Page 72 of Remnants: Disruption
“Trust you?” I squeak, this time letting out a real laugh. “And then what?”
“And then I help you find yourself,” her eyes find mine and something in the look steals my breath. She leans close enough that I can feel the heat coming off her body.
Gorgeous, powerful, deadly Bloody Mary with her stunning appearance and all the right words—it almost works.
“Next time you want to recruit a weapon,” I whisper, shadows roiling around our ankles, “choose one that isn’t unstable.”
Shadows open around me and I fall through them. A pale hand barely misses my wrist as the portal closes. The suffocating darkness isn’t terrifying this time.
Maybe because it’ll be the last time.
I find my cloak and mask amongst my shadow realm. In the space that somehow was only ever meant for me. They slide on easily in the weightless, reality-defying pocket.
Another rift opens and I fall through it, landing gracefully in the Guild conference room. The floor-to-ceiling windows are open to the foggy afternoon light.
It makes the perverse scene that greets me almost surreal. Like a dangerous fever dream with all my favorite sleep paralysis demons.
Omen’s mirrored mask turns to look at me, their head tilting in curiosity. Beside them is The Angel, arms folded and face still hidden by his mask. Next to him is some blonde woman that looks oddly familiar. She’s stunning in a way that supermodels are.
And there are a lot of bodies.
Harlot’s corpse is strewn over the table, a dagger driven through her skull. Beside her is Tyrant. His metallic crown is dug into his back like a final farewell.
“I—” I start to speak, but words fail me as I try to understand. “Omen?”
“You’ve come to turn yourself in, yes?” The Angel asks, rumbling voice sickly sweet.
“There’s…” I try again, but—that’s Omen, right? “There’s three different murderers for three different bodies.”
Four, I guess as of this morning.
Omen?
“We know,” the blonde woman says, her smile is delightfully disturbing given the environment. My eyes flick back to Harlot. To the beautiful woman who’d extended friendship not two days ago.
She can’t be dead?
“What the fuck?” I breathe out, taking a step back from the group.
The room’s Affliction lights blink in a rapid rhythmless beat as a jagged, red rift digs itself through reality gliding right through the granite table as if it had never existed.
It spreads and a figure taller than me steps through the portal. The wound spits red goo that hisses as it strikes the table and the floor around it.
The being looks like a mythical dark knight. Their horned helmet accentuates the ridges and angles making the armor itself look like a weapon.
Like Omen, they tilt their head a little, staring at me.
“You know, Arya,” they say, voice like brass instruments being smashed to bits. “You certainly eluded us for some time. I would have never guessed that it had been you.”
My mask lights up in recognition.
WARNING: DARKREND.
Chapter 31
End
It’s Over
