcuffed vampires to holding cells, while medical staff attend to wounded personnel. General Lee is inside the command center, surrounded by bright, digital displays showing various parts of the city. His face is grim, the lines around his eyes deeper than before.
“Seraph,” he acknowledges as I approach. “Report.”
I hand him back the bow and arrow, then recount my encounter in detail, omitting nothing except the fact that I deliberately let Egon go. The general listens intently, his expression growing grimmer with each word.
“Cain,” he says when I finish, letting the name sizzle on his tongue. “I’ll pass it on to Redmoore. You’ve done enough today. Get some rest, for real this time, and prepare for the exchange tonight. You’ll need all the strength you can get.” He places a firm hand on my shoulder as he passes me.
“What about Max?”
“There’s nothing more you can do for him right now,” he says, his voice softening slightly. “We have teams monitoring all victims. Focus on what’s ahead.”
Fatigue hits me like a ton of bricks. Every muscle in my body aches with exhaustion, but my mind refuses to quiet down. However, I don’t bother to argue. The general is right.
I need to be at my best for tonight.
The sun is fully up by the time I reach my apartment, bathing the city in deceptive normalcy. I lock the door behind me, leaning against it for a moment before heading straight to my computer terminal.
My fingers hover over the keyboard, hesitating only briefly before accessing RedNet—Redmoore’s classified database of known vampire threats with real-time updates. It keeps all hunters connected, whether a mere venator looking for a good buck or a professional slayer bound to stay informed.
The screen flickers to life, displaying the familiar black and green interface. After entering my credentials, I navigate to the most wanted section. Unlike the flat-rate vampires regularly hauled in by venators, for experimentation, integration into Penn City through pacification protocols, or otherwise, these vampires are the ones that carry bounties big enough to change lives.
A lump forms in my throat as Saul’s official photograph appears. It was taken many years ago, before the massacre,when he still wore his hair short and his eyes held something other than degeneracy.
The Saul I saw earlier tonight looked rougher, leaner, his features sharpened by years of living among killers.
